Chapter 18 #3
I shift, unfamiliar with the name.
“The stories say he wasn’t chosen because he was the strongest,” Valen continues. “Or the fastest, or the best warrior. He was chosen because he was willing to stand alone. He was outcast,” Valen says, tossing another log onto the fire. “A traitor, according to his own people.”
Lyra’s brows shoot up. “Wait—so the first dragon rider was a traitor?”
Valen nods. “His clan was at war. A raid, like so many others. But this time, he was given an order he wouldn’t follow.” He looks into the fire, its flames flickering in his eyes. “Because he disobeyed.”
I frown. “Disobeyed what?”
Thane, still quiet beside me, finally speaks. “An order.”
I turn to him. His jaw ticks slightly, his voice even but weighted.
“In the Fire Clan, an order is law,” he says. “To disobey is to be cast out—or executed.”
I shift. Something cold settles in my stomach. “So what did he refuse to do?”
Valen’s voice is quiet, measured. “He was ordered to burn a village to the ground.”
Lyra lets out a slow breath. “And he didn’t.”
Valen nods. “He refused. And not just refused—he fought his own men to stop them.”
I watch the flames flicker, the heat pressing against my skin. “So, he saved them?” I ask.
Valen’s expression hardens slightly. “Some of them. The rest were slaughtered before he could stop it.”
I don’t know why, but my chest tightens at the thought.
“What happened to him?” Lyra asks.
Thane shifts slightly, his tone somber. “They spared him. But they made an example of him first.”
I don’t ask for details. I already know. The Fire Clan doesn’t believe in mercy.
Valen says, “Because he refused that order, he was stripped of his rank, branded a traitor, and cast out. He wandered alone after that,” Valen continues. “No home. No people. No future.”
“But he still fought,” Thane murmurs.
Valen nods. “Yes. Because fighting was all he knew.”
The firelight flickers across Thane’s face, the shadows shifting along his jaw. “That’s why Velkar chose him.”
Valen meets his gaze. “Because he had nothing left to lose.”
I shift, unease settling in my chest. The first rider wasn’t some fabled warrior. Not a chosen one. He was a man who had already lost everything. Who had stood alone—defying the laws of men.
A man who was falling long before he stepped off that cliff.
Valen leans forward, adjusting a log in the fire, the flames curling higher as he continues.
“The first rider bonded with a dragon long before the Shadow Wars. Centuries before humans understood what it meant to stand beside them—truly stand beside them.”
I frown. “How long ago?”
Thane answers this time. “At least a thousand years. Maybe longer.”
Lyra whistles. “A thousand years?”
“The records aren’t exact,” Valen says. “But it was long before this world as you know it took shape, when the clans were still divided and before the riders became legends.”
I rub my hand on the back of my neck. “So, when Isandor bonded with Velkar, there was no war?”
Valen shakes his head. “Not like the ones we know. But there was conflict. There were wars between clans, struggles for power, but dragons? They were untouched by it all. They kept to themselves, separate from human affairs.”
“But something changed,” Thane says.
Valen nods. “Yes. Something shifted in the balance of magics itself. The dragons felt it first. And Velkar was the first to say that their survival was tied to ours. That they could no longer exist as separate forces.”
“So, the bond didn’t exist before him?” I ask.
Valen shakes his head. “No. They were untamed forces, respected but feared.”
“So why’d Velkar bond with anyone at all?” Lyra asks, brow furrowed.
Valen exhales, choosing his words carefully. “Because he saw the shift coming—the change in magics and the world. And he knew the dragons wouldn’t survive alone. They had to stand together or risk extinction.”
I glance between them, the firelight dancing in their eyes. “So when Isandor leapt, when Velkar caught him . . . that was the moment everything changed.”
Valen nods. “It was the first proof that dragons and humans could be more than allies. They could be stronger together. They could create more powerful magics once bonded—something entirely new. The Elements themselves responded differently to a bonded pair. More focused. More potent. Expansive. It wasn’t just fire or air anymore.
It was fire with will. Air with intention. ”
He looks into the flames, voice quieter now. “Some say it was the first time the Elements truly chose to follow.”
Thane’s voice is quiet, steady. “And now, centuries later, we still honor that choice—for the rare few who are called.” He pauses, gaze flicking toward the fire. “Dragons don’t choose lightly. And these last several years, fewer dragons are calling.”
Valen takes a sip of water from his flask.
