Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
We stepped onto the Ascension Grounds, the sun doing little to warm the chilled tension thick in the air. The squads were already gathered, but they weren’t training or talking. They were standing behind their banners like statues, silent, stiff, and watching.
Something was off.
Riven leaned closer. “Why does it feel like we just walked into a funeral?”
Zander’s jaw was tight as his eyes swept the formation. “Where’s Major Ledor?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “But I don’t like this.”
“What is going on?” Teren asked, already peeling away from us. He strode toward a knot of Stormforge cadets who looked unusually pale.
Remy broke off, heading for Warborn. His stance was too calm, his expression unreadable, but I knew that look. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Zander caught my eye, then moved to speak with Cade near Crownwatch’s ranks. Cade was shaking his head, and his shoulders were tense under the sharp cut of his jacket.
A few minutes passed. The air remained crisp with silence and unease. When they returned, none of them looked any more at ease.
“We have a problem,” Remy said quietly, though his voice carried too far in the stillness.
“That’s an understatement,” Zander added grimly. “Theron made several decrees while we were gone.”
“Decrees?” I asked warily. “What kind of decrees?”
Remy’s gaze was heavy when it landed on me. “He’s declared himself king.”
The words hit harder than I expected. “He… what? Can he even do that?”
“With my father incapacitated,” Zander said, “and Dorian gone… yes. It leaves him in control of the crown.”
“But he was already prince regent,” I argued, my pulse thudding. “Why escalate now? Why declare it officially?”
Remy’s eyes drifted over the grounds where the squads remained divided, whispering now, banners no longer standing in perfect ranks. “To cause dissension,” he said softly. Then his gaze hardened. “And it’s working.”
The fabric of unity—the one thing that had kept the riders, even across squadrons, woven together—was fraying.
Zander’s voice was low. “He’s trying to divide the guilds before the real war even begins.”
And if we didn’t stop him soon, the dragons might not be the only ones who refused to answer their riders.
Major Ledor stormed out of the castle with that particular brand of fury that could only mean he’d just spoken to Theron. His cloak flared behind him as he crossed the Ascension Grounds, his boots striking hard against the stone.
“All squads are to report for full hand-to-hand combat training,” he announced, his voice carrying across the field. “Blunted weapons only. No dragon interference. This is mandatory.”
A collective groan rolled through the ranks. I glanced toward Zander, who was already frowning.
“That’s not all,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on Crownwatch’s banner. “Crownwatch has submitted a petition.”
“What kind of petition?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
“They’ve requested conscript rights.”
My brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
Zander’s lips flattened into a grim line. “It means they get first crack at powerful commoners. First refusal rights to anyone from the outer kingdoms who shows potential.”
“But they didn’t even want us in the guild,” I said, my voice rising. “Most of Crownwatch still looks at me like I tracked dirt onto their legacy.”
Zander nodded once, bitterly. “Yeah, but now you’re riding the Sentinel, and Tae has the power of influence. They’re starting to realize powers might outweigh bloodlines.” His jaw tensed. “They’re reevaluating the value of magic… versus nobility.”
Across the field, the Warborn banner fluttered, its leader, Captain Beradin, stepping forward. “Warborn will not be participating in today’s trial,” she announced loudly enough for every squad to hear. “We do not support this selective conscription agenda.”
Gasps rippled through the grounds. Major Ledor turned on her like a striking adder. “You’re refusing a direct order, Captain?”
Warborn’s leader stood tall, unmoved. “No, sir. I’m refusing an unethical one.”
“Did they just… refuse an order?” I asked under my breath, staring at the standoff.
Riven let out a low whistle. “Shit’s about to get fun.”
The squads were shifting now, restlessness spreading like wildfire. This wasn’t just about training anymore. This was about loyalty, and whether it belonged to a king, a regent, or to a righteous older son.
Iron Fang was the first to snap.
“You Warborn bastards are pathetic,” one of their riders sneered, stepping forward with a lazy twirl of his sword. “Refusing orders like cowards. Maybe you should go back to guarding fields and sheep instead of pretending you’re soldiers.”
