Chapter 9
Tess
The tension in the room snapped taut as Instructor Dante’s voice settled over us, cold and commanding, freezing both Mason and Selena in place. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he slowly rose from the edge of his desk. The atmosphere shifted, a heavy, oppressive weight pressing down on everyone present.
“Ms. Castellan, Mr. Sharpe.” Instructor Dante’s voice was an icy caress, deceptively calm. “This classroom is not a battlefield for your personal disputes. We are here to discuss the future— our future—and petty squabbles over bloodlines and magical aptitude are relics of a past that no longer belongs here.”
Mason's chest rose and fell heavily, his entire body still vibrating with an energy that felt like it could crack the very foundation of the room. Selena, for her part, looked smug, as if she’d won some unspoken point. But Instructor Dante wasn’t finished.
“And Ms. Castellan,” he said, his voice slicing through her self-satisfaction like a blade, “I would caution you to tread carefully. Overconfidence is often the downfall of even the most powerful.” His eyes flicked toward me for a brief moment, a barely concealed reminder that I was still under his scrutiny. “The world is changing. Adapt, or be left behind.”
Selena’s smirk faltered, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she flicked her gaze away, dismissing the warning with a haughty tilt of her head.
Instructor Dante turned his attention back to the class at large, his tone once again smooth and composed. “Now, let’s continue.”
The room settled, though the tension hadn’t fully dissipated. Aurelia resumed her lecture, her voice now a distant hum in my ears. I could feel Mason’s heated glare on Selena from behind me, but I didn’t dare glance back. My heart was still racing, the weight of what had just happened sitting heavily in my chest.
I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of this constant scrutiny, the endless reminders that I didn’t belong. No matter how hard I tried, how much I fought to prove myself, there was always someone like Selena—or even Instructor Dante—ready to strip me down, reminding me of my humanity, my supposed inferiority .
By the time the class ended, I felt like I’d been drained, wrung out by the weight of their judgments. I gathered my things quickly, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the classroom. But as I moved toward the door, Mason fell into step beside me, his presence a comforting shadow.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, rough with lingering tension.
I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely sure it was true. “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Just tired.”
Mason frowned, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he walked with me down the corridor, his broad shoulders cutting a path through the lingering students.
We moved in silence for a few moments, the noise of the other students fading into the background. I could feel his gaze flickering toward me, as if he was searching for the right words to say, something to ease the weight between us. But before he could speak, I beat him to it.
“You know I have my one-on-one session with Theron after this, right?”
Mason's expression faltered ever so slightly, his brows knitting together. “Yeah, I remember.” He hesitated, glancing down at the floor as we walked. “But... I was hoping maybe we could hang out after? Grab something to eat? I thought it might help take your mind off things.”
His offer was sweet, and under normal circumstances, I would’ve jumped at the chance to spend more time with him. But the thought of my upcoming session with Theron lingered in the back of my mind, a reminder of the intense training and magical focus I needed to maintain.
“I’d like that,” I said softly, offering him a small smile. “But you know, I’m not sure I’ll have any energy left after. I'll probably just grab a quick bite and relax for bit in my room.”
Mason’s jaw tightened, a fleeting look of frustration crossing his features before he quickly masked it. “I get it,” he said, his voice gruff. “But maybe I can walk you there? At least keep you company.” He tried to lighten the mood with a chuckle, but I could still sense the tension simmering just beneath the surface.
I nodded. “I’d like that.”
As we approached Theron's office, the echo of our footsteps in the long, dim corridor seemed to synchronize with the unsteady rhythm of my heartbeat. Mason walked beside me, his presence a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of my thoughts. The flickering torchlight cast warm shadows across his chiseled features, highlighting the concern etched in his eyes.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly, his hand hovering near the small of my back as if ready to catch me should I falter.
I offered him a small, weary smile. "Just a long day," I murmured. "But thanks for walking me."
He nodded, his gaze searching mine. "You know I'm here if you need anything, right?" His fingers brushed lightly against my arm, a tender gesture that sent a subtle warmth spreading through me.
"I know," I replied, and for a moment, the weight of everything seemed a little lighter. Mason had become my rock—the one constant in this world of magic, politics, and complex relationships. His unwavering support meant more to me than words could express.
