Chapter 25.
It was, in fact, not their squad.
The words had barely left Xaden's mouth before Aeliana felt her stomach drop.
Second Wing.
Claw Section.
Third Squad.
She masked her reaction with a practiced blink and a single nod of acknowledgment. No outward protest. No disappointment. Just another shift in direction — something she'd grown used to.
The group around her quieted, and Liam looked over with a subtle furrow between his brows. Ridoc muttered something under his breath she couldn't quite catch, and Rhiannon gave her an apologetic smile. It wasn't their fault. They didn't decide this.
But damn, she'd hoped.
She stood a little straighter as a tall figure with a Claw Section's patch on his uniform approached across the grass.
His stride was confident, marked with the kind of easy authority that suggested he'd been doing this longer than he cared to admit.
Dark blond hair curled just slightly where it brushed the collar of his uniform, and the insignia on his jacket gleamed sharp in the morning sun.
"Cadet Sorynne?"
She turned to face him. "That's me."
"I'm Eryk Varrin," he said, voice steady but not unkind. "Squad leader for Claw Section, Third Squad. You're with us now."
Aeliana inclined her head. "Understood."
He glanced at the bag slung over her shoulder, then gestured toward the citadel. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your room."
She turned back to her friends for one last moment. Rhiannon gave her a nod, quiet and supportive. Ridoc offered a two-fingered salute. Liam mouthed see you later, and Sawyer gave her a lazy wave.
Aeliana smiled softly. "Guess I'll see you around."
Then she fell into step beside Varrin, who led her across the training grounds, through the archway, and into the stone halls of the Riders Quadrant.
They passed through a few lower levels where first-year cadets were still waking themselves up or rushing to breakfast, before he turned toward the south wing.
Two flights of stairs later, they reached a quieter hallway nestled in the corner of the building — a dead-end corridor with only a few doors.
"Perks of being in Claw Section," Varrin said, stopping in front of the last room. "Fewer bodies. More breathing room."
He opened the door and stepped aside to let her enter.
The room was small, but private. Clean. Two large windows stood at a right angle in the far corner, letting in soft winter light.
A bed was tucked neatly beneath them, blankets folded military-tight.
A wooden desk and chair sat against the opposite wall, and a small nightstand held a simple oil lamp and a drawer that didn't quite close properly.
Aeliana stepped inside, her boots scuffing the stone.
Her own space.
No more bunks. No more whispers. No more clinging to the corner of the barracks just to find a moment of quiet.
She could breathe here.
Varrin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You can pick up your new riding leathers at Central Issue this afternoon. Just tell them your squad and they'll have the set ready."
She nodded, still taking it in.
Varrin didn't give her long to soak it in.
"Leave your bags," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "You can get settled after breakfast."
Aeliana turned toward him, one hand still on the strap of her pack. "Now?"
"We don't sit out of squad meals," he said, already turning toward the hallway. "You're part of Two Claw Third now. That means showing up, whether you're hungry or not."
She blinked once, then let the strap slide off her shoulder. The bags hit the floor with a quiet thud beside the desk.
He didn't wait to see if she followed — just started down the hall with purposeful strides, the same no-nonsense energy he'd carried on the field. She had to move quickly to catch up.
The silence between them wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn't warm either. More like standing in the shadow of someone who didn't care whether or not you spoke — only whether you kept pace.
"I expect punctuality," Varrin said without looking at her. "You're behind in flight time. Professor Kaori will want reports weekly. You're to write them."
"Understood," she said, matching his steps.
"And I don't run a squad of babysitters. If you've got issues — injuries, nerves, whatever else — you take them to the med wing or your dragon, not your squadmates."
Aeliana's jaw tightened. "I'm not looking for babysitters."
"Good," Varrin said. "Then we won't have a problem."
They descended a wide staircase and turned into the mess hall wing. The smell of baked grain and spiced tea drifted out from the double doors as voices began to rise — a mix of laughter, arguments, and the scrape of utensils on tin.
He held the door open for half a beat. Not long enough to be courteous — just long enough to keep the flow moving.
Aeliana stepped inside.
The hall was packed. Squads had mostly gathered by wing and section, and it didn't take long for her eyes to spot a table with several Claw Section cadets — all of them already seated, already eating, already mid-conversation.
