Chapter 27.
Aeliana's legs were trembling beneath her as she jogged — more like stumbled — toward the dining hall.
She glanced up at the sun overhead. Judging by the angle, she had maybe ten minutes left before lunch was over.
Fantastic.
The hall was half-empty when she pushed through the doors, the lingering clatter of trays and murmured conversations fading as groups trickled out to their afternoon rotations. She scanned the room automatically — her squad was nowhere in sight.
Of course they weren't. Claw Section, Third Squad probably ate the moment the bell rang and left as a unit fifeteen minutes later. Like clockwork.
Her stomach growled as if to scold her.
Aeliana exhaled hard through her nose and started toward the food line — only to pause when a familiar voice called out.
"Whoa, someone looks like she got mauled by a Manticore."
She turned her head just as Ridoc leaned sideways off the end of his bench, grinning at her. Liam was beside him, his brows lifting slightly as he took in her appearance.
"You okay?" he asked, concern flickering across his features.
Aeliana blinked at both of them. Then glanced down at herself — sweat-soaked shirt, streaks of dust on her sleeves, and half-dried mud up one calf.
Right. She probably looked like she'd crawled through the Gauntlet backwards.
"I'm fine," she said, shaking her head with a tired huff as she grabbed a tray. "Just... ran into my squad leader this morning. Literally. Right outside my door."
Ridoc's grin widened. "You punch him?"
"I wish." Aeliana filled her tray with whatever food was still warm. "He decided he wanted an assessment of my fighting skills."
"Ah," Liam said knowingly. "You got taken apart."
"Systematically," she agreed. "For three hours straight."
Liam's brows drew together again. "Wait — aren't you still recovering from your arm injury? You sure you're cleared for that?"
Aeliana nodded as she dropped into the seat beside him with a sigh. "Got the all-clear last night from Elira. But she said it'll take around five weeks to build back the muscle I lost. Gave me exercises and everything."
Ridoc let out a low whistle. "And you still let Varrin drag you into combat training?"
"Didn't exactly get a vote," she muttered, stabbing a piece of bread. "Apparently my presence disrupts the squad's cohesion, so I need to adjust."
"You're doing great so far," Liam said dryly.
"You could always ask Garrick to carry you to your next class," Ridoc added, entirely unhelpful.
She narrowed her eyes. "Keep talking and I'll introduce you to Varrin's combat evaluations."
Ridoc just winked at her.
-
By the time her tray was scraped clean and the dining hall began to truly empty out, Aeliana could feel the stiffness already settling in her arms and legs — the kind of ache that warned her she'd regret every second of movement tomorrow.
She said a quick goodbye to Liam and Ridoc, who were arguing over some theoretical maneuver from Battle Brief, and slipped out the side exit, the cool air outside hitting her flushed skin like a slap.
Her room was quiet when she returned, the corridor empty. She peeled off her sweat-soaked clothes, wincing as stiff muscles protested, then stepped into a quick shower that did little to ease the soreness but at least washed away the grime of the morning.
Towel-drying her hair with lazy hands, she crossed the room and dug into one of the travel bags she'd barely unpacked. The same one that had been slouched in the exact same corner since she dropped it there yesterday.
She tugged out a clean shirt and dark trousers, dressing quickly, her fingers moving slower than usual as fatigue caught up to her. She caught her reflection briefly in the window — cheeks flushed from exertion, curls damp and sticking to her temples.
Still breathing. Still standing.
As she strapped on her boots again, her thoughts shifted to the afternoon ahead.
Professor Kaori had told her yesterday — after she'd stood grounded on the edge of the flight field, watching her squad soar overhead — that they would meet again today for a private session to go over the basics of mounted aerial technique. And that meant she'd need her flight leathers.
No more delays.
She grabbed her identification token from her nightstand, slipped it into her pocket, and headed for Central Issue.
The path to Central Issue wound past the southern edge of the flight field, where the scent of wind-swept dirt and dragonfire still lingered in the air.
Aeliana kept her pace steady, though her thighs protested with every step.
The ache from Varrin's morning assessment had settled deep into her bones, but she pushed through it, spine straight, eyes forward.
Cadets filtered past her — some carrying weapons from drills, others laughing as they elbowed each other toward the mess hall. None gave her more than a passing glance.
That was fine.
The doors to Central Issue loomed ahead — a squat, square building built like a fortress, with reinforced stone walls and narrow windows. The kind of place where function mattered more than comfort.
Inside, the air was cooler, and the scent of leather, polish, and old sweat was nearly overwhelming. Rows of shelves lined the walls, each stacked high with neatly folded gear, harnesses, flight gloves, and thickly padded riding jackets.
