Chapter six- First lessons
The sun had barely crested the mountain ridge when Liora and Ashwing climbed the winding stone path toward the upper training grounds.
The morning air was sharp and cold, carrying the scent of pine and distant smoke.
Frost clung to the edges of the stone steps, glittering like shards of glass beneath their feet.
Ashwing walked close beside her, his scales warm enough to melt the frost wherever he stepped.
Every few strides he nudged her shoulder with his snout, as if checking she was still there, still breathing, still his.
She was exhausted. She was terrified. But she walked. Because she had three days. Three days to learn how to ride a dragon. Three days to survive the Trial. Three days to prove Ashwing belonged with her—and not the Academy.
The training grounds opened before them like a vast stone arena carved into the mountainside.
The platform stretched wide and flat, bordered by a sheer drop into the valley below.
The wind rushed upward from the cliffs, cold and wild, carrying the distant cries of dragons already in flight.
Dozens of riders and dragons filled the space.
Some were stretching wings, others tightening straps, others practicing takeoffs in controlled arcs.
The air vibrated with the thunder of wings and the low rumble of dragon voices.
Liora's stomach twisted. She didn't belong here.
Ashwing chirped softly, brushing his tail against her leg. "Okay," she whispered. "We'll try."
Her eyes landed on the saddle resting on a stone block.
It was enormous—thick leather reinforced with metal rings, long straps dangling like tangled vines, stirrups shaped to fit a rider's boots.
It looked complicated, heavy, and unforgiving, like something meant for someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
She approached it slowly. "I don't even know where to start," she muttered.
Ashwing nudged the saddle with his snout, encouraging.
Liora grabbed the front edge and heaved. It didn't budge. She tried again, bracing her legs. This time she managed to lift it—barely—and staggered toward Ashwing's side. She attempted to swing it over his back.
It didn't swing. It flopped. Right onto his wing joint.
Ashwing yelped and jerked sideways, wings flaring. "Oh gods—sorry! I'm sorry!" Liora scrambled to pull it off, nearly tripping over the straps. Ashwing shook himself, scattering silver dust from his wings. He gave her a wounded, betrayed look.
"I know," she groaned. "I'm terrible at this."
She tried again. This time she managed to get the saddle onto his back—but it was crooked, sliding down one side like a drunken blanket.
She tugged at the straps, trying to tighten them, but she had no idea which strap connected where.
One strap looped under his chest. Another wrapped around his shoulder. A third seemed to go nowhere at all.
She pulled it anyway. The saddle twisted even more.h
Ashwing made a confused, offended sound.
"Why are there so many straps?" she hissed. "Why do you all look the same?"
She crouched under Ashwing's belly, trying to find the matching buckle. Instead, she smacked her head on his scales. "Ow—!"
Ashwing lowered his head, sniffing her hair in concern.
"I'm fine," she muttered. "Just... incompetent."
After several minutes of wrestling with leather and metal, she stepped back to look at her work. The saddle was on. Technically. But it was crooked. And lopsided. And one strap dangled uselessly under Ashwing's belly like a sad tail.
Ashwing twisted his neck to look at it, then at her. His expression said everything.
Liora sighed. "Yeah. It's awful."
Still, she had to try. She grabbed one of the neck ridges and attempted to climb up.
Her foot slipped. She slid back down. She tried again.
And again. And again. Each time she slipped off the crooked saddle, landing on her knees or her backside.
Ashwing chirped anxiously, lowering himself to help her, but the saddle was so uneven that she couldn't get a proper grip.
At one point she managed to get halfway up—only for the entire saddle to shift sideways, dumping her onto the ground. She lay there staring at the sky. "I hate this," she whispered.
Ashwing leaned over her, snout pressing into her cheek, rumbling with concern.
"I know," she said, rubbing his jaw. "I know. I'm trying."
A warm, amused voice drifted from behind her. "You're starting from the wrong side."
Liora froze. She sat up and turned.
A boy stood a few paces away—tall, broad?shouldered, with soft brown hair that fell into warm hazel eyes.
His uniform was immaculate, his posture relaxed, his smile gentle in a way that made her chest tighten unexpectedly.