Captain Beradin didn’t flinch, but the twitch in her jaw spoke volumes. “We don’t answer to zealots playing king. We answer to the treaty. To the dragons.”
Another Iron Fang rider stepped up, the tension as thick as smoke. “The dragons follow us.”
“Funny,” Ferrula drawled from behind me. “They didn’t seem too eager to follow Iron Fang during the last trial.”
Jax chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I remember.”
Before fists could fly, Stormforge moved.
Their banner split down the center as half the squad stepped between Warborn and Iron Fang, hands raised—but not to fight. They were talking, urgently, among themselves. A few glances toward Crownwatch. A few nods.
Teren returned a moment later, his expression unreadable until he reached us.
“Stormforge is forming its own council,” he said flatly. “They’re stepping out of the guild structure.”
“What?” Naia’s voice cracked with disbelief.
“They’re claiming neutrality for now,” he added. “But if the fracture continues, they’ll pick a side.”
Zander muttered a curse and turned away from us briefly, one hand gripping the hilt of his blade like it was the only thing keeping him from storming into the castle and stabbing Theron.
“This is bad,” he growled. “Theron is an idiot. It’s like he wants the guilds to implode.”
“The question is why?” I asked quietly, eyes flicking to the tower window where Theron’s silhouette still lingered in shadowed glass.
“Because he is, and always will be, First Guild,” Remy said, folding his arms. “He doesn’t see riders. He sees pawns. And he’s decided it’s time to control the board.”
We stood in tense silence for a beat too long.
“How do we fix this?” Cordelle asked. “We can’t win a war if we’re split down the middle.”
“We don’t fix it,” Zander said, his voice steadier now. “We remind them what the guilds were created for.”
“You mean dragon unity,” Ferrula said, nodding slowly.
“No,” I said. “Survival. If we fall apart now, the Blood Fae won’t have to attack us. We’ll destroy ourselves.”
“So what then?” Jax asked.
“We give them something bigger to rally around,” Zander said. “Something worth fighting for. We take the mission to the Blood Isle public. We make them see the threat for what it is.”
“And if Theron tries to silence us?” Riven asked.
Remy cracked a half-smile. “Then we make so much noise he won’t be able to.”
Teren crossed his arms. “So we unify them with truth.”
“No,” I said softly, looking up at the gathering storm of dragons overhead.
“We unify them with purpose.”
The air changed the moment her shadow swept over the field.
Kaelith descended in a spiral of grace and glittering amethyst scales, her body catching the morning sun like molten gemstones.
I sucked in a breath as she landed beside Hein, who followed a half-beat behind, his bulk a wall of gleaming silver and Stormlight.
But Kaelith… Kaelith looked like something born from the gods and risen from the bones of stars.
Silence fell like a stone across the field.
Her wings flared wide as she landed, the sheer size of them casting shade over a dozen cadets. But it wasn’t just the size. It was the shimmer. Her scales radiated violet-gold brilliance, as though the sun itself bent to kiss her form.
She’s glowing, I thought in awe, unable to tear my eyes away.
Her eyes had changed, too. They were no longer just fierce, but… ancient. As though she remembered every sky she’d ever ruled and was preparing to claim them again.
Even Hein, regal and composed, kept a respectful pace behind her as they approached. He dipped his head to Kaelith in a way I’d never seen before, as if acknowledging something that had shifted between them.
Riven stepped to my side, her voice stunned.
“What exactly did she eat?”
I blinked, a laugh catching in my throat, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Kaelith. Her tail curled high, the double scythes at the end gleaming wicked and new. She looked refreshed… but more than that.
She looked reborn.
Kaelith? I reached for her mind.
I am here, little storm, she answered, her voice velvet and thunder. And I am becoming what I was always meant to be.
I swallowed hard, wonder humming under my skin. Because whatever had happened on their hunt—it wasn’t just rest. Something inside Kaelith had awakened.
And it felt like the world was about to shift.