Chapter 11.
October first is always Threshing.
It doesn't matter if it falls on a weekday or not — on the first of October, every first-year cadet in the Riders Quadrant enters the bowl-shaped valley southwest of Basgiath War College and hopes to walk back out with a dragon.
Aeliana stood at the edge of the clearing, boots sinking slightly into the dew-damp grass, breath misting in the cold morning air. Her stomach was hollow — not from nerves, but because she hadn't bothered eating. There hadn't seemed to be a point.
To her right, someone was retching violently against a tree.
Ridoc.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and grimaced. "Gods, I hate mornings."
She didn't answer. There wasn't much to say. No amount of cleverness or courage would help him if the dragons didn't choose him today.
Or if they decided to burn him alive instead.
The circle of cadets tightened, voices low, movements tense. Nearly a hundred fifty of them now, spread across the clearing like kindling.
Professor Kaori's voice rose above the mutter of nerves. "If a dragon has already selected you," he said, tapping his chest twice, "you'll feel it here. Don't ignore that instinct. If something in your gut tells you to turn around and run — that counts, too. Listen to it."
His thick mustache twitched downward as he surveyed the group. "There are dragons in the sky and on the ground. Some will wait. Some will test you. All of them will judge you. You have until sundown."
He checked his pocket watch, silver chain glinting. "It's nine. Which means any minute now."
Aeliana rolled her shoulders back. The cold bit through her shirt sleeves, but she didn't shiver.
This was it.
"Know which one you're going for?" Liam's voice was quiet beside her.
She turned slightly to look at him. His dark hair was wind-ruffled, the rebellion relic on his arm half-hidden beneath his sleeve. There was tension in his jaw, but his eyes were calm. Steady.
"I had the whole night to think," she said. "Still don't know."
He nodded like he understood. "There's something to be said for walking in with a clean slate."
"To be clear, that's a euphemism for no plan whatsoever," she deadpanned.
His grin was fleeting. "Sometimes those are the best kinds."
Somewhere overhead, a roar split the sky — loud and deep enough to rattle the ground.
Every cadet froze.
Dragons.
Aeliana's heartbeat thudded once, hard. Then again.
Professor Kaori pointed toward the treeline. "Remember: spread out. Don't cluster. Use every foot of the valley. If you're not chosen by nightfall, someone will come for you. Until then, survive."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the woods.
A beat of silence.
Then the cadets began to scatter.
Nyra brushed past Aeliana on her way to another path, braids swinging behind her. "Good luck," she said. "Don't do anything reckless."
"Same to you."
Reece gave a sharp nod as he passed. "Don't die."
And then the clearing emptied.
Aeliana walked into the trees, the roar of wings overhead fading behind her. The sun crested over the ridgeline, slicing through branches in gold-edged beams, and the wind carried the scent of sulfur and smoke.
She didn't look back.
This was Threshing.
Aeliana stepped over the tree roots marking the edge of the main clearing, boots crunching on brittle grass.
Overhead, shadows streaked across the sky as wings cut through the morning sun, casting rippling darkness over the scattered cadets. Around her, the line had already begun to fray. Small groups formed and dispersed as if instinct itself whispered not to linger. Not to trust anyone.
"Be careful," Liam murmured, stepping up beside her, his gaze tracking the sky. "Watch your back, Aelia."
She glanced at him, appreciating the use of her nickname more than she should've. "You too," she said. "May the Red Daggertail of your dreams be real."
He huffed a quiet laugh. "And may yours find you before sundown."
She didn't reply. Just nodded and veered left, stepping away from him and into the tangled wilds of the valley. She didn't look back.
The trees swallowed her quickly. Sunlight filtered through crimson and gold leaves, dappling the mossy forest floor. The scent of bark and scorched air warred in her nostrils. Each breath was sharp, edged with magic.
The sound of other cadets faded with distance, replaced by the rustle of wind and the occasional thud of something massive moving through the brush.
She gripped the hilt of her dagger.
Minutes passed.
Then—
A low vibration hummed through the ground beneath her boots.
Aeliana froze.
To her left, beyond a thicket of brambles, a massive green dragon stood in a clearing. Its scales shimmered like dew-slicked moss, and its eyes—golden and unblinking—fixed on her the moment she stepped into view.
She held her breath.
Its head tilted.
Then, without a sound, it turned away.
She blinked. "Okay," she whispered under her breath, heart pounding.
