Lyra's POV
We were loaded into a container and made to sit among decaying fish—our source of food. Even slaves in the pack were not treated with such disrespect and contempt as humans treat themselves.
Still aboard the ship, which had been sailing for days now, I couldn't help but reminisce on how things went wrong so easily, so quickly, that I'd unfortunately found myself in such a low place.
They call themselves Noman's. The sailors.
To me, they were infidels and barbarians. But I was their slave.
I had been traveling and fighting wars since I was twelve wolf years old. When I was younger, I'd gone on tours undercover, learning languages and cultures. For a short period, I'd even visited the realm of humans, studying their cunning ways, cultures, gods, and food trade.
Being with them was worse than drinking wolfsbane. I remembered the relief when I'd crossed borders, certain I would never see one again. But here I was—legs burning from shackles, skin rotting with carcass, far from my goddess, far from my wolf, lost in the middle of the sea with nowhere to go but Veyrax.
The woman beside me wasn't praying like the rest. She was silent. My first thought was that she'd died. But trust me—I could tell human corpses apart from dead fish. They had a stench. A bad one.
"Hey..." I called out, my voice raspy with exhaustion and unhealed bruises.
"I know you can hear me. What's your name?"
"Alisha. You?"
Relieved by her response, I sagged back against the metal wall. "Lyra." She went quiet for an odd amount of time.
"Odd name. Never heard of it."
"I'm not from around here," I whispered, expecting her to ask more questions. Humans were always curious. But she didn't. Instead, I felt her hands searching for my thighs, and when she finally found them, she placed her head on my lap like it was the most natural thing to do.
"I haven't slept in days. It's best if you get some sleep before we reach the gate. That way, you don't tire easily." Her voice was calm, as though she were unaffected by the chaos around us.
I traced my hand over her, trying to feel her features.
"What's going to happen when we get to Veyrax?"
As the only wolf on board, I knew my fate was different from everyone else's. But why were humans being shipped to Veyrax? Why would anyone be shipped there? No one leaves Veyrax.
Even with that conclusion, I still had my doubts.
The dragons were diabolical. No other beast but dragons could survive in Veyrax. The air was steam—it would cook anyone alive. Crops didn't grow there. They ate themselves because animals were too petrified to live among them. They were beasts among beasts.
Vile creatures. Cursed with near immortality.
Their soil was rocky and hot. Everything about Veyrax was hostile to life, yet humans were being shipped there. For what? Sacrifice? Did the Sun God need human blood now?
Maybe humans had repopulated the territory—which seemed insane. Or maybe the fire dragons were still alive, and the rest of us didn't know.
"Hmm. You really aren't from around here," she muttered. "Veyrax. The land of demons."
"Demons?"
"Yeah. Shapeshifters. Flesh eaters. Those demons."
She spoke with shallow knowledge of who the dragons truly were. Her disgust was evidence that she didn't have the slightest clue she was laying her head on yet another 'demon' shapeshifter. But what struck me most was the confirmation that people inhabited the land—and it had to be dragons.
The thought of ever coming across a real fire-breathing dragon as a human—or even as a wolf—was crippling. If there were dragons at Veyrax, what were they doing with humans?
"How do you know all this?"
She shrugged. "I don't live under a rock. It's been going on for centuries."
"You can't—humans can't—it's not—oh goddess." The thought was diabolical.
"Everyone knows. That's why we pray not to get captured. We're being shipped there to die." Her voice remained calm. She was unaffected, and I was madly worried.
If the dragons were using humans for something, it could only mean they were planning another war.
~~~***~~~
Days later, our ship struck the shore after way too many twists, turns, and possibly death.
The captors opened the container. A wave of fresh air blew into the room, easing the stench but inviting crippling cold.
"Stand up! Everyone up!"
A sharp clang of metal struck the wall, jolting everyone to their feet. We stood, and I finally saw the face of the woman who'd been lying on my lap. She waved and smiled at me before we were pulled by our chains down to the floor, then toward a mighty gate reaching the skies.
It was a nightmare to behold. I held my breath as cold air coursed through my nose. Fog from the sea clouded my vision, and the overwhelming need to cry and combust from fear gripped my senses.
