3. CHAPTER 3
The first week hadn’t been as bad as I thought it would be. It felt like the days repeated—over and over. Most nights, we got woken up by a screaming instructor. Sometimes it lasted for ten minutes, and sometimes it lasted for hours.
We began each day with physical exercises, though I was sure some of my fellow cadets considered it torture.
Having trained for years beforehand, I found it manageable.
After that, the dining attendants served us breakfast. Afterwards, we went to the lecture hall to review more expectations during basic training, the history of the college, and Yebel.
We took a break for lunch, and oftentimes we spent the afternoons standing in formation in the courtyard for several hours.
Sometimes, the instructors allowed us to go back to our barracks.
Most of us chose to get some sleep in, to catch up on the hours missed through the evening. After dinner each night, we received a rucksack filled with seventy-five pounds of gods knows what, and we ran around the college perimeter with it on our backs.
They told us that week two would be different from the previous week, and hell would actually start.
When I awoke that morning, I could feel my nerves rumbling, anticipating the worst. I remembered all the warnings my dad gave me, telling me how horrible it would be.
Like clockwork, Instructor Pascal came in and called for us to count, and we counted off, all one hundred and ten of us intact.
We marched into the dining hall and split into lines. I grabbed my food fast, ate the same way, shoveling it down like I had all week. When the plate emptied, I pushed outside to stand with my platoon .
Minutes later, the yard brimmed with bodies, rows locked in formation. The air pressed heavy, thick enough to taste. My gut tightened, warning me of something I couldn’t name—was it because I expected worse to come, or because it had already begun?
A low thrum rolled across the distance, faint but steady.
Wingbeats. The sound bled into my bones, each pulse louder, closer, rattling the air like an oncoming storm.
The sky above felt lower with every beat, shadows dragging longer across the yard.
My chest clamped down. Not one—several. I forced my stance still, but tension rippled through the lines.
Boots scuffed. A cough snapped sharp. Cadets shifted as if the ground itself waited to break beneath us.
“Stand at attention and maintain control of your fear!” Pascal shouted.
I hoped it was dragons, though the military called on more than dragons for war. To me, they meant home. I didn’t fear them, not truly—but I never forgot how fast one could turn on someone they weren’t bonded with.
The wingbeats drew closer, each stroke pounding the air until it pressed against my chest. They roared loud and furious… Gods. The ground shook beneath my boots, the tremor climbing through my bones, a sound so immense it swallowed breath and thought.
Chaos erupted. Cadets shrieked, bodies crashing into each other as they bolted for the walls. Stone scraped with the stampede of boots. The stench of sweat and fear thickened the air, sharp and suffocating. Lines shattered. Formation broke like glass.
Eight hundred and seventy-five of us had stood there moments ago. Now maybe two hundred held their ground, shoulders locked tight. My stomach lurched, my ears rang, my pulse screamed against my throat. Gods—
“Get back in formation cadets!” an instructor yelled.
“Don't show them fear,” one yelled.
“Why are you here if you're going to be a pussy,” another shouted.
“I said get back into formation!” the first instructor yelled again .
Cadets ran back to their places in formation just as one of the red dragons in the drift swooped down closer and blew out a huge puff of steam over us, before lifting its head back into the air, letting out a roar, and blowing out a large stream of fire.
All the cadets who had been running back now hit the ground on their stomachs.
More cadets screamed in pure fear. I could hear faint crying from some of the cadets still near the wall.
The wingbeats started to fade away, and the instructors continued screaming at all the cadets who ran. Slowly, they all began to re-form.
I grew up around dragons, with a parent who rode one, but my stomach threatened to empty breakfast onto the floor.
Red dragons were the most temperamental and unpredictable of all dragons.
Though I knew they weren't supposed to judge or incinerate anyone in basic training, my brain was not rational about it.
After everyone got back into formation, we headed into the outdoor arena. I stared at the various obstacle courses set up that looked like we might die on—and I thought they weren’t trying to kill us. We all stopped in front of four walls that stood about eight feet tall.
