She didn’t respond right away.
So I stepped forward, fists clenched at my sides.
I’m yours. Even if you don’t want me. But I will not beg anymore. So choose, Kaelith. Or let the gods choose for us.
The bond trembled.
Major Ledor stood proudly before us, his crimson-lined cloak flaring with the wind that cut across the Ascension Grounds. The dragons stood in a semi-circle at the far edge of the field, silent and watchful, the sky behind them turning gold with the rising sun.
“This is the final trial,” he announced, his voice piercing enough to silence the breeze. “No more delays. No more holding back. Today, the remaining dragons will choose.”
He let his gaze sweep over us, all of us still unbonded, like he was already measuring who would walk away, and who would be carried.
“This trial is only for those whose bond remainsincomplete.If your dragon does not finish the bond today, if they reject you, then you will not survive what follows.”
His words hit like stone.
“This is not a test of combat, or flight. This is a surrender. You will mount your dragon and enter the Veiled Rise alone.”
He waved his arms and a ridge of ancient cliffs formed shrouded by thick, ever-changing mist. “No one speaks of what happens inside, only that it is where the magic of bonding either claims you… ordestroysyou.”
“Sounds fun,” Riven said.
“Once inside,” Ledor continued, “your dragon must call you to them. Not with voice. Not with power. But with soul. You will face what hinders your bond. And only together will you walk back out.”
He turned. “Naia of Thrall Squad.”
Naia took a deep breath beside me, her jaw tight with focus. She stepped forward without hesitation, her sandy-blond hair braided down her back, armor glinting in the morning light.
Temil, her orange Swordtail, landed seconds later, vibrant and sleek, with a thrum of magic that made the very air shift.
Naia didn’t hesitate. She walked to Temil, placed a hand on her neck, and swung into the saddleless seat behind her shoulders.
Temil launched into the air with a powerful beat of her wings, wind sweeping past us as the pair ascended toward the mist-veiled cliffs in the distance.
We waited.
The minutes dragged like hours.
Then—
The clouds at the edge of the rise glowed briefly, a shimmer of gold and orange threading through the fog like lightning restrained.
Moments later, Temil burst through the mist, wings flared in triumph, and Naia sat tall on her back, her body thrumming with new energy. Her eyes glowed faintly, touched with dragon fire.
The bond was complete.
Cheers erupted behind me, and Riven let out a whoop as Naia landed and dismounted. Temil lowered her massive head and nudged Naia’s shoulder with rare affection.
Naia turned, her eyes locking with mine.
One of us had made it.
The moment Temil launched back into the sky, orange wings cutting through the last remnants of her triumph, Major Ledor’s voice rang out again, loud, immediate.
“Ferrula of Thrall Squad.”
Ferrula stepped forward without a word, her gait steady, her chin high. The Dirian warrior looked every inch the iron-forged storm we’d all come to depend on.