She hadn't moved. Hadn't threatened. Hadn't looked it directly in the eye.
It had just...walked away.
She circled wide, deeper into the valley.
A half hour passed, maybe more. Time twisted in the woods, each minute stretching long and taut.
She stepped around a fallen log and paused again.
A hulking brown dragon sat beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. It was massive—bigger than the green—and more weathered, with thick horns curling back along its skull and eyes like molten bronze.
It was already watching her.
She stepped forward slowly, careful to avoid sudden movement.
The dragon blinked.
Then turned its head, as if bored, and settled back into the shade, ignoring her completely.
Aeliana's brows furrowed.
Two dragons now. Both had noticed her.
Both had done nothing that the cadets were told they would do.
She kept moving.
The next encounter was less quiet.
She crested a ridge and nearly walked straight into a juvenile orange dragon—sleek and alert, scales flashing like fire beneath the high sun.
It startled at her sudden presence, flared its wings slightly, then locked eyes with her.
She didn't flinch.
Didn't reach for her weapon.
Just stared.
The orange hissed—soft and low, like steam escaping from a kettle—then snapped its wings shut and turned, stalking away without a sound.
"What the hell is going on," she muttered to herself.
This wasn't normal.
She'd studied. She knew the signs. Dragons were supposed to react. To test. To challenge.
Not to retreat like shadows before dawn.
She pressed on, weaving through a grove of twisted pine trees, the canopy darker here. A sudden rush of wind rustled through the branches, and she ducked instinctively.
Wings.
Two dragons landed ahead—one green-spined, the other orange. They crashed down into the clearing like thunder, sending dust and leaves skyward.
Aeliana crouched low, breath caught in her throat.
Neither dragon moved toward her. Not at first.
Then the orange one shifted, stepping toward the edge of the clearing, its eyes sweeping the tree line.
They landed on her.
A pause.
A slow, deliberate tilt of the head.
Aeliana stepped forward. One step. Then two.
She wasn't sure why—just that she had to try. Had to give them a reason to stay.
The dragon stared.
Then it snorted, shook its great head, and turned.
The green-spined one followed, wings flaring as they launched skyward in unison, vanishing between the trees.
Aeliana exhaled shakily.
Four dragons. Five, counting the pair.
And every single one had walked away.
She stood there for a long moment, listening to the wind. Her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of rejection.
Still, she wasn't ready to give up.
Not yet.
Not until the sun touched the treetops.
Not until she was called back.
Somewhere ahead, branches cracked.
And then a faint voice—
"HEY!"
It wasn't hers.
Someone else.
Someone in trouble.
Aeliana's hand went to her dagger as she turned toward the sound.
She ran.
Branches whipped against Aeliana's arms as she ran toward the sound.
Her boots pounded the uneven ground, following the direction of the shout, her lungs burning from the sprint. The cry had been panicked—raw—and she knew that tone. Knew what it sounded like when someone thought death was seconds away.
She broke through a narrow clearing—and skidded to a halt.
Ahead of her, Ridoc stood frozen at the edge of a sloped rise. His blade was still in his hand, but it trembled.
And before him stood a red dragon.
Not the largest she'd seen, but still monstrous, its scales glowing like molten steel beneath the sun filtering through the leaves. Its wings were half-furled, and its massive head was lowered, jaws parted. Smoke curled from the back of its throat.
The space between them crackled with the promise of flame.
And just behind Ridoc—retreating fast—was another cadet. A taller boy with wild, panicked eyes and blood on his tunic, sprinting through the trees without a backward glance.
What the—
Aeliana's breath caught as she took in the scene. Ridoc had been pushed. Forced too close.
The dragon's chest began to expand, the unmistakable sign of a coming blast.
"Hey!" she shouted, cutting through the tension like a thrown blade.
Both Ridoc and the dragon turned to look at her.
She moved forward without hesitation, stepping between them, planting herself in front of Ridoc.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ridoc barked behind her. "Move! Look away!"
But she didn't.
Her feet remained planted. Her spine straight. Her eyes locked on the dragon's.
It stared.
A deep, rumbling breath rolled out of its chest. Its eyes narrowed, tongue flicking once.
Aeliana tilted her head slowly, just slightly.
The dragon inhaled—
Then stopped.
Its head pulled back an inch.
Then another.
And then, to her disbelief, it turned.
With one long step, then another, it walked away.
