Her fingers trace the scorched runes etched into her chest and neck, which flare like rivulets of molten lava, glowing with an otherworldly light.
“I am Alexandra of Earth. Your War Chieftainess. Blessed Daughter of Arawnoth himself. Through us, his will is forged.”
The crowd erupts in a thunderous roar of approval, the veteran warriors banging their fists against their armored chests. Her words settle over the clan like a battle hymn. Pride surges within me, a molten force that courses through my veins. She is truly magnificent, embodying every ounce of the strength and fire I knew she possessed.
I step forward, towering over the assembly, my deep voice booming to carry above their cheers. “We feast tonight to honor the strength of Clan Magaxus!” My gaze sweeps over their eager faces, then falls on the massive carcass of the sneachir. “Feast upon the beast I conquered beneath the frozen wastes of Aroth. Its flesh will fuel you, and its spirit will unite us!”
The roar of approval swells even louder, shaking the cavernous halls. Princesa and I stand side by side, her glowing presence a beacon of fire and poise beside my towering form. The bond between us—unspoken yet unbreakable—anchors the moment in glory.
A movement near the tunnel entrance catches my eye, the silhouette of a figure emerging from the shadows. My heart skips as recognition dawns—a face I never thought I’d see again.
“Sandra approaches.”
Chapter 49
Alexandra
Reunion
“Sandra?”Iask,peeringup at Dracoth, hardly daring to believe she might be here. My gaze sweeps frantically over the sea of red faces, straining to see beyond the towering, broad-shouldered Magaxus men.
“I can’t see her, Dracoth...” I mutter, my voice laced with growing yearning and annoyance.
“There,” Dracoth growls, lifting me effortlessly into the air with one immense hand around my waist. His other hand extends, pointing toward the approaching figure of a smiling, ginger-haired woman.
“Sandra!” I exclaim, my face beaming with joy as a flood of relief washes over me. “All right, put me down, you big lump,” I demand, waving enthusiastically toward her.
But Dracoth’s grip remains as firm as the blackened, cavernous rock surrounding us. “No,” he rumbles, his voice a deep, immovable force. His sharp gaze flicks toward me. “She must come to you.”
He’s right!
The realization dawns on me—a lovely, empowering sentiment that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I am the Chieftainess, after all. It’s only fitting that others should come to me. My squirming ceases—not that it was doing much against the red mountain that is my Dracoth.
“Lexie!” Sandra exclaims, her joy mirroring my own as she steps onto the slightly raised stone dais. Only then does Dracoth gently lower me to the ground. The moment my feet touch the rough rock, I gallop forward like the happiest horse breaking free at the races.
“Oh my God!” I squeal, wrapping my arms around her petite frame, nearly smothering the poor woman. “I’m so glad you’re here! I was worried I’d never see you again!” The words tumble out of me in a breathless stream.
I can’t help but wrinkle my nose at the faint scent of manure. Wait! I recognize that rancid stench—the especially pungent reek that could only have come from the disgusting giant snail monsters.
“You’ve got a cheek!” Sandra exclaims with mock outrage, her eyes twinkling. “We thought you were bloody eaten by an arrohawk!”
But I hardly hear her. The stinky smell forces me to break our embrace. My focus now on her disheveled state—stained brown leather clothes and unkempt hair that looks like it hasn’t met a comb in days. My face twists in disgust like an old raisin when I spot the luminous mucus streaking her outfit.
Ugh, so gross.
“Eww!” I blurt, recoiling. “Is that giant snail monster poop?” I shudder, brushing at my pristine dark blue leathers like a woman possessed. “Aw, you got some on me!” I huff, struggling to scrub the damp patch with my hand.
Maybe I should use the cloak? No, Dracoth would freak out.
Sandra lets out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of her neck with a sheepish expression. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was helping Celutok with the herd.” She glances over her shoulder, her head swaying as she searches the crowd of noisy, chattering alien giants.
“Celutok?” she calls, her voice somehow sweet as honey even when raised.
“Farmer Letdown,” I mumble, the memories tumbling back: the slimy, horrifying snail monsters, the screeching wails of flying monsters, being kidnapped by Ignixis, and frozen in a giant freezer—so much has happened since then.
My daydream shatters as Celutok steps into view, cutting short his conversation with two Klendathians.
“Little Sandra?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as he spots Sandra and me, recognition blooming, only to wither under the imposing shadow of Dracoth, looming like a crimson-scaled dragon. Celutok freezes at the edge of the stone dais, as if the raised platform were as perilous as the magma bubbling in the nearby geyser.
