Chapter Nine
Heat explodes in all directions and I bolt.
Every muscle burns, my pulse punching at my neck as I hurl myself away from the patch of ground Dave incinerated seconds ago.
Flames slam into the side of the cage beside me, and the force blasts outward, hitting me full-on and knocking me off my feet.
I crash to the ground—knees scraping through the dirt, and a scream tears out of me as the top layer of skin is torn off.
But I force down the pain, swiping ash and sweat from my face, the taste of it coating my mouth as I shove myself up—
Dave's giant red form looms over me.
And he isn’t fat or slow anymore. He’s big, strong, and fucking terrifying. Filling the cage, his wings flare wide, scraping the metal as they stretch.
My ribs clamp down around me at the sight of it, tightening until my lungs can’t expand.
What the hell kind of training is this? And why the fuck won’t my Threads answer?
There’s no time to think before Dave extends his neck and roars.
Fire erupts from his mouth into the top of the cage, bursting outward and licking down the sides, sealing us inside a sphere of heat.
I turn, spinning, scanning for a way out—door, walls, anything—
Nothing.
He’s blocking the exit.
I’m stuck.
My body jerks as I suck in air, but it comes too fast, too shallow. I try again, but nothing.
My lungs won’t open.
The air’s too hot—too thick—and the fire’s too close.
Panic surges fast, shattering every coherent thought as my breathing turns to frantic pants.
No, this can’t be happening. Keep calm, keep focused, there must be another way out.
But then Dave paces toward me. Each step lands heavier than the last, trembling through the ground like approaching thunder, and the fragile grip I have on myself snaps.
Move.
Move!
I try—try to push up, to reach for my Threads, to do something, but my body won’t listen, as terror floods my veins.
With my hands shaking, useless now, I strain to draw in another inhale but my chest seizes and my vision flickers at the edges.
Fuck, fuck, fuck...
Dave’s chest expands, scorching heat building behind his monstrous jaws as he pulls in the air around us.
No—
He drops his head.
The sound hits first: a deafening and violent roar.
My eyes clamp shut, arms coming up, bracing—waiting for the heat.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, my limbs go cold.
The world tilts next—
and then everything goes black.
“Ten seconds?!”
The voice slices through the darkness and my eyes flare open. Air follows, rushing into me as my chest expands on instinct, sucking in air that scrapes hot down my throat.
“You couldn’t last more than ten blasted seconds before passing out?”
Blinking, I rub the sweat and ash from my face and glance up. Dave’s vanished, and in his place stands Reya. Her hands planted on her hips, head shaking with frustration. I stare at her, my brain lagging behind, fighting to catch up with what's going on.
“I’m—” My voice catches. Swallowing, I try again. “I’m not… dead?”
Reya squints down at me. “No, you’re not bloody dead. Why the Stars would you be dead?”
“But this person...” Everything spins as I turn to the skull that sits a metre away from me, now completely black.
“Oh, he’s probably some Citadel scum they caught. They like to throw them in here between the shows.” Reya rolls her eyes as she waves a hand in the air. “Ten fucking seconds…” she mutters, as she storms off toward the cage exit.
Show?
This was a goddamn show?
Blood slowly starts to return to my limbs as I sit there, completely stunned, and several long minutes pass before my lungs settle enough for a full breath.
When I finally manage one, I scan around and realise Reya’s gone. Ahria’s gone. And a new crowd is already gearing up for the next show.
Panic flares back to life.
Shit. I need to get out of here before Dave returns.
Exhaling hard, joints protesting beneath me, I shove myself up and race for the door.
By the time I catch up with Reya, she's already at the settlement gate with the short round guard. Her purple dragon and Ahria are perched above them, snapping back and forth, all teeth and play.
“Hey—this is less than last week.” Reya snarls as the plump guard drops the velvet pouch into her hand with a light, unsatisfying clatter.
“It's more than you would have got for the boy.” He counters, taking a step forward with an oily grin that reminds me of the Weasel. “And you know the deal, Dave stops when they pass out. The longer they last, the heavier it is.”
My fists curl at his challenge, but Reya doesn’t so much as flinch. She just lifts her arm and her purple dragon answers instantly, gliding down in a clean sweep and landing on her shoulder with a firm grip.
“Remind me again…” Reya cocks her head at the guard, whose face has drained white. “Why I don’t let Shanwyn eat you right here? After all…” Her lip curls, “...you are merely another dirty Outerlander with no magic.”
