Chapter 6
I woke to pain and the sound of rain against the window.
Every part of my body ached from yesterday's combat trial. The healer's magic had dulled the worst of it, but my ribs still protested with every breath, and my face felt swollen where Marcus's fist had connected.
Brooke was already awake, sitting cross-legged on her bed and staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You talk in your sleep," she said.
My stomach dropped. "What?"
"Just little things. Mumbling, mostly. But last night you kept saying 'cold' and 'shadow' and..." She paused. "And you kept reaching out your hand. Like you were trying to touch something."
"I don't remember my dreams."
"Liar." But her voice was gentle. "Serenya, I'm not going to push. But whatever's happening with you—the shadows under your bed, the way Kairen can't stop watching you, the way you seem to get stronger at night—it's getting more obvious. Other people are going to notice soon."
"There's nothing to notice."
"Right." She stood and stretched. "Well, lucky for you, today we have Creature Taxonomy all morning. Just sitting and taking notes. Your ribs will appreciate it."
She was right about that, at least.
We made our way to breakfast through corridors that still smelled of rain. The dining hall was quieter than usual—apparently yesterday's combat trials had convinced several first-years to withdraw. Empty seats at the first-year tables told the story better than words.
Caleb found us immediately, his usual grin subdued. "Serenya. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got beaten up by a second-year."
"That's fair." He sat down across from us, and I noticed Torin and Terrance were absent. "I heard what happened. Marcus is an ass, but that was excessive even for him."
"Master Wren matched us," I said. "It's not like he sought me out."
"Isn't it?" Caleb's expression darkened. "Marcus specifically requested first-year matches. He could have been paired with anyone. Master Wren chose you because she wanted to see if you'd break."
"Well, I didn't."
"No, you didn't." His smile returned, warmer this time. "You impressed a lot of people yesterday. Including Master Wren, though she'd never admit it."
Brooke snorted. "She has a funny way of showing approval. 'Get yourself to the infirmary' isn't exactly a glowing review."
"For Master Wren, that's practically a love letter." Caleb stole a piece of toast from my plate. "Usually she just tells people to quit and go home. The fact that she dismissed you to medical care means she thinks you're worth saving."
"How comforting," I said dryly.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Around us, the dining hall slowly filled with students—though noticeably fewer first-years than there had been the day before.
"Where's Kairen?" Brooke asked suddenly.
Caleb's expression shuttered. "Training. Where else?"
"It's barely dawn."
"He's been training since midnight." Caleb's voice was carefully neutral. "Hasn't slept. Terrance and Torin tried to get him to stop, but..." He shrugged. "When Kairen gets like this, there's no reasoning with him."
"Gets like what?" I asked quietly.
Caleb studied me for a long moment. "Unstable. His control slips when he's emotional—which doesn't happen often, but when it does..." He shook his head. "The shadows stop listening. They act on impulse instead of command. It's dangerous. For him and everyone around him."
"What made him emotional?"
"You'll have to ask him that." But the look Caleb gave me suggested he knew exactly what—or who—had triggered it. "Anyway. Creature Taxonomy with Professor Veyra today, right? You'll love it. She's brilliant and terrifying in equal measure."
"Sounds like everyone at this Academy," Brooke muttered.
Professor Veyra's classroom looked different today. The preserved specimens in their display cases seemed to have been rearranged, and new models had appeared—detailed representations of creatures in various stages of bonding with humans.
The massive phoenix still perched near her desk, but today it was joined by a spectral griffin that circled the room lazily, its translucent form catching the light from the windows.
"Today," Professor Veyra announced as we settled into our seats, "we begin detailed study of the bonding process itself. Not the magic theory—you're getting that from Professor Aldric. The practical reality. What actually happens in the Wilderness when a creature chooses you."
She gestured, and the spectral griffin landed on her raised hand. "The bonding process has three stages: Recognition, Trial, and Acceptance. Understanding these stages could mean the difference between success and death."
The room went silent. Even the students who'd been whispering shut up immediately.
"Recognition," Professor Veyra continued, "is when a creature first becomes aware of you as a potential bond.
This can happen instantly or take days. During the seven-day trial in the Wilderness, creatures will observe you from a distance.
They're reading you—your spirit, your nature, your truth.
You cannot hide from them. You cannot pretend to be something you're not.