At the center stood a long counter made of reinforced ironwood, behind which a thick-shouldered quartermaster sat scribbling notes in a ledger. He looked up as Aeliana approached, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of her.
"Name?" he asked, voice gravelly.
"Aeliana Sorynne," she replied. "Claw Section, Third Squad, Second Wing."
His brows lifted a fraction. "Ah. The late bond."
Aeliana's jaw tensed. "I was told my flight leathers would be ready."
He grunted and pushed away from the desk, disappearing behind a curtain that separated the front counter from the gear storage. She heard the shuffle of boots on stone, a few muttered curses, then the clinking of buckles and metal clasps.
When he returned, he dropped a folded pile of black-and-charcoal leather onto the counter with a heavy thud. A pair of reinforced boots sat beside it, followed by a neatly coiled harness belt and flight gloves.
She reached out to inspect the set — the leather was thick but supple, built for flexibility in the sky and protection on the ground. A far cry from the stitched repairs and handed-down scraps she'd seen on some of the older cadets.
"Everything's standard-issue," the quartermaster said, leaning back into his stool. "You'll need to break it in, but it'll fit. Barely had time to resize it after the request came through yesterday."
Aeliana nodded. "Thank you."
He didn't smile. "Try not to fall out of the sky. Gear only does so much if the rider doesn't keep up."
She met his gaze, tone calm. "I'll keep that in mind."
Gathering the pile into her arms, she turned and made her way toward the exit.
Virvolior? she sent as she stepped back out into the sunlight.
You have what you need now, his voice answered, low and steady in the back of her mind. That's the easy part. The rest... that's where it gets interesting.
Aeliana's mouth curved into the barest hint of a smile.
Interesting was fine.
She could handle interesting.
The walk back to her room felt longer with the weight of new gear in her arms, but Aeliana didn't mind.
The sun had begun its slow descent over the parapet, casting long golden lines across the courtyard stones.
A quiet breeze rustled the pennants hanging along the edge of the tower — and for the first time all day, the pressure in her chest began to ease.
She climbed the stairs two at a time, muscles protesting, but her grip on the gear didn't waver. When she reached her hall, it was quiet.
Good.
She pushed into her room and let the door shut softly behind her. The faint scent of stone and parchment still clung to the space.
Setting the leathers down on the end of her bed, she turned toward her things and exhaled through her nose. "Right," she muttered. "No more excuses."
One by one, she began unpacking. Clothes were sorted into the narrow wardrobe. Books and loose parchment slid into the drawer of the desk. She laid out her personal blade on the nightstand, next to the folded page of exercises Elira had given her the night before.
She pulled out the little box out of her bag and held it in her hands. A sigh escaped her lips. She put the box down on the nightstand.
Then she turned to the new riding leathers and ran a hand over the fabric, feeling the give of the material, the strength in the reinforced seams.
The boots were stiff as she pulled them on, but they fit well enough.
The jacket settled onto her shoulders like it belonged there — snug but not restrictive.
She twisted to test the movement of her arms, then buckled the harness belt around her waist. A small blade slot rested just beneath her ribs — meant for quick access in a fight.
She checked herself in the mirror once. The auburn-red waves of her hair were pulled back into a loose braid, and the new leathers marked her as a rider.
For a moment, she didn't recognize the person staring back.
Not the girl who walked the Parapet.
Not the cadet who waited months to bond.
This version of her stood straighter. Calmer. A little less afraid.
She grabbed her gloves and closed the door behind her.
Professor Kaori hadn't wanted to meet on the main flight field — too many distractions, he'd said.
Too many eyes. Instead, they'd agreed to meet near one of the auxiliary cliffsides on the north end of the training grounds — a quieter, more secluded stretch where upper-years sometimes practiced emergency landings or trickier maneuvers.
Aeliana followed the path past the main barracks and toward the break in the trees where the stone sloped upward toward the cliffs. The wind carried the distant sound of dragons in flight, but here, it was calmer. Steadier.
You're late, came Virvolior's voice, low and amused in her mind.
You weren't even here yet.
I am now.
She crested the last ridge — and there he was.
Virvolior stood at the edge of the cliff, white wings half-furled, his form nearly shimmering in the late sunlight. He turned his massive head as she approached, gold eyes bright with something that almost looked like satisfaction.
"You look ready," a voice said behind her.
Aeliana turned.
Professor Kaori stood a few paces away, dressed in his own set of old, sun-faded leathers, arms folded over his chest. His expression was unreadable — as always — but his sharp gaze swept over Aeliana in one assessing glance and gave a short nod.
"We'll keep it simple today," Kaori said, gesturing toward the clearing. "Takeoff drills. Low glides. Controlled landings. You'll get your solo training here until your squad leader clears you for formation flight."