“You will go in squads of ten, you will be timed the first time as you learn what is expected. However, the time won’t count today.
After your squad is complete, you will wait on the other side for the other squads to complete theirs.
It is advised that you help everyone. Your only goal is to reach the end as a team. First squad, go!” Pascal stated.
I stood fourteenth in formation, making me in the second squad. I looked ahead at the three people in front of me and six behind me. It looked almost evenly split—four females, including me, and six males. We looked like a fit squad of ten. Surely we could do it.
“And go!”
The ten of us rushed forward. One cadet who definitely stood over six feet jumped to the top and pulled himself up and over like he wasn't part of a team at all. Two other guys walked up the wall, stood on either side, and motioned at me and the other females.
The one on the left stated, “ ladies first.”
The four of us moved to the wall. The girl in front of me got to the wall, and they lowered their hands.
She stepped on their palms, and they pushed her up.
She grabbed the top as they continued pushing her, she finished pulling herself over—merely seconds later, we all heard a loud thump and “FUCK!”
“Are you alright?” I shouted over.
“Yep, merely a hard landing on my ankle,” she said.
Next, it was my turn. I stepped onto their hands, and they lifted me as I pulled myself up.
As I got to the top, I straddled it before swinging onto my stomach and lowering myself to the ground.
I looked forward and didn’t see the cadet who took off.
Guess he wasn’t a team player. The other cadets made their way over.
We repeated that for the next three walls, moving faster and smoother.
As I got over the fourth wall, I looked forward to the next part of the course, and my mouth gaped open.
Fuck. In front of me, there was a twenty-foot balance beam, no more than twelve inches wide, crossing over a muddy pit with strands of barbed wire stretched across it.
On each side, instructors with hoses gleefully sprayed it down.
Falling off this would surely cause some damage, or even death if you hit it wrong.
As I stood there in shock, the rest of the cadets made their way over, most of them also staring at it.
One of the wall spotters volunteered to go first. We nodded—fine, he could be the test dummy. We watched close, ready to learn what not to do. He stepped out slow, balanced, moving like he’d done it a hundred times before.
“Damn it!” he yelled just as the instructors started to spray him with water on both sides. “Are they trying to kill us?”
“Take a breath, refocus, and tune them out,” I yelled to him.
He edged forward, steady breaths pulling through his chest, until the instructors hit him with a spray of water. He kept going, slow but stubborn, and when he’d cleared a few feet, I called my turn.
I stepped onto the narrow beam, dropped low, and straddled it, inching forward on my hands and legs.
The spray shifted to me, water pelting hard against my shoulders, soaking straight through.
Ahead, the first cadet picked up his pace, forcing the instructors to blast him again.
That gave me space to move quicker, sliding another few feet.
I glanced back and yelled for the next cadet. One after another, we pushed forward, the instructors alternating streams, trying to knock us off balance. Water hammered us and the beam shook under our weight, but we adjusted, each of us pushing faster whenever the spray shifted away.
At last, I dropped off the end, boots hitting solid ground. A shout ripped out of me, a wild whoop that carried all the way back across the line.
“I’m Callum, what’s your name? Figured we have been leading this squad, should know it?”
“Auriella, nice to put a name to a face.”
The rest of our squad made it across. Another wooden wall was set up for us to climb, identical to the first set of walls.
Callum and the other guy staged at the sides of the wall.
This time, I went first, doing it entirely as I had before.
I reached the bottom, pivoted to look at the next obstacle, and stopped in my tracks.
My stomach lurched, and I felt my heart stutter.
Being raised around fliers didn't mean coming across one unexpectedly wasn't alarming. I knew how fickle they could be.
“Hey guys, when you come across, do it nice and easy, there are two small-sized dragons… and they aren’t happy.”
“What”
“Uhhh”
“Fuuuuuck!” The word tore out, tangled with gasps, voices blurring so I couldn’t tell who shouted from where I stood.