The savannah burned under a merciless sun, its cracked earth swallowing the coalition's pawprints as they trekked toward the Antelope Flats, where Tormen's herds held sway. Saphira's fire magic flickered, the Iron Fang's curse a constant hum, its visions of betrayal—Veyla's blood, Khyra's fire turned against her—gnawing at her trust. The Oracle's prophecy echoed: The heart's betrayal. She glanced at Veyla, her wound healing but her steps slow, and Khyra, whose silver pelt hid a growing unease. Zyra's serpents slithered at the rear, their storm-fire crackling, while Tormen's antelopes scouted ahead, their horns glinting like beacons.
The Flats were a sea of golden grass, where antelope herds grazed in disciplined ranks, their earth magic anchoring the plains against Maku's tides. Tormen halted, his curved horns gleaming, his rumble heavy. "My kin are loyal to the savannah, Saphira, but Kael's emissaries whisper of peace, and Maku's spies sow fear. Prove your flame here, or my herds scatter."
Saphira nodded, her tail flicking. "Call a moot, Tormen. The pearls and scrolls will sway them. The Dawn Coalition is their shield." But the Fang's curse whispered: He'll betray you. Burn him now. She silenced it, her father's ring a steady weight.
The moot convened at dusk, a circle of antelope elders beneath a massive baobab, its roots glowing with earth magic. Saphira presented Maku's scrolls, her voice a roar: "The hippos hired Xajin to kill my father, and their flood will drown these flats. Kael's fire burns dissenters, but the Dawn Coalition fights for all beasts. Stand with us, and we'll burn the rivers dry!"
The elders murmured, their hooves stamping, but a new voice cut through—a low, resonant growl from a young antelope, his pelt tawny, his horns spiraled like lightning. "I am Rhen, son of Tormen's brother, and I say your flame divides us. Kael offers land; you offer war. Why should we bleed for a lioness's crown?" His eyes burned with ambition, and the elders shifted, doubt rippling through the moot.
Tormen's rumble was sharp. "Rhen, hold your tongue. Saphira's evidence speaks truth." But Rhen stepped forward, his earth magic sending tremors through the grass, and the Fang's curse surged, its vision clear: He's the betrayer. Saphira's claws flexed, her fire coiling, but she held back, her mercy a fragile shield.
Before the moot could vote, a chorus of laughter shattered the peace—Kweva Shardmaw's Bone Cacklers, their pelts smeared with ash, their bone beads rattling. Kweva slunk at their head, her shard-toothed grin gleaming, but a new figure stood beside her: Rhen, his horns lowered, his eyes glinting with treachery. "The hyenas offer strength," Rhen declared, his voice a blade. "Saphira's coalition will fall, and my herds will rise with Kweva's pack!"
The flats erupted in chaos. Kweva's hyenas surged, their laughter a drumbeat of doom, while Rhen's earth magic split the ground, trapping Tormen's loyalists in cages of stone. Saphira roared, her flames blazing, the Fang's runes summoning a storm of lightning that shattered Rhen's traps. Veyla's cheetahs darted, their claws raking hyena flanks, while Khyra's lions burned through the pack, their fire a tide of fury. Zyra's serpents struck, their storm-fire igniting the grass, but Rhen's tremors staggered them, his horns goring a cheetah's side.
Saphira faced Rhen, her fire precise, the Fang's curse screaming: Kill him. End the betrayal. She lunged, her flames searing his pelt, but his earth magic deflected her, a boulder grazing her shoulder. Kweva laughed, her pack circling, but Veyla's speed pinned her, claws at her throat. "Call them off, Kweva," Veyla snarled, "or your laughter ends." Kweva's eyes blazed, but she signaled retreat, her pack vanishing into the dusk, her cackle a vow: "This isn't over, flame-cub!"
Rhen stood alone, his elders turning on him, their rumbles a judgment. Tormen approached, his horns heavy with sorrow. "You shamed our kin, Rhen. Exile is your fate." Rhen's eyes flickered, a fleeting guilt, but he fled, his tremors fading into the night.
Saphira panted, her wounds bleeding, the Fang's weight heavier than ever. The elders pledged their herds, their earth magic a bulwark for the coalition, but Veyla's purr was strained. "Rhen's betrayal cut deep, Saphira. The prophecy warned us—whose heart breaks next?"
Saphira's fire flickered, her voice raw. "We trust each other, Veyla. The coalition holds, or we all drown." But the Fang's curse whispered: Trust is ash. Burn or be burned. As the coalition marched on, the Flats smoldered, and Rhen's shadow lingered, a traitor whose ambition would return.