As soon as she followed Varrin over, the chatter dipped.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
Varrin didn't pause. He walked to the end of the bench and nodded toward the small gap left near the edge.
"Make room," he said flatly.
The cadets shuffled over — not much, just enough for her to sit without touching anyone.
She lowered herself to the bench, spine straight, keeping her expression blank as curious eyes flicked toward her.
"Listen up," Varrin said, arms folded behind his back. "This is Cadet Aeliana Sorynne. She bonded yesterday. Effective today, she's joined Two Claw Third. She's behind on training, but not excuses."
No one said welcome. No one smiled.
One of the first-years across from her — a wiry boy with a hooked nose and a skeptical frown — narrowed his eyes. "Wait. You're that one from the field, right? After Threshing?"
Aeliana kept her gaze level. "I was there, yes."
"She didn't bond then," someone muttered — another first-year, shorter, pale eyebrows drawn together. "Thought she was a washout."
"Guess the dragons changed their minds," Aeliana said coolly.
A second-year leaned in, arms sprawled across the table with deliberate laziness. "Or maybe they just got desperate."
There was a quiet ripple of laughter — not cruel, but dismissive.
Aeliana didn't flinch. She just reached for a piece of bread from the center plate and took a bite, as if they weren't even worth responding to.
Varrin didn't interfere. Didn't defend her. He just glanced at the clock above the hall entrance.
"You've got ten minutes to eat," he said. "Then you'll head to history."
And just like that, the conversation moved on — leaving Aeliana sitting at a table full of strangers, flanked by suspicion, and chewing stale bread that tasted like stone.
But she didn't shrink.
And reminded herself: she hadn't survived this long by being wanted.
She'd survived by being ready.
~
The hall outside the dining commons was already beginning to crowd, cadets filtering toward the lecture halls in a loose, restless tide. Aeliana lingered for half a beat behind her new squad, letting the distance between them stretch just enough to not feel like she was chasing them.
They didn't look back to see if she was following.
Of course they didn't.
Still, she quickened her pace, eyes flicking across the cluster of riders ahead. Aeliana slid into step beside a guy who she guessed was a first year.
He glanced at her once, eyebrows twitching faintly upward - not in surprise, but more like he was trying to gauge her angle.
He huffed a short breath that might have been a laugh, or just air. But he didn't move away.
They walked in silence for a moment, boots tapping rhythmically against the stone corridor.
"I didn't get everyone's names at breakfast," Aeliana said after a moment, keeping her voice casual. "And I figure asking at the table might earn me a dagger to the throat."
"Depends who you ask," Camren murmured. Then, glancing sideways: "You want the run-down?"
Aeliana nodded.
He lifted a hand in a lazy gesture ahead of them. "Varrin. Squad leader. Second-year. You already met him."
"Yeah. Great first impression," she muttered.
"To his right, Noira. Tactical advisor. Second-year. She's—" He hesitated. "—a lot."
"Noted."
"Next to her, Milla. Second-year. She handles recon. Also... a lot."
"I'm sensing a theme."
Camren's mouth quirked slightly. "Other side of the table, that was Daerid. Flanker. Good with data. Doesn't say much unless he's bored."
"And the third-years?"
"Kellen and Tavira. Mentor and sync specialist, respectively. Kellen doesn't believe in sugar-coating. Tavira doesn't believe in small talk."
Aeliana raised her eyebrows. "So I'm really in the warmest, most welcoming group, huh?"
"Claw Section's known for being efficient," he replied, which wasn't an answer.
"And you three?"
"Bran's the loud one. Scorpiontail rider, close combat. Seth's the flanker. Doesn't shut up when you get him going. And I'm the scout."
"Camren Doss," she recalled.
He gave her a quick nod. "Ilren. Brown Clubtail. Nothing flashy."
"Flashy's overrated."
They turned a corner, the lecture hall looming ahead.
Aeliana hesitated for half a step. "Thanks. For... not treating me like a curse."
Camren looked at her then — not full-on, but enough that she caught a flicker of something behind his eyes.
"You bonded late. People talk." He shrugged. "They'll get over it. Or they won't."
"Comforting."
They stepped into the hall just as the bell rang. Ahead of them, Varrin and the others had already claimed their usual row, with two empty seats left on the end.
Camren didn't say anything else.
But he sat beside her.
