Chapter 10
Tess
"—depends entirely on you."
Theron's voice cut across the training grounds. No preamble. No welcome-to-your-first-day warmth. He was already mid-sentence by the time I'd fully oriented myself, standing at the front of our loose formation like he'd been born giving orders and resented every second of it.
"Foundational skills first. Drills, bond integration, tactical basics. Observer missions follow—you shadow active Riders and prove you can follow protocol. If you clear that, active field training." His jaw tightened. "The timeline is not fixed. It accelerates or stalls based on what I see."
The dragons dominated the space.
Five of them. Arranged in a loose arc behind and around us, their bodies reshaping the entire grounds. I'd trained here before—run drills, sparred, sweated through conditioning sessions until my legs gave out. But I'd never stood here with this.
Their sheer mass changed the air pressure, the acoustics, the way the wind moved. Every breath carried heated stone and ozone and the musk of creatures who remembered the world before it had names.
Thalon was at my back, his obsidian-and-gold scales catching the light in slow ripples. I didn't need to turn around to feel him. He was a constant hum in my chest, his presence threaded through my thoughts like a second pulse.
"The instructor is quite tightly wound, isn't he?" Thalon observed, his voice sliding through my mind with amusement. "Like a spring coiled just before it snaps."
Theron's left hand was curled at his side. The tendons in his forearm stood out against tanned skin. He wore his training gear like armor, and I hated that I noticed the way his shoulders filled out the fitted jacket.
I knew him now—knew the cynicism was a wall, knew the harshness covered more. That knowledge made it worse, not better.
He'd been pulled from active duty for this. For us. For me, probably, though he'd never say it.
The irritation radiating off him was familiar. I'd spent enough time in his orbit—during our previous training—to read the difference between Theron-angry and Theron-managing-anger.
This was the second one. Barely.
Behind him, Yrden watched. Theron's dragon was enormous—the largest on the grounds by a significant margin, his rust-colored scales darkened to near-bronze where the light didn't reach.
He had the same assessing stillness as his Rider, those deep amber eyes tracking each of us with intelligence that felt like being weighed.
I'd seen Yrden before, but never like this—never in context with other dragons, never as part of a formation.
He made the others look young. Which, I supposed, they were.
"Bond magic assessment," Theron said, and the words weren't a request. "Each of you. Show me what you've got—not what you think you've got, not what you hope you'll have by midterm. What you can do now." His emerald eyes swept the line. Landed on Raze. "Ulrich. You're up."
Raze stepped forward with the easy confidence of someone who'd never met a room he couldn't charm. He lifted one hand, and the air around his palm shifted. I felt it before I saw it—a prickling across my skin, the hair on my arms rising.
Then a crackling web of blue-white electricity arced between his fingers.
The charge built for three seconds.
Then he directed it downward, and a burst of electrical energy hit the packed earth with a sharp crack, leaving a scorched circle the size of a dinner plate.
"Storm magic," he said, grinning. "Still pretty raw, fair warning—"
"I said show me, not narrate."
Raze's grin didn't falter. If anything, it sharpened.
"Volatile," Theron said flatly. "Range?"
"Working on it. Maybe fifteen, twenty feet before it disperses."
"Enthusiastic, that one," Thalon murmured. "All spark and no patience."
Theron's gaze held on Raze for a beat longer than comfortable, then moved on. "Hawthorn."
Lunessa stepped forward with the unhurried precision I remembered from the arena. Lavender braid over one shoulder, amber eyes bright and amused.
"Earth magic is my foundation—vines, stone, terrain manipulation.
Defensive wards and environmental traps.
" She paused, one eyebrow lifting. "Through Kaelthar, I've gained seismic abilities.
Concussive force, shockwaves. Still integrating those, so fair warning—stand back if the ground starts shaking and I look surprised. "
A couple of quiet laughs from the group. Theron's expression didn't change. Lunessa didn't seem to care.
She stepped back without demonstrating—confident enough in the summary not to need the show. The vine tattoos along her forearms shifted in a slow, deliberate curl, her magic opinionated about being discussed. Behind her, Kaelthar watched her with an intensity that felt private.
I liked her. I'd liked her in the arena too—the way she'd moved, the dry comment she'd tossed my way mid-fight like we weren't actively subduing a werebear. She fought like she planned and joked like she didn't care, and that combination made me trust her faster than I probably should have.