Shanwyn swells, doubling in size as her jaws open wide, exposing rows and rows of sharp, gleaming teeth.
“B—B… because of the draconite,” the guard stammers, as his eyes jump between Reya and the dragon, like he’s trying to figure out which one will kill him first.
Reya sighs through her nose as though she’s bored. “Oh yes… I forgot. How convenient.” Sliding a finger under Shanwyn’s jaw, she scratches lightly, earning a soft, throaty rumble from her. “But there’s no reason we couldn’t simply... take an arm.” Reya adds, not even looking at the guard now.
“Okay—okay,” he blurts, the words tripping over each other as he staggers back, fumbling through his pockets until he reveals another pouch.
He thrusts it out with a shaking hand.
Shanwyn moves before Reya does.
With a quick beat of wings, she flies down and snatches the bag clean from his grip and drops it into Reya’s waiting palm. Reya’s fingers close around it.
“That’s better.” She smirks at the guard, then leaves through the gate.
Watching her leave, he stays frozen in place until Ahria drifts down, her green body hovering in front of him as she lets out a surprisingly vicious roar.
That’s all it takes. Both his hands shoot up in surrender, fear flashing across his face as he races into his outpost and slams the door with enough force to rattle the frame.
Beside me, Ahria releases a satisfied little puff of smoke, then snaps her wings and peels off toward Reya, who has stopped at the side of the path, counting coins as mountain workers stream past her with chisels and axes in hand.
“So you fucking bet on me?” My boots scuff harder than they need to as I step in front of her.
“No, I don't bet. That's a loser's game. I just get paid to provide the entertainment.” She holds out a small handful of gold coins that glint as they shift with a soft clink. “Here.”
“What’s that for?” My focus drops to her palm, then returns to her face.
“Your half.” She nudges the coins forward “Isn’t that why you came?”
“No—what the hell? I have a fear of fire and I need to get over it. Merrin said you would help me train—so I can bond at the Blood Moon.” I glance toward Ahria as she skims past us, avoiding Shanwyn who chases after her.
“I mean what kind of dragon would bond with someone who’s scared of heights and fire? ”
Reya goes still. Her hand stays outstretched, coins resting in her palm, but something catches in her throat.
She swallows, tries to push it down, but it slips out anyway—a small, strangled sound.
Then another.
Her shoulders begin to shake.
And then she breaks.
“You’re kidding me,” she manages between the gasps of laughter spilling out of her. “Heights and fire?!”
“It's not funny.” I bite out, brows furrowing.
“It’s pretty fucking funny.” She exclaims, folding in on herself, arms wrapping around her stomach as the laughter takes her. “Who the hell’s ever heard of a dragon rider scared of heights and fire?”
Fury gets the better of me, and my fingers twitch as my Threads finally decide to wake up and join the party.
I plant my hands on my hips, ready to throw something barbed back—but her laugh catches me.
I try to hold it down, bite the inside of my cheek, but it slips anyway and the corner of my mouth tugs up.
“Okay…” My shoulders drop as a reluctant huff escapes me. “It’s a little bit funny.”
Reya drags in a breath, wiping at her teary eyes as she straightens, still grinning.
“But I need this,” I add, the humour draining from my voice as quickly as it came.
“Merrin said this would work. And as much as I loathe saying it…” My jaw stiffens.
“I know he’s right. I have to face my fears.
Head on.” I peer over at Ahria as she pivots and starts chasing after Shanwyn, snapping at her tail with impressive accuracy.
“I need to get over it, I need to last more than ten bloody seconds before the Blood Moon.”
Reya’s expression softens, subtle, but there as her piercing grey eyes move between me and the dragons.
“You really want to do this, Freckles?” she asks, her tone more serious again.
I nod. No hesitation.
“Well…” she mutters, almost to herself as she jostles the coins in her hand. “You did earn me more than that skinny recruit would’ve. They always love watching a damsel in distress.” Her lips pull thin. “Fucking creeps.” She taps her chin, thinking. “Fine. Why the hell not.”
The words land, and my chest loosens, letting out a heavy exhale I didn’t realise I was holding in—though I have no idea why. Relief makes no goddamn sense here. Not when I’ve just volunteered myself to cage fight Dave the Dick with no bloody magic.
“Why didn’t my Threads work in there?” I ask as Reya shoves the coins into her pocket and we start walking after the dragons toward the lake. “I reached for them, but nothing. Like they simply… vanished.”
“Draconite. They mine it out here.”
“Draconite?”
