Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I moved through the edge of the training circle, the air still thick with the tension of earlier sparring.
Naia and Jax had taken the ring now, their movements a blur of agility and brute force.
She ducked beneath one of his broad swings and struck low with her staff, sweeping his leg with just enough force to make him stumble.
I stepped up beside Cordelle, who stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought rather than worry.
“She’s fast,” he murmured, nodding toward Naia as she dodged Jax’s second strike.
“She’s terrifying,” I said with a half-smile.
He chuckled. “I’m going to head to the records chamber soon. My father keeps an updated currents map for the northern ranges. Might help us figure out what kind of weather patterns we’ll be dealing with when we go after the sanctuary.”
I blinked, surprised. “I didn’t think of that.”
He shrugged, cheeks coloring faintly under his freckles. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. I’m just the backup brain.”
“You’re more than that,” I said with a smile. “Thanks, Cordy.”
He gave me a small grin and slipped away, already scribbling something on the edge of his journal as he went.
The moment didn’t last.
Major Kaler’s voice rang across the Ascension Grounds. “Riders, to me.”
I turned, pulse quickening. The rest of the squads gathered, forming loose lines across the stone platform. Zander fell into step beside Crownwatch, Ferrula, and Tae drifted near Jax and Naia.
I stood a little straighter, bracing myself. Kaelith, I reached for her instinctively—only to feel that same distant pull, like a tether half-buried beneath heavy earth.
I went stiff.
If this were another bonded trial, I wasn’t sure she could come to me.
Major Kaler’s eyes swept over us, as unreadable as ever. “Today’s trial will be conducted without your dragons.”
The ripple of confusion spread fast.
He raised a hand, cutting off the whispers before they could grow into murmurs. “You will not be permitted to call for them. Not mentally. Not emotionally. Their absence will dull your access to magic—and that is precisely the point.”
My stomach dropped.
He continued, walking along the edge of the circle as he spoke.
“A rider’s magic is often magnified through the bond.
But remove the bond, and what are you? What remains?
” He stopped. “To call your magic, you will need to dig deeper. Past your dragon. Past your fear. Into the raw source that resides in you.”
He raised his hand again. “Feel your pulse. Follow it until it pulses with magic instead of blood. Reach for it the way you reach for a sword in a fogged sheath. Visualize. Name it. Control it. Shape it.”
His eyes locked onto Perin.
“You first.”
Perin stepped into the ring, expression grim and proud. He gave a slight nod, then turned to face the rest of us with fire already beginning to shimmer around his fingertips.
But I couldn’t watch him fully—not with the fear crawling through my chest. Because while they were preparing to draw from themselves…
I wasn’t sure I had anything left to draw from at all.
Perin lifted his arm high, fingers outstretched, and the air around him shimmered like heat rising off sun-scorched stone.
I watched as something rippled beneath his skin—tendon or vein or magic itself.
It pulsed unnaturally, crawling up his forearm like a living thing.
He didn’t grimace, didn’t flinch. But there was nothing natural about it.
His body was a vessel being stretched by something it wasn’t meant to hold.
“Good,” the major said, his voice calm and cold. “Controlled. Sustained.”
Then his eyes cut to me.
“Ashlyn. You are next.”
The words hit like a slap. I took a breath, then another, and stepped into the center of the ring.
The stone felt colder beneath my boots than it had a moment ago. Maybe it was me.
I closed my eyes and reached inward, calling to the storm.
It was there. My magic. Coiled and ready—but there was no anchor.
Kaelith didn’t rise to meet me. She couldn’t.
You’re on your own, I reminded myself. You can do this.
I inhaled, lifted my palm to the sky, and shaped the cloud.
The air trembled.
Above me, thunder cracked once—deep and muted, like a warning. Dark clouds twisted into existence, forming a small storm cell directly above the sparring ring. A soft rain began to fall, sizzling where it touched the stone.
For a heartbeat, I thought I had it.
Then the lightning came.
A fork of white-blue light cracked the sky open and arced down—too fast, too strong, too eager. It found my outstretched palm like it had been waiting for the invitation.
Pain slammed through me like a hammer. I screamed.
