Disguise 32_The Matchmaker

CHAPTER 32 

 Saphira ventured back into the woods, this time prepared for whatevery ahead. A torch in one hand, weapons secured at her waist, and “small, p? food strapped to her back—she was determined not to return empty–handed. This wasn’t just about searching anymore. It was about finding some ti anything–that could bring her closer to Niks.

 The night air was crisp, the towering trees casting long shadows as she moved carefully through the undergrowth. The only sounds were the soft crunch of leaves beneath her boots and the distant hum of nocturnal creatures awakening in the darkness.

 Her mind raced as she walked, dissecting every possibility, every clue.

 The Matchmaker.

 She kepting back to them, to their influence, their insidious control over supernatural fates. The more she thought about it, the more everything seemed to fit.

 They had forced Niks into a choice the day they left. Had backed him into a corner where the oue was inevitable. But the path he had chosen–the one that led him away with her–it had weakened him in their eyes. They had known that.

 This wasn’t just a random disappearance. 

 It was à calcted move.

 Her grip tightened around the torch as frustration welled in her chest. They had underestimated him. Underestimated her. And now, she would prove them

 wrong. 

 She pressed forward, determined. Because somewhere in the darkness, Niks had left her a trail to follow.

 And she would find it.

 It didn’t take Saphira long to find the spot she and Raven had visited earlier–the ce where the rift had first appeared. The forest was eerily quiet, the darkness stretching around her, broken only by the faint glow of her torch. But this time, something was different.

 A trail.

 It veered slightly to the left, separate from the main path, like it had been deliberately hidden. Her breath slowed as she stepped closer, studying the ground. Drag marks. But not ordinary ones. The patterns weren’t rough or scattered like a struggle had taken ce–instead, they looked… intentional.

 Magical.

 Saphira’s pulse quickened as she crouched, examining them further. The edges shimmered faintly under the beam of her torch, an unnatural quality to the way the earth had been disturbed. This wasn’t the result of careless movement or an untracked passage–someone had left this on purpose. 

 Her fingers hovered over the marks, hesitating.

 Niks.

 Had he done this? Left something behind in a way only those attuned to magic could recognize? The possibility struck deep, twisting through her with

 urgency.

 Either way–she was going to follow it.

 there

 Saphira followed the trail for what felt like hours/each step pressing her deeper into the unknown. The eerie quiet of the forest settled over her like a heavy nket, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of leaves beneath her boots. The faint shimmer of the drag marks guided her forward, but beyond was nothing–no sign of movement, no trace of Niks.

 And that terrified her.

 Her mind spun through every possible scenario, each one darker than thest. Would she be ambushed? Without powers, without the natural strength that every supernatural around her possessed, she was vulnerable. Easy prey for whatever had taken him. If she ran into danger, could she even fight? 

 Then came the thought she had been avoiding the one that sat like ice in her chest. 

 What if Niks was already dead? 

 :

 She inhaled sharply, trying to push it down, but it wed its way into her thoughts. What if she was chasing ghosts? What If she had missed s save him?

 Or worse–what if he was alive, but trapped? Tortured. And she had no way of reaching him in time.

 The uncertainty made her stomach twist. She hated this–the helplessness, the doubt. She had spent her life on the edges of supernatural society, watching from the sidelines, but this–this was her moment. And she refused to fail.

 Still, the question lingered at the edges of her mind, refusing to leave.,

 Why had he been taken?

 Nothing about Niks‘ disappearance felt random. He was strong, careful, calcted. Whatever had happened to him–it had been nned. It had been intentional.

 And that meant whoever had orchestrated this wasn’t just looking to remove a threat. 

 They were making a statement.

 Saphira swallowed hard, her grip tightening around the hilt of the small de at her waist. She didn’t know what she would find at the end of this trail.

 But whatever it was, she had to be ready.

 Saphira pressed–forward, the worn trail guiding her deeper into the forest, her pulse steady but alert. She had no idea what she was expecting to find, only that every step brought with it a strange pull, an instinct whispering that she was getting closer.

 Then, as the trees parted, she saw it.

 An ancient ruin loomed ahead, its crumbling walls barely standing against time’s relentless erosion. The remains of a castle–vast, towering even in its decay. Stone pirs stretched toward the sky, jagged edges softened only by ivy clinging to them like desperate hands.

 A cold shiver ran down her spine. This was the ce.

 She didn’t know how she knew. She just did.

 Her grip tightened on her weapons as she moved cautiously, scanning the structure for an entry point. An opening–high above. She would have to climb. 

 With slow, deliberate movements, she hoisted herself upward, carefully scaling the weathered stone. She paused every few feet, listening–watching for any sign of movement. Every rustling leaf, every distant sound had her on edge. Whatever was here–whatever had brought her to this ce–it demanded caution.

 As she reached the top, she pulled herself over the edge, steadying herself before looking up.

 Her breath hitched.

 A massive clearing stretched before her, framed by five towering pirs arranged in a semi–circle, standing like silent sentinels. But it wasn’t the pirs that I made her stomach turn.

 It was whaty between them.

 Saphira stepped forward, heart hammering against her ribs. And then–she gasped.

 Bones. 

 The skeletal remains of five dragons, sprawled across the stone, their massive forms still bound in heavy chains. The iron links curled tightly around their remains, rusted but unbroken–as if time itself had been unable to free them.

 Still trapped.

 A deep, sinking feeling clenched at her chest. Who had done this? Why were they left here, bound even in deathy?

 Her mind raced with possibilities, but none of them led to anything good,

 Whatever this ce was whoever had imprisoned them–it was connected to Niks.

 And she had just stepped into something far bigger than she had anticipated.

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Disguise 32