Chapter 8
Tess
The hallway buzzed with the usual pre-class chatter. I trailed behind Mason, Anya just behind me, the remnants of our earlier laughter fading as we approached Dante’s classroom. The door stood ajar, and I followed everyone into the dimly lit space.
Mason headed toward a seat near the back, and I followed, about to sit down beside him when a low chuckle, dark and smooth as polished obsidian, sliced through the quiet murmur.
It came from the front of the room, near the large, arched window. The instructor—Dante—was already there, perched on the edge of his desk. He hadn’t been visible at first, blending into the shadows like a predator waiting in ambush, but now, bathed in the sliver of light filtering through the window, his presence radiated a chilling calm. Immediately, I could tell what he was. A vampire.
He watched us, his obsidian eyes glinting, a faint smile playing on his lips. The air thickened with an almost palpable sense of his predatory vigilance. It prickled my skin, making me acutely aware of being observed.
I swallowed, the casual comfort I’d felt with my friends evaporating under his gaze. "Ms. Whittaker," Instructor Dante purred, his voice cutting through the room with unsettling clarity. "Do join us. We have assigned seats in this class, and Mr. Beaumont has been patiently awaiting your arrival."
My stomach plummeted. This was deliberate. Of course it was.
I plastered a neutral expression on my face and made my way to the assigned seat, ignoring the smug smirk that stretched across Valen's face.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, his red eyes burning into me. "Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence. Did you get lost on your way to the human petting zoo?"
I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to his bait. "Just taking my time," I replied evenly, placing my bag on the floor and sitting down.
Valen leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Careful,” he whispered, his voice laced with malice. “This isn’t the library anymore. This isn't a place for dusty books and quiet corners. Here, the predators come out to play.” He leaned back again, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “And you, little human, smell like fresh prey.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I focused on taking slow, even breaths, trying to ignore the way Valen’s words crawled under my skin. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.
The classroom filled quickly, the buzz of conversation rising again until Instructor Dante raised a hand, silencing the room instantly. He didn’t stand, remaining perched on his desk, his posture relaxed yet radiating an unsettling authority.
“Welcome back, fledglings,” he began, his voice a smooth, dangerous caress. His obsidian eyes slowly scanned the room, pausing for the briefest moment on me before shifting away. "Today, we have a special guest. Your education on the role of the Dragon Rider Guild—especially in the political climate since The Unveiling—would be remiss without insight into magical artifacts and their delicate use in maintaining balance and influence."
I tensed, the foreboding feeling twisting tighter in my stomach. I already knew who would step through the door before Dante spoke her name.
"Please extend a warm welcome to Aurelia Draevorn, Chief Curator of Magical Artifacts of The Dragonne Library."
My lips pressed together as Aurelia's sharp figure glided into the room—a vision of elegance and cold authority. Her silver hair flowed like liquid moonlight down the back of her pristine purple robes. She wore her power like armor, eyes of silvery-blue narrowing as they scanned the classroom.
And then they landed on me.
A momentary flash of recognition crossed her face, followed by a subtle curling of her lips—not quite a smile. More like a silent reminder of my place… beneath hers. Aurelia had never made it a secret that she wasn’t thrilled about the idea of a mere human serving as the librarian of The Dragonne Library. To her, it was an insult to centuries of tradition. Her sharp comments and icy disdain over the past weeks had made that painfully clear, though she'd always been careful to veil her hostility in formality.
Valen hummed a low, mocking sound beside me. “Seems like you’ve got a fan, little human.”
I ignored him, keeping my gaze locked on Aurelia as she made her way to the podium. "It is an honor to be here," she began, the steely edge in her tone leaving little room for contradiction. "Today’s lecture will focus on the critical role that magical artifacts have played in bridging the world of mortals and the supernatural, especially since The Unveiling."
Her gaze swept the room, cold and assessing. "Dragon Riders have always been the stewards of such powerful tools. But with great responsibility comes great judgment. Unfortunately, not all possess the discernment such duty requires."
