Next to me, Codric groaned. "Am I imagining it, or are these flights of stairs becoming longer and steeper?"
"You're not," I said. "The floors are getting taller the higher up we go."
Out of the eleven floors we had climbed so far, the last one was the highest. It seemed to be at least thirty feet tall, if not more, and I assumed it housed the command center. I imagined it contained sprawling chambers and tall windows overlooking the lower mountain ranges in front of it and the ocean beyond.
As we ascended the final steps, the light grew brighter and took on the blue-gold hue of sunlight filtered through Aurorys's atmosphere. We emerged onto the Citadel's vast roof—a flat expanse of stone that served as a landing area for dragons.
"Form a line against the cliff wall," instructed one of the more senior cadets, gesturing toward the mountain face that formed the back boundary of the roof.
I glanced at Kailin, noting the relief that flashed across her face at not having to stand near the edge, which had no railing, just like the terraces on the lower floors of the Citadel. The drop-off was sheer and unprotected, plunging straight to the valley thousands of feet below.
As we took our positions along the rock face, I got a better feel for the sheer size of the Dragon Force Citadel. I'd seen it on the approach, but my mind had been in a bad place, and it hadn't really registered the magnitude of this structure. It was carved directly into the mountainside and wrapped around its contours. The roof we stood on extended far to our left and right, stretching perhaps a thousand feet in length, but it was only about seventy feet deep, extending from the cliff wall to the precipitous edge.
The more senior cadets had positioned themselves at intervals along our line, presumably to provide guidance or assistance if needed. Most of them were maintaining an air of casual confidence, but I detected an undercurrent of excitement. Actual flying lessons were clearly the highlight of the training regimen, even for those who had been experiencing it for a while, like those from the first and second pilgrimages of the year.
A door in the bulkhead stairwell, approximately a hundred feet east of our position, swung open, and a man in the uniform of a high-ranking officer emerged.
"Cadets, attention!" called one of the senior cadets.
The officer walked over and inspected us with a critical eye before taking a position where all of us could see and hear him.
"Welcome to your first practical flight session," he announced, his voice carrying easily across the open space. "I am Major Gareth Harlow, Delta Section Commander of the Wrath Wing. Today, you will experience firsthand the sensation of soaring on a dragon's back, not behind the rider, but in front." He offered us a smile. "There is nothing quite like it."
A wave of excitement rippled through our group, including the twelve more seasoned cadets.
"The dragons will land in units of five, and once a group of cadets leaves, the next five will arrive to take the next group, and so on."
Each unit, or flight as they were called here, had five dragons, and there were twelve units in each squadron. Since there were thirty-six of us, the division into flights would be imperfect. They needed to provide an additional single rider from another unit, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew who that extra rider would be, and which cadet would be singled out to ride with him.
Refusing to let my mind stray into perilous territory, I focused on measuring the landing area. It appeared spacious enough to accommodate numerous dragons simultaneously, and the roof seemed sufficiently sturdy to support a significantly larger number, provided there were reinforcement columns at reasonable intervals, which I was certain there were. However, as I pondered further I realized that the limitation might stem from another factor, possibly related to airspace management or the powerful winds generated by the dragons' wings during landing and takeoff.
"The riders will guide you through the mounting process," Major Harlow said. "I hope I don't need to remind you to be courteous toward the dragons as well as your instructors. While you will be given the controls on a portion of the flight, ultimate command will always remain with the rider."
He consulted a list in his hand. "First group: Cadets Tekum, Variel, Norven, Castor, and Prell."
Hearing my name being called first, I felt a mixture of conflicting emotions—pride at being selected to lead the way, concern for being chosen to the first group and the reason for it, and mostly, worry for Kailin.
I wouldn't be there to offer her support, murmur words of encouragement, and distract her so she wouldn't have time tobuild up panic. But it wasn't as if I could refuse and ask to be placed last instead of first.
Stepping forward, I cast a quick glance back, and as she met my eyes, she smiled encouragingly, nodding slightly as if to say, "You've got this."
The reversal of roles, her encouraging me when it should have been me supporting her, caught me off guard and warmed something in my chest.
I was so used to people relying on me and looking up to me to assist them that Kailin's simple gesture felt like a gift.
The other cadets who'd been selected for the first group stepped forward as well, but we all stayed pretty far back to allow space for the dragons to land.
"Remember to remain perfectly still when they arrive," Major Harlow cautioned. "No sudden movements, no shouting, no running—even if it seems like a dragon might land too close or on top of you. They have excellent spatial awareness, so it's not going to happen. You just need to control your instinctive fear of them."
Not for the first time, I wondered why people feared dragons so much. It was understandable for the Shedun, who the dragons hunted and incinerated on sight, and even Elurians, who had no contact with dragons and feared them because they were big and dangerous. I hadn't expected the Elucians to fear them as well. After all, dragons and Elucians had a long-standing treaty of cooperation and a kind of symbiotic coexistence that required mutual trust.
It had to be instinctive. The fear seemed to be deeply rooted in our collective ancestral psyche.
The sound of beating wings made me turn to the east, and despite my being prepared, my breath still caught in my throat at the sight. Five massive shapes were nearing, their wings extended like enormous sails, soaring on the winds. Thesunlight played across scales of emerald green, deep bronze, midnight blue, black, and a striking purple, clearly belonging to a dragonia, as she was distinctly smaller. The gorgeous purple reflections seemed to shift hues as she descended.
As they drew nearer, the steady beat of their wings generated gusts that rippled across the roof, prompting me to widen my stance to ensure stability.
The sound was like a rhythmic thundering that I felt in my chest as much as heard with my ears. Why had I not registered any of that at the Circle of Fate? Was it because I'd been too stunned after being selected or because of the drugging influence of the ceremonial tea?
