Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Zander stepped between Hein and the major, not to protect the man, but to act as the last thin veil between fury and flame.
He turned, slow and deliberate, facing Major Ledor with a look so cold it cut deeper than any blade. “The next time you betray a rider like that…” his voice dropped, dangerous, “you are dead.”
A hush fell over the Ascension Grounds.
Major Ledor straightened, his mouth pressing into a tight line. “I did no such thing,” he snapped. “Her magic surged. I was unable to create a staircase. Check with Prian. I tried to help her.”
Hein growled behind Zander, his wings flaring slightly as the fire in his throat flared again.
Zander didn’t even flinch. He turned just enough to glance up toward the cliffs.
Prian, Ledor’s dragon, stood there like a statue, but the twitch of his tail gave him away. The way he backed from the edge, head lowering in silent admission.
Zander nodded once. “You did,” he said tightly. “Hein wasn’t aware Ashe’s magic could nullify yours.”
The major’s jaw ticked.
“It wasn’t nullified,” he bit out. “It just… couldn’t operate in her space.”
Zander arched a brow. “That’s what I said.”
Major Ledor didn’t respond.
With a simple motion of Zander’s head, Hein gave a snort and leaped back into the skies, his wings cutting the air like vengeance incarnate. Fire shimmered beneath his scales, fading as he climbed.
Zander turned back to me then, his face unreadable.
But the message was clear.
The rules were changing.
Major Ledor stepped forward, his voice measured but tight. “In light of current events,” he began, casting a pointed glance toward the sky where Hein still circled, “I believe it would be prudent to shift our focus to team-building exercises.”
A murmur spread across the grounds.
“We need to determine whether certain forms of magic are compatible or disruptive when working together. Some… combinations may cause unexpected results.”
Beside me, Riven grunted, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “He wants to know if you can nullify all magic or just his,” she muttered under her breath.
She wasn’t wrong. But I kept my mouth shut, because truthfully? I had no idea what I’d done, let alone how to control it. The magic had surged when Kaelith’s instability rippled through the bond, and the bridge had reacted like it was made of glass and I’d brought a hammer.
The major raised his hands, and with a flick of his fingers, the floating shards of the Crescent Bridge crumbled into glimmering dust. The particles faded into the wind, like the trial had never existed.
Then he turned sharply. “Warborn. I want three of you. Now.”
The squad stiffened as a ripple of tension moved through their ranks.
“Lieutenant Saulter,” he added, voice cold and clipped. “You’re one of them.”
Remy stepped forward without hesitation. The light-green glint of his dragon, Katama, could already be seen circling higher overhead, a streak of power waiting for his command.
Two other Warborn members joined him—Tarell and Miya, both solid fighters with elevated magic. The kind that made good soldiers, not showoffs.
“Call your dragons,” Major Ledor ordered.
Remy’s eyes flicked once in my direction.
Just once.
Then he turned his face skyward, and power pulsed through the grounds as Katama let out an echoing roar.
Whatever this test was… I could already feel it wasn’t just about magic compatibility.
It was about control. And how far each of us would go to keep it.
Katama soared above Remy in a flash of pale-green firelight, her wings stretched wide, catching the rising thermals like she owned the sky. The sun hit the shimmer of her hide just right, casting a pearlescent sheen across the Ascension Grounds as she circled once, twice—then hovered.
Tarell’s red Swordtail followed, his dragon sleek and angular, with streaks of crimson that glowed like heated metal across his wings.
The beast let out a high-pitched warble as it tucked in close, tail twitching with anticipation.
Miya’s brown Swift darted into position moments later, her dragon fast and quiet, its wings a blur as it flanked Katama’s side with surgical precision.
Remy took a step forward, boots scraping the stone.
His eyes closed.
And his entire body… shimmered.
It started at his fingertips. A slow unraveling, like mist being spun from flesh.
His edges blurred, his hair lifting in an unseen wind as his form went dim.
Ethereal. Not quite there. It wasn’t invisibility.
He was still visible, but barely. As if he stood between two realities, not fully part of either.
