“Just… be careful,” Nala murmurs, setting her cream cheese bagel on her plate so she can reach over and squeeze my hand.
“I will.” I return the squeeze, offering a small smile—but River’s gaze remains restless.
“What does it feel like, being connected to Ryder?” Nala asks, shifting the conversation to something slightly less tense.
“Uh… well… it’s strange,” River admits, brows knitting together. “Last night, I could feel his anger. Rage coursed through me, but I knew it wasn’t my own.” He pauses, rubbing at his bicep. “And the other day, I felt this sharp pain in my arm that wouldn’t go away. Later, when I saw Ryder, he’d been sliced in the same spot during combat.”
“Whoa!” Nala exclaims, eyes wide with awe. “But… do you feel… everything?” She winks, eyebrows jerking, and River sputters, almost spitting his drink back into his cup.
“River, you don’t have to answer that,” I say, swatting Nala lightly on the arm and stifling a laugh.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to,” River chuckles, shaking his head.
Our laughter dies abruptly as the double doors swing open, and faculty members stream into the dining hall.
“Silence, students!” Mr Heddingbrow bellows as he strides into the hall, followed by a man I have never seen before.
“Sun Sovereign—it’s a pleasure to meet you all.” The new man’s voice carries across the high ceiling, crisp and commanding. He is tall, dark-haired, and slim, standing between the thick podiums as if he belongs there. Sliding his rectangular glasses down onto the bridge of his nose, he holds out a piece of paper like he has rehearsed every word.
“I am Mr Felix, your new headmaster.” He clears his throat, tugging at his green checkered tie, straightening it. “I know there’s speculation surrounding your previous head’s disappearance, but I assure you, I am not going anywhere. If anyone has questions or wishes to speak with me further, I’ll be in my office.”
His voice echoes one last time, and then he is gone.
Chatter surges around the hall, whispers about Miss Worthington ricocheting from table to table. No one at Sun Sovereign knows exactly what happened that night. They have theories—none of them accurate. Nala, River, and I exchange glances, silently hoping this new headmaster will be an improvement.
“Mind if I steal this one from you?” Jaxon asks, placing his hands on River’s shoulders, a mischievous grin smouldering across his face.
“Hi, Jaxon,” I say with a smile as River stands to greet him.
“All right, mate,” River replies, giving him a firm handshake. “Ready for combat?”
“Ready to kick your ass,” Jaxon jokes, and River laughs.
“That’d be a first from you,” River banters, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. “See you later, ladies.” He shoots Nala and me a playful smile as he leaves the table.
“See you later,” we echo, stacking our empty plates.
Suddenly, the orange glow of the hall’s orbs flickers, dimming for a heartbeat before snapping back to life. The chatter dips, then rises again, curious and unsettled.
“Woah… that was weird, right?” I ask, glancing at Nala.
She looks unfazed. “I’m sure it happens all the time. Come on—we’ve got taming to do.” She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the door, pulling me along with her calm certainty.
***
I cling to Craize’s fur like it’s a lifeboat, I mean, it is the only thing keeping me from plummeting fifty feet into the valleys below.
“Target training starts now!” Mr Knight projects his voicefrom the back of Nakka. Nala, Elijah, Trina, and I are the only ones bonded with an elion so far. We’re practising for the end-of-year assault course, and my stomach has never flipped this much in an hour.
“Your elions are your transport, not your weapons. To hit the targets, you must rely on the throwing knives I’ve supplied.” He clears his throat as the breeze ruffles his hair. “You have two knives. The goal is to hit as many targets as possible while keeping your weapons. You’ll have to retrieve each knife after you throw it, but beware—your opponents may try to steal them. Once you’re out of knives, you’re out of the game.”
His enthusiasm is unsettling, a broad smile stretching across his face.
“Meet your targets.” He lifts a powder-pink bunny in his grasp, and it writhes, flailing its tiny limbs. I gasp, and Nala looks apprehensive. He lets go, and it flutters around us, its fluffy wings beating against the breeze.
“I see a few worried looks,” he remarks. “These bunnies are enchanted—they heal instantly and don’t feel pain.”
A shaky breath empties my lungs. I always wanted a pet bunny. I remember pleading with my father, begging for even one pet—a hamster, a cat, anything. He considered animals vermin, only fit to live outside.