Before the gate stood five men I knew too well to be fire-breathing dragons—assigned to receive the slaves. The sight was death at its most visual. A confirmation that the peace of the realm was only sustained on borrowed time.
I dreaded moving closer, knowing they weren't like humans who couldn't tell who was purely human and who wasn't. I watched the captors approach the dragons.
Since when did human ship riders deal with the other realms? I watched wide-hatted men carry boxes of gold toward the ships as more humans were offloaded. Our silver chains were exchanged for ropes while they left us at the mercy of the dragon diplomats.
Soon the dragons would pick up my scent. They'd tell I was different. And like their ancestors, they would kill me.
Death never scared me. Death without a chance to fight for life—that was what scared me.
We were filed through the gates into the mighty civilization of the fire dragons. Tall skyscrapers made of glass.
But what struck me wasn't the acceptance of fate or the realization of their existence.
It was the air.
The air here wasn't like it was described in books and documentaries. It was lighter. More breathable. Clean.
Strange.
And right at the shore, surrounded by white sand, trees danced beautifully in the fog and wind.
Its palms were as green as shiny serpent grapes. The tree had trunks the size of a mighty building, branches wrapping around figures, and leaves raining down onto the glass streets of the city.
The books had described all forms of horrors, but nothing spoke of the heads of wolves mounted on glass walls at the entrance of the gate. Side by side, Alphas and Lunas were displayed like trophies.
My people. Disrespected like clowns.
The words came back like a mantra. Years of being lectured on the madness of fire dragons. Their obsessiveness with power and control.
I saw all of it. And for a moment, death kissed my eyes.
I was going to die here.
We were pulled into a huge building, through a glass corridor, and into an enormous room. The chains were removed from our hands and legs. My wrists were only a shadow of what they used to be.
I searched through everyone in the room. The women brought along with me had stopped praying. Now they were stunned by the beauty of the dragon capital. Some had even confessed how 'human' the male dragons who'd led us here looked.
In mere seconds, their panic turned to adoration.
From my knowledge, there were about a hundred people alive in this room. Different races and colors—maybe that was why I hadn't been noticed at the gate.
The woman who'd laid her head on my lap was a few bodies ahead of me, so I surfed through the crowd of chattering women until I reached her.
"Hey! Hey... um, do you know what happens next?"
"How would I know? Wait—this is my first time being here!" Her smile was wide, but her words were shallow and almost giddy.
This wasn't a joke. I needed to know why they were brought here.
Humans might be weak, but they weren't part of this war. They were innocent, and the realm depended on their innocence.
"Why aren't you worried?"
She shrugged. "I don't care. My will to survive has never been strong. Whatever life throws at me, darling, I'm up for it."
Looking around, it seemed everyone here had no will to survive. It was as though the moment they crossed the gates, they'd left their fear and disgust for our kind outside. Now they were fascinated by beauty.
"Why are you worried?" she asked me.
"Because I'm different," I responded, finally taking a seat nearby.
"Why would you say that?"
Her words weren't coated with fake excitement like before. They were low. Her brows were tight, and for the first time since I'd seen her eyes, they were calm. Soft, even. It eased the tension brewing in my gut.
"Because I am different."
"How? I can't see any difference."
I waited to see excitement on her face as she told her joke, but her demeanor still oozed calmness. She was serious? Or dumb? Because anyone with eyes could tell my looks were different from all the women around. My hair, eyes, height, and nails.
"Look at my eyes, my hair, and my nails." I pointed out the obvious differences, but she still looked confused.
She leaned closer, her hand covering half her mouth like she didn't want the next person reading her lips. I leaned in until her lips were just by my ear.
"You have brown eyes like everyone. Black hair. Short nails."
"No. I have gold eyes, long nails, and hair with an abnormal streak of white."
Her back propelled backward as she burst out laughing.
"You were indeed under a rock. Do you have a mirror at home? Were there no traders where you lived?"
The confusion that came from being woken up in the middle of nowhere—chained by the only metal that burns skin—hadn't let me realize my nails were short and my hands were oddly smooth and small. Hence why the cuffs wrapped around them so easily.
I pulled my hair forward. No streak of white. Nothing.
Who am I?
The door burst open, and a woman walked into the room.
Human.
"You," she said, pointing at me. "Follow me."