Chapter twenty- The Fall
Liora woke before dawn, long before the first hint of light touched the sky.
Her body felt like it had been hammered into the mattress overnight.
Every muscle throbbed with a deep, bruised ache.
Her ribs protested each breath. Her arms felt heavy, her legs stiff, her shoulders tight from the relentless drills Kael had put her through.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, gathering the strength to move.
A soft scrape of metal came from across the room.
Seris was awake. Liora froze, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing her struggle.
Seris sat on her bed, sharpening her dagger with slow, deliberate strokes.
Her posture was perfect, her expression unreadable, her eyes cold and alert even in the dim light.
Liora forced herself upright. Pain shot through her torso, but she swallowed the sound that threatened to escape.
"You're up early," Seris said.
Liora didn't look at her. "I have things to do."
Seris hummed—a low, unimpressed sound—and returned to her blade. The rhythmic scrape followed Liora as she dressed, each movement a small battle she refused to lose. She slipped out before Seris could say anything else.
The hallway was cold. The air outside even colder. The sky was still dark, the world quiet and unmoving. The Academy grounds felt suspended in time, waiting for the sun to rise.
Kael was already waiting. He stood in the center of the training grounds, arms crossed, posture rigid, expression unreadable. He didn't greet her. He didn't ask if she was ready. He didn't acknowledge the pain in her movements. He simply tossed her a wooden practice sword. "Again."
Liora barely caught it. Her fingers trembled around the hilt, but she stepped into position. Kael circled her slowly, like a predator assessing prey.
"Your stance is weak. Fix it."
She adjusted.
"Your grip is wrong."
She corrected.
"You're thinking too much."
She swallowed.
Kael moved suddenly—a blur—and tapped her wrist with his own sword. Pain shot up her arm. "Again."
She lifted her blade.
They repeated the sequence until her arms shook uncontrollably.
Sweat dripped down her spine despite the cold.
Her breath came in ragged bursts. Her vision blurred at the edges.
Kael didn't slow. He didn't soften. He didn't acknowledge her exhaustion.
He simply stepped back and pointed to the table behind him. "Crossbow."
Liora blinked. "What?"
"You'll need range as much as close combat."
He handed her a small training crossbow. It was heavier than she expected, the wood cold against her palms. Kael stood behind her, adjusting her stance with a single touch to her elbow. The contact was brief, impersonal—but it sent a strange shiver through her anyway.
"Lift it higher. Your aim drops when you're tired."
She lifted.
"Focus."
She tried.
"Again."
She fired. The bolt hit the outer ring of the target. Kael didn't praise her. He didn't criticize her. He simply loaded another bolt and handed it to her. "Again."
They trained until the sun rose fully, until her arms felt like molten lead, until she could barely breathe. When Kael finally stepped back, he said only, "Tomorrow. Same time."
No acknowledgment of her effort. No recognition of her improvement. No flicker of emotion. He walked away without looking at her. And it hurt. More than she wanted it to.
Liora barely made it to her first class. Her legs trembled with every step. Her arms felt like they might fall off. She tried to hide it, but Mira noticed the moment she sat down.
"You look awful," Mira said.
Liora groaned. "Thanks."
"I mean—you look tired. Really tired."
"I didn't sleep well."
Mira frowned, clearly unconvinced, but she didn't push. She simply slid her notes toward Liora. "Here. You can copy these."
Liora blinked. "Mira, you don't have to—"
"I want to."
Liora's chest tightened. "Thank you."
"That's what friends do."
Liora hugged her, grateful she had made a friend like her.
By midday, her body was screaming again. Every step felt heavier. Every breath hurt. She tried to stretch her arms, but the muscles seized painfully.
Aiden noticed immediately. He always noticed.
He caught up to her after class, falling into step beside her with that easy, confident stride. He took one look at her stiff posture and frowned. "Liora... this is the second day you're moving like your bones are made of glass."
She groaned. "Is it that obvious?"
"Yesterday I thought you were just tired," Aiden said, eyes narrowing as he studied her. "But today? You look worse. Way worse."
"I'm fine."
"You're not," Aiden said, stepping in front of her for a moment as if blocking her path would force her to admit it. "You're walking like every muscle in your body is staging a rebellion."
She nudged him aside. "I'll survive."
Aiden didn't laugh this time. He walked beside her, slower now, watching her carefully. "Liora... are you training alone?"
Her breath caught. She kept her eyes forward. "I don't know what you mean."
"That wasn't an answer."
"I'm not doing anything dangerous."
"That also wasn't an answer."
"Aiden, drop it."
He studied her for a long moment—not angry, not offended, just worried. "Alright. But if you're pushing yourself too hard, or if someone's pushing you too hard... you can tell me."
"I'm fine."
"You're limping," Aiden said. "And pretending you're not doesn't make it less true."
She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened. "You're impossible."
"And you're avoiding the question," Aiden said. "So I guess we're both impossible."
Despite everything, she smiled.
After lunch, Liora stepped outside for a moment of quiet before her dragon?flight class. The courtyard was warm now, sunlight spilling across the stone. She leaned against a pillar, trying to stretch her aching arms.