We stopped in front of the heavy oak door of Theron's office. Intricate carvings of ancient runes adorned the frame, their meanings just beyond my grasp. A faint hum of energy emanated from the wood, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Mason hesitated, his hand dropping to his side as an unreadable expression crossed his face. "Tess," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "There's something—"
Before he could finish, the door swung open with a quiet creak. Theron stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the warm glow from within. His dark eyes flickered between Mason and me, a subtle tension tightening his jaw.
"Mason," Theron acknowledged coolly, his tone polite but distant. "I wasn't expecting you."
Mason straightened, his broad shoulders squaring as he met Theron's gaze. "Just seeing Tess to her lesson," he said evenly.
"How chivalrous," Theron replied, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. His eyes shifted to me. "We have much to cover today, Tess. We shouldn't delay."
I glanced between the two men, the air thick with unspoken words. The contrasting energies between them pulled at me—Mason's steady warmth and Theron's enigmatic intensity.
"Right," I said, forcing a lightness into my voice that I didn't quite feel. "I'll see you later, Mason."
Mason's gaze lingered on me, a flicker of something—hesitation? longing?—passing over his features. "Don't forget about dinner tonight," he reminded me, his eyes holding mine for a beat longer than necessary.
"I won't," I assured him.
With a final nod, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until they faded into silence. I watched him go, a pang of uncertainty twisting in my chest. Part of me wanted to call out, to ask him what he'd been about to say, but the moment had passed.
"Shall we?" Theron's voice broke my concentration, drawing my attention back to him. His expression was unreadable as he stepped aside and gestured for me to enter the room.
Theron's office was stark, almost aggressively utilitarian, reflecting his role as someone who valued function over form. The bare stone walls framed a space devoid of personality—no decorations, no mementos. A weapon rack leaned against one corner, its array of blades, staffs, and other tools of combat standing at attention like silent sentinels. At the center of the room stood a functional wooden desk, its surface dominated by scattered reports, maps, and a single, open ledger.
Two chairs faced each other across the desk; one appeared slightly more worn, undoubtedly his, while the other was positioned for a visitor—plain and uninviting, clearly chosen for necessity rather than any attempt at hospitality.
The door clicked shut behind me, the sound unnervingly final. I stilled for a moment, torn between curiosity and unease, before glancing over my shoulder to find Theron leaning back against the now-closed door, arms crossed over his chest. His piercing green eyes locked onto mine, stark and unyielding, as if he’d stripped away every defense I thought I had.
Without breaking his gaze, he moved toward the desk in two measured strides, gesturing toward the chair opposite his. "Sit," he said, his tone curt, leaving no room for argument. I fought the instinct to bristle, reminding myself I was here for answers—for guidance, even if the man offering it was as approachable as a thunderstorm.
For a moment, I hesitated, eyes momentarily darting toward the weapons in the corner before squaring my shoulders and taking the offered seat. Theron, still watching me, lowered himself into his own chair. The desk between us felt more like a dividing line than an invitation to collaborate.
His gaze lingered a second longer, assessing me in that infuriatingly unreadable way he had, before he turned slightly toward the window, his fingers tapping once on the wooden surface of the desk. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost conversational, but the ever-present edge beneath it remained.
"You'll need allies if you intend to survive as a Dragon Rider," he said, not looking at me but instead at the pale light filtering through the glass. "Our world doesn't favor the lone wolf, no matter how capable they think they are."
I furrowed my brow, unsure of his intent but sensing layers beneath his words I hadn’t yet unraveled. "I’m not alone in this," I said carefully, leaning back in my chair as I met his sidelong glance. "Thalon’s bound to me, for starters."
His lips pressed into a line, his emerald eyes flicking back to me. "Your gargoyle friend—Mason. He seems… close to you," he said. "Trust like that doesn’t come easily. You’d be smart to keep him in your corner."
I resisted the urge to squint at him, but the subtle hint of curiosity in his tone didn’t escape me, even buried under his attempts at seeming merely pragmatic. "Mason and I have known each other for a long time," I replied evenly. "He's more than just in my corner—he's family."