They see through every lie, every facade. "
She stroked the griffin's spectral head. "What they're looking for varies by species. Phoenixes seek passion and will. Griffins seek honor and loyalty. Basilisks seek patience and endurance. But all of them seek compatibility—a resonance between your spirit and theirs."
The griffin dissolved into mist and reformed as a phoenix, brilliant and burning.
"The Trial," Professor Veyra said, "comes after Recognition.
If a creature thinks you might be compatible, it will test you.
These tests are not gentle. A phoenix might lead you into fire to see if you'll walk through it.
A griffin might create a situation where you must choose between safety and honor.
A basilisk might force you to endure days of isolation and hardship. "
A boy near the front raised his hand. "What if we fail the trial?"
"The creature leaves. You finish your seven days alone and return unbonded." Her voice was matter-of-fact. "Or, if the trial was particularly dangerous, you die. The creatures don't adjust their tests for human fragility. They test what they need to test. Your survival is your own responsibility."
Cheerful.
"Acceptance," she continued, "is the final stage.
If you pass the trial, the creature will offer the bond.
This is not a negotiation. You either accept immediately and completely, or you refuse and the creature leaves.
Hesitation is refusal. Doubt is refusal.
The bond requires absolute commitment from both parties. "
The phoenix transformed again, this time into a massive basilisk that coiled around Professor Veyra's shoulders like living armor.
"The moment of bonding is violent," she said quietly.
"The creature's magic floods into you, rewriting parts of your spirit to accommodate the connection.
It hurts. Some students pass out. Some scream.
All of them are fundamentally changed by the experience.
You will not be the same person after bonding that you were before. "
She let that sink in.
"Your body will change too. Not dramatically, but noticeably. Phoenix-bonded humans run warmer and heal faster. Griffin-bonded humans become more physically capable and grow sharper senses. Basilisk-bonded humans develop incredible endurance and connection to earth."
The basilisk illusion dissolved, and Professor Veyra paused, her expression becoming more serious.
"And then there are dragons."
The entire class leaned forward.
She gestured, and a new illusion materialized above her desk—a dragon of pure shadow, black scales that seemed to absorb light, eyes like frozen stars. It coiled through the air with liquid grace, and just looking at it made my breath catch.
"Shadow dragons," Professor Veyra said softly.
"I teach you about them not because any of you will bond with one—you won't—but because the knowledge is too significant to lose.
Dragons are extinct as bondable creatures.
The last wild dragon disappeared over three hundred years ago.
The only dragon bond that exists today is Kairen Draxen's Nyx, and that was a... unique circumstance."
She fell silent for a moment, and I could see something complicated cross her face.
"Shadow dragons sought something different from other creatures. Not passion or honor or endurance, but an understanding of darkness itself. They bonded with those who had walked through shadow and emerged still whole. Those who could bear the weight of void without being consumed."
The shadow dragon illusion circled above us, magnificent and terrible.
"The bond with a shadow dragon is devastating," Professor Veyra continued.
"It strips away emotional volatility, leaving only the essential self.
The dragon's magic rewrites the human so completely that many cannot survive it.
Those who do become something more than human—vastly powerful, utterly controlled, and...
" She paused. "Profoundly isolated. The bond burns away much of what makes us human.
Fear, joy, anger, love—all of it becomes distant. Muted."
She let the shadow dragon illusion linger for a moment longer, and I couldn't help but think of Kairen. Of the boy Caleb had described—passionate, quick to anger, fiercely protective—and what he'd become. Cold. Empty. Controlled.
"And then," Professor Veyra said, waving her hand so the shadow dragon faded, "there are light dragons."
A new illusion materialized, and my heart stopped.
A dragon of pure radiance. White scales that seemed to glow from within, eyes like captured starlight, wings that trailed luminescence like falling snow. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
And looking at it made my chest ache with a longing so profound I had to press my hand over my heart to contain it.
"Light dragons," Professor Veyra said, and her voice held something almost like reverence.
"The perfect counterpart to shadow dragons.
Where shadow dragons sought those who understood darkness, light dragons sought those who carried light within them—not happiness or optimism, but something deeper.
An inner radiance that persisted despite suffering.
Despite hardship. Despite every reason to surrender to darkness. "
The light dragon circled above us, beautiful and impossible.