He looked... kind. And curious. And a little too handsome for her peace of mind.
"I'm Aiden," he said, stepping closer with an easy confidence. "Second?year Rider. And you must be Liora."
She blinked. "How do you know my name?"
He smiled wider. "Everyone knows your name."
Her stomach dropped.
Aiden lifted his hands in a calming gesture. "Not in a bad way. Just... you arrived with a wild silver dragon. That's not exactly subtle."
Ashwing growled softly.
Aiden held up both hands. "Easy, big guy. I'm here to help."
Ashwing's growl softened into a suspicious rumble.
Aiden turned back to Liora. "May I help?"
Liora hesitated. He seemed safe. Warm. Not like the nobles who whispered behind her back. Not like the Council who wanted to take Ashwing. Not like Kael, whose cold eyes had cut through her like a blade.
She nodded.
Aiden stepped beside her, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of pine and leather on him. "First rule," he said softly, "approach from the left. Dragons are used to it. Their balance shifts that way."
Liora moved to Ashwing's left side. Ashwing watched Aiden carefully, but didn't growl.
"Good," Aiden said. "Now lift the saddle from the center, not the edge. Like this."
He demonstrated, muscles flexing as he lifted the heavy leather with ease.
Liora tried to mimic him. She failed.
Aiden laughed softly—not mocking, just warm—and helped her guide the saddle onto Ashwing's back. This time it landed straight.
"Now the straps," he said. "They look confusing, but they're not so bad once you know them."
"They look like a nightmare," Liora muttered.
Aiden grinned. "A charming nightmare."
Her cheeks warmed.
He guided her hands to the correct buckles, showing her how to loop the chest strap, tighten the belly strap, secure the shoulder harness. His fingers brushed hers more than once—warm, steady, grounding. Ashwing watched them both with bright, curious eyes.
When the saddle was finally secure, Aiden stepped back. "Perfect. Now try climbing."
Liora grabbed the neck ridge and pulled herself up. She slipped. Aiden caught her arm before she hit the ground. His grip was warm. Steady.
"You're not weak," he said gently. "You're just new."
Liora's cheeks burned. "I've never done this."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm here."
She tried again. This time Aiden guided her foot to the right stirrup, his hand steady on her ankle. Ashwing lowered himself slightly, helping her climb.
Liora pulled herself up—and suddenly she was sitting on Ashwing's back. High. Unsteady. Terrified.
Ashwing chirped proudly.
Aiden grinned. "See? Not so hard."
Liora clutched the saddle horn. "I feel like I'm going to fall."
"You won't," Aiden said. "Not with him."
Ashwing rumbled in agreement.
Aiden stepped back, studying the pair of them with a soft, almost admiring expression. "You two are... something."
Liora's heart fluttered. Ashwing preened.
They spent nearly an hour practicing—leaning, shifting weight, gripping the saddle properly, learning how to move with Ashwing instead of against him. Aiden was patient, warm, encouraging. He never raised his voice, never mocked her, never made her feel small.
For the first time since arriving at the Academy, Liora felt... safe.
Eventually, Ashwing grew restless, wings twitching with the urge to fly. Aiden laughed. "He wants to take off."
Liora's heart lurched. "I'm not ready."
"You don't have to fly today," Aiden said gently. "Just get comfortable. That's enough."
She exhaled shakily. "Okay."
Aiden stepped back, giving her space.
And that was when she felt it.
A presence. Cold. Sharp. Watching.
She turned her head.
Kael stood at the far edge of the training grounds, arms crossed, his dark hair stirring in the wind. His storm?gray eyes were fixed on her—not with disdain, not with amusement, but with a deep, calculating intensity that made her breath catch.
He had been watching them. Watching her. Watching Aiden help her.
Ashwing growled low in his chest.
Kael didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't look away. He simply observed—silent, unreadable, dangerous.
Aiden followed her gaze and sighed. "Ignore him. He's always like that."
But Liora couldn't. Kael's eyes held hers for a long, charged moment. Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the morning light.
Ashwing snorted, offended.
Aiden touched her boot gently. "Ready to try again?"
Liora nodded. Ashwing lowered himself, ready.