Chapter 1 #2
We entered the amphitheater in silence, the sound of our boots muted against the ancient stone. The open sky above stretched wide and pale, but the air was heavy, pressed down by grief and reverence.
Jax and Tae moved to Makor’s side, their hands steady as they unbound Eilvin’s body from the saddle. They lifted him together, carefully, respectfully, and carried him down the steps toward the center of the amphitheater, where a single stone slab awaited.
Zander stood at the edge of the dais, his gaze distant but resolute. “Lay him here,” he said, his voice low.
They placed Eilvin gently on the slab, the green silk catching a breeze and fluttering like leaves in a storm. His sword gleamed where it rested across his chest, a warrior’s final mark.
We stepped back, forming a loose circle, and Makor took to the skies with a low, mournful rumble. His wings spread wide, slicing through the air as he rose above us, his dark silhouette a shadow against the rising sun.
Once.
Twice.
Three times he circled.
Then he dipped low, a slow, sweeping arc, and opened his mouth. A stream of fire burst forth, brilliant, controlled, reverent, engulfing the slab in golden flame.
Eilvin’s scream tore through the air, not his voice, but something deeper. A sound that echoed from beyond, from the soul leaving its mortal shell.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
But I wasn’t the only one.
Around me, eyes glistened, Jax’s jaw clenched, Riven’s lip trembled, Cordelle wiped his face without a word.
We stood there, quiet and unmoving, as the flames consumed him. Dragon fire was swift. Clean. Pure.
Within minutes, only ash remained.
Zander stepped forward and bent beside a cluster of simple stone pots at the edge of the dais. He picked one up, its surface worn smooth by time and grief.
“We will collect his ashes,” he said, voice still raw with emotion, “and they will be placed with the honored riders.”
He knelt and scooped the first handful.
We followed without question, kneeling around the blackened slab. One by one, we used our bare hands to gather what remained of Eilvin. The warmth still lingered, like the memory of his laughter, his stories, his quiet strength. We placed him into the stone pot, bit by bit.
Zander sealed the lid, then turned and handed it to Jax. “Place his urn on the wall,” he said, nodding toward the surrounding platform, “beside the last rider to fall. Here we have no rank. No royalty. We are all riders.”
Jax took the pot in both hands and gave a solemn nod. He climbed the stairs slowly, reverently, until he reached the wall lined with shelves, rows upon rows of urns. Each one identical. Each one sacred.
He found the empty space and slid Eilvin’s pot into it, nestling it beside the last fallen rider.
He rested a hand against the cool stone.
“Goodbye, my friend,” he whispered.
And then he turned and came back to us.
We returned to our dragons in silence, the weight of finality pressing into our hearts.
Outside the amphitheater, Makor stood still, his massive head bowed.
Kaelith was beside him, the always-fierce Sentinel turned toward him, her long neck curved protectively.
She didn’t speak, didn’t move, but her presence was a quiet comfort, her golden eyes trained on the snake-like dragon beside her.
Even the mightiest dragons mourned.
And in that moment, we were all just creatures learning how to say goodbye.
We mounted our dragons with the same solemnity we’d carried into the amphitheater. No one spoke. Kaelith crouched low for me, her eyes unusually somber, and I swung up onto her back, tightening the straps of my harness with slow precision.
Zander and Hein rose first, their powerful form cutting through the sky like a blade. The rest of us followed in staggered silence, the wind tugging at our armor as we flew back toward Warriath. The island shrank beneath us, becoming a memory carved into stone and ash.
We touched down in the Ascension Grounds just as the sun breached the eastern edge of the keep.
And that’s when I saw him.
Remy’s dragon, large, light-green with emerald eyes, was pacing the training field, its tail flicking in agitation. And beside it, my ex-fiancé stood in full rider’s uniform, lips pressed into a grim line, engaged in a heated argument with Major Ledor.
Zander slid from Hein’s back the moment the dragon’s claws hit stone, moving like the air had just been set on fire.
“What is going on?” he barked, his voice slicing through the tension.
Major Ledor turned toward him, his face unreadable. “Lieutenant Saulter was notified that a Thrall member lost their life in the last skirmish. He wished to pay his respects.”
Zander’s glare snapped toward Remy. “Were you told which one?”
Remy’s face was carved from granite. “No.”
Zander’s eyes flicked to me, where I stood beside Kaelith, the sea wind tugging at my braid. “As you can see, Ashe is fine.”
Remy’s voice was like ice. “No thanks to you.”
The entire training ground went still. The squads currently sparring in the rings fell silent, blades lowering, all eyes turning to the storm brewing between two men used to commanding attention.
“I wish to take command of Thrall Squad,” Remy said, stepping forward.
The air snapped.
Zander moved with slow, deadly precision until they were chest-to-chest, the air between them taut like a pulled bowstring.