Phantom Step, I thought. But layered with something else.
I wondered if this was how he slipped through wards? Through locked doors?
Then Tarell stepped forward. The air around him cracked like thunder, and red sparks flared at his fists.
They spread over his arms like molten veins before lashing outward in jagged arcs.
A kinetic burst that rippled through the air and struck a training dummy across the field.
It exploded in a shower of charred wood and dust.
He didn’t pause. Just turned smoothly, grounding the magic again as if his body was a living forge.
Miya came last. Her fingers flexed at her sides, and from her palm came a slight hum.
The wind shifted slightly, and suddenly thin blades of air sliced through three weighted targets hurled toward her from the side.
Air magic. But not just wind… pressure. She was compressing the space around her strikes, creating razor-sharp currents.
Together, the three formed a tight, perfect triangle.
Remy with untouchable mist.
Tarell with explosive force.
Miya with precision from a distance.
They moved in unison.
Remy would phase forward like a wraith, Tarell following behind to break anything in his path, and Miya covered them both from the flanks, her blades of air sharp enough to deter even the most determined foe. It was flawless. Fluid.
I’d never seen magic so beautifully interwoven.
It was what a bonded squad was supposed to look like.
And for the first time in a long time… I didn’t just feel impressed.
I felt worried.
Because whatever their past sins, Warborn wasn’t just dangerous.
They were ready.
Major Ledor’s voice rang out across the Ascension Grounds, crisp and commanding.
“Rebec. Rockel. Brooks. You’re up.”
I stepped forward, heart already kicking into a faster rhythm as the major’s eyes locked on mine. He didn’t blink, didn’t soften.
“You will call the wind, Ashe. Naia—calm it. Direct it. And Tae…” He turned to Tae with a smirk that made my stomach tighten, “Force Cadet Cochne to his knees with your mind. You must all be connected. Working as one.”
Tae muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “I’d rather throw him off a cliff,” but stepped forward anyway. Naia brushed past me with a confident nod, and I matched her stride as we entered the ring.
Above us, three dragons cut lazy circles into the sky.
Kaelith flew just ahead of Temil—Naia’s bright-orange Swordtail—and Kieren, Tae’s sleek green Clubtail, who tucked his wings and dove, only to catch the wind and flare out again in a showy spiral.
Show-off, I muttered to myself, but Kaelith only huffed.
Focus, she said, her voice thrumming against my mind like a taut string. Pull from the deep well. Let the wind feel your pulse.
I lifted my hands and inhaled deeply, grounding through the soles of my boots as the magic coiled just beneath my skin.
A breeze stirred, swirling dust at my feet.
Then it grew—fast. Wind burst from me like a scream made physical, twisting and funneling into a tight, narrow vortex on the ground in front of me. It spun tighter, faster, pulling my hair free from its tie as the air howled with the raw taste of storm.
But it was wild. Unstable. Just like Kaelith.
Naia stepped forward, her blue eyes glowing faintly as she reached out with both hands.
“Let me in,” she whispered.
Her fingers spread wide, and her magic reached for mine, not to smother it, but to shape it. Temil’s calm filtered through her, wrapping around my whirlwind like silk. The gale slowed… then curved, forming a controlled spiral of steady, rhythmic wind that roared without destroying.
We were doing it.
Until Perin sneered.
“Cute party trick.”
Tae tilted his head. “Wanna see another?”
His dragon surged above, but Kieren didn’t need to land. Tae’s eyes shimmered with that eerie gleam that always made people uncomfortable. Dominion of the Mind.
Perin stiffened.
Then he dropped.
Straight to his knees. Hard enough, I winced. His teeth clenched as he fought against Tae’s hold, but Tae didn’t even flinch; he just stepped forward, one brow lifted, as if considering whether or not to keep going.
“That’ll do,” Major Ledor called.
Perin collapsed fully to the ground, panting and glaring as the major walked past him without a glance.
The vortex unraveled gently at my feet, dissolving into the air as Naia let go.
The major nodded once, almost approving.
