Are you fucking kidding?
The sting returns, sharper this time as I clench, nails cutting into skin like I’m trying to hold the fury in place.
I know exactly what this is, they’ve rigged the matchups for today’s Demonstration. I can feel it. They’re going torandomlypair me with Ryven, let him settle the score. No magic this time, just bare hands, just the mat. And he’s counting on my bad ankle giving him the edge.
Great. My magic’s on the verge of exploding, and now I have to face off with Ryven.Again. With Merrin and Talen both watching.
Okay. Breathe, I can get through this. If I keep the magic locked down, if I don’t snap, I’ll be fine. He’s counting on me being weak. But I watched him yesterday, I saw how slow and out of breath he was when I ran. He didn’t even make it to the square. Beth, yeah, she was fucking fast, but Ryven?
Usually I'd take those odds, under normal circumstances, I’d have this.But these aren’t normal circumstances.
My Threads are already too close to the surface, scratching inside my veins, tugging, coiling, ready to blow.
And this fight?
It’s supposed to benon-magicalcombat. No Threads, no exceptions. Except mine are already bleeding through. And if I step on to that mat—if I take one hit too hard, push one movement too far—I don’t know if I can stop them from breaking loose.
That’s what scares me. Not Ryven. But what happens if the magic wins. Because if it slips out, if it surges, it won’t just take him down. It’ll takemewith it. And maybe everyone standing too close.
“Everyone, please take your seats,” Professor Strannt, Weasel Senior, calls from below as he steps into the centre of the Rec Hall, his Citadel’s signature blue robes a stark contrast against the red mat beneath him.
A cane taps softly with each step, his gait off, uneven. Must be from where his son said he was ambushed by Outerlanders.
Behind him, I spot Ryven and his little entourage, front row, obviously. While Strannt peels off toward the door, where Merrin and Talen are mid-conversation. They stop talking the second he arrives.
“Now, before we begin,” Professor Weasel says, leaning on his cane, “I’ll hand over to High Chancellor Merrin to address any questions regarding the rumours of yesterday’s dragon sighting.”
Rumours?
Are we talking about the same event I barely survived?
Merrin strides on to the mat, his deep red robes the exact colour of the dried blood staining the ground beneath his feet.
“Thank you, Professor Strannt,” he begins, voice calm, almost bored as his eyes roam over us. “By now, I assume mostof you have heard that during a routine Air Realm patrol there was an incident involving a dragon.”
Murmurs ripple through the room as Merrin clasps his hands behind his back, pacing the edge of the mat like this is just another lesson. Like, I didn’t almost die yesterday.
“It appears the creature was a black juvenile Daggerhorn, likely disoriented during a migration from the Southern to the Northern Peaks.”
A few cadets nod. Beside me, Ezzy lets out a soft, thoughtfulahhh, like the pieces suddenly click for her.
“As for the Veils,” he continues, “because it was so young, it had not yet developed significant power. That is how it slipped through undetected.”
Bullshit.
That thing nearly took down half a block of the Air Realm.
“Any damage caused was simply the creature attempting to take flight,” he adds. “Officers have already been dispatched to assist with repairs. No one was injured, and no citizens approached the creature.”
Like hell no one was injured.If Talen hadn’t stepped in... If he hadn’t distracted it... And I saw its eyes. It wasn’t lost, it wasn’t confused, itwas hunting,targeting.That tailor’s shop, the sign on the door.
And whatever it was, it wasn’t a juvenile or even normal. I grew up in the Outerlands. I know what dragons’ eyes are meant to look like—silver, gold, blue, even red. But black? Black means death. And no one’s saying a goddamn word about it.
“The Codex still holds,” Merrin continues. “Dragons were exiled for a reason. Since the Treaty, we do not bond with them, we do not engage with them. Their power is dangerous. Unpredictable. The laws exist to keep the Realms safe.”
My eyes roll, that line’s been fed to us so many times, I could recite it drunk, bleeding, and half-conscious. But I knowthe truth, the Citadel’s terrified, not of dragons, ofbondings. Because if people start bonding again, if that kind of power slips out of their hands, they won’t be able to control us anymore.
Merrin stops pacing mid-step. “So I want to reassure you.” His eyes locking straight on mine. “That the Veils still hold. And that the Citadel isnotworried.”
