Chapter eleven- The warning
The stone corridors of the Academy felt colder after the Trial, as if the walls themselves had absorbed the nobles' shock and were now exhaling it back at her in a steady, icy breath.
Liora walked with Ashwing pressed tightly against her side, his scales brushing her arm with every step.
He moved like a shadow made of silver and muscle, wings tucked in, tail sweeping the floor behind him.
Every time a student passed, Ashwing's head snapped toward them, pupils narrowing, throat rumbling with a low warning growl.
Liora tried to soothe him with a hand on his neck, but she felt the tension in him—coiled, restless, protective.
He had sensed the shift in the air just as she had.
The Academy was no longer merely unwelcoming. It was hostile.
Master Thalen waited for her near the roost entrance, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, posture straight as a blade.
The torchlight flickered across his face, catching the silver in his hair and the deep lines around his eyes.
He looked like a man carved from stormlight—solid, unyielding, and dangerous.
When Liora approached, he didn't speak immediately.
He simply studied her, then studied Ashwing, then the space between them, as if measuring something invisible.
"Walk with me," he said at last.
Liora followed him down a narrow corridor that curved behind the roost. Ashwing padded after them, claws clicking softly against the stone.
The hallway opened into a small balcony overlooking the training fields, the wind cold and sharp as it swept across the open space.
Thalen stopped there, resting his hands on the railing, staring out at the darkening sky.
"You understand," he began, "that what happened today should not have been possible."
Liora swallowed. "I know it was unusual."
"No," Thalen said quietly. "You don't."
He turned to face her fully, his eyes narrowing as he studied Ashwing.
The dragon lifted his head, meeting Thalen's gaze with a low rumble.
Thalen didn't flinch. He stepped closer, examining the way Ashwing pressed against Liora's side, the way his tail curled protectively around her ankle, the way his pupils dilated whenever she breathed.
"Dragons do not bond like this anymore," Thalen said. "Not this fast. Not this deeply. Not this absolutely."
Liora frowned. "But I raised him. I took care of him. Doesn't that matter?"
"It matters," Thalen said. "but a bond like this is rare nowadays."
Ashwing growled softly, sensing the tension. Liora placed a hand on his neck, trying to soothe him, but Thalen shook his head.
"Don't calm him," he said. "Let him react. I need to see it."
Ashwing's growl deepened, vibrating through the stone beneath their feet. His wings twitched, half?unfolding in warning. Thalen watched him with a strange expression—part fascination, part concern, part something darker.
"He is loyal to you," Thalen said. "Utterly. Completely. That alone is rare. But this—" He gestured to Ashwing's posture, the way the dragon angled his body between them. "This is something else. Something I have not seen in decades."
Liora's heart tightened. "Is that... bad?"
Thalen didn't answer immediately. He looked out over the fields again, jaw clenched.
"It is dangerous," he said finally. "Not because of you. But because of them."
"Who?" Liora whispered.
"The Academy. The Council. The noble families. Anyone who believes dragons should be controlled, not partnered."
Ashwing pressed closer to her, sensing her fear.
Thalen lowered his voice. "Listen to me carefully. If anyone—anyone—asks you to bring Ashwing for medical examination, you refuse."
Liora blinked. "Medical—? Why would they—?"
"Refuse," Thalen repeated, eyes hard. "No matter the reason. No matter the threat. No matter who gives the order."
Liora felt her stomach twist. "What would they do to him?"
Thalen hesitated.
And that hesitation terrified her more than any answer.
"They will not see him as your dragon," he said. "They will see him as a resource. A specimen. A weapon. And they will take him from you if they can."
Ashwing let out a sharp, distressed chirp, pressing his head against her chest. Liora wrapped her arms around his snout, heart pounding.
"I won't let them," she whispered.
Thalen nodded once. "Good. Because if they take him, you will never see him again."
Before she could respond, a horn blared across the courtyard—sharp, urgent, echoing off the stone walls. Thalen's head snapped toward the sound. A rider sprinted toward them, breathless.
"Master Thalen! The black dragon—he's been spotted near the northern ridge!"
Thalen's expression hardened instantly.
"Again," he muttered. "Damn it."
He turned back to Liora, urgency replacing caution.
"I have to go. Stay inside the Academy walls. Do not wander. And remember what I said."
Liora nodded, throat tight.
Thalen paused, looking at Ashwing one last time.
"Keep him close and safe," he said. "And this conversation never happened."
Then he was gone—striding across the courtyard, mounting his dragon, and launching into the night sky with a thunderous beat of wings.
The black dragon.
The one that haunted the borders and burned her village.
The one that felt wrong.
Ashwing growled low, as if he sensed it too.
Liora walked Ashwing back to the roost, her hand resting on his warm scales.
The sky above them was darkening, streaked with the last traces of sunset.
The roost was a massive stone structure, open to the sky but barred from the interior buildings.
Dragons were not allowed inside the Academy halls—too large, too dangerous, too unpredictable.
Ashwing hated it.