"Understood," Aeliana said, tugging on her gloves.
"First things first," Kaori said, gesturing toward Virvolior without ever quite looking directly at him. "Mount up. Let me see your positioning."
Aeliana hesitated only briefly before jogging up the short incline of Virvolior's side.
He crouched slightly to make the climb easier, and she used the angle of his wing and shoulder to swing herself up, settling into the dip between two spines at the base of his neck.
The leather of her new gear creaked faintly as she adjusted her seat and pulled on her gloves.
He's watching like I'm going to bite, Virvolior said dryly in her mind.
You're not helping, Aeliana muttered, glancing toward Professor Kaori.
But he wasn't watching her. His eyes were fixed on Virvolior — not in awe, but in study. Sharp, analytical. Measuring wingspan. Noting the curve of talons. The strange shimmer of Virvolior's scales beneath the sun.
He didn't say a word.
"Your balance is too far forward," Kaori said finally, voice clipped. "Shift your weight toward the lower back — brace with your thighs, not your hands."
Aeliana adjusted, pressing her legs tighter around Virvolior's sides and relaxing her shoulders. Her core ached slightly — lingering soreness from both Garrick's training and the session with Varrin that morning — but she held steady.
"Good," Kaori said. "Now take off. Not fast — I want a clean, vertical ascent. Ten meters. Glide. Land."
Ready? she asked.
I was born ready, Virvolior replied.
The next moment, his wings snapped wide, catching the wind in a single, massive stroke. The force didn't throw her off, but she grunted at the sudden pull in her stomach as they lifted sharply from the cliff. Cold air rushed past her cheeks, her braid whipping against her back as they rose.
Her grip instinctively tightened — not that it helped. Virvolior didn't falter in the slightest, his massive form unbothered by her tension. But she could feel it: the way her posture shifted with every movement of his wings, the muscles she needed to engage that hadn't been used in weeks.
You're stiff, Virvolior said calmly. Relax your knees. You're fighting gravity, not dancing with it.
Easy for you to say, she bit out, trying to shift her weight without overcorrecting.
You're not flying. You're riding me. Let me carry the weight. You focus on staying centered.
They hit ten meters, and Kaori raised a hand — signaling the glide.
Virvolior dipped his wings, catching an updraft and letting the wind carry them in a slow, wide arc over the training trees. The motion made Aeliana's stomach twist again, but she clenched her jaw and leaned with it.
The landing was rough. Not because of Virvolior — he touched down smoothly — but because she failed to anticipate the drop, and her knees buckled slightly on impact. She didn't fall, but it was close.
She blew out a shaky breath as she slid down from his side and landed on the stone.
Kaori arched a brow.
"Again," he said simply.
They ran the drill four more times. Each time, Aeliana improved — by inches. Her core started burning. Her thighs ached from gripping. Her shoulder blades pinched from the tension she hadn't realized she was holding.
But she never asked to stop.
By the time Kaori lowered his hand after the fifth landing, she was sweating beneath her leathers, breath short and chest heaving.
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded once.
"You're adapting quickly," he said, almost begrudgingly.
"Thank you," she murmured.
Kaori crossed his arms, turning slightly toward Virvolior — though not directly.
His eyes narrowed slightly, lingering near the shimmer of white wings unfurled against the sky.
"Has he told you anything about himself?" Kaori asked, voice neutral but tight with curiosity. "Beyond his name."
Aeliana hesitated, the question catching her off guard.
"No," she admitted. "Just his name."
Kaori's gaze sharpened. "Nothing about his classification? Abilities?"
She shook her head slowly, a frown pulling at her brow. "No. But..." Her eyes drifted toward the cliff's edge, where Virvolior stood like a sentinel of moonlight and stone. "I know that he is Valaari."
Kaori's silence was louder than any confirmation.
"His flight," she added, quieter now. "The way he moved. I didn't hear him coming until he was right on me. He doesn't even leave marks when he lands. And in the air, he just—" She shook her head. "It's like he vanishes."
Kaori exhaled slowly through his nose, his expression unreadable. "That's consistent with the accounts I've seen."
"They were real."
"I never said they weren't," he replied calmly. "Only that the last credible record of a Valaari sighting predates the Reunification Wars. Even the scribes consider them folklore." He glanced again toward Virvolior's form. "But if he is one... then we're rewriting more than a few archives."
Aeliana swallowed. "You won't tell anyone?"
Kaori raised a brow. "Do I look like a gossip?"
"No, sir."
"Then keep your head down, Cadet. Don't give anyone reason to look closer. Especially not other riders. If word gets out that you're bonded to a dragon that shouldn't exist..." He trailed off.
"I understand," she said quickly.
He nodded, but his gaze lingered — not on her, but on the impossible dragon now watching them both, unblinking.
