Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
The morning air was colder than usual as we made our way to the Ascension Grounds, the rising sun casting long shadows over the stone.
No one spoke. The weight of the failed search in the village still clung to our boots like ash.
We’d turned over every stone, questioned every shop, knocked on every shuttered door.
And had gotten nothing.
But the silence had said enough.
Someone in Warriath was leaking information to the enemy.
And the enemy was listening.
As we crossed the edge of the training field, the major’s voice cut through the wind like a whip.
“Form up, now!”
We moved into position without question. Even Ferrula didn’t grumble.
Major Ledor stood at the center, hands behind his back, his expression like carved granite. “This is it,” he barked. “The final bonding trial for those of you who remain unanchored. No more delays. No more excuses. Today we find out if you’re strong enough, and whether your dragons agree.”
The words struck something deep in my chest.
Around us, the dragons flew above us. One by one, shadows slicing through the morning mist, wings spread wide against the sky.
Lola. Narvea.
And then Kaelith.
She glided above me, but she didn’t come closer.
Not yet.
I felt her enter my mind like a storm on the horizon. Not gentle. Not cruel. Just… inevitable.
You can end this, she said. Now.
The words echoed like thunder behind my ribs.
I offer you release from this bond. You are not chained. You never were. If you walk away, I will not follow.
I stared at her, throat tight, blood humming.
If you don’t want me, I whispered back, then kill me. Or let me die in the field. Let someone else try their luck. But I’m done chasing silence.
She didn’t respond right away.
So I stepped forward, fists clenched at my sides.
I’m yours. Even if you don’t want me. But I will not beg anymore. So choose, Kaelith. Or let the gods choose for us.
The bond trembled.
Major Ledor stood proudly before us, his crimson-lined cloak flaring with the wind that cut across the Ascension Grounds. The dragons stood in a semi-circle at the far edge of the field, silent and watchful, the sky behind them turning gold with the rising sun.
“This is the final trial,” he announced, his voice piercing enough to silence the breeze. “No more delays. No more holding back. Today, the remaining dragons will choose.”
He let his gaze sweep over us, all of us still unbonded, like he was already measuring who would walk away, and who would be carried.
“This trial is only for those whose bond remains incomplete. If your dragon does not finish the bond today, if they reject you, then you will not survive what follows.”
His words hit like stone.
“This is not a test of combat, or flight. This is a surrender. You will mount your dragon and enter the Veiled Rise alone.”
He waved his arms and a ridge of ancient cliffs formed shrouded by thick, ever-changing mist. “No one speaks of what happens inside, only that it is where the magic of bonding either claims you… or destroys you.”
“Sounds fun,” Riven said.
“Once inside,” Ledor continued, “your dragon must call you to them. Not with voice. Not with power. But with soul. You will face what hinders your bond. And only together will you walk back out.”
He turned. “Naia of Thrall Squad.”
Naia took a deep breath beside me, her jaw tight with focus. She stepped forward without hesitation, her sandy-blond hair braided down her back, armor glinting in the morning light.
Temil, her orange Swordtail, landed seconds later, vibrant and sleek, with a thrum of magic that made the very air shift.
Naia didn’t hesitate. She walked to Temil, placed a hand on her neck, and swung into the saddleless seat behind her shoulders.
Temil launched into the air with a powerful beat of her wings, wind sweeping past us as the pair ascended toward the mist-veiled cliffs in the distance.
We waited.
The minutes dragged like hours.
Then—
The clouds at the edge of the rise glowed briefly, a shimmer of gold and orange threading through the fog like lightning restrained.
Moments later, Temil burst through the mist, wings flared in triumph, and Naia sat tall on her back, her body thrumming with new energy. Her eyes glowed faintly, touched with dragon fire.
The bond was complete.
Cheers erupted behind me, and Riven let out a whoop as Naia landed and dismounted. Temil lowered her massive head and nudged Naia’s shoulder with rare affection.
Naia turned, her eyes locking with mine.
One of us had made it.