Riders scattered from the edge of the ring, shouting and cursing as the bolt exploded on impact. The crack echoed across the Ascension Grounds, a flash of light blinding everything for a second.
My knees buckled.
I hit the stone hard, the scent of ozone thick in my nose, the burn crawling up my arm like fire beneath the skin. My vision swam.
“Ashlyn!” Zander’s voice, rough and panicked.
Another voice—closer. “Ash!” Remy. His boots scraped against the stone as he sprinted toward me.
I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t see.
All I could feel was the absence of Kaelith where I’d once found strength.
And the taste of lightning on my tongue.
Zander rushed to my side.
“Don’t touch her!” the major roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “She’s still charged!”
I couldn’t move. I didn’t dare move.
Electricity crackled over my skin in erratic pulses—blue-white arcs leaping between my fingertips and the stone beneath me, dancing across my arms like I was lightning’s favorite toy. My chest heaved as power surged and surged again, with no direction, no restraint.
I was a livewire. A storm with no sky.
My limbs shook uncontrollably, and when I blinked, all I saw were the horrified faces of my squad, frozen just beyond the edge of the ring.
Naia’s hand hovered at her throat. Tae stepped forward and then stopped, uncertain.
Riven’s eyes were wide. Cordelle clutched a parchment to his chest like it could shield him from what I was becoming.
“She isn’t anchored,” the major bellowed again, panic threading beneath his command. “That’s why her power’s breaking through—she has no control!”
“She is,” Zander hissed, his voice in defiance against the fear in the air.
I turned my head just enough to find him, his jaw clenched, fury blazing in his eyes, not at me, but for me. Because he knew the truth.
Kaelith was still my dragon. Still my bond.
But she couldn’t anchor me, not like she was supposed to. Not now.
Not when she was in flux, her body shifting and her magic turning inward to survive the transformation. Her silence wasn’t abandonment. It was survival. But that meant I was alone in this, and Zander knew it.
His gaze locked with mine, fierce and burning with the weight of everything we couldn’t say here.
Sparks licked up my forearms. My hair clung to my face, the ends glowing softly with static. The very air around me buzzed—my magic rising in coils and surges, searching for something to cling to, to ground itself.
And the worst part was—I didn’t know how to stop it.
I could hear the fear in their breath. I could feel it.
And still, the power kept building.
Through the blur of light and static pain, I barely registered the sound of footsteps breaking through the stunned circle—until Remy dropped to his knees beside me.
His eyes were wide but steady, his voice gravelly and tight as he held out a small vial no bigger than his thumb. “Ashe, I need you to drink this,” he said, breath quick. “It’s Dragonsbane.”
Dragonsbane.
Even through the storm inside me, I knew what that meant.
My heart stuttered.
“It’s poisonous,” he added quickly. “But in small doses, it’ll block your powers. Just a drop. Any more could kill you.”
“Absolutely not,” the major barked, striding forward with iron authority. “She has to learn to control herself on her own. If she can’t channel her magic without her dragon, she is a danger to us all.”
“She’s in pain,” Remy snapped, rising to his feet, fury in his voice. “And it’s going to tear her apart before she ever learns a damn thing.”
I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe past the charge still sizzling in my lungs. My skin felt like it was on fire and frost all at once.
Remy didn’t wait for more permission.
He slipped the vial into my palm and gently closed my fingers around it. I felt the warmth of his touch, real, grounding, but it was gone the second he stood again, arguing with the major, their words blurring into a wall of sound.
I focused on the vial.
I didn’t want to take it. I shouldn’t take it.
But the pain was too much. The magic too loud. And Kaelith wasn’t here to pull me back from the edge.
My fingers trembled as I uncorked the stopper. A single drop spilled onto my fingertip—clear and faintly green, smelling of iron and ash. I brought it to my lips, the taste bitter before it even touched my tongue.
The numbness spread instantly.
First my mouth, then my throat. My limbs tingled, like they didn’t belong to me anymore.
And then—
Silence.
The storm inside me vanished. The electricity dancing over my skin faded like mist in sunlight. My magic… quieted. Not gone, just pressed beneath the surface. Caged.
