Chapter 3
Kane
"Survival Challenge," Mason said, his deep voice rumbling as he knelt to adjust the strap on his boots. "They’re making it sound like it’s going to be a bloodbath."
Tess tilted her head, a faint crease forming between her brows. "Define ‘bloodbath.’ You’re not just talking about magic combat simulations, are you?"
Mason flashed her one of his rare smiles. "Trust me, Tess. It's not that kind of bloodbath. But they’re definitely looking to push us hard. Fewer candidates, fewer risks."
My voice slid in before Mason could elaborate further. "The Survival Challenge is meant to sort the capable from the expendable. It’s designed to test improvisation, resilience, and teamwork. If you can’t adapt, you’re a liability in the field."
"Good pep talk," Tess quipped, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her sarcasm was a fragile shield, and though it amused me, I understood its purpose. She was processing the weight of what was to come. Always thinking, always finding a way to shape her apprehension into resolve. "So, basically, don’t die and try not to screw over your team. Got it."
I inclined my head. "That would be a good start."
Her smirk faltered, her expression softening to something thoughtful. She opened her mouth to speak, but then her gaze drifted, faraway and unfocused, the familiar look of someone in communication with their dragon.
"Thalon wants to train," Tess said finally, her voice rich with a quiet awe that she couldn’t quite keep out. Her dragon had that effect on people. On her, it was transformative. The faint glow in her golden-brown eyes as she said his name was something others noticed. Something that made her stand apart.
"I’ll come with you to the Annex," Mason said instantly, brushing his hands on his pants as he rose. His tone was casual, but there was no mistaking the protective edge underlining his words. Tess threw him a smile, one of those rare ones that lit up her whole face, and nodded.
"Thanks, Mason," she said, picking up her satchel. "I could use the company." She spared me a glance, amber and curious, before turning to leave with Mason.
I watched them walk off, her animated gestures clashing with Mason’s calm, lumbering steps. She was so… human. And yet, somehow, she had managed to worm her way into the center of every storm currently brewing within the Guild. Human, dragon-bonded, and inexplicably tied to multiple figures of interest, Tess was a disruptor.
I understood why. What I didn’t understand, however, was why the thought of her enduring the Survival Challenge alone caused something in my chest to tighten, like an unseen cord constricting itself.
It had to be professional concern. That was the only explanation.
She was inexperienced, vulnerable in ways she couldn’t begin to comprehend. That made her dangerous—not just to herself, but to others—and I couldn't ignore it. My plan to send her to meet Garanth was starting to look a little questionable. Garanth operated at the fringes of the Guild's awareness, a two-faced demon who’d either offer insight or exploit a weakness, depending on what he could gain. And Tess? Right now, she was glowing with inexperience. Garanth would seize on that without hesitation. If she faltered, it could all spiral wildly out of control.
I shouldn’t care. Tess being tested, even in the harshest circumstances, would only strengthen her resolve—or eliminate her if she wasn’t cut out for this world. Yet, the image of her walking into one of Garanth’s traps stirred something primal in me. Anger. Resentment. Unease. What was it about her that upended my calculations and made me second-guess decisions I should have already set in stone?
I exhaled sharply. Emotions were messy. Distracting. Illogical.
And yet... there they were, clouding my judgment just as my next objective came into view. Tess was unlike anyone I had ever encountered, but that didn’t mean I could lose focus. I would compartmentalize. I always did. Everything had its place, including whatever absurd fixation Tess had ignited within me.
Grinding my teeth, I turned toward the north edge of the grounds, forcing my focus forward. There was only the mission. Nothing else. There could be nothing else.
The discreet section of the Guild compound I arrived at was bathed in shadows, tucked away behind training barracks where few candidates ventured unless summoned. It was the perfect place for clandestine meetings—a raw arena stripped of ceremony and pretense. The faint hum of lingering magic crackled through the air, mingling with the stale scent of old leather and singed wood.
I spotted Veyla immediately.
Keen and dependable, she was integral to my network—a set of eyes and ears that granted me insight into the undercurrents among the dragon rider hopefuls. Many of them held their tongues when I was near, wary of my connection to the Lord Protector of the Guild. Veyla, however, had a knack for blending into the background, listening where others would dismiss her, and passing along whispers that never reached me otherwise.
She was leaning against the far wall, her lithe frame obscured effortlessly in the shadows of a warped post. Her fiery hair was pulled back tightly, though a few rebellious strands framed her face, softening the edge of her sharp, determined features. As soon as she spotted me, she straightened, her blue eyes darting across the room in a quick, habitual sweep before stalking toward me with a deliberate, feline grace.