She glares at me, noticing I’m not following.
“It’s an alloy,” the snarky edge in her voice returns.
“It’s pulled from a rare metal in these mountains.
Tough as hell—you need dragon-fire just to melt it down.
It messes with our Threads, blocks them, scrambles them, and the longer you’re around it the worse it gets.
” Her chin jerks toward the stream of people moving alongside us.
“That’s why we can’t mine it ourselves. Has to be Outerlanders with no magic. ”
“So... that's what the cage is made from?” I push, stepping over a rut in the dirt.
“Stars no. It’s mostly scrap. Draconite’s rare, but it packs a punch. You only need a sliver.”
“And that's how they keep the dragon captive?”
“Who, Dave?” Reya huffs a laugh, shaking her head.
“He’s not captive. He’s there for the sausages—you saw the size of him, right?
Dragons love this shit, the shows are like playtime for them.
Plus, every now and then, someone traps a Citadel officer who’s wandered too close...
then they get an actual person to actually burn. ”
I slow half a step without meaning to. “Outerlanders are trapping officers?”
“Yeah, they lay traps made with traces of draconite in the mountains around here. We also use it for our jail cells and handcuffs. Hence why I keep the relationship with that slimy guard.”
As we hit the lake, we take a left, heading back to the camp when a girl from the settlement about our age cuts across our path. She doesn’t slow, doesn’t look at me, she goes straight for Reya, shoving something small into her hands.
Reya stops dead. “Here?” she hisses through clenched teeth. “You’re fucking doing this here?"
Before I get the chance to see what it is, Reya moves first, grabbing the girl’s arm and hauling her off the path, turning her toward the waterfront with their backs to me so I can’t see between them.
I try to listen, but they keep their voices low, words slipping past me before I can catch them.
All I get is the tension underneath. So I angle away, turning my attention elsewhere.
I already seem to be on Reya’s bad side—no need to make it worse by eavesdropping on something she clearly doesn't want me to hear.
A light breeze greets me as I angle away, carrying a faint mist from the distant waterfalls.
It brushes my skin, cooling me and taking the edge off the early afternoon heat, and I follow it to where the water falls in long, steady streams down the side of the mountain.
The wind catches the spray and pulls it sideways into thin sheets, away from the settlement we just left nestled at their base.
God, if Ashvale knew what they knew. About dragons, about draconite, could they have stopped the attack? Would it still be there? Would I still be there?
A dull ache digs under my ribs and presses in as I think about Bren—where he is, whether he’s still alive—
“If you don’t want to get caught, Reya, then maybe stop coming!”
The shout echoes through the air, loud enough to make me flinch and I spin around to catch the Outerlander girl storming off down the track toward the mountain settlement, her boots kicking up dirt with every hard step.
But when I turn back, Reya’s nowhere in sight.
What the—
Spinning on my heel, I scan the horizon, but nothing. Only the open plain, the lake catching the afternoon light, and Ahria, who is now hovering impatiently at my side.
Did she take off while I wasn’t paying attention? Damn, she’s fast.
Squinting up at the sky, I search again for any sign of movement.
Should I wait?
Before the next thought can land, Ahria answers for me, shooting ahead and disappearing toward camp.
“Hey—wait—”
Breaking into a run, I chase after her.
The comforting smell of beef stew lures me inside the Food Tent, thick and rich enough to make my stomach groan.
A few heads turn as I join the queue. Not surprising, considering I look like I’ve just crawled out of a furnace—my hair still singed from Ahria’s wake-up call this morning, and my clothes are streaked with soot and dried blood from Dave.
I probably should have showered when I got back, maybe even a nap, but Ahria hadn’t seemed willing to wait.
Anyway, food means energy, and energy means I can explore more of the camp, pick the brains of the other recruits, check on Ezzy, and stay on my feet a little longer before my body decides it’s ready to collapse.
And, preferably all without any more dragons or fire for now.
Yawning, my eyes growing heavier by the second as I watch Ahria weave through the tables with entirely too much energy, snatching chunks of meat straight from people’s bowls.
“Next.”
The call pulls my attention forward and I lean over, reaching for a tray but then a heavy arm slaps across my back.
“There you are.”
I jolt, whipping around to find Lucien towering over me, the dull gemstone around his neck hanging loose over a white linen shirt, no Citadel uniform in sight.
“Been looking for you. You ready?” he asks.
“Ready for what?” I reply, dazed.
His grin flashes bright against his dark skin “To go flying.”