The moment Temil launched back into the sky, orange wings cutting through the last remnants of her triumph, Major Ledor’s voice rang out again, loud, immediate.
“Ferrula of Thrall Squad.”
Ferrula stepped forward without a word, her gait steady, her chin high. The Dirian warrior looked every inch the iron-forged storm we’d all come to depend on.
Narvea landed with a heavy thud, green scales gleaming like wet stone under the rising sun. Her eyes met Ferrula’s, a silent exchange that didn’t need words.
Ferrula vaulted onto her dragon’s back, her form seamless with the motion, and then, with a thunderous beat of wings, they launched.
I watched as Narvea carried her toward the Veiled Rise, toward the swirling mist that never lifted, no matter how bright the day became. In seconds, they were swallowed by it, the cliffside claiming them like a secret.
I swallowed hard.
“What happens in there?” I asked, my voice low, not to disturb the solemn awe settling over the group.
Naia turned her head toward me, her eyes still faintly glowing from her own bond, a calm knowing in her voice now.
“It’s not a trial,” she said. “It’s a… reflection. A look into your soul and your dragon’s. Not just your power, but your past. Your values. What you hide. What you are.”
“It’s personal,” I murmured.
“As personal as it gets,” she said softly. “It’s different for everyone. It has to be.”
I didn’t ask her for more. Her experience wouldn’t be mine. Couldn’t be. Whatever waited for me would be born of my shadows. My blood.
And Kaelith’s silence.
We stood quietly then, all of us, watching the clouds, breath held like prayer.
And then the sky shattered.
Narvea burst from the mist like a goddess reborn, Ferrula standing tall on her dragon’s back, sword drawn. Her roar cracked through the sky, a sound so fierce, so proud, it shook the hearts in our chests.
We erupted.
Riven whooped. Tae let out a long, low whistle. Even Cordelle gave a nod of solemn approval.
But no one was louder than Jax, who threw both fists into the air and shouted, “That’s my girl!”
Ferrula’s smirk as she landed was pure fire.
Two down.
My chest tightened.
Assuming I was next.
But the next name called wasn’t mine.
“Torven of Crownwatch,” the major said.
He was another prospect, maybe a year or two younger than me, with faint gold trim on his cloak marking him as one of Zander’s own. He stepped forward slowly, stiff-backed but pale, his jaw clenched like he knew his name had just become a sentence.
His dragon, a sleek brown Swordtail with curved wings and a restless tail, descended from the sky with a hollow cry.
Torven mounted.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t look back.
The air felt heavier the moment they took off.
His dragon carried him toward the Veiled Rise, its wings slicing through the air like a blade into fog. Within moments, they disappeared into the mist, swallowed by it completely.
The silence was unbearable.
Zander stared straight ahead, his jaw locked. Cade shifted beside him, his hands in fists.
And then—
A scream.
Raw and human and full of something that ripped straight through bone.
We looked up.
The dragon emerged alone.
Torven’s body plummeted from the clouds, limp and boneless, his armor glinting once before it struck the earth with a sickening crack.
Gasps erupted.
No one moved, not for a heartbeat, not for ten.
The dragon circled once overhead, slow and distant, and then turned sharply, wings flaring wide as it flew away, toward Dragon Isle.
It didn’t land.
It didn’t look back.
Two guards sprinted across the grounds, solemn and practiced. They gathered what was left of Torven and carried his body back toward the castle in silence, leaving a dark stain on the stone behind them.
No one spoke.
No one could.
The trial continued.
One by one, the remaining prospects mounted. Some trembling. Some resolute. Dragons took to the skies and returned, each time a little more hesitantly. But no more fell.
They all bonded.
All but me.
I was the last.
Major Ledor’s voice rang across the Ascension Grounds.
“Ashe Rebec of Thrall Squad.”
Everything inside me stilled.
The grounds were silent, eyes turning toward me—my squad, Zander, Cade, the other riders who’d already bonded, and the empty sky above where I should have felt her.
But then…
She came.
