Chapter ten - The trial of claim
The arena rose before Liora like a stone coliseum carved from the mountain itself.
Pale marble walls curved in a perfect circle, catching the early morning light and throwing it back in cold, sharp reflections.
The stands were already full—rows upon rows of noble-born students in immaculate uniforms, their crests gleaming, their posture rigid.
Their whispers drifted like a thin mist across the arena floor, soft enough to pretend politeness, sharp enough to cut.
A commoner had no place here, and yet here she stood.
Ashwing pressed against her side, his silver scales catching the sun in molten flashes.
His wings were half-open, not in preparation for flight but in warning, the way a wolf shows its teeth.
His tail curled around her ankles with possessive certainty, as if daring anyone to come close.
At the center of the arena stood Master Thalen, a figure carved from discipline and stormlight.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with the stillness of a man who had spent decades around creatures capable of killing him in a heartbeat.
His hair, streaked with silver at the temples, was tied back in a short warrior's knot.
Deep lines framed his eyes, not from age but from years of squinting into wind, smoke, and dragonfire.
His uniform—dark indigo leather reinforced with silver-stitched scales—fit him like armor, and a long cloak hung from his shoulders, its edges scorched.
His eyes were the color of a storm about to break: cold, unblinking, and measuring.
He looked at Liora without pity, without disdain, without surprise.
He looked at her as if she were a test—not of herself, but of the Academy.
"Liora," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the arena. "Today you face the Trial of Claim. If you succeed, the dragon is yours. If you fail, he becomes property of the Crown."
A ripple of whispers swept through the stands.
"A commoner? Impossible."
"She won't last a minute."
"The dragon is too wild."
"She should never have been allowed to attempt this."
Ashwing growled, low and dangerous. Liora placed a hand on his neck. "It's alright," she whispered. "I'm here."
Master Thalen raised a hand. "Begin."
THE CALL
Two handlers approached Ashwing with ropes in hand.
They moved slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a sleeping storm.
They didn't get close. Ashwing snapped his wings open with a thunderous crack, his tail lashing and his claws gouging deep scars into the stone.
A snarl ripped from his throat—sharp, primal, unmistakably lethal.
The handlers stumbled back, one tripping over his own feet.
"He's too wild—"
"He'll kill someone—"
"He should be put down—"
"He listens only to her."
Master Thalen's eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of interest crossing his face. He watched Ashwing's stance, the way the dragon angled his body between Liora and the handlers, the way his pupils dilated when she breathed.
"The dragon must be positioned at the far end of the arena," Thalen said.
"He won't let us near him!" a handler shouted. "He's dangerous!"
"He's loyal," another whispered.
Liora stepped forward, heart pounding. "Ashwing," she said softly. "Look at me."
He did—instantly, completely—golden eyes locking onto hers. She placed both hands on his snout. "I need you to go."
Ashwing's wings twitched. His tail tightened around her ankle.
"I know you don't want to," she whispered. "But I need you to. For us."
Ashwing let out a soft, pained rumble. Liora pressed her forehead to his.
"I'll call you back. I promise."
Ashwing hesitated, then slowly uncurled his tail. He stepped back. One step. Two. His eyes never left her.
"Go," she whispered.
Ashwing turned and walked across the arena, claws scraping the stone. He stopped only when he reached the far wall. He sat, wings folded tight, trembling with the effort of staying away from her.
"He listens to her—"
"No one else—"
"That's not normal—"
"That's dangerous—"
"That's... impressive."
Master Thalen lifted his hand. "Call him."
Liora inhaled. "Ashwing." She closed her eyes. "I'm here," she whispered. "Come to me."
Ashwing roared. He launched forward with such force the stone cracked beneath him. He crossed the arena in seconds, skidding to a stop in front of her, lowering his head until his snout pressed against her chest.
Master Thalen nodded once. "Bond confirmed."
Shock rippled through the nobles. Aiden's breath caught. Kael's expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened.
CONTROL
Obstacles rose from the ground—pillars, arches, shifting platforms. Liora mounted Ashwing, her hands steady despite the pounding of her heart.
"Forward," she whispered.
Ashwing moved instantly. They wove through the pillars, Liora guiding him with her legs, her breath, the tilt of her body. He responded to every shift, every whisper, every heartbeat.
"She's untrained—"
"How is she doing that—?"