"Ravenspell."
Anya stepped forward, and the temperature dropped.
Not metaphorically. The air around her went cold enough that I saw my breath mist. Her violet eyes stayed calm as a translucent figure materialized at her shoulder. A spirit. The outline of a woman in old-fashioned robes, her face obscured.
"Necromancy," Anya said simply. "Spirit communication, ritual spellcraft, and when necessary, reanimation." Her voice was quiet but clear. "I can call the dead. I can also send them back."
The spirit flickered once, then faded. The cold receded.
Anya's gaze swept the group. Just watching to see who flinched.
No one did. But I saw Valen's eyes narrow slightly, and I noted it.
"Loto."
Draven moved forward, and my body tracked him before my brain caught up. My attention sharpened, my chest tightened. Every gesture was economical—he moved like someone who'd calculated the exact amount of energy required and refused to waste a single calorie more.
"Psychic abilities through my bond with Amrion," he said, his voice that low, smooth register that always sounded like it was meant for a smaller room. A closer conversation. "Emotional sensing, projection of calm or mental clarity, basic cognitive shielding. Still developing range and precision."
He didn't look at me. But I felt the words still developing land with a weight that suggested he was being careful about what he revealed. About what he showed Theron. About what he showed everyone.
"Interesting," Thalon said, and the word carried warning. "Be careful with that one, little one. His magic is not the only thing still learning its boundaries."
Not now, I thought back.
"Whittaker."
My turn.
I stepped forward, last among the real teammates—the human after every Supe had already proven what they could do.
Last. The only human. The one everyone had opinions about before I'd ever opened my mouth.
"My core magic manifests as a fiery gold and purple energy," I said, keeping my voice steady.
"Through Thalon, I have access to Golden Shield—defensive barrier, strong against magical and mental attacks.
Shadow Fire—offensive, capable of consuming magical defenses.
And Invisibility Shroud, though I've only used it in controlled conditions.
" I paused. "I'm competent with what I've practiced.
Still learning the edges of what I can do. "
I let a small sphere of gold-and-purple fire bloom in my palm—felt the familiar warmth surge up from my chest, the Draconis Heart kicking harder as the magic moved through me, through my shoulder, into my hand.
The light caught Theron's face for a moment, and recognition flickered in those green eyes.
He'd seen my magic before. He'd felt it before.
I closed my fist and the fire winked out.
"Beaumont."
Valen stepped forward with the kind of practiced grace that made my stomach turn.
"Vampiric enhancement," he said smoothly. "Strength, speed, blood magic. Happy to demonstrate whatever's useful for the team."
Happy to demonstrate. Like he was volunteering at a charity event. Like he hadn't spent my entire applicant period making my life a waking nightmare.
His red eyes swept the group with an expression of cooperative interest so perfectly calibrated it could have been painted on. He smiled. The model teammate.
My skin crawled.
I knew who'd placed him here. Silvius. And I knew why. Valen wasn't on this team to learn or to fight alongside us. He was here to watch. To report. To catalogue every weakness, every dynamic, every crack in the foundation.
"That one carries rot beneath the polish," Thalon murmured, and I felt his warmth press closer through the bond.
I kept my face neutral. Barely.
"Pair up," Theron said, already moving. "Defend-and-strike drill.
Whittaker, Loto. Ulrich, Hawthorn. Ravenspell and Beaumont, you rotate support—shields and disruption, alternating.
" He pointed to positions across the grounds.
"Spread out. Use the space. Stay aware of the dragons—they're not furniture. "
To prove his point, Talven stretched her wings to their full span and nearly clipped Raze in the shoulder. He ducked with a laugh.
Behind us, Thalon settled his enormous body along the eastern edge of our section, and watched me with eyes that shifted from molten gold to warm amber.
"Show them what we are, little one."
I took my position across from Draven.
He stood ten feet away, his long dark hair pulled back, tattoos visible where his training gear left his forearms bare. I remembered—strawberry, his fingers, his mouth, the way he'd looked at me—
No. Not now.
We looked at each other for a beat. Then, wordlessly, I raised my hand—a question. He nodded. I'd start on defense.
His psychic ability pressed against me. Pressure thickened between us.
I raised the Golden Shield and felt it snap into place. The psychic pressure met it and dispersed.