Kaelith descended like a storm, her massive violet wings cutting through the sky, landing harder than usual, more force than grace. Her eyes didn’t meet mine.
She didn’t speak.
But I walked forward anyway, legs numb, pulse thundering in my ears. I placed a hand on her flank, and she did not flinch, did not welcome.
Still, I climbed on.
The wind bit as we rose into the sky, the Ascension Grounds falling away beneath us. Warriath shrank into a speck of color and memory. The cliffs of the Veiled Rise loomed ahead, their mists already reaching for us like fingers made of fog.
We entered the clouds.
And the world vanished.
I couldn’t see the sky. Couldn’t see the ground. Just thick silver mist and the sudden, suffocating silence between me and Kaelith.
Kaelith? I called into the bond. Please.
No response.
Kaelith, I don’t want to die like this.
Still nothing.
I swallowed hard, heart crashing like a drum in a cage. This wasn’t a trial anymore. This was an execution.
And I was going to die.
The realization settled into my bones with terrifying clarity. My lungs trembled as I thought of Zander, what my death would do to him. The way he’d been fighting for me in his quiet, warrior-scarred way. How he’d tried to protect my name even when his own was dragged through the mud.
Ferrula. Riven. Jax. Tae. Naia.
Even Cordelle, who had known more than he said, but never let me feel alone in it.
And then—Siergen.
My heart cracked. That hurt more than I realized.
I’d come to love that little red dragon. His sly charm, his quiet strength. His belief in me when I had none left.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the fog. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.”
The mist ignited with light as my magic flared, bursting to life like a dam torn open. Storm magic surged from beneath my skin, blue-white energy bleeding into the air as my power rose—
But there was no anchor.
No bond.
No Kaelith.
And without her… my magic had no one to answer to.
No one to tame it.
It turned inward.
On me.
Pain lanced through my spine, across my ribs, up my neck. My vision blurred as lightning crackled from my fingertips, splintering across the mist. The trial’s enchantments tried to contain it, but my magic didn’t want containment. It wanted release.
It devoured me.
The burn spread through my veins like wildfire, ripping my breath away. My limbs seized. My lungs locked.
My heart slammed once—twice—
Then stuttered.
I was dying.
Alone.
Unbonded.
Unwanted.
A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, cutting a hot path down my cheek before vanishing into the mist. My fingers trembled, blue-white sparks dancing over my skin as my magic tore through me, untethered and ravenous.
My heart, gods, my heart, it wasn’t just aching.
It was breaking.
Splitting in my chest like something trying to tear free, like the very magic in my blood was trying to escape the body it no longer trusted. The rhythm stuttered, faltered—then slammed hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
I leaned forward, the fog swallowing my scream.
Was this how it ended? Would my heart explode inside me?
It hurt so much I prayed for the end. Begged for it, silently, as the pain clawed through me and my breath came in short, ragged bursts.
And then—
He roared.
Siergen’s voice crashed into my mind, not soft or sly or teasing like I’d come to know—but commanding, ancient, terrifying.
ENOUGH.
It wasn’t the voice of the small red dragon who whispered comfort and warmth into my lonely nights.
It was the voice of a creature older than memory.
Powerful. Regal. Terrifying.
The storm inside me stopped, frozen by the sheer weight of his command.
And then Kaelith was there.
Her magic slammed into me like a floodgate opening, her energy threading through mine, anchoring it, taming it. Lightning bent, receded. The pain dimmed, but didn’t disappear.
The bond snapped into place.
Real. Final. Unbreakable.
But I was already collapsing, the burn of magic leaving scorched wreckage behind. My heart still trembled, fractured. My healing power surged, trying to keep up, trying to patch what had nearly been destroyed.
I slumped forward against scales that burned cool against my fevered skin, tears slipping freely down my face, dripping onto the violet armor of Kaelith’s back.
And I knew.
She hadn’t chosen me.
Not because she wanted me.
Not because she believed in me.
She did it because Siergen ordered her to.
And somehow, that truth hurt more than dying ever could.