“When one calls a rider, it’s not just a bond—it’s a declaration. A recognition of something extraordinary. It’s an honor few ever receive.” He glances at me then, just for a second. “And it’s never by accident.”
Centuries.
A bond forged not through war, but through trust. And tomorrow, I’ll stand where Isandor stood. Tomorrow, I will leap. And for the first time, I truly understand what that means.
Lyra exhales, shaking her head. “So . . . the first rider wasn’t chosen because he was the best. He was chosen because he had faith.”
Valen tilts his head thoughtfully. “Dragons choose for their own reasons. Sometimes it’s faith.
Sometimes it’s something else—alignment, instinct, a shared wound or a spark of recognition.
” He glances toward the fire. “But faith is always required to complete the bonding. Perhaps Isandor had nothing left to doubt. Or maybe the dragon saw something in him that matched something in itself.”
My fingers tighten around the plate. Tomorrow, I’ll stand where he once stood. I’ll face the same unknown. And gods help me—I think I already understand it. What it means to fall.
The fire pops, casting flickering light across Thane’s face as he tears off a piece of bread in silence.
I watch the flames shift, shadows dancing along the rock walls around us.
The first Trust Fall. The first time a human and a dragon became one.
I glance at Thane. He knows this story well. He’s done it before. I imagine him here, sixteen years old, staring into the same firelight.
Valen leans back, rolling his shoulders as if the weight of the past still lingers there.
“The first bonding between Isandor and Velkar became the foundation for all future bondings. The cliffs where it happened—now known as Velkar’s Descent—are sacred.
It’s the place where riders have the chance to fulfill the bond with the dragon who called them. ”
He pauses, gaze distant.
“Dragons are creatures of memory. Of meaning. They don’t choose locations at random. History shows us they return to the same places again and again—places laced with power, with resonance. “Velkar’s Descent is one of those places. Not just for what happened—but for what it still holds.”
I think of the history books. The volumes on dragon lore, old magics, forgotten places. Every spare moment these past few months—I spent reading. Studying. Trying to understand. Sometimes late into the night, sometimes in the quiet just before sleep.
I didn’t just want to know—I needed to. Because all of this . . . it matters. Not just for the world. For me. For the Spiritborn and the role I am to play in this war.
I glance up. “You mean like Mythren Valley.”
His gaze flicks to me, then nods. “The Guardians.”
Thane shifts beside me. “The Guardians don’t bond with riders.” Thane’s voice is calm. Certain. “They exist for something else: protect dragonkind; preserve their knowledge.”
“Like protecting the dormant dragon eggs,” I offer.
“Yes.” Valen’s gaze drifts, distracted—like he’s chasing a thought miles from here. “And for reasons no one has been able to explain, their eggs have remained dormant for thirty years.”
Lyra, who has been poking at the fire with a stick, suddenly sits up straighter. “Okay, wait—so the rumors are true?” She glances between Thane and Valen. “There really haven’t been any hatchlings in three decades?”
Thane nods. “Yes.”
“So what happens if they never hatch?” she asks, her voice sharper now.
Thane’s gaze flicks toward the fire. “You’ve already seen it.”
A chill curls down my spine. More Shadow Forces. Stronger. Smarter. Deadlier. Just like at our village. These haven’t been random attacks. They’ve been escalating.
And no more dragons.
Lyra sets her plate down and rubs her hands together. “So let me get this straight—these eggs have been dormant for around thirty years, which means the wards haven’t been properly reinforced in that entire time. And now, suddenly, we’re dealing with stronger, deadlier enemies?”
Thane nods. “Yes.”
“But why now?” I ask. “Why did the eggs stop hatching at all?”
Valen exhales, his eyes settling on the fire. “No one knows why.”
Lyra scoffs. “And everyone’s just . . . what? Hoping they hatch on their own?”
Thane glances at her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “Scholars at the capital have been studying it for years—trying to figure out what changed. Why the hatchlings stopped.”
She huffs but falls quiet.
I chew slowly, thinking. “If the Guardians protect dragonkind, wouldn’t they know why?”
Valen shrugs. “Perhaps. But they don’t share their secrets freely.”
The fire crackles, the wood shifting slightly in the heat. For a long moment, none of us speak.
Then Lyra sighs, tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth. “Alright, well, I hate this mystery. Someone should demand answers.”
Thane snorts. “You can be the one to do that—but they may turn you to ash for even asking.”
She grins. “Maybe I will. I can be very charming.”
“Enough storytelling for tonight. I’m for sleep,” Valen announces suddenly.