~
By the time the first half of the day ended, Aeliana's head throbbed from the sheer effort of staying alert.
History, Tactics, and Combat Theory had passed in a blur of half-ignored introductions and lingering glances from the rest of the first-years in her squad.
Bran had yawned through most of History.
Seth had whispered something snide behind her back during Tactics.
Camren hadn't spoken again since the walk that morning — not unkind, just.. . cautious.
None of them had made an effort to include her.
None had asked about her dragon.
Not that she expected them to.
But the silence pressed heavy all the same.
Now, as they filtered into the dining commons, the squad ahead of her moved like a tide she was too slow to catch. They didn't wait. Didn't glance back. Just grabbed trays and slotted into the lunch queue, one after the other.
Aeliana hesitated near the doorway, then followed suit, fingers curling around the edge of a dented tin tray. The scent of warm bread and roasted meat hit her square in the stomach, but the dull ache of hunger was quickly pushed aside by the bristle of nerves tugging beneath her skin.
She'd barely taken three steps into the crowded space when a familiar voice rang out over the clatter of utensils.
"Aeliana!"
She turned before she could stop herself.
Ridoc was waving from a far table across the room, his smile as wide and lopsided as ever, already pushing a chair out with his foot like he expected her to sit down. Rhiannon was next to him, mid-laugh, and Sawyer leaned around them with a lazy grin.
Warmth surged in her chest — a rare, fleeting thing — and she stepped toward them on instinct.
But she didn't make it far.
"Cadet Sorynne."
The voice cut through the noise like a blade.
She froze.
The entire motion of the dining room didn't stop — but it stalled just enough. Heads turned. A few voices dropped. And from the left, her squad leader approached with a tray in one hand and a look that said he'd already run out of patience for the day.
Eryk Varrin didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
His words carried anyway.
"We eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together," he said, tone clipped. "As a squad."
Aeliana straightened slowly, tray still in her hands.
"Yes, sir."
He stopped just beside her, eyes flicking toward Ridoc — still half-standing at his table — before returning to her with an unreadable expression.
"And I'd prefer not to see you frolicking across the dining hall toward Cadet Gamlyn like you're about to braid friendship bracelets."
A bark of laughter burst from Bran behind them.
"Frolicking," Seth echoed under his breath, chuckling.
"Dork," Milla muttered as she passed, sliding into a seat beside Noira — who, of course, wasn't laughing, but looked far too smug for someone who hadn't said a word.
Aeliana said nothing.
She just nodded once, jaw tight, and followed Varrin back toward the table her squad had claimed.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
She didn't look back at Ridoc.
Didn't risk the small smile she wanted to send his way.
Not here.
Not when all eyes were watching.
~
The wind was sharper on the open flight field, cutting through the chill of early winter like a knife. Aeliana stood beside her squad, boots pressed into frozen grass, the faint scent of leather, dragons, and adrenaline all too familiar.
But something was wrong.
Her dragon wasn't here.
Where the others had already started landing — Kaevric's gold shimmer, Aenvith's sharp silhouette against the sky, Voltrix's sweeping glide overhead — Virvolior was nowhere in sight.
She scanned the sky once more, just in case.
Still nothing.
"Cadet Sorynne." Varrin's voice snapped her back into the moment. He stood a few feet ahead, already watching her with that same unreadable look from earlier.
"You won't be flying today."
Aeliana blinked. "What?"
"Your dragon has been notified not to report to this field." His tone was cool, firm, final. "Until you've been cleared for full flight readiness by Professor Kaori and Captain Fitzgibbons, you'll be observing only."
Well, that's insulting, Virvolior's voice hummed through her mind like frost on glass.
She stiffened but didn't react outwardly.
"I don't want you slowing the squad down," Varrin continued, already turning to address the others. "We're practicing pattern shifts and double-back evasions today. We can't afford to accommodate a rider who hasn't learned to stay balanced midair yet."
As if I'd let you fall, Virvolior grumbled.
Aeliana clenched her jaw. She could feel the warmth of him through their bond — the quiet simmer of restrained indignation.
You lasted a full flight with me this morning, he added, voice curling at the edges with smugness. Gracefully, I might add. Not that he was watching.
Varrin gestured toward the far end of the field. "You'll sit over there. Take notes if you want. We rotate midair every twenty minutes. Watch how it's done."
Aeliana didn't move.