I relaxed on the ground, muscles limp but no longer burning, breath finally drawing in without fire laced between each inhale.
I couldn’t move.
But gods, the stillness was a mercy.
Perin stood near the edge of the Ascension Grounds, arms crossed over his chest like he owned the godsdamn horizon. His sneer was carved into his face, eyes scanning the sparring ring before landing squarely on me.
His voice cut through the morning like a blade against bone.
“Her dragon is pulling the bond,” he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “She’ll be dead before the week is out. Someone should put her out of her misery.”
The world stilled.
Before I could even form a breath, Remy moved.
He didn’t shout. Didn’t warn. Just turned, stepped forward—and drove his fist into Perin’s jaw with enough force to echo across the grounds. The crack of impact rang louder than any blade.
A tooth flew, spinning through the air like a shard of white truth.
Perin staggered, blood already spilling from his lip, but his smile… it widened.
Several cadets rushed forward, grabbing Remy, dragging him back even as he strained against their grip, jaw clenched and eyes blazing. His dragon, Katama, roared from somewhere overhead, answering his fury like storm answering a flame.
Iron Fang riders surged forward, posturing to defend their wounded packmate. Ferrula stepped in between them like a wall of steel, blade drawn but lowered—ready, not reckless. Zander was already moving, his voice crisp with command, but I couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in my ears.
Perin wiped the crimson from his mouth with the back of his hand and spat on the ground. “Touched a nerve, did I?” he rasped, still smiling. “Good.”
That was when I realized, he’d wanted this. The comment. The punch. The attention.
It was bait. Carefully laid. And for a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.
Because Perin had no idea what Remy truly was.
None of them did.
They saw the smile. The charm. The noble title granted to a lowborn boy who rose through skill and favor.
But I knew better.
He had lied to me about his origins. Hidden the truth like a blade tucked into shadow.
But not about who he was.
A killer. Efficient. Precise. Trained in the dark corners of kingdoms that no longer had names. He wasn’t built for courts or command.
He was made for war.
And Perin had just picked a fight with a storm he would never be ready to survive.
Zander’s hand was at my elbow the second I stumbled, steadying me before I even realized I’d started to fall back.
The hit hadn’t been mine—but the aftermath had stolen the air from the entire field.
My magic still flickered weakly, pulsing in my veins like a second heartbeat I couldn’t quite control. Kaelith was too far. Too quiet.
I hated how empty that felt.
“Are you all right?” Zander asked, voice low, but the heat in his eyes gave away more than his tone.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, brushing him off. “Don’t—”
But he was already helping me upright, his other hand hovering near my back, too careful, too close.
Our squad moved fast.
Jax stepped in first, standing like a wall between me and the still-lurking Iron Fang.
Ferrula was at his side, blades drawn, her body tense.
Naia had a hand on her dagger, her other subtly nudging Tae to hold back as the tension mounted.
Even Riven had moved forward, flanking me like a silent shadow.
Cordelle looked like he was about to vomit or fight someone, maybe both.
They didn’t say anything.
They didn’t have to.
They stood as a shield.
But Zander’s hand was still on me, and I was already burning from too many eyes, too many whispers curled on the edge of every breath.
I turned to him, biting back the sting in my throat. “Don’t show me favoritism,” I hissed, hushed enough that only he would hear. “Things are getting out of hand as it is.”
He flinched like I’d slapped him, eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t—”
“You were,” I cut in. “And you need to stop. If you want the others to trust me, to believe I earned this… I can’t have the prince playing protector every time I wobble.”
He shifted closer, his voice edged but quiet. “You think I care what they believe when you look like you’re about to collapse?”
“I care,” I snapped back. “I have to.”
His jaw flexed, and for a second, I saw it—the war in him, the one between protector and partner, between soldier and something more. “You’re not alone in this.”
“I know,” I whispered, softer now. “But if you want to help me… then let me stand.”
We stared at each other, breathing the same cracked air, hearts out of rhythm but too damn entangled to tear apart.
He nodded, stepping back just enough.
And around us, the squad remained still, silent sentinels between me and an untrusting guild.