Chapter 38
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
The mess hall was already buzzing when we entered, the low hum of clinking dishes and half-slept murmuring weaving through the warm scent of fresh bread and broth. We claimed the long table near the eastern window—the one that had somehow, unofficially, become Thrall Squad’s.
It was our first breakfast as a full unit.
All of us.
Jax and Ferrula looked bleary-eyed from where they sat across from me, both hunched over their plates. They’d taken the bed in the common room last night so Ayda and Camus could have it tonight.
“I think I died for ten minutes in that bunk,” Ayda muttered, stabbing a hunk of cheese with a bit more aggression than necessary.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Camus said, yawning. “You were snoring.”
“You were drooling.”
“I was dreaming.”
“Of cheese?” Ayda shot back.
We all chuckled, but the fatigue lingered like fog in our bones.
All except Luthias, who sat beside Camus with a full plate and a clear head like he’d gotten a solid eight hours in a feathered bed.
Kaia leaned on one elbow, her hair pulled into a crooked braid as she squinted at him across the table.
“You snore louder than a dragon.”
My brows lifted. “They snore?”
I hadn’t been near Kaelith while she slept. Not once. She always left me when we were away from the castle.
Teren grinned, sipping from his mug. “Like thunder in the sky. Especially the older ones. It rattles your bones if you’re camped too close.”
Luthias rolled his eyes, tearing into a hunk of bread. “It was one night.”
“One night of dragon-roar snoring,” Kaia teased.
Ayda added, “Camus tried to throw a boot at you. It bounced off.”
“I tucked in,” Luthias defended, gesturing at his wide frame.
The teasing swirled between us like steam from our bowls, easy and warm.
It didn’t matter that our bunks were cramped, that we barely slept, or that war whispered at our borders.
For a brief moment, over crusty bread and soft laughter, it felt like family.
We scraped up the last of our breakfast, the warm quiet of the mess hall giving way to the bite of morning air as we made our way to the Ascension Grounds. The sun hadn’t risen far, casting long shadows across the training field, and our breath puffed visibly in the crisp chill.
We gathered beneath our purple banner, Kaelith’s likeness fierce and wind-whipped above us. There was a calm to the group now, even in our exhaustion. A low, steady hum of conversation as we leaned on one another, catching up on dreamless sleep and last night’s snoring offenses.
But the moment Major Ledor approached the podium, the idle talk died out.
He stood tall, red cloak snapping behind him, his voice as icy as frost.
“Today,” he said, “all riders will face the Ashen Path.”
The name settled over the grounds like an omen.
A long strip of black coals had been arranged before the podium, layered thick across the dirt, the edges of it still dull and dark. But dragons were already circling above us.
The major’s dragon took a place behind his rider.
And then the fire began.
Streams of flame poured over the coals, turning the line of them into a glowing inferno—red, gold, orange, pulsing with heat. The Ashen Path came alive with embers.
“The trial is simple,” Ledor said. “Your dragon will prepare the fire. You will walk barefoot across it.”
Zander was called first.
He removed his boots without hesitation and approached the start of the path, Hein behind him like a wall of silver and strength. Without a word, he stepped forward.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t break stride.
He crossed the length of the burning coals like he was walking marble steps in the castle.
The riders whispered, but no one dared comment aloud.
Next came Perin.
He strode forward with too much pride, boots tossed aside, Coldrath before him. But as he stepped onto the coals, the arrogance faded fast.
His first step landed clean—but the second faltered.
By the third, he was screaming.
He stumbled across the path, blistered and howling, and collapsed at the end. Meri was already moving, her hands glowing as she knelt beside him.
The scent of burned flesh clung to the wind.
Teren went next—quick and agile. The coals burned, but he made it across with only a few curses and a slight limp.
Luthias was slower, heavier, but no less determined. His feet smoked when he stepped off the path, but he didn’t make a sound.
Cade’s stride was clean, secure and disciplined.
Then… it was my turn.
I met Kaelith’s gaze across the path. She didn’t speak. Just watched, silent as always, her violet wings half-folded like she was still deciding what I was worth.
The coals glowed in front of me, heat wafting in ripples.
I pulled off my boots.
And stepped forward.
The first coal scorched instantly, and I clenched my jaw.
The second made my vision blur.
By the fifth, I couldn’t feel the bottoms of my feet at all, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t falter.
I just moved.
When I reached the end, I sank to my knees, half from pain, half from the rush of it, but I didn’t scream.
And then…
It started.
The warmth in my core surged.
The ache in my soles faded.
The skin that had bubbled began to knit, the pain folding inward like water closing over a wound.
I was healing.
Not by Kaelith’s will.
By mine. Only stronger.
Slow. Steady.
But undeniable.
The moment Hein shifted toward Kaelith, the air changed.
His massive silver body moved with deliberate force, muscles rippling beneath his plated hide as he stalked toward her across the edge of the Ascension Grounds. At first, it looked like a casual approach, one dragon greeting another.
But Kaelith’s head snapped toward him, lips curling back, and a snarl ripped from her throat, a guttural, warning sound that made the very ground vibrate beneath us.
Hein growled in response, low and thunderous, not in challenge… but something far more primal.
The entire grounds fell still.
Even the chatter of the younger cadets cut off mid-breath. The crackle of the Ashen Path coals dimmed beneath the silence. Major Ledor turned, halfway through giving instructions to a squad, and froze. His brows furrowed as he took a wary step back.