Theron made a small sound, a cross between a grunt and a hum, before leaning back slightly in his chair. His expression, stoic as it was, seemed to tighten for a moment at the corners of his mouth. "Family," he murmured, as if testing the word, rolling it over like it was a foreign concept. Then, after a beat, his tone sharpened. "Sentiment can be a strength, but it can weaken you just as easily. It'll be up to you to keep the line clear."
I tilted my head at him, curiosity sparking despite myself. "Do you always keep that line clear, then?" I asked, my voice gentler than I intended. The way his shoulders stiffened told me I’d struck closer to something real than I’d expected. For a second, I thought he wouldn’t answer.
He rose abruptly, cutting off whatever moment might have lingered between us, his chair scraping softly against the floor. “Follow me,” he commanded, his voice as sharp as a blade cutting through the tense silence.
I blinked, confused. “Where are we going?”
His lips curled into something that resembled a smirk, but it was devoid of warmth. “You want to be a dragon rider, don’t you? Time to prove it.”
I hesitated for a brief second, but the fire in my chest—the one that had been burning ever since Thalon chose me—flared brighter. It silenced my doubts. “Fine,” I said, my voice firm. “Lead the way.”
Theron’s eyes flicked over me, and I could tell he was expecting me to back down. When I didn’t, his smirk widened, though the challenge in his expression remained clear. He turned on his heel, his long strides leading me out of his office and into the winding stone corridors of the Guild.
It was almost surreal thinking about how much had changed since I first stumbled into Theron. I’d been living a nice, safe, normal life. Now, here I was walking side-by-side with a man who seemed to carry the weight of a hundred battlefields, trying to prove I deserved the same title he carried.
If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be preparing for a trial as grueling as this—or that this sharp-tongued, infuriatingly handsome mage would make me question not only my limits but my resolve—I would’ve laughed. Or cried. Probably both.
“Remember Sacramento?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
I had been commuting home from my job at a little restaurant in Sacramento, when a minivan had collided with a jackknifed semi. I'd had to pull over, and Theron had been the Dragon Rider who had shown up to help.
Theron glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised. “Vividly. In fact, how did you end up here?” His question was blunt, his curiosity evident. “When last month you were... well, you weren’t here.”
I could feel his eyes on me, searching for answers. I let out a soft sigh, keeping my gaze ahead as we continued walking.
“After we met... things changed.” I shrugged, trying to keep things vague. “Shortly after we met, well... I ended up without a place to live. So I packed up, hopped in my car, and headed north.”
Theron’s expression remained unreadable, but I could sense a shift in his demeanor. “That was it? Just... a coincidence you found yourself in Drakehaven?”
I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Something like that.”
He didn’t respond, but I could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the silent judgment lingering in the air between us as we exited the Guild’s main building and crossed the courtyard toward the Arena. The towering stone structure loomed in the distance, its arches stretching toward the sky like the bones of some ancient creature.
Theron finally spoke again as we neared the entrance. “This place isn’t for beginners, you know. Most people need years of training before they even set foot in here.”
I tilted my head, my steps resolute as I followed him through the arched entryway. “Good thing I’m not ‘most people,’ then.”
He gave a soft, humorless chuckle as we stepped into the Arena. Inside, the space opened up into a massive, circular pit, the floor made of smooth, sand-colored stone. Above us, the magical dome shimmered faintly, an ethereal barrier that shielded the Arena from the elements while allowing the dragons to soar freely through it. The air smelled of metal and earth, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the faint screech of a dragon.
Theron turned to face me, his expression hardening once more. “This is where riders who have already bonded with their dragons train. There are no second chances here, Tess. You screw up—you get hurt. Or worse.”
I felt a jolt of nervousness, but I refused to let it show. “I’m not afraid,” I said, my voice steady.
His eyes darkened, and for a moment I thought I saw a flicker of something—concern, maybe, though it vanished just as quickly. “We’ll see about that. Let's begin your assessment.”
Without warning, Theron snapped his fingers, and the air around us seemed to vibrate. A moment later, a loud, deafening roar echoed through the Arena, and I instinctively braced myself as a massive form swooped down from the sky.