She flicked her eyes in my direction with a barely concealed sneer before turning her full attention to the class.
"As many of you are aware, during The Unveiling, select magical items were loaned to the human world to foster diplomacy. These weren’t toys to be mishandled, nor were they relics to be treated as museum pieces. Each object held the potential to reshape reality, often quite subtly, and it was imperative that only trusted humans—ones with direct Supe sponsorship—were allowed to handle these items."
I felt a shift in the room—the other students were leaning forward, intrigued by her words. Aurelia’s fingers glided through the air, a soft pulse of magic rippling outward. Suddenly, an image flickered into view—a hovering projection of an ancient, delicately crafted artifact spinning slowly in mid-air for the class to see.
"The Archivist's Lens, for instance," Aurelia continued, "allowed trusted humans to translate ancient supernatural texts, facilitating a broader understanding of our histories without compromising arcane knowledge. And then, we had more… humanitarian efforts."
A picture of a delicate pendant—a flower in full bloom—flickered in front of us.
"The Everbloom Pendant," she said, turning to face the image. "An artifact designed to heal the land. Its magic passively restores life to blighted areas, allowing humans to utilize its power temporarily for ecological recovery projects. While The Everbloom may seem benign, make no mistake," she emphasized, tapping a fisted hand on the podium, "its potential for misuse is severe. Imagine terraforming entire regions by force, or harnessing its regenerative properties in conjunction with dark magic. We were prudent enough to only lend it under strict supervision."
A hand shot up from the middle rows. "Curator Draevorn, what specific measures were taken to ensure the artifacts loaned during The Unveiling weren't misused?"
"A valid question. Each artifact was imbued with a tracking enchantment and a failsafe. The tracking enchantment allows us to monitor the artifact's location, while the failsafe can be activated remotely to either neutralize or retrieve the artifact if necessary."
Aurelia continued her lecture without missing a beat. “What some of you may not understand is that Dragon Riders have always been more than just warriors. We are the stewards of balance, both between the human and supernatural worlds. We’ve safeguarded some of the most powerful artifacts ever known to protect that equilibrium.” She paused, her gaze cold and assessing as it swept over the room. “This is your inheritance, your duty… however,”—her voice sharpened—“with human applicants now entering our ranks, some question whether this sacred responsibility is being… diluted.”
Her eyes settled on mine, piercing and unrelenting. The weight of her words wasn’t lost on me—she was challenging my very right to be there, to be seen as one of them.
I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself, but my hands clenched into fists under the desk.
A mocking voice drifted from behind, snapping me back into the moment. "Maybe the Harbingers did have a point," Selena Castellan said smugly, her voice loud enough for anyone within earshot to hear—and especially directed at me. "I mean, not everyone’s cut out to handle real power. Maybe keeping it exclusive wasn’t such a bad idea after all."
A few snickers followed her words, and I could feel the curious, judging eyes of my fellow students burning into the back of my neck. I bit my lip, refusing to give Selena the satisfaction of seeing me falter under her thinly veiled insult. But the name she’d invoked— Harbingers —hung heavy in the classroom, unfamiliar yet ominous.
Aurelia’s eyes flicked toward Selena briefly, her lips curling into a tight, humorless smile as she turned back to the class. “Ah, the Harbingers. They saw themselves as champions of a... purer world order—a world where power was tightly controlled by a select few. Exclusive, as some of you might say. They believed the ancient hierarchies were the rightful rulers of our kind, defending tradition against what they viewed as threats: change, evolution, and most especially, inclusion.”
A hand shot up near the front. “But curator Draevorn, weren’t the Harbingers destroyed during the Ancient War? Our texts say their influence practically disappeared afterward.”
Aurelia’s smile curved tightly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as though the question amused her.