The forest filled with the sound of crushed leaves and shifting weight... until it disappeared.
She let out a shaky breath.
Ridoc sagged behind her. "That—what the hell was that?"
She turned around and saw the blood streaking his forearm. His grip on the dagger had loosened.
"You're bleeding."
He looked down, frowning as if just realizing it. "Oh. Yeah."
She stepped close and opened her pack, retrieving a cloth roll of bindings.
"Sit," she said simply.
He obeyed, dropping onto a rock with a wince.
Aeliana knelt in front of him, carefully unwrapping her cloth. "It was that other cadet," she said, inspecting the gash. "He pushed you, didn't he?"
"Yeah," Ridoc muttered. "Said there was a brown up ahead, but he veered off last second and shoved me into the red's clearing. Bastard almost got me killed."
Aeliana didn't respond. Just wrapped the cloth around his arm with deft fingers, tying it off.
A rustle sounded to their right.
Both of them froze.
Aeliana turned slowly—her fingers still holding the end of the wrap—and spotted movement between the trees.
A dragon.
But not the red.
It was smaller than that. A brown swordtail, horns sweeping back in elegant curves, hide streaked with copper and tawny gold. And its eyes—
Golden.
Intelligent.
Hesitant.
It didn't charge.
Didn't puff steam.
It simply peeked its head around a tree and looked at them.
More specifically... looked at Ridoc.
Aeliana's hands stilled.
Ridoc noticed too. "Um."
She stood up slowly, offering her hand. "You can stand?"
"I think so." He took it, rising with a grunt.
She nodded toward the trees. "Right. Well. I think I'll leave you and your dragon to it."
"What—wait, what do you mean my dragon?"
She turned and gave him a knowing look. "He's been watching you since I started wrapping your arm. He didn't bolt when I looked at him. That alone says something."
Ridoc blinked. "You really think...?"
"I think he's here for you." She backed away, boots silent on the mossy ground. "Don't keep him waiting."
"Wait—" he called.
But he didn't follow her.
Because the dragon stepped forward.
A low chuff of air escaped its nostrils as it walked slowly, deliberately, toward Ridoc. Their eyes locked. A beat of silence.
Then Ridoc gasped—just once.
Magic cracked through the clearing, invisible but palpable. The bond struck like a lightning bolt with no flash. And Ridoc swayed on his feet, eyes wide, a dazed grin spreading across his face.
Aeliana turned and walked away.
No part of her ached with jealousy. She didn't have the strength to be bitter. Only the quiet resignation that whatever this strange day meant for her... it didn't include a dragon.
Not yet.
A minute later, wings exploded above the trees.
She looked up and saw Ridoc rising into the air, astride the brown swordtail, wind snapping his sleeves as the dragon carried him toward the sky.
He looked down as he passed over her.
And for a split second, he smiled.
She smiled back.
Then kept walking.
Alone again.
Still waiting.
~
The sun had shifted.
Aeliana could tell by the angle of the light bleeding through the trees — no longer overhead, but slanting low enough to cast long, golden fingers across the moss-strewn ground. Afternoon, then. Hours gone. How many, she didn't know.
Her legs ached. Her right knee throbbed with dull protest every time she crouched. But it was the silence that wore her down more than anything. The eerie, anticipatory hush of a valley not quite emptied of dragons, but no longer teeming with the certainty of their presence.
She hadn't seen another cadet in over an hour.
No dragons, either. Not since Ridoc had disappeared into the sky on the back of the swordtail.
No bond.
No fire.
Nothing.
She ran her tongue over dry lips and looked up through the canopy.
The trees thinned to the east. A rise of granite cut through the forest, and at the top, an old pine twisted sideways like it had grown defiant against wind and time. She eyed the branches. Broad. Sturdy.
It would do.
Aeliana climbed.
The bark scraped her palms, the rough scent of sap clinging to her skin. She moved slowly, methodically, until she found a broad crook just below the canopy. From here, the view opened like a breath.
The valley stretched before her in swells of green and gold, rippling out toward the far ridgeline. Smoke rose in the distance — not fire, just the low, ever-present haze of dragons. She scanned the sky.
And there — movement.
A flicker of shadow peeled away from the cliffside.
A dragon.
Not just any dragon.
Black as midnight. Vast. Regal.
He soared into view with the controlled power of something used to being watched, used to being feared.
The massive wings cleaved the air, trailing currents that spiraled behind him like stormclouds.