A sudden shadow passed overhead. Ashwing swooped down in a tight spiral, landing on the stone railing with a soft thump. His silver feathers shimmered in the sunlight, but his posture was different today—wings slightly flared, tail twitching, eyes sharp and alert. He wasn't calm. He was agitated.
"Ashwing?"
He hopped closer, letting out a low, warbling sound she had never heard from him before—a sound that vibrated in her chest like a warning.
"What's wrong?"
Ashwing nudged her shoulder, harder than usual, then stepped back and spread his wings halfway, feathers bristling. He looked toward the dragon?flight arena, then back at her, then toward the arena again. As if urging her to be careful.
"I'm fine. Just tired," Liora said.
Ashwing snapped his beak—a sharp, scolding click.
"Okay, okay. Not fine. But I'll manage."
He paced along the railing, tail flicking, wings twitching. He kept glancing toward the arena, feathers lifting and settling restlessly.
"You're acting like something's wrong."
Ashwing froze. Then he hopped onto her forearm—gently, careful of her soreness—and pressed his forehead to hers. His feathers were warm, his breath soft against her cheek. It wasn't comfort. It was a promise. A vow. He would watch her. He would follow her. He would not let anything happen to her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Ashwing stepped back, spread his wings, and launched into the air—but he didn't fly away. He circled above her. Watching. Guarding. Waiting.
A bell rang in the distance, signaling the start of class.
Ashwing let out a sharp cry and shot toward the arena like a streak of silver lightning.
Liora stared after him, unsettled. He had never acted like that before.
And she didn't know yet that he had sensed something she hadn't.
Something dangerous. Something waiting for her.
The dragon?flight arena buzzed with excitement when Liora arrived.
Students were already gathering near their dragons, tightening straps, checking buckles, and chatting loudly about the upcoming sky drills.
Kael was there. He stood beside his dragon, adjusting the harness with calm precision.
His posture was straight, his expression unreadable, his movements controlled.
He didn't look at Liora. He didn't acknowledge her arrival.
He didn't show the slightest hint of interest. Just composed. Just focused. Just Kael.
Mira waved her over. "You made it! I thought you might skip today."
Liora forced a smile. "I'm fine."
"You're not," Mira said gently. "But I'm glad you're here."
Before Liora could answer, a familiar flutter of wings brushed the air. Ashwing swooped down and landed beside her, feathers puffed, tail twitching sharply. He wasn't calm. He wasn't playful. He was restless—pacing in a tight circle, wings twitching, eyes flicking toward the sky.
Liora knelt. "Ashwing... what's wrong?"
He let out a low, vibrating trill—not a warning, not a threat, but a deep unease. A dragon's instinct. A feeling.
Liora stroked his neck. "I'll be okay."
Ashwing didn't relax. But he stepped aside so she could reach the saddle.
Liora lifted it onto his back. The leather felt normal beneath her hands. The straps slid into place. The buckles clicked the way they always did. She tightened everything carefully—she always did—but she didn't notice the tiny cut in the main strap. It was thin. Precise. Hidden beneath the fold.
She checked the saddle twice, then three times. Everything looked fine.
"You're getting faster at that," Mira said.
"Practice," Liora exhaled.
Master Thalen's voice boomed across the arena. "Mount up! Today we practice coordinated flight patterns. Stay in formation. Do not break rank unless instructed."
Liora climbed onto Ashwing. Pain shot through her ribs, but she gritted her teeth and adjusted her posture. Ashwing shifted beneath her, uneasy.
"It's okay," she whispered.
He didn't believe her.
Master Thalen raised his hand. "Take off!"
Dragons leapt into the sky. Ashwing launched upward with a powerful beat of his wings, rising smoothly into the air. The wind rushed past Liora's face, cool and sharp. For a moment, the pain in her body faded beneath the thrill of flight.
They joined the formation, gliding in a wide arc around the arena. Liora leaned forward, adjusting her balance as Ashwing banked left. Everything felt steady. Everything felt right.
Until it didn't.
A sudden jolt snapped through the saddle. Liora's breath caught. She looked down. The main strap—the one she had tightened—was slipping.
No. Not slipping. Tearing.
The hidden cut she hadn't seen was widening under the strain of flight.
"No—"
The buckle twisted. The leather ripped. The saddle lurched sideways. And Liora fell.
The world spun around her—sky, clouds, distant ground rushing up to meet her. Her stomach dropped. Her arms flailed instinctively, reaching for anything, anyone. Mira screamed her name. Aiden shouted something incoherent. Kael's voice cut through the air—sharp, commanding. "Hold formation!"
But he was already moving.
The wind roared in Liora's ears. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The ground rushed closer, faster, impossibly fast. She was going to hit. She was going to—
A flash of silver streaked through the air. Ashwing dove like a comet, wings tucked tight, eyes blazing with fierce determination. He shot beneath her just as she plummeted past him, twisting his body mid?air with impossible precision. His wings snapped open. He caught her.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, but she didn't fall. She clung to his feathers, shaking violently as Ashwing steadied himself, wings beating hard to slow their descent. They hovered just above the ground.
Liora buried her face in his neck, breath trembling. "You saved me," she whispered.
Ashwing chirped—sharp, angry, scolding her for ever doubting him.
She had almost died.