“Ah, yes, the Ancient War.” She drummed her manicured fingers lightly against the podium. “It’s comforting to believe that conflicts can have such tidy conclusions, isn’t it? That the fall of their leadership marked the end of their movement entirely.” She paused, allowing her cold gaze to settle on the student who had spoken. “But history—real history—is seldom as definitive as the texts we study suggest. The Harbingers themselves may have been militarily defeated centuries ago, but their ideology... their legacy never truly vanished.”
Instructor Dante cut in smoothly, his voice wrapping around the room like cold silk as he steepled his long fingers. "Fascinating history lesson, Curator Draevorn." He made a show of casually adjusting his cufflinks, as if the weight of the Harbingers' name wasn’t currently casting a shadow over the room. "But we’re here to discuss artifacts, not conspiracy theories. The Harbingers, as intriguing as they were, ceased to matter long ago. Their 'legacy,' if it exists at all, is little more than a ghost story now—a cautionary tale for fledgling Riders."
The tension loosened imperceptibly, students shifting slightly in their seats. His dark gaze flicked around the room, daring anyone to challenge his dismissal of what Aurelia had hinted at. After a moment’s silence, he continued, leaning back and folding his arms. “Let’s steer this conversation back to the real reason we're all here: the artifacts that shape the future, not the relics of the past.”
Aurelia’s expression barely flickered, but I could sense the slight displeasure behind her calm exterior. Her lips tightened for a fraction of a second before she inclined her head gracefully. "As you wish," she said with a false sweetness that belied the ice behind her words. “While we may underestimate certain threats to our modern world, the study of artifacts remains paramount to our ongoing balance."
As she resumed, launching into a detailed explanation of various classified objects under the Library’s protection, my mind began to drift.
The Harbingers.
A group so ideologically opposed to the world we lived in now that their very name invoked shivers. Exclusive, Aurelia had hissed. Purer. It sounded like exactly the kind of people who would despise what the Unveiling represented—the mingling of humans and Supes, the shift toward integration, equality. Old-world zealots didn’t just disappear. They burrowed underground, waiting for the right moment to resurface.
I knew enough about history to understand that movements like theirs rarely died. Even if their leadership had been wiped out during some long-forgotten war, the ideology—the twisted belief in purity and control—they never went away completely. They just became more careful. More secretive.
I shivered beneath the weight of that thought. If they still existed today… What if their resurgence was already happening, just beneath the surface of our world?
Aurelia’s voice had become little more than a hum in the background, her words blurring as my thoughts spiraled. The Harbingers—if they were still out there, hiding in the shadows—might have been biding their time, gathering strength. And if they still believed in keeping power confined to the select few, then the Unveiling would’ve been the perfect spark for their resurgence. A direct threat to everything they stood for.
Inclusions, new alliances between humans and Supes, and more specifically, me . My whole existence as a human Dragon Rider threw a wrench in their archaic belief system. If they were watching from the shadows, I was sure they weren’t happy with what they were seeing.
I forced myself to refocus just as Valen’s voice cut through the room with a lazy, mocking tone. “Curator Draevorn,” he drawled, his red eyes gleaming with amusement, “if the Heart of Creation is so powerful, why didn’t the gods just use it to fix this mess of a world? Or, better yet, why didn’t they stop at creating dragons, and skip the whole human experiment altogether?”
Several students snickered, but I couldn't pay them too much attention because displayed on the screen behind Aurelia was a pendant of breathtaking beauty and immense power. At its center was a jewel, impossibly radiant as though the very essence of the cosmos had been crystallized within it. Draconic wings, crafted from purest platinum, encased the jewel as though both protecting and containing the immense energy it held.
I couldn't take my eyes off of it.
Aurelia’s lips twitched ever so slightly, as though she found Valen’s remark mildly amusing. She made no attempt to correct him immediately, letting the low chuckles from his fans ripple through the room until they died down on their own. The tension lingered, an almost tangible force hovering over us. Finally, with the room held in silent anticipation, she offered a cool, measured response.