The light broke along his scales — not in color, but in absence, as if he swallowed it whole.
Aeliana sucked in a breath.
She'd never seen a dragon that dark. Or that massive.
The black dragon banked suddenly, circling back.
And behind him—
A flash of gold.
Smaller. Sleeker.
The gold dragon — the Feathertail — raced after him, weaving through his slipstream, wings catching sunlight in dazzling bursts.
Even if Aeliana didn't know her name, something deep in her recognized that gold shine, that flicker of impossible memory from the woods.
Her eyes narrowed.
The black dragon looped again, rising in a tight spiral. But then—sudden turbulence.
The rider slipped.
Aeliana's breath caught.
The figure tumbled from the saddle — falling. Freefall.
"No—" she whispered.
But the black dragon moved, plunging like a thunderbolt. His wings folded, his body streamlined, a blur of darkness cutting through the clouds.
Then—just before the cadet hit the canopy—
He caught her.
A surge of air followed the wingspan flare as he lifted her back into the air, curling protectively around her as they climbed. The gold dragon circled close, slow and watchful.
Aeliana sat frozen.
Something about the way the black moved — the command in it. The recognition in the way the gold tracked his path.
That rider... whoever she was, she hadn't just bonded any dragon.
She'd bonded him.
The silence around Aeliana grew louder, if only by contrast.
She was still here.
Still on the ground.
Still alone.
She leaned her head back against the pine bark, drawing a breath through her nose.
"I'm not envious," she murmured to no one. "I just hate waiting."
A rustle in the branches above startled her.
A small bird — ordinary, forgettable — flitted from one twig to another, its chirp sharp in the still air.
Aeliana blinked.
And made a decision.
There was a stream nearby — she'd passed it hours ago. Maybe a mile east.
It wasn't strategy that guided her now. Just movement. Just doing. Something to fill the stretch of useless waiting. Maybe she'd splash cold water on her face. Maybe she'd scream into the trees.
Or maybe she'd find a dragon that hadn't already turned its back on her.
She climbed back down the pine, branch by branch, landing with a soft thud.
The sun was lower now.
Still time.
Still light.
She picked a direction and started walking.
The woods were quiet again.
Aeliana picked her way through the bracken with no particular destination, just moving for the sake of it.
She followed a faint game trail, one hoofprint after another pressed into the soft dirt like echoes of something wild.
The stream she remembered wasn't far, and when she reached it — no more than a silver ribbon winding through a gulley — she crouched at the edge.
The water was cold. Clean. She splashed it on her face, let it drip from her fingers, watched the ripples shiver outward until they disappeared.
There were no dragons here. No cadets. No footsteps. Not even a birdsong now.
Just her.
Still no pull. Still no instinct. Still no dragon.
Aeliana stood and wandered a little farther, past the bend in the stream, until she found a small rise of rocks stacked like fallen teeth. One was flat enough to sit on. The moss cushioned her legs as she lowered herself, one knee drawn to her chest, arms looped around it.
The sky had changed while she walked.
The light was softer now. Bluer. That hour between late afternoon and dusk when everything turns quieter, heavier. Golden rays filtered sideways through the trees, setting the leaves aflame in color. Her breath fogged faintly in the cooling air.
She closed her eyes.
Not to sleep.
Just... to be still.
There was peace in the waiting now. A kind of surrender that didn't sting like failure — just acceptance. Her dragon wasn't here. Maybe they weren't ready. Maybe she wasn't.
That was fine.
She'd try again next year. Stronger. Smarter. Not so easily rattled.
Above her, the first hint of stars emerged, barely visible through the fading canopy. The wind shifted slightly, cooler now. Carrying with it the scent of ash.
Aeliana let her head tilt back and listened to the leaves rustling high above.
The valley was exhaling.
It was nearly done.
The last rays of sunlight skimmed the horizon, painting the uppermost ridges in amber fire. Somewhere in the distance, a dragon roared — low and deep, not angry, just present.
Her fingers curled slightly in her lap.
She'd made it.
Maybe not as a rider.
But she was still here.
Still standing.
And then—
A boom.
The air split like a thunderclap.
Aeliana's eyes flew open.
Wings. Massive ones. Close enough that the downdraft rattled the leaves and sent a tremor through the stone beneath her.
She turned her head—
And saw a shadow falling across the trees.
A dragon.
Large.
Descending fast.
Heading straight for her.