I could've easily kept up, Virvolior said, softer now. I would've made them look slow if we wanted to.
She inhaled slowly through her nose, letting the cold settle deep in her lungs.
"Yes, sir," she finally said, the words bitter on her tongue.
Then she turned and walked across the edge of the field, every step deliberate, measured. Her shadow trailed behind her like a second disappointment.
She didn't look back.
But as the dragons began launching again and the sky filled with familiar roars and flashes of wings, she felt Virvolior's steady presence curl around her in silence.
He didn't need to say anything else.
He was there.
Even if he wasn't allowed to be seen.
Aeliana sat with her arms braced around her knees, boots planted firmly in the frost-laced grass, eyes trained on the sky.
The squad flew in tight formation overhead, banking into sharp turns and splitting into pairs with military precision.
Scorpiontail, Clubtail, Swordtail, Daggertail — their patterns were clean, practiced.
This wasn't the chaos of Presentation Day or the Threshing field.
This was controlled, rehearsed, almost surgical in how well each rider knew their partner's next move.
She tracked each motion carefully, committing them to memory. The sequence. The cues. The minor corrections when someone overcompensated. And through it all, she felt him — steady, observant, silent until he chose not to be.
You're breathing too shallow, Virvolior murmured, voice smooth as starlight.
Aeliana blinked, exhaling a little longer this time.
Better.
She didn't jump at the sound of him in her mind. It didn't rattle her. It didn't even feel strange. Virvolior's presence, for all its mythic weight and impossible origins, settled into her thoughts with an eerie familiarity — as if he'd always been there, just waiting.
Not even twenty-four hours had passed since he'd landed in front of her like a ghost dragged out of legend. And yet... she felt no fear.
No uncertainty.
Only belonging.
Her gaze flicked up again, this time tracking Noira and Milla as they spiraled tightly together, their dragons weaving around each other in a perfectly timed split before flaring wide.
They're well-practiced, she noted.
Yes, Virvolior replied, almost lazily. But their vertical transitions are sluggish. You can beat that with finesse.
A pause.
From this morning's flight alone, you'll need to tighten your lean into the wind during sharp descents. You're still reacting like a grounded creature. And your second grip needs work — your left hand twitched twice when I banked.
"I thought you liked a dramatic rider," she muttered aloud, barely moving her lips.
I do. But not one who falls off mid-barrel roll.
She rolled her eyes. But the corner of her mouth twitched.
He fell quiet for a moment as the next squad pair climbed high, preparing for a corkscrew descent.
Then: And you'll need to adjust to full speed. Soon.
She blinked. Full speed?
You saw a glimpse last night, he said, the memory echoing behind his words — the rush of wind, the blur of moonlight and stars, the sky itself pulling away beneath them like a silk ribbon unraveling. That was restraint.
Aeliana's heart thumped once, hard.
"You call that restraint?" she whispered, glancing up just in time to see Kellen's Swordtail diving through a fire arc left by another cadet, spiraling upward with controlled aggression.
I didn't want to scare you, Virvolior said lightly.
Not yet.
Aeliana looked down at her gloves, flexing her fingers slowly. She didn't speak, but he must have sensed the knot of frustration brewing beneath her quiet focus.
You don't have to earn my approval, he said after a moment. But I know you want to earn theirs. So learn how they fly. Then I'll show you how we do it better.
She drew in a breath, long and steady, and lifted her head again toward the sky.
The cold wind scraped across her cheeks, but the quiet strength threading through her mind kept her grounded. Rooted. Ready.
Because for the first time in years, someone hadn't just accepted her shadow.
They'd flown straight into it — and called it home.
~
The halls of the infirmary were quieter than usual. Most cadets were still at dinner or winding down for the night, but Aeliana's boots echoed softly as she stepped through the open archway, the scent of antiseptic herbs and warm lamp oil already familiar.
Elira was waiting for her.
She stood at the far end of the ward, perched casually on the edge of a cot, arms folded and a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Aeliana narrowed her eyes.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Oh, nothing," Elira said, far too innocently. "Just that I may have heard a certain someone has a dragon now."
Aeliana raised one eyebrow. "And how exactly would you know that?"
Elira's grin widened. "Please. You think that kind of gossip doesn't explode through the quadrant within hours? An unbonded cadet suddenly bonding after months of nothing? The theories are wild, Aeliana."