"Kane," she said, her voice low but eager. Her respect for me was unmistakable, though I noted the barest hint of relief in her tone as I stepped closer. She was nervous. Good. Nervous meant aware of danger, and that kept her alive.
"Veyla," I greeted evenly, my hands clasped behind my back. "What do you have for me?"
Her lips pressed together, and she glanced around once more before lowering her voice. "Tess is… stirring people up. The candidates are talking—complaining, really." Veyla crossed her arms, her unease apparent. "Comments like ‘It’s unnatural that she’s even here,’ and ‘She doesn’t belong’ are spreading. Some of the pureblood Fae are particularly vocal."
I frowned, though I wasn’t surprised. Tess had been lucky so far. Words were cheap—easily ignored, easily dismissed. But there would come a point when words wouldn’t be enough for her detractors. There was always someone willing to escalate their rhetoric into action. "Names?" I asked, my voice sharp.
"Most of them keep quiet around me," Veyla admitted, frowning. "But I’d be willing to bet a few of the older candidates are already forming quiet alliances to undermine her. I could try digging, but—”
"No need," I cut her off. I could connect the dots. Tess was a human anomaly in a world of Supes. Resentment was inevitable.
Something else flickered in Veyla’s expression. Hesitation. Her next words were halting but deliberate: "It’s not just Tess causing waves, though. Draven… there’s something off about him."
I raised an eyebrow, suddenly more alert. Veyla never mentioned names without justification. "Elaborate."
She shifted her weight, chewing her bottom lip. "He doesn’t act like the others. He’s too… perfect. Too polished. I caught him watching Tess during lunch today. And once, I overheard him asking someone about Guild politics—specifically about dragon selection. It doesn’t feel right."
Draven. An incubus known for exuding effortless charm, he was always surrounded by women. But other than that, I didn’t know much about him.
"Continue to keep an eye on him," I ordered. "Don’t overextend yourself, but I want to know the moment you hear something concrete."
Veyla nodded, her shoulders straighter now with purpose. "Understood."
???
The tires of my Tesla hummed against the narrow road leading into Drakehaven, the quiet hum of the engine a sharp contrast to the quaint, timeless atmosphere of the town ahead. Drakehaven was a paradox, blending the charm of history with the subtle hum of arcane power.
I parked outside The Haven, the local tavern, the neon sign flickering faintly above the sturdy oak doors. The building exuded a strange warmth, lit by soft magic-infused light that made even skeptics feel a little safer inside. To the human eye, it was just a charming small-town bar. To those who knew better, it was one of the bustling hubs of supernatural gossip and clandestine exchanges.
Stepping inside, the scent of aged wood, spiced mead, and faint traces of glamour magics greeted me. The buzz of conversation filled the air, mingling with the occasional burst of laughter from the far corners. Cali was easy to spot. Even though her partially corporeal sprite form flickered faintly with magic, her boundless energy radiated like a beacon in the dim atmosphere. Behind the bar, her iridescent wings shifted faintly, catching the light as she flitted back and forth, pouring drinks for her eclectic clientele.
“Ellesar,” she greeted as I slid into one of the high-backed barstools. Her bright green eyes sparkled mischievously as she poured me a glass of her finest whiskey without asking. “You’re punctual, as always. I’d say it’s endearing, but we both know you don’t care much for pleasantries.”
I smirked, taking the glass from her without a word, the amber liquid catching the light as I swirled it in my hand.
“And you’re as perceptive as ever, though I’d wager you’ve missed more than you’d like to admit,” I replied smoothly, raising the glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. The whiskey burned on the way down, a sharp, grounding sensation that momentarily dulled the constant whir of calculations in my mind.
She laughed lightly, leaning on the bar as she regarded me. “What brings you here this time? The Guild politics? Or is it that librarian everyone’s whispering about?”
I tipped my head, not surprised in the least. Word traveled fast in a place like this, and Cali had her pulse on the heartbeat of the supernatural world. “I need you to listen, Cali. Nothing too ordinary—ignore the usual grumblings about Rider trials or Guild disputes.” I set the glass down with a soft clink . “What matters now are whispers about her. Tempest Whittaker. The librarian with a dragon.”
Her wings quivered faintly, a sign she was trying to mask her curiosity. “Quite the stir she’s causing, isn’t she?”
I gave her a measured look. “Don’t let the intrigue distract you. I need precise rumors, not just idle chatter. Anything tied to her sudden bond, the observers encircling her, and the Guild’s response. I want it all.”