“Ah, such limited imagination, Mr. Beaumont,” Aurelia began, her voice honeyed with just a touch of condescension. “A question plucked from the depths of cynicism. Well, legend tells us the Heart of Creation was forged by the divine couple Alaia and Sovrax, a physical manifestation of their eternal love and the very essence of creation itself.” Her gaze snapped back to the class, a spark of intensity brightening her features. “Its power is said to be limitless—creation, transformation, healing beyond imagination.”
Her words hung in the air, resonating with everyone present.
I felt a chill run down my spine, sensing the weight of ancient magic even through a mere image. Aurelia continued, her voice low and intense.
"This is why the role of Dragon Riders remains paramount. You're more than just protectors of people; you're guardians of the very artifacts that have shaped our history and, when necessary, define our future. The question is,"—and here her gaze swept pointedly across me and the other students—"do you think you're ready for that responsibility?"
The air crackled with tension as her words hung in the silence.
"Of course humans aren’t ready for this." Selena's voice cut through, her tone heavy with derision. "No offense, Whittaker... but you can’t seriously think you belong here, can you? Handling something like the Heart of Creation?” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and her blue eyes flickered with barely disguised disdain. “It’s not a library trinket.”
A ripple of murmurs trickled through the classroom, some in agreement, others cautious, but every second Selena spoke felt like she was baiting me, waiting for me to snap. I bit back the retort bubbling on my tongue, knowing that's exactly what she wanted. But before I could respond, someone else spoke.
"Careful, Selena," Mason’s gravelly voice growled from the back. He had been silent until now, watching with dark eyes, his massive frame tensed. The quiet protectiveness in his tone sent a wave of heat through me. “Judging someone's worth based on old, arrogant prejudices? Sounds a lot like the Harbingers Aurelia was talking about.”
Selena bristled, her flawless face twisting into a predatory grin. "Oh, please, Mason. Don't pretend this is some noble fight for equality." She waved her hand dismissively. "I’m sure you’re just so smitten with the human, but facts are facts. You can't change the nature of things. Humans have always been less... competent in magical matters, less connected to our world. And now, we're expected to believe that one of them could handle the same responsibilities as us? That’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Mason rumbled. The bite to his voice was sharper than I’d ever heard it before. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, his jaw clenched, muscles taut as if he were restraining himself from shifting right in the middle of the classroom. “She’s handled herself just fine. More than fine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hit a nerve?” Selena’s grin widened, enjoying the fire she was kindling. "It’s sweet how protective you are of your human ." Her gaze darted to me, dripping with false sympathy. “But when she inevitably crumbles under pressure, are you going to come running to clean up the mess? Can’t babysit forever.”
Before I could speak, Mason shot up from his seat. His chair screeched across the floor as if it too were echoing his anger. Mason's entire frame vibrated with barely contained fury, muscles taut like a coiled spring ready to strike. His eyes locked onto Selena’s, a dangerous fire burning within them.
“You don’t have any idea what Tess is capable of,” Mason growled, his gravelly voice rippling with power. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white beneath the bronze hue of his skin.
Selena’s sharp laugh filled the air, her voice dripping with mock amusement. “Right. I’m sure all that time spent organizing dusty scrolls has really prepared her for guarding the world’s most powerful magical artifact. Face it, Mason—they’re letting her in for show. A token human to placate those who think we need to ‘bridge worlds.’ But the truth is..." She trailed off, stepping closer to Mason as her voice lowered, cutting like a dagger. “...she’ll fail. And deep down, you know it.”
A menacing, primal growl rolled from Mason’s chest, vibrating the very air between them. For a moment, I thought he might shift right there in the classroom, the pressure of his power radiating outward until it buzzed against my skin like static electricity.
Just as it seemed the situation would explode into full-blown magical combat, Instructor Dante's voice cut through the chaos like a blade of ice.
“Enough!”