The jungle's still hummin' after that beast went down, its blood soakin' the earth, mixin' with the rot of them undead trails. I'm standin' there, breathin' heavy, scales recedin' but leavin' a burn under my skin from that poison and fight. Elara's beside me, her hand lingerin' on my arm, heartstone glowin' faint as it soothes my cuts, them green eyes searchin' mine like she's beggin' me to believe her. Sable's leanin' 'gainst a tree, blood crusted on her side, her panther eyes glintin' with pain and pride. The tribe's quiet, tendin' wounds, and that amulet's roarin' 'gainst my chest, its whisper—"Touch the throne!"—drivin' me mad. Valthor's close, I can smell his dark magic, and them ruins ahead pulse with the Scaled Throne's call, pullin' me like a damn chain.
Elara straightens, voice soft but firm. "We camp here—regroup 'fore the ruins." I nod, rubbin' the amulet, its heat mixin' with the doubt still gnawin'—was it her or Sable who sold us? Sable growls, shiftin' human. "Jungle's restless. Fire'll keep the beasts off." I grunt, gatherin' wood with the tribe, my claws makin' quick work of branches. The air's thick, humid, and them vines twitch like they're watchin'. We build a fire pit, and I strike a flint, sparks catchin' 'til flames roar up, castin' shadows that dance like spirits. The heat feels good, wakin' somethin' in me, and the amulet pulses, matchin' the fire's rhythm.
Night falls fast, the jungle goin' dark 'cept for our fire and them ruin lights. I sit close to the flames, feelin' their warmth seep into my bones, and the beast stirs, hunger risin'—not just for food, but somethin' wilder. Elara joins me, settlin' with the heartstone, her runes flarin' soft. "You're different since the throne," she says, glancin' at me. I shrug, voice rough. "Feels like it's in me now." She nods, and I catch her look—somethin' warm, maybe regret. The glade, the ritual—they're between us, and I feel that pull, strong as the throne's call.
Sable stalks over, blood cleaned but limp, and sits 'cross the fire. "Bond's holdin'," she grunts, eyes on me. "Gives you strength." I feel it, a steady pulse from her mark on my chest, and it eases the ache. But the doubt's still there—her loyalty, or lack of it. The fire crackles, and I toss another log, sparks flyin' up like stars. The tribe settles, warriors murmur in', and I relax a bit, the heat soothin' my nerves.
Then it shifts. The flames flare, green mixin' with orange, and I smell it—magic, old and fiery. My heart kicks up, and the amulet burns hotter. "Somethin's comin'," I mutter, standin', claws out. Elara's up, bow ready, and Sable shifts half-panther, tail lashin'. The fire roars, shapin' into a figure—tall, scaled, eyes like coals. "Lizard spirit," Elara whispers, heartstone glowin'. It speaks, voice like cracklin' embers. "The throne awakens your fire. Prove it."
Before I can react, vines lash out, ignited, and undead stumble from the dark—Valthor's work. I roar, transformin' full, scales glintin' as I charge. My tail swings, smashin' a flaming vine, but it regrows, burnin' my arm. Pain sears, and I growl—crossed it out, hell—rippin' through another. Elara's light blasts, heartstone amplifyin' it, and Sable leaps, claws tearin' undead apart. The spirit laughs, fire spreadin', and I feel it—the throne's power, fire mixin' with my blood.I focus, roarin', and the amulet flares. A burst of flame shoots from my mouth, torchin' vines and undead alike. The tribe cheers, but the spirit ain't impressed. "More," it demands, and the fire grows, circlin' us. I stumble, heat overwhelmin', and Elara grabs me, her touch coolin' the burn. "Use it!" she yells. I nod, breathin' deep, and let the power flow—flames spillin' from me, controlled, burnin' a path through the horde. Sable joins, her claws ignitin' with my fire, and we push back, the tribe rallyin'.
The spirit nods, dispersin' as the last undead falls, leavin' ash and silence. I pant, scales smokin', and drop to my knees, the transformation ebbin'. Elara kneels, heal in' light soothin' me, and Sable slumps, fur singed. "Fire's yours now," she grunts, respect in her tone. I feel it—power settlin', the beast stronger, tied to flame. But the doubt lingers—was this a test, or Valthor's trap?
The fire dies down, and I sit, Elara close, her warmth steadyin' me. "You saved us," she says, soft. I look at her, feelin' that pull—the glade, her trust. "Maybe," I mutter, but the scout's words haunt me. Sable joins, bindin' her wounds. "No traitor here," she says, meetin' my eyes. "Jungle's testin' you." I nod, wantin' to believe, but the sting ain't gone.
Night deepens, and the jungle rustles—eyes glintin' in the dark. I toss another log, flames leapin' up, and feel the power stir. Elara leans 'gainst me, and that hunger rises, fire mixin' with it. I glance at her, her face lit by the glow, and she meets my eyes—permission, maybe. I lean in, lips brushin' hers, tentative. She responds, soft at first, then fierce, hands on my chest. The fire roars, magic flowin', and we deepen it, rough and needy, the jungle's hum coverin' our gasps.
My hands roam, feelin' her curves 'neath the leather, and she arches, runes flarin'. The beast stirs, scales pushin' out, but I hold it, keepin' it sensual. Her nails dig in, and I growl—crossed it out, damn—liftin' her 'gainst a tree, flames castin' shadows. We move together, heat buildin', and I feel the throne's power amplify it—fire in my veins, her magic in mine. She moans, elven words spillin', and we peak, a roar mixin' with her cry, the fire blazin' higher.
We slump, pantin', her head on my shoulder. The flames settle, and I feel stronger, the power settlin' deeper. But the jungle stirs again—undead howls, Valthor's magic closin'. Sable watches, noddin' approval, but the doubt lingers—who's next to betray? I grip my claws, ready, knowin' this night's fire's just the start of a bigger burn.