Zander’s hand shot up. “Move,” he said quietly, but the command was clear.
The riders around us scrambled out of the circle, retreating to the edges of the field as the two dragons began to circle.
Kaelith’s wings flared, her tail slicing the air with a hiss of displaced wind. She lunged, jaws snapping just short of Hein’s throat. He dodged with a quick flex of his wings but didn’t retreat.
Zander appeared at my side just as a deep roll of thunder swept across the skies—despite the cloudless morning above us.
“Don’t call on your magic,” he said quickly, eyes fixed on the dragons. “Not right now.”
My fingers twitched. “What’s going on?”
He exhaled, tension bleeding from every line of him. “Hein wishes their bond to move to the next level. He’s done waiting.”
I blinked. “He wants to mate her… now?”
Zander’s jaw ticked. “Yes. But Kaelith’s resisting. And Hein believes that unless he shows her he won’t take no for an answer… she’ll never respect him.”
My heart thudded painfully. “So he’s going to fight her?”
Zander didn’t respond, he didn’t have to.
Kaelith snapped again, this time her teeth grazing Hein’s side. Her tail whipped wide in warning, but Hein pressed forward, growling in answer, coiling tighter around her.
Suddenly, Kaelith lashed out.
Her tail swept wide and struck the base of the podium with a crack like a tree being split in two.
Major Ledor dove to the side just in time, rolling across the grass as a massive slab of stone broke and crumbled beside him.
The riders screamed and scrambled back farther.
Kaelith reared up on her hind legs, wings half-unfurled, and let out a roar that sent birds scattering from the cliffs.
And Hein…
Didn’t flinch.
He bowed his head.
Not in defeat.
But in declaration.
And Kaelith’s growl fell quiet… for just a breath.
She launched into the sky with a roar that shook the stones beneath our boots. Her wings snapped wide, violent and beautiful, as she tore into the open air. Hein followed a breath later, his massive silver frame cutting through the clouds after her like a storm given form.
The moment their wings vanished beyond the cliffs, the major exhaled and waved rapidly at one of the guards. “Get another podium. We continue the trials.”
The guards ran off, and the grounds slowly resumed motion, though the tension lingered like smoke. The Ashen Path glowed again, more riders preparing to face the coals.
Teren and I drifted back toward the edges, giving space to those who hadn’t yet completed the trial. The morning sun had warmed the dirt, but I still felt the chill from Kaelith’s roar lingering under my skin.
I glanced at Teren. “Have you done this trial before?”
He shook his head. “No. That was a new one.”
I was about to ask what he thought the next would be, when I caught it.
A flicker of silver in my periphery.
Movement.
Fast.
Too fast.
Blade.
My body moved before my mind did. I threw myself toward Teren, shoving him hard with both hands.
The blade meant for his spine missed.
But it didn’t miss me.
Pain exploded in my shoulder as the dagger punched clean through flesh, stopping just shy of bone. My cry came out strangled, more from shock than anything else.
Shouts erupted around us.
The man in the Iron Fang uniform yanked back his weapon and bolted—darting through the dispersing crowd before anyone could grab him. He was fast. Too fast for a trainee.
Zander was the first to reach me, breath ragged as he dropped to one knee beside me, his eyes already scanning the wound.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Teren turned, his face pale but steady. “A man in Iron Fang colors attacked me. But I’ve never seen him before. He wasn’t one of us.”
Zander’s gaze flicked up, jaw clenched. “No. He wasn’t.”
“No offense, Ashe,” Teren muttered, still catching his breath, “but if he was an assassin, why didn’t he finish you off?”
I winced as the blood dripped warm down my arm. “Because he was from the Order. And my father has a blood oath with me.”
Zander’s eyes narrowed.
“The real question,” I added, my breath shallow, “is why he wants you dead Teren.”
Teren knelt beside me as the blood slowed, his expression tight, not with fear, but with guilt.
“I’ve been looking into the Fae Sanctuary,” he said under his breath, casting a glance around to make sure no one else heard. “Quietly. Off record.”
I blinked, the pain in my shoulder dulled now by the slow rise of my magic, beginning to stitch the torn muscle back together.
“And?”
“I think I found something.” He leaned in, voice low. “An old spell… or binding maybe. It requires two forces—the Dark Fire and the Storm. Not just to open the sanctuary… but to activate what’s inside it.”
My heart skipped.
“You think I was targeted because of that?” he asked.
I nodded, jaw clenched. “Someone doesn’t want you near the sanctuary. Doesn’t want anyone unlocking what’s hidden there.”
He gave me a strained smile as the healing surged faster. My shoulder still throbbed, but I could feel the wound knitting from the inside out.
“Then we really do need that information,” I said. “Because now we know someone is willing to kill to keep it a secret.”
I glanced across the field, where Meri stood helping another cadet. She hadn’t so much as looked in my direction, even after I was stabbed. The healing restriction was clearly still in place.
No help for Thrall Squad.
Not even now.
I turned back to Teren. “Thank you for looking into the sanctuary. I mean it.”
He smiled faintly, and before I could react, he leaned in and kissed my cheek, soft, brief, warm.
I blinked—
And caught it in the corner of my eye.
Zander.
Standing a few paces off.
Watching.
His expression unreadable, but his eyes…
His eyes had turned black.