"Light dragons were said to bond with the most unlikely candidates. The sick, the broken, the ones who should have been consumed by their circumstances but refused. They didn't seek strength—they sought resilience. Not power, but the stubborn refusal to be extinguished."
My hand was still pressed to my chest. I couldn't look away from the illusion.
"Where shadow dragons granted control over void and darkness, light dragons granted creation and healing. Where shadow dragons stripped away emotion, light dragons amplified it—making their bonded humans capable of profound feeling, deep connection, and incredible empathy."
Professor Veyra's voice softened. "Together, a shadow dragon bond and a light dragon bond were said to be unstoppable.
Perfect opposites that balanced each other.
One controlled darkness, one created light.
One was emotionally distant, one was deeply connected.
They were meant to work in pairs—complementary forces that could reshape reality itself. "
She paused, and her expression turned sad.
"But light dragons are extinct. The last confirmed light dragon bond was Elara Moonwhisper in the year 1287—over three hundred years ago.
She bonded with Lyralei during a time of great darkness, and together they became one of the most powerful magical partnerships in history.
When Elara died defending the Academy during the Purge Wars, Lyralei died with her. No light dragon has been seen since."
The light dragon illusion slowly faded, and I felt the loss of it physically. Like something vital had been taken away.
"I teach you about dragons," Professor Veyra said, "not because you will ever encounter one, but because their power shaped our world.
Because understanding what they were helps us understand what bonds can become.
And because..." She paused, choosing her words carefully.
"Because hope is not the same as delusion.
Light dragons are gone. Mourning them is appropriate. Believing you'll bond with one is not."
Her eyes swept across the class, and I could have sworn they lingered on me for just a moment longer than the others.
"Now," she said briskly, dispelling the last traces of the dragon illusions, "open your texts to chapter four.
We're going to study the three creatures you actually have a chance of bonding with.
Phoenixes, griffins, and basilisks. Pay attention—this information will save your life in the Wilderness. "
The rest of the lecture passed in a blur. We learned about phoenix nesting sites and griffin flight patterns and basilisk hunting behaviors. We learned the signs that a creature was observing us and the subtle tests they'd arrange.
But I couldn't stop thinking about that light dragon illusion.
About the way it had felt to look at it.
About the description Professor Veyra had given: The sick, the broken, the ones who should have been consumed by their circumstances but refused.
That was me.
That had always been me.
But light dragons were extinct. Everyone knew it. Three hundred years without a single confirmed sighting.
So why did looking at that illusion feel like coming home?
"For your assignment," Professor Veyra said as class ended, "I want three feet of parchment on the creature type you feel most compatible with and why.
Be honest. I'll know if you're lying, and I'll fail you for it.
Understanding your own nature is the first step toward a successful bond.
And no—you cannot write about dragons. Choose from phoenix, griffin, or basilisk. "
Students filed out, chattering nervously about the assignment. Brooke grabbed my arm as we left.
"Griffin," she said immediately. "I'm writing about griffins. Honor, loyalty, combat skills—that's me. What about you?"
I didn't answer. Because the truth was, I didn't know.
I wasn't passionate enough for a phoenix. Wasn't honorable enough for a griffin. Wasn't patient enough for a basilisk.
What creature would want someone as broken as me?
We had the afternoon free—a rare mercy after yesterday's brutality. Most first-years used it to rest, to study, to write the essays Professor Veyra had assigned.
I went to the library.
The Academy library was enormous, multiple floors of ancient books and magical texts that hummed with preserved knowledge. I found a quiet corner on the third floor, surrounded by books about bonding and creatures and the Wilderness.
And I started reading.
Hours passed. The light outside shifted from afternoon gold to evening gray. I read accounts of successful bonds, failed attempts, historical records going back centuries. I learned about phoenix trials and griffin tests and basilisk endurance challenges.
But I kept finding myself drawn back to the section on dragons.
Most of the books echoed what Professor Veyra had said. Shadow dragons extinct as wild creatures—only Kairen's Nyx remained, and she'd bonded five years ago under circumstances the texts called "unprecedented" and "unexplainable." Light dragons completely gone, last seen over three centuries ago.
I pulled down an ancient tome with a cracked leather cover: The Nature of Dragon Bonds: A Comprehensive Study.
Most of it was academic and dry, but then I found a section that made me stop breathing.