Cali nodded, her expression turning serious for once. “Consider it done. But Kane, a word of advice—this one feels different. Whatever game you’re playing, don’t let yourself get blindsided.”
I pushed the empty glass toward her and stood, adjusting my coat. “I don’t take blind risks, Cali.”
Her laugh followed me as I left. “Just remember, not every secret can be controlled, Ellesar.”
???
The murmur of the town faded into the background as I drove to a secluded clearing beyond Drakehaven, my destination chosen deliberately to avoid prying eyes and enchanted ears. The clearing was quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. The forest stood sentinel around me, its ancient trees casting long shadows in the fading twilight.
I pulled out my phone and dialed with practiced ease, the number etched into my memory yet buried deep enough in my contacts to evade casual scrutiny. Lorcan answered after two rings.
“Just a minute,” he said curtly before the line went dead with an audible click .
Typical.
I stepped away from my car, leaning against a nearby tree as I scanned the treetops. It didn’t take long. A sleek raven soared into view, its feathers shimmering with an unnatural sheen under the dim light. The bird landed gracefully on a low-hanging branch, and in one fluid motion, it began shifting.
Feathers melted into flesh, wings folding into arms, until Lorcan stood before me, tall and lean, his sharp features and black-feathered tattoos just as unsettling as ever. He adjusted his jacket casually, as if shifting between forms was the most natural thing in the world.
“Kane,” he greeted, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of mockery. "Meeting in the twilight. Very poetic. You’re almost convincing me you have a touch of romance in you."
I didn’t reply immediately. Timing was everything with Lorcan. A rushed move was akin to surrender, and I had no intention of giving him the upper hand. Instead, I pushed off the tree I’d been leaning against, my carefully neutral expression betraying nothing, and took a few measured steps forward.
“Romance,” I said finally, my voice crisp, “is indulgence reserved for moments of certainty. I operate in necessity.”
Lorcan’s sharp laugh broke the stillness, a sound both amused and disconcerted. “Ah, necessity. Such a polite way of disguising desperation.” He tilted his head, studying me as though peeling back layers I kept firmly in place. “But please, don't stop. Your brooding philosophical edge is the stuff of sonnets.”
“You’re stalling,” I said flatly, my hands tucked behind my back as I arched a brow. “And while I’m sure you enjoy the sound of your own voice, I don’t have time for theatrics. I came with a purpose. Do you want to hear it, or should I find someone less enamored with his own wordplay?”
Lorcan’s expression shifted. The smirk held steady, but there was a flicker of irritation behind his eyes. He didn’t enjoy being called out, even in jest. Advantage to me—for now.
He waved a hand lazily, though the gesture had an air of deliberate control. “Fine. Tell me, Kane. What grand scheme brings you slumming out here in the woods with someone of my… reputation ?” His lips twitched, the emphasis on “reputation” a self-congratulatory jab.
I didn’t respond to his bait. Instead, I laid the groundwork for what he needed to know—and, just as importantly, what he didn’t. “I need a background check on someone. Tempest Whittaker.”
Lorcan’s brow lifted marginally, his interest piqued despite his attempts to appear otherwise. “The librarian,” he said slowly, his voice like silk unraveling. “The human with a dragon. That didn’t take long. She’s barely bonded, and already you’re digging. You’re predictable, you know.”
“I’m thorough,” I corrected. “And she’s… unusual. ”
“That’s putting it lightly.” He began to circle me, his hands clasped lazily behind his back, his steps noiseless on the soft forest floor. “I hear she waltzed into this world like she belonged and snapped up the prize everyone covets. A dragon,” he said with a faint chuckle. “Not just any dragon. The gold and obsidian dragon. Legendary, even by dragon standards. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why her? Why now?”
I kept my face carefully blank. “I don’t pay you to wonder, Lorcan.”
“No,” he conceded, stopping his circling to stand before me, his tall, lean frame casting an elongated shadow in the dim light. “You pay me for answers. And I provide them… at a price.”
Which was exactly the moment I’d been waiting for. “Not to worry,” I said, my tone tight but calm. “I’m prepared to compensate you.”
His lips twitched with amusement, but there was something feral behind his gaze now—a gleam that warned of a game in which only he truly knew the rules. “Oh, I’m sure you are, Kane. But my tastes, you see, are quite refined. Coins bore me. Artifacts... tedious. Magic? I have plenty of my own.” He leaned in, just slightly, his black eyes locking onto mine with unnerving focus. “What I want, Ellesar, is clarity.”
I stiffened, but not visibly. Lorcan didn’t miss much; any crack in my armor now would be a signal to exploit. “Clarity about what?”