He stopped at the threshold, wings trembling, tail lashing. Liora knelt beside him, pressing her forehead to his.
"I'll be back in the morning," she whispered. "I promise."
Ashwing let out a soft, pained rumble. His golden eyes were wide, pupils dilated with distress. He nudged her chest, then her shoulder, then her cheek, as if trying to memorize her scent.
"I know," she whispered. "I don't like it either."
He curled around her, wrapping his tail around her waist, refusing to let go. Liora stroked his snout, tears stinging her eyes.
"I'll come back," she said again. "I always come back."
Ashwing finally loosened his grip, but only slightly. Liora stood slowly, stepping backward into the hallway. Ashwing followed until the chain barrier stopped him. He pressed his head against the bars, rumbling low in his throat.
Liora placed her hand against his snout through the gap.
"I'll be okay," she whispered.
Ashwing didn't believe her.
Neither did she.
Liora walked back toward the temporary dormitory she'd been assigned before the Trial, exhaustion settling into her bones.
All she wanted was a shower to wash off the dust and sweat of the arena, then to sneak back to the roost and curl up beside Ashwing like she had every night since arriving.
The instructors had allowed it before the Trial.
She hoped they would still allow it now.
But when she turned the corner toward her room, an instructor stood waiting outside the door, arms crossed, expression stiff.
"Liora," the woman said. "You will not be sleeping here tonight."
Liora blinked. "What? Why not?"
"This room was temporary," the instructor said. "Assigned only until your Trial was complete. Now that you have passed, you will be moved to the permanent student dormitories."
Liora's stomach dropped. "But—Ashwing—"
"Dragons are not permitted inside the Academy buildings," the instructor said sharply. "You know this."
"I know," Liora whispered. "But I always sleep with him. He gets anxious when I'm not—"
"That is no longer relevant," the instructor cut in. "You are a student now. You will follow student protocol."
Liora felt her throat tighten. "Can I at least—"
"No," the instructor said. "Pack your belongings. You are being reassigned immediately."
Liora stood frozen for a moment, then forced herself to move. She stepped into the small temporary room, gathered her few belongings—her spare uniform, her worn boots, the small wooden carving she'd brought from home—and stepped back into the hallway.
The instructor didn't wait for her. She turned and walked briskly down the corridor, expecting Liora to follow.
Liora cast one last look toward the roost, where Ashwing's silhouette was barely visible through the open archway. He was pacing, wings twitching, tail lashing. He sensed the separation. He hated it.
"I'll come back," she whispered.
Then she followed the instructor into the deeper halls of the Academy.
The permanent dormitories were larger, grander, and colder. The walls were lined with banners representing noble houses, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and polished stone. Liora felt out of place instantly. Her boots were too worn, her clothes too plain, her presence too unwelcome.
The instructor stopped at a door near the end of the hall.
"This is your room," she said. "Your roommate has already been informed."
Liora's heart sank. "Roommate?"
"Yes," the instructor said. "All first?year students share quarters."
She opened the door.
Liora stepped inside.
The room was spacious, with two beds, two desks, and a single window overlooking the training fields. A girl sat on the bed nearest the window—tall, elegant, with dark hair braided in a perfect crown. Her uniform was immaculate. Her posture flawless. Her expression cold enough to freeze fire.
She looked up slowly, eyes narrowing.
"You," the girl said, voice dripping with disdain. "Of all the people they could force into my room... they chose you."
Liora stiffened. "I didn't ask for this."
"No," the girl said. "You never ask. Things simply happen around you. Chaos follows you like a shadow."
Liora clenched her jaw. "I'm not here to cause trouble."
"Then stay out of my way."
The girl stood, stepping closer. Her eyes were a sharp, icy blue—beautiful and cruel.
"My name is Seris Valaryn," she said. "Daughter of House Valaryn. My family has trained riders for generations. We built this Academy. We shaped its traditions. And I will not let you drag my reputation down with yours."
Liora met her gaze, refusing to look away. "I'm not trying to drag anyone down."
Seris smiled—a sharp, cruel smile.
"Oh, I know," she said softly. "You're just existing. And somehow, that's worse."
She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper.
"You don't belong here. And everyone knows it."
Liora's breath caught.
Seris stepped back, crossing her arms.
"Your dragon is a mistake," she said. "Your bond is a mistake. And you—" Her eyes swept over Liora with disdain. "—are the biggest mistake of all."
Liora felt something inside her crack, but she held her ground.
"I'm not leaving," she said quietly.
Seris tilted her head. "No. You're not. But you won't last long."
She turned away, dismissing Liora entirely.
Liora stood there for a long moment, heart pounding, throat tight. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted Ashwing.
But she forced herself to move.
She unpacked her things in silence, placing them neatly on the small desk beside her bed. Seris didn't look at her again. The room felt colder with every passing minute.
When Liora finally lay down, staring at the ceiling, she felt the weight of the Academy pressing down on her from all sides.
The Trial was over.
But the real danger had only just begun.