"He's reading her—"
"No dragon should obey like that."
Master Thalen watched her posture, her balance, the way she leaned into Ashwing's movements. He watched Ashwing's ears, his tail, the subtle adjustments of his wings.
"Control confirmed."
THE LEAP
The high ledge loomed above them—fifty meters up, narrow and unforgiving. Liora climbed the stairs alone. Ashwing flew beside her, landing with a heavy thud. The wind whipped at her hair, cold and sharp. The nobles' whispers drifted upward like poison.
"She'll fall."
"She'll break her neck."
"This is where it ends."
"She was never meant to be here."
"She'll embarrass herself and the Academy."
Liora heard every word. Nobles knew how to wound with softness.
Each comment slid under her skin like a splinter.
Her throat tightened. Doubt coiled in her chest, cold and heavy.
Maybe they were right. Maybe she didn't belong here.
Maybe she was pretending. Maybe she was nothing more than a frightened girl who had stumbled into a world she didn't deserve.
Maybe she was about to prove them right in front of everyone.
Her gaze drifted across the arena, searching for something to anchor her.
She found Aiden first. He stood among the instructors, posture straight, expression controlled, but his eyes—his eyes were steady, warm, unwavering.
He didn't smile or nod, but the quiet certainty in his gaze wrapped around her like a hand closing over hers.
Then her gaze shifted—and collided with Kael's.
He stood higher in the stands, arms crossed, expression carved from ice.
His eyes were sharp, cold, assessing. Not approving.
Not supportive. Not impressed. But there was something else there too—challenge.
As if he were silently daring her to fail or daring her to prove him wrong.
Between Aiden's quiet reassurance and Kael's cold challenge, something inside her steadied. The doubt didn't vanish, but it no longer controlled her. She inhaled slowly, letting the breath settle deep in her lungs. Ashwing nudged her shoulder, sensing the shift.
"I'm alright," she whispered.
Master Thalen's voice echoed.
"Leap."
Liora stepped to the edge. Her heart hammered. Her palms were slick. The world below blurred. Ashwing pressed his snout to her shoulder.
"I trust you," she whispered.
And she jumped.
The wind tore the scream from her throat. The ground rushed up to meet her.
"Ashwing!"
He dove instantly. No hesitation. No fear. No calculation. Just instinct. Just her. His claws closed around her waist with perfect precision. His wings flared, catching the wind. They landed in a burst of dust and wind, Ashwing curling around her protectively.
"Trust confirmed," Thalen announced.
The nobles were silent. Not impressed—stunned.
FLIGHT
Floating rings rose into the air, glowing blue. Wind gusts whipped across the arena, conjured by instructors to mimic storms. Liora mounted Ashwing again.
"Ready?" she whispered.
Ashwing chirped, wings trembling with excitement.
"Let's fly."
He launched upward. The wind slammed into them, but Liora leaned with him, breath steady. Ashwing angled his wings, cutting through the turbulence. They soared toward the first ring.
"She's going to miss—"
"She won't make the turn—"
"She's—"
"She's doing it."
They shot through ring after ring, weaving through the sky course with impossible precision. Liora felt weightless, breathless, alive. The final ring glowed ahead—high, narrow, surrounded by swirling wind.
"We can do it," she whispered.
Ashwing roared. He climbed higher, wings straining. Liora leaned forward, trusting him completely. They shot through the ring in a burst of silver and blue.
Silence fell.
They hovered above the arena, suspended in sunlight. Liora laughed, breathless.
"We did it!"
Ashwing chirped triumphantly.
They descended slowly, landing in the center of the arena. Liora slid off, legs shaking. Master Thalen stepped forward.
"Liora—" He paused, letting the silence stretch, letting the nobles feel the weight of it. "—you have passed the Trial of Claim."
The arena erupted—not in cheers, but in a fractured storm of whispers.
"This changes everything."
"She shouldn't have passed."
"That bond... it's unnatural."
"It's extraordinary."
Ashwing roared, wings flaring wide. Aiden exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. Kael didn't move, didn't blink, didn't approve. But his eyes sharpened, as if he had just witnessed something dangerous.
Liora pressed her forehead to Ashwing's.
"You're mine," she whispered. "And I'm yours."
Ashwing wrapped his tail around her.
The Trial was over. But everything else was just beginning