Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
The dragon flying fields shimmered under the weight of morning heat, though the sun had barely crested the eastern ridge.
Thaelyn stood with one boot on a stone outcrop, the other planted in the soil, her breath rising in pale plumes.
She wore the regulation black flying leathers, fitted and reinforced at the shoulders and hips, with silver-stitched dragonbone clasps that gleamed faintly under the rising light.
Her bow was slung diagonally across her back, the carved wood resting just below her braid.
A long, dark cape, fastened at her collar by a simple clasp, fluttered in the wind.
Beside her, Thorne adjusted the twin swords strapped across his back, the hilts glinting with faint red inlays.
His leathers matched hers, though his were worn in places from use.
He cut a formidable silhouette against the dawnlight, all hard lines and quiet presence, the wind tugging at the ends of his cloak.
Commander Dareth and Princess Aerisya, Thorne’s sister, stood beside them.
Princess Aerisya was a sight to behold in her white and silver-scaled armor and ivory crest. Her long blond, almost silver hair was braided and wound on her head beneath her crown.
She was a very skilled dragon rider, one of the best in the royal army.
Her dragon, Arauthator, was already on the field.
His presence radiated control and power.
She quickly mounted him. He was a rare lunar white, enormous, older dragon.
He was King of the White Ice Dragons. His wings broad, mane dusted with frost, eyes the blue of storm-lit skies, with rebirth and death looming behind them.
The wind shifted. They all turned as the first shadow fell across the field.
Razorth came in fast and steep. He descended with the gravity of a falling mountain, his breath trailing faint mist in the morning chill.
His wings flared wide, catching the air with a thunderous crack that scattered birds from the cliffside and shook dust loose from the fieldstones.
He landed in a controlled slide, claws carving shallow trenches in the turf, tail lashing once before curling to his side.
When he settled, silence returned, but the pressure of his presence remained.
Razorth folded his wings with military precision, then tilted his massive, horned head toward the pair on the rise.
Commander Dareth gave a subtle nod. “Right on time.”
A minute later, the wind changed again, this time cooler. Nyxariel swept in with a grace that was almost ghostlike. She circled once, slow and deliberate, then descended. Her claws touched the ground, and runes shimmered faintly along her flanks and the trailing edges of her wings.
Thaelyn’s lips curved upward. “Show-off.”
Thorne tilted his head. “You’re jealous she lands prettier than you.”
“I land with power and grace,” she shot back, squinting up at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Before he could retort, a roar shattered the sky.
Vornokh tore through the clouds, his wings stretched wide like the cloak of night.
His body was entirely black, but where light caught beneath his scales, flickers of red glowed like coals stirred by breath.
Only when his rage flared did the red burn brighter, a warning written in flesh. Now, his mood was impossible to read.
He landed with a beat of his massive wings kicking up wind so fierce it bent the grasses sideways. His claws struck with weight, cracking the earth beneath him, and he reared slightly before settling, wings half-furled in dominance.
Thaelyn blinked against the dust. “He really needs an entrance, doesn’t he?”
“He doesn’t need it,” Thorne said, his eyes narrowing. “He is the entrance.”
Razorth snorted from across the field.
Commander Dareth stepped forward. “Mount up.”
Thaelyn moved instantly. She jogged across the field to Nyxariel, who lowered her foreleg in a familiar sweep.
Without pause, Thaelyn grabbed a plate near the knee joint and began climbing up the muscled limb, past the wing joint, boots catching against shallow holds shaped by time and wear.
She swung herself into the saddle with practiced fluidity, landing with her legs braced on either side and her hands already sliding into the reins.
From across the field, Thorne watched with raised brows. “Do you always climb her like that?”
“She’s tall for a lady. I don’t like being clumsy in front of the others,” Thaelyn replied, tightening her straps. “Also, it's fun.”
“You’re one twisted fall from shattering your spine.”
“She’d catch me.”
Nyxariel rumbled and was amused. “He underestimates our trust,” she said through the bond.
Commander Dareth mounted Razorth with a powerful grace, vaulting up the black dragon’s foreleg and settling in with the ease of decades. He adjusted a metal tube fastened at his belt, a speaking horn tied to the dragon’s flight band.
“Today’s not for formation drills. You’ve mastered those in our previous lessons,” he called.
“Today is instinct. Reflex. You’ll learn to feel what the dragon does, not just react to it.
This will get you ready for flying and patrol missions.