“You may have my father’s ear,” Zander said coolly, “but you do not outrank me. I’ve taken responsibility for the Thrall Squad, and quite frankly, their lives belong to the crown.”
Remy leaned in closer, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Riders belong to their dragons.”
Zander’s mouth curled into a smile, dangerous and knowing.
“Then we’re in agreement.” He took a step back, lifting his hand toward Kaelith who watched from the edge of the grounds, unmoving.
“Since Ashlyn is linked to the most powerful dragon available, I suggest you stand down, unless you plan to explain to Kaelith why you would be a better protector.”
Kaelith’s growl rolled through the Ascension Grounds like thunder.
Remy’s eyes flicked toward her. He grunted. “Well played.”
Zander’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“But this isn’t over,” Remy said, voice low and rough. “I wish a word with each member of Thrall Squad. To pay my respects.”
Zander’s face hardened. “That is your right.”
But his eyes never left Remy’s. And mine? Mine were locked on the man I’d once loved, who now stood on the wrong side of my dragon’s anger.
Remy moved down the line of my squad, one by one, shaking hands with solemn grace.
His face was carved from restraint, respectful in the way only soldiers understood.
He started with Cordelle, who bowed slightly in that awkward, poetic way of his, then moved to Riven, who clasped his hand with a measured nod.
Ferrula, Naia, even Jax and Tae. Each one he met with the same steady grip, the same few murmured words of condolence.
But he came to me last.
And instead of a handshake, he pulled me into his arms.
His grip was firm and familiar, the warmth of his body closing around me like armor I didn’t know I still missed. His breath brushed the shell of my ear, lips barely moving.
“You need to be careful.”
I stilled.
Just for a moment.
The scent of him, leather, steel, the faint trace of mint and fire, dragged me backward through memory. Nights spent curled into him after missions. Whispers beneath stolen sheets. Promises he broke the day he left me.
“I am aware.” I didn’t pull away. “Solei attempted to kill me.”
He tensed, pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes, and there was murder in his expression. “That bitch.”
“Obviously, she didn’t succeed. Siergen saved me.” My voice was quiet. “She’s sworn a life debt.”
His jaw ticked, his fists clenched at his sides. “Then Cyran will send another.”
I didn’t argue.
There was no point repeating Siergen’s warning. We both knew my father would never be swayed by the threat of annihilation. Cyran would rather die than lose face in the eyes of his people.
“Stay with me,” Remy said, suddenly and with surprising softness. “In the castle. Where I can protect you.”
I shook my head. “No.”
His brows knit.
“I need to be with my squad,” I said. “They’ll watch my back if needed, but I’m not defenseless, Remy. You know that.”
“I know you aren’t,” he said slowly. “But these are Order assassins, not noble riders who hide behind their dragons.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You have a dragon.”
A flicker of a smile touched his lips. “And Katama chose me because I’m just as deadly as he is.”
I believed him.
But I wasn’t about to be pulled away from the one place I’d started to find belonging.
Even if part of me still remembered what it was like to be in his arms and feel safe.
“What will it take,” Remy asked, his voice raw, rough around the edges, “for you to trust me again?”
I froze.
The reality of the question slammed into me harder than any punch. Trust him? Like nothing had shattered between us? Like I hadn’t bled alone while he vanished into the crown’s service without a word?
“That ship has sailed,” I said, my voice steady.
He flinched like I’d drawn a blade and buried it in his chest. His eyes, those traitorous, stormy eyes that once made me feel like I was the only thing worth fighting for, glinted with hurt.
Like I’d broken him.
But he had broken me first.
Kaelith’s voice sliced into my mind like silk over steel, the warning unmistakable.
Come away from the human, little storm, or I will rend him limb from limb.
The threat wasn’t idle. She felt my pain as if it were her own. The seething betrayal, the tremble of my pulse, the ache I kept locked behind my ribs.
But it wasn’t just about Remy.
It was everything.
Solei. Eilvin. My father. The choices I’d been forced to make. The blood on my hands and the love I no longer trusted.
“I have to go,” I said, backing up a step. “Kaelith needs me.”
It was a lie, blatant and transparent, but I didn’t care.
I turned away from him before he could say more. I couldn’t take that look on his face, the way he still wanted to fix something we both knew was far beyond repair.
Kaelith waited at the edge of the training field, her deep-purple scales catching the morning light like polished amethyst. She didn’t move as I approached, but her golden eyes flicked to me with something fierce and protective.
I reached out and laid my hand against her side.
Warmth pulsed beneath my palm, steady and sure, like a heartbeat.
I closed my eyes, grounding myself in her presence. Not in the past. Not in Remy’s voice or scent or the thought of what we used to be.
Just this.
Me and my dragon.
When I opened my eyes again, I pulled the pendant from beneath my armor.
The gold had faded, almost entirely replaced by deep-violet.
My breath caught.
It was nearly complete.
She was choosing me.