"I'll want to observe the two of you in flight over the next weeks. Closely."
"We'll be here," she said, her voice steadying now. "Same time tomorrow?"
Kaori finally looked away. "Don't be late."
Then he turned, boots crunching against the stone as he strode off down the ridge, his posture tighter than when he'd arrived.
Aeliana stood still for a moment, wind tugging at the braid falling over her shoulder.
You didn't tell him? Virvolior's voice hummed in her mind.
"He asked if you told me," she muttered. "And you didn't."
I assumed you'd figure it out eventually. And you did.
She rolled her eyes. "You are impossible."
And yet you trust me.
She reached out and pressed her palm lightly to his scales, the warmth of his body grounding her.
"Yeah," she whispered. "I do."
~
The sun was dipping lower by the time Aeliana reached the library, its sprawling stone facade tucked against the northern edge of the quadrant like a secret waiting to be discovered.
The library was hushed — not in the way of emptiness, but in the way of reverence.
Aeliana stepped inside, letting the heavy door close behind her. The air smelled of candle wax, parchment, and stone dust — old, layered knowledge.
She crossed the marble floor toward the front desk, where a slender girl sat sorting an ink-stained ledger. She couldn't have been much older than Aeliana — light brown skin, freckles scattered across her cheeks, hair twisted into a neat bun beneath her scribe's hood.
When she noticed Aeliana approaching, she looked up and smiled warmly. Then raised her hands and signed in smooth, practiced motion.
"Hi. Need something specific?"
Aeliana blinked in surprise — then caught up. The girl was deaf. Her signing was elegant, precise, but not overly stiff. It wasn't fingerspelling everything — it flowed like a real language. Because it was.
"I—uh, yeah," Aeliana replied, then hesitated before lifting her own hands. She hadn't signed in years. Not properly.
"I'm looking for books on... dragon myths," she signed carefully. "Old ones. And, um... I need a beginner text on lesser magics."
The girl tilted her head, curious. "That's an odd combination."
"I guess," Aeliana replied. "I'm behind on a lot of things."
The girl's hands moved again, more relaxed now. "I'm Jesinia. First-year Scribe."
Aeliana offered a small smile and signed, "Aeliana. First-year Rider."
Jesinia's eyes widened slightly, lighting with recognition. "You're the cadet who bonded yesterday."
Aeliana groaned softly and rubbed the back of her neck. "Is it that obvious?"
Jesinia laughed — a quiet exhale through her nose — and signed, "Not obvious. Just... rumor travels fast around here."
"So I've heard."
Jesinia's eyes narrowed in a teasing way. "You really don't know what dragon it was?"
"No," Aeliana admitted, "He told me his name, but not what breed he is. He's white. Which... I guess is unusual?"
Jesinia's hands paused mid-motion. "White?"
Aeliana nodded. "Like snow. With gold eyes."
Jesinia blinked slowly. "Huh."
"What?"
Jesinia shook her head, reaching for a slip of paper and scribbling something down with a stylus. "Nothing. Just... that's rare. I'll look into the myths section for anything that might help."
Aeliana studied her for a moment. "You seem really calm about this."
Jesinia shrugged. "The Scribe quadrant isn't like the rest of Basgiath. We like weird things here."
A smile tugged at Aeliana's mouth. "Good to know."
Jesinia handed her the note. "Three books for you today: two general beginner guides on lesser magics, and one on dragon legends. The older volumes — the ones about extinct breeds or ancient bonds — are deeper in the stacks. I'll have to check the restricted archives."
Aeliana blinked. "You're allowed back there?"
Jesinia's expression turned mock-offended. "Of course I am. I'm a Scribe."
Aeliana laughed. "Right, sorry. It's my first time actually... doing this. I always thought the library was just for Scribes."
"It mostly is," Jesinia signed with a wry smile. "But we make exceptions for Riders who look like they're actually going to read the books."
Aeliana reached for the stack Jesinia was already pulling together. "Thanks."
Jesinia tapped the note still in Aeliana's hand. "Come back Monday. I'll see if I can find something older on white dragons."
Aeliana hesitated. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," Jesinia signed firmly. "I love this stuff. Dragons, myths, lost magics. It's why I'm here."
The quiet passion in her face surprised Aeliana.
"Alright. Monday."
Jesinia nodded, then pointed to the first book in the pile. Lesser Magics: An Introductory Framework.
"That one's a good place to start. If you have questions, come back. I'm usually on desk duty after classes."
Aeliana's smile softened. "Thanks. I might take you up on that."
Jesinia leaned back in her chair, signing one last sentence as Aeliana turned to go:
"Don't worry. Everyone feels behind at some point. You'll catch up."