“Not bad,” he said.
But I barely heard him.
Kaelith’s voice pressed into me again.
Next time, I’ll be stronger. And so will you.
I wasn’t sure if it was a promise.
Or a warning.
It happened so fast, I barely had time to breathe.
One second, we stood victorious, the trial complete. The next—
My magic surged.
Not like before. This wasn’t a controlled vortex or a taste of Kaelith’s Storm-born gift. This was a flood, a tidal wave erupting from the center of my chest, yanking through the tether that bound me to Naia and Tae like a live wire gone wild.
Naia’s eyes snapped to mine, widening in alarm. “Ashe—!”
Her hand shot out, palm open, as if she could physically stop what was happening. She reached through our bond, her magic lashing against mine, trying to calm it, tame it—
But it only fed it.
No—it redirected it.
Straight into Tae.
He arched back like something foreign had struck him, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as his eyes rolled white and power cracked around him like lightning across dry earth.
Then—
Boom.
His magic exploded.
It rippled outward like a shockwave, slamming into every rider on the Ascension Grounds. Crownwatch, Warborn, Stormforge, even Iron Fang—all of them dropped like marionettes with their strings cut, knees slamming into the dirt with cries of pain or shocked gasps.
Even Major Ledor went down, his eyes wide, palms splayed as if bracing himself from a blow that came from inside.
Kaelith! I called in panic.
But she was already moving.
You must disconnect, her voice roared through me. Before you shatter him!
Then she cut the tether.
It felt like being ripped from the inside. Like a string pulled tight between hearts had just snapped.
My magic vanished. Instantly. Not drained, not quieted. Gone.
Tae screamed.
A raw, agonizing sound that tore through the stunned silence like a blade.
He collapsed beside me, crumpling to the earth as the rest of the guild groaned and began to rise on shaking legs. I dropped to my knees, reaching for him.
“Tae!”
His body was trembling, his hands clenching into the dirt like he couldn’t tell what was real. Sweat poured down his face. His magic—normally like a gleaming thread of thought—was like shattered glass. Sparkling. Dangerous. Broken.
Naia knelt beside me, face pale.
“What was that?”
I didn’t know.
But as I looked down at Tae, limp and whispering something I couldn’t hear, one thing was clear.
We’d unlocked something that should have stayed dormant.
Meri was already moving before I could call for help.
She darted across the Ascension Grounds, skirts hitched just enough to keep from tripping, a small satchel bouncing against her hip. Her usually neat braid had come half undone, red strands whipping across her flushed cheeks—but her expression was focused. Fierce.
I hadn’t even realized the healers were allowed to tend to Thrall Squad again. But no one stopped her.
Or maybe they knew better than to try.
She dropped to her knees beside Tae, pressing two fingers to his throat, then his temple. Her other hand hovered just over his chest.
“Hold him still,” she said sharply.
I did it gently, while Naia steadied his legs. He was still twitching, his magic crackling beneath his skin like static. His eyes were unfocused.
Then Meri’s palm touched his forehead. A soft, blue-white glow flared beneath her fingers. Cool, not warm. Soothing, not burning.
Tae inhaled deeply, like he’d been drowning and finally breached the surface.
His entire body slackened in an instant, limbs relaxing as the tremors stilled. His breathing evened out, and color began to return to his face. Slowly, his eyes blinked open and locked on hers.
“Has anyone ever told you,” he croaked, “that you’re an angel?”
Meri flushed, her healing hand still on his skin. “Only every time you nearly kill yourself.”
His lips twitched into a lopsided grin. “That’s… statistically accurate.”
I sat back on my heels, heart pounding. Naia exhaled beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as we both took a breath we hadn’t realized we were holding.
Meri’s glow faded, and she gently brushed Tae’s damp hair from his forehead.
“Rest, smartass,” she said. “Or I’ll sedate you for real this time.”
He grinned wider, even through his fatigue. “Promise?”
Naia rolled her eyes. I laughed, barely.
We were lucky to have her.
And even luckier Tae was still breathing.