“Tempest Whittaker,” he said casually, though the weight behind his words was deliberate. “Soul Resonance.”
The very air seemed to still further, the faint breeze dying at the mention of the term. I tightened my jaw, my mind whirring. He knew. Or at least, he thought he did. The question now was how much.
“You always did have a knack for peddling nonsense,” I said evenly, though my fingers curled into fists deep in my coat pockets.
Lorcan’s grin widened as he stepped closer, closing the space between us. “Don’t insult me, Kane. I deal in shadows, yes, but even shadows have their truths. Soul Resonance,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “A phenomenon thought extinct. A bond that elevates the Rider as much as the dragon. Intimate, inseparable, and oh-so dangerous.” He tilted his head, his raven-sharp gaze narrowing slightly. “Tell me—how does it feel, having that kind of chaos circling so close? Especially now?”
I didn’t answer for a long moment, weighing my response as though walking a tightrope. A wrong step would not only cost me leverage but potentially expose Tess to even more danger than she was already in. Lorcan would love nothing more than to exploit it.
Finally, I spoke, my voice low and sharp. “Even if it were true—hypothetically, of course—it would be a dangerous rumor to confirm. Existence isn’t proof of inevitability.”
Lorcan hummed lightly as though the conversation were merely academic, but the knowing smirk plastered on his face told me he understood the weight of my words. “Ah, I see. Deny the storm, but prepare for it anyway. Smart move, Ellesar. But then again, you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t already calculating your next ten steps.”
“What I’d be,” I countered tersely, “is a man who doesn’t barter more than necessary. Now, can you do it? Monitor her. Catalog the figures interested in her bond and the dragon. Background details. Nothing more.”
“Nothing more? Such self-restraint.” He smirked again, his expression infuriatingly smug. “Fine, fine. I’ll play along, for now. But mark my words, Kane—the chaos surrounding Miss Whittaker is just beginning. And when it spills over, don’t come crying to me about the price.”
With the deal made, Lorcan’s form seemed to shimmer, the faint outline of feathers overtaking his frame. Within seconds, he returned to his raven form, the sharp caw echoing ominously through the clearing as he launched himself into the air. His inky silhouette vanished into the night, leaving only silence behind.
I exhaled slowly, allowing a fraction of the tension to ease from my shoulders. Lorcan was a gamble, but not an unwinnable one. His loyalty was to opportunity, not ideology—a fact I could weaponize if necessary.
Sliding into the driver’s seat of my Tesla, I tapped my fingers absently against the steering wheel. The road ahead wasn’t just dangerous. It was personal.
Her face flashed in my mind’s eye, unbidden. Tess, with her quick wit, her resolute defiance, and her maddening ability to unearth questions I hadn’t thought to ask. There was something about her, something more than her impulsive bravery or her precarious bond with Thalon. It was a pull I couldn’t name, an instinct I couldn’t rationalize. In her presence, my focus shifted —subtly at first, like the nudge of a tide, until I realized she was at the center of every calculation I made.
I wasn’t used to distraction, least of all the kind that made me question my own intentions. Tess wasn’t part of my plan—she wasn’t supposed to be. Yet, since her arrival, I’d felt it lurking beneath the surface: a restless urge to shield her from what she couldn’t yet see coming. It wasn’t like me. Protection, for me, was a strategic decision, a calculated move intended to retain order. But with Tess, it felt... instinctual. Primal, even.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, jaw clenched. This wasn’t about sentiment. It couldn’t be. She was integral to the chessboard that had been set before us—the librarian with a dragon bond, the outlier that disrupted every equation. Whether or not she realized it, her choices would ripple outward, touching every faction, every power, and every fragile balance. If I was protective of her, it was because her survival served the greater good. Logic dictated nothing less.
And yet, when I thought of someone like Lorcan circling her, his dark intrigue and razor-sharp cunning probing for weaknesses, I felt the flicker of something more dangerous than logic. Anger. The kind that burned slow, like embers waiting to ignite, ready to tear through anything or anyone who dared cross her path.
I shook the thought off with a sharp breath. There was no place for that kind of indulgence. Tess wasn’t mine to protect beyond what the situation demanded. Whatever tether pulled at me, binding my thoughts to her, I needed to sever it before it cost me my edge. Before it became my weakness.
Still, as I navigated the dimly lit forest roads, each turn pulling me closer to the glowing towers of the Dragonne Library, a small, unbidden thought surfaced in the quiet recesses of my mind—a thought I pushed aside as soon as it formed.
What if I didn’t sever that tether?