She stood and crossed the room toward her. "You've become quite the mystery."
"I didn't ask to be," Aeliana muttered as she sat down on the edge of the nearest cot.
"Well, too late." Elira pulled over a stool and gestured for Aeliana to extend her arm. "Let's see how the infamous savior of Violet Sorrengail is healing."
Aeliana rolled her eyes but complied.
Elira gently unwrapped the bandage and rotated her wrist, testing the joints. "So. Theories. Want to hear them?"
"No."
"Tough luck." Elira began prodding lightly around the base of her wrist. "One: A dragon who didn't show themselves at Presentation was secretly watching from the Veil and decided to claim you weeks later."
Aeliana snorted.
"Two," Elira continued, "one of the dragons who did show up decided, you know what? That girl who survived everything and is grumpy all the time — that's the one."
"I mean... plausible," Aeliana deadpanned.
"Oh, but my favorite? Theory three." Elira leaned in, eyes dancing. "You murdered a bonded cadet, and their dragon chose you instead."
Aeliana gave her the flattest stare she could manage. "Really."
Elira wiggled her eyebrows. "Don't deny it. You've got that assassin energy."
"You know I wouldn't do that."
"I know." She chuckled and adjusted Aeliana's forearm, rotating it outward gently. "But I also know how much fun it is to imagine the look on Tynan's face if he heard that rumor."
Aeliana cracked a faint grin. "Okay, maybe it's worth keeping the story alive."
Elira laughed and gave her a nod. "Atta girl."
Her hands were firm but gentle as she checked the tendons and muscles, prodding where scar tissue had formed and moving the wrist joint carefully. Aeliana winced once, but not badly.
"Mobility's good," Elira murmured. "Strength is lagging, which is expected. That muscle atrophy takes time to reverse."
Aeliana watched her quietly for a moment. "How long?"
"If you do the exercises I give you? Realistically, five to six weeks before you're back to full strength. That's assuming you don't overdo it and end up back here."
"I won't."
"I've heard that before." Elira raised a brow. "Just remember: this isn't about proving anything. It's about longevity. You want to be in the sky for years, not just the next exam."
"Fair."
Elira let go of her arm and pulled a folded sheet from the table beside her. "Here's a set of exercises — forearm resistance work, grip builders, and some stabilization drills. Do them daily, and come back in... two to three weeks."
Aeliana took the paper with a nod.
Elira tilted her head as she sat back down, her gaze lingering on Aeliana with a thoughtful frown.
"Also... was your hair always that color?"
Aeliana blinked. "No."
Elira's eyes narrowed with interest. "It suits you."
"It's my natural color," Aeliana said, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. "Virvolior said he liked the original more."
Elira's mouth curled. "Of course he did. What a dramatic little show-off."
Aeliana huffed a laugh. "You have no idea."
"You really were trying to disappear, weren't you?" Elira asked gently. "Changing your hair, keeping your head down..."
"Blending in felt safer."
"Well," Elira said, reaching out to lightly tap the folded exercise paper in Aeliana's lap, "hiding clearly isn't an option anymore."
Aeliana gave a slow nod. "Yeah. I'm starting to realize that."
Elira smiled, but it faded into something softer, more sincere. "You doing okay otherwise?"
That pulled a slight grimace from Aeliana.
"I've only known my squad for a day, so I can't say much on that front. But... they're tight. Organized. They eat every meal together without fail. Very by-the-book."
Elira smirked. "Sounds exhausting."
"They didn't let me fly today," Aeliana added, glancing down at her hand. "Varrin — the squad leader — said I'd disrupt their practice. That I should observe instead."
Elira paused, watching her. "That stung."
Aeliana shrugged one shoulder. "It is what it is. I'll prove myself eventually."
"You shouldn't have to prove anything to them."
"I know. But I still will."
Elira smiled softly and patted her knee. "There's the Aeliana I know. Stubborn and impossible."
"Careful. You're starting to sound fond of me."
"Terrifying, I know."
They shared a quiet moment, and then Elira stood, smoothing her healer's robes.
"You're cleared. Just don't skip those exercises. And next time, come brag about how you left the rest of your squad in your tailwind."
Aeliana smiled faintly, folding the paper and slipping it into her coat.
"Thanks, Elira."
"Anytime, dragon girl."