Page 41 of Chosen By the Dragon Alien

The overseer moved closer to Cyprian with deliberate grace, his wings settling slightly tighter against his back as he shifted onto one knee beside the fallen dragon’s immense form. With a level of reverence that surprised Fivra, he placed a hand against Cyprian’s long neck, feeling out the faint rhythm of his still-beating heart. “The fire inside him is growing,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “He is healing, but you’re right. We cannot wait for him to recover.”

“Agreed,” Kaelen grunted. His golden eyes darted between the ship and the horizon. “We’re exposed if the Axis sends reinforcements. They don’t take missing contingents lightly.”

“The fortress is equipped with cloaking arrays,” the overseer replied evenly. “If we return to orbit, we’ll disappear from their scans before an alert can spread. For now, trust that the Axis will be more focused on containment than retaliation. They’ll prioritize suppressing word of their failure here—they don’t want allies rising up in defiance.”

Kaelen let out a low whistle and muttered under his breath, “Stars and smoke, you really are an ex-Axis officer. You speak their language too well.”

Ignoring Kaelen, the overseer’s attention shifted back to Fivra, his expression unexpectedly gentle. “May I carry him?”

Fivra’s eyes widened at the quiet request. He was askingherpermission? “Yes.” She raised her head, reminding herself that Ellion was not the overseer any longer. He was not in charge of her, or even Turi. Fivra was the mate of a Zaruxian, and that made her prettyfekkingpowerful.

TWENTY

Cyprian

Cyprian blinked. Soft, muted light from an unfamiliar room surrounded him. He shifted in the soft bed he lay in, then stiffened with a wince. Everything ached, from the tips of his wings to his feet and everything in between.

His senses slowly adjusted. The air was thick with an unfamiliar scent—something floral yet earthy. Massive metal walls surrounded him. The room bore the unmistakable mark of elegance. Its architecture was a blend of strength and warmth, and was familiar to him in a way that made his chest ache. A slow unease crept through him.

He tried to sit up, but a wave of fatigue washed over him and a gentle hand splayed on his chest, pressing him back into the plush bedding. “Easy, now,” said a soft feminine voice. “You’ve been through a lot, my love.”

“Fivra?” His voice came out hoarse and raw, as if he hadn’t used it in ages. He turned his head to see Fivra nestled against him. Her pink hair spilled over the pillow. The sight of herbrought a rush of relief but also a painful reminder of everything that had transpired. “Where thefekare we?”

This was a far cry from his office, and certainly not Erovik. His mind flickered with fragmented memories of battles fought, dragon fire unleashed in a chaotic rage. And thensheappeared beside him.

A slow smile spread across her face. “We’re glad you’re awake.” She shifted closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re safe now.”

A frantic rush of memories collided within him—shouts, the screeching of ships, the taste of ash and flame. “What happened?” he rasped, blinking at her as he forced his mind to clear. “Where are we?” he asked again.

Fivra sat up straighter. “We’re in Ellion’s fortress ship, on our way to Kaelen’s outpost,” she explained. “After you… Well, after you fell, we made it to his ship. He carried you here to his home, and we took off before more Axis ships could arrive.”

Cyprian’s brow furrowed as he took in her words. “Who is Ellion?”

“Ellion is the overseer of my old settlement. The other Zaruxian I told you about. He found us and helped you defeat the Axis ship.” She raised her brows. “You wouldn’t have survived without his help.”

Cyprian’s scales shivered with unease. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted to anyone, even if it was one of his own kind. And this was not the kind of debt that was easily repaid. “What does he want?”

“He wants to offer you his protection,” Fivra said. “The Axis will send agents after us.”

The implications lodged like ice in Cyprian’s chest. “Of course they are. And they know I’m here protecting you.”

Cyprian noticed Fivra’s gaze drift past him and a look of communication in her expression, as if addressing someoneunspoken. His instincts roared to life. His wings twitched beneath the layers of blanket and fatigue weighed him down. Slowly—cautiously—he turned his head toward the shadows pooling in the corner of the room.

There, partially obscured by the warm amber light, a figure sat in a high-backed chair. The outline was unmistakable: broad shoulders layered with deep, shimmering purple scales. Massive wings were folded neatly behind him, their intricate membrane glowing faintly in the dim light. The figure sat with a calm yet unerring presence, statuesque and impossible to ignore. The overseer—Ellion. Another Zaruxian.

For a precarious moment, the room tilted. Cyprian’s chest tightened as an ancient, primal jolt surged through him. He’d never seen another of his kind, not in his entire existence under the Axis, not once in the cycles he’d been confined to Erovik. And now, before him, sat another Zaruxian—a mirror image of what he was, but also something very different.

“You…” Cyprian’s voice was strained, gravelly with the force of suppressed emotion. His silver eyes locked onto Ellion’s, sharp and molten, as if to peel apart every layer of the male without a single word. “You’re real.”

Ellion inclined his head ever so slightly—as if acknowledging a truth neither of them knew how to articulate. His silver gaze was steady, but bright with curiosity and barely concealed awe. “And so are you, Cyprian.”

The silence between them crackled, heavy and profound. For a moment, Cyprian’s breath hitched. His shoulders felt heavy under the weight of something he couldn’t name. It wasn’t just the shock of seeing another like himself—it was the soul-deep recognition that he wasn’t alone. For cycles, he’d believed himself to be the only one of his kind, but now another male with Zaruxian fire in his veins looked back at him—not as a stranger, but as kin.

“You… You were from Fivra’s settlement,” Cyprian said finally, his voice low but certain. “The overseer of their colony.”

Ellion’s gaze didn’t waver, though there was the faintest flicker of something in his silver eyes—remorse, perhaps, or understanding. “I was,” he said simply, the weight of the admission sinking into the room. “I oversaw the settlement for generations, bound by the will of the Axis. But I was as much a prisoner as the Terians I governed.”

Cyprian’s wings twitched against the bedding, and he couldn’t stop himself from sitting up. Fatigue be damned. “Bound?” he echoed, his voice sharp, laced with skepticism. “You were on a mountain, in a fortress they revered. You held their lives in your hands. And you call itbondage?”

---