"It is perhaps a tragedy of history that light dragons disappeared before we fully understood them. What little we know comes from fragmented accounts and the journals of Elara Moonwhisper herself.
Elara wrote extensively about her bond with Lyralei in the years before her death.
She described the bonding process as 'excruciating and ecstatic in equal measure'—where shadow dragon bonds stripped away emotion, light dragon bonds intensified it to near-unbearable levels.
She wrote of feeling every joy and sorrow with profound depth, of being connected to the world in ways that sometimes overwhelmed her.
But she also wrote of strength. Before the bond, Elara was sickly—barely able to walk across a room without exhausting herself. After bonding, she became one of the most powerful mages in history. The light dragon's magic healed what was broken and amplified what remained.
'Lyralei did not choose me because I was strong,' Elara wrote. 'She chose me because I refused to break. There is a difference between strength and stubbornness, between power and persistence. I had the latter, and she made it into the former.'
Elara also noted that she felt drawn to shadow-bonded mages in ways she hadn't before.
She wrote of a basilisk-bonded scholar whose shadows seemed to 'reach for me as if recognizing something.
' This connection was never fully explored, as the scholar died in an accident shortly after.
But Elara theorized that light and shadow bonds were meant to complement each other—that they sought each other out instinctively.
'I wonder,' she wrote in her final journal entry before the Purge Wars, 'if Lyralei and I are incomplete without our shadow counterpart. If we are half of something that was meant to be whole.'"
I read the passage three times, my hands trembling.
Shadows reaching for her as if recognizing something.
Just like Kairen's shadows reached for me.
It was coincidence. It had to be.
But the ache in my chest when I'd seen that light dragon illusion had felt too real to be nothing.
I closed the book and pressed my hand over my heart, feeling it beat against my palm—fast, frightened, alive.
Light dragons were extinct.
Professor Veyra had said so. The books confirmed it. Three hundred years without a single sighting.
But something in me whispered: What if they're not gone? What if they're just waiting?
I shook my head. Delusion, like Professor Veyra had warned against. I needed to focus on realistic options. Phoenix, griffin, or basilisk. Those were my choices.
Even if none of them felt right.
I returned to the dormitory as evening fell. Brooke was already there, bent over her parchment, furiously writing her essay about griffins and honor and why she was absolutely certain a griffin would choose her.
"Where have you been?" she asked without looking up. "I was about to send a search party."
"Library. Research."
"For the essay?" She glanced at me, then frowned. "You look weird. Did something happen?"
"No. Just... thinking."
"About what?"
About shadow dragons that stripped away emotion. About light dragons that hadn't been seen in three hundred years. About impossible connections and shadows that reached for me in the dark.
"About what I'm going to write," I lied.
"Well, figure it out soon. It's due tomorrow." She returned to her essay, tongue between her teeth in concentration.
I sat on my bed and pulled out parchment and quill. Stared at the blank page for a long time.
The creature type you feel most compatible with and why. Choose from phoenix, griffin, or basilisk.
I couldn't write the truth—that I felt most compatible with something extinct. That would get me failed or sent to the infirmary for delusions.
So I picked up my quill and began writing about basilisks. About patience and endurance. About surviving through stubbornness rather than strength.
It wasn't a lie, exactly. But it wasn't the whole truth either.
The whole truth was impossible to write.
When Brooke finally fell asleep, her essay complete and her confidence intact, I waited.
The shadows came.
That familiar tendril, but tonight it felt different. More insistent. Like it had been waiting all day for this moment.
I reached out my hand, and it wrapped around my wrist immediately. The pain in my ribs faded. My breathing eased. For these stolen moments, I felt whole.
And I felt him—Kairen, somewhere in the Academy, still awake, still fighting.
The shadow pulsed against my skin, and I thought about what I'd read. About Elara Moonwhisper and her theories. About light and shadow being two halves of something meant to be whole.
What if she was right? I thought into the darkness. What if we're supposed to find each other?
The shadow tightened around my wrist—not painful, but firm. Almost like an answer.
Then footsteps in the hall made it retreat, sliding back beneath my bed.
I pulled my hand back and stared at the place where it had touched me.
Seven weeks until the Wilderness.
Seven weeks to figure out if what I was feeling was real or just the desperate delusion of someone who wanted to belong.
Seven weeks to discover if light dragons were truly extinct.
Or if one had been waiting three hundred years for the right person to find her.