Aerisya is a very skilled rider, and she will help facilitate situations. ”
Vornokh snarled, then launched upward in a gust of flame-edged wind.
Nyxariel followed, her wings unfurling in a shimmer of silver-blue as she rose smoothly after him.
Razorth moved last. They rose upward as one, slicing through the morning haze, leaving ripples of magic in their wake.
The sky above them grew pale and cold, the air thinning.
Commander Dareth’s voice rang through the air. “Form a triangle, with Razorth at the point.”
Nyxariel slowed, sliding slightly left. Vornokh grumbled but matched speed to fall into position. Their shadows tangled on the fields below as the dragons climbed higher.
“Thaelyn,” Commander Dareth said, his voice crackling slightly with altitude, “You’ll learn control through sensation. Don’t steer her, feel her.”
“I am.”
“Then prove it. Dive.”
Thaelyn blinked. “Now?”
“Now.”
Before fear could root her, she leaned forward. Nyxariel folded her wings inward, and the world dropped. They plummeted like a thrown spear, the wind screaming past, cold biting into exposed skin. Thaelyn narrowed her eyes against the rush, her hands loose, her breath steady.
“Bend your knees, squeeze your thighs,” Aerisya yelled. “Loosen your grip. Let Nyxariel take you.”
They curved downward in a spiraling arc, slicing past a cloud bank and then twisting hard left, banking in a crescent over the high ridge. Thaelyn leaned with her dragon, trusting the movement fully now, not fighting the momentum.
Razorth’s growl crackled over the bond. “Not bad for a first dive.”
Thorne and Vornokh shot past them like a comet, inverted and twisting, wings snapping open at the last moment to kill speed.
Commander Dareth’s voice was even. “Thorne your control is too tight. You’re forcing the twist.”
“I’m keeping him close.”
“Don’t. You’re his rider, not his leash. Let him lead the curve.”
Vornokh growled beneath Thorne, flames pulsing faintly under his skin. “I do not need leashing, boy.”
“Then try not to smash through a mountain peak.”
“Challenge accepted.”
They climbed again, looping high above the stone arches carved by ancient magic. Thaelyn let her eyes drink in the vastness, rolling forests, speckled lakes, and the river glinting like quicksilver. She looked toward Thorne and felt a surge of adrenaline.
Nyxariel dipped low beside Vornokh. Thaelyn shouted across the wind. “Race you to the Hollow, Dareth!”
Thorne turned, a rare grin flashing. “You’ll lose.”
“Not today.”
The dragons surged forward, Nyxariel’s speed increasing as Thaelyn leaned into the flight. Wind ripped at her braid and cape, her heart pounding in wild rhythm. The Hollow, a natural stone crater just north of the Scorchfield, was wide and shallow, perfect for practicing precision landings.
They dove together, then broke apart. Vornokh curled into a corkscrew, flames rippling from his wings. Nyxariel dipped and rolled beneath him, then launched into an upward spin that carried her higher than the others, catching a high thermal.
“Hold now,” Nyxariel whispered. “Brace.” Then she dove, fast, straight, and perfect. Thaelyn felt the pull in her chest, the weightlessness of speed. At the last second, she pulled slightly left, guiding them into a long, skimming arc over the Hollow’s basin.
Arauthator landed with fluid skill. Vornokh landed seconds later, tail lashing. Razorth descended last, his wings folding inward with a snap.
Commander Dareth dismounted first and walked toward them across the stone basin. “You held your dive well, Thaelyn. The hesitation’s gone.”
Thaelyn panted softly, sliding down Nyxariel’s shoulder. “She taught me to feel the balance. It’s instinct now.”
Thorne dropped beside her, his boots striking stone with weight. “Your roll into that curve was reckless.”
“And gorgeous,” she replied. “You were trying to intimidate us with the fire spiral.”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
“Not even a little.”
Commander Dareth halted before them, arms crossed. “You both flew like a skilled pair of riders today. But riders don’t just ride dragons. They lead them.”
Razorth rumbled behind him, wings rustling like old banners in the wind.
“Thorne, the next lesson is when you come back from seeing your father,” Commander Dareth said, “We will test combat maneuvers in pairs.” He looked between them.
“Sky Storms and Shadow Flames,” he said quietly, “This will either remake the sky, or burn it down.” With that, he turned and walked into the rising wind back towards the academy.
Razorth flew back into the sky. Vornokh and Nyxariel flew upward together as an eternal bonded pair.