Chapter
One
The sky smelled of smoke and blood. Dragons moved above the Asgar Training Academy like living storms, their wings stirring the clouds until the entire sky shook with power. The air quivered with thunder and the scent of iron. Thaelyn’s single braid whipped across her cheek from the wind of passing wings, her pack pressed tight against her chest.
“Squad Two, this way!” a voice barked through the crowd of cadets.
She joined the stream of recruits moving toward the stone amphitheater that crowned the mountain. Armor clattered, boots scraped, and nervous murmurs filled the air. Some recruits looked carved from confidence, others pale with fear. Thaelyn tried not to stare like a wide-eyed village girl.
The open-air arena rose like an obsidian crown cut into the peak, half-shielded by a glass dome. The hum of old magic thrummed beneath her boots, an ancient, steady pulse that matched her heartbeat. The mountain wind smelled of lightning and molten stone. When she glanced up, the world seemed to tilt: dragons circled above, vast and magnificent, scales catching sunlight like shattered jewels.
Thaelyn’s stomach clenched and churned.
“Don’t faint,” said a voice beside her. “They can smell fear.”
Thaelyn blinked and turned to see a male cadet with blond hair. “Noted.”
On her right was a girl with medium olive-brown skin whose dark hair was also blowing wildly in the wind. She had sharp cheekbones and amber eyes that watched everything.
“I’m not afraid,” Thaelyn said, a touch too defensive. Thaelyn had never seen a dragon up this close. She recalled seeing the dragons flying high above her city when they were on patrol or if a member of the royal family was on their way to the Asgar Training Academy. Being this close to a dragon was terrifying, given their size and untamed nature, which made her pulse race. She hoped she would grow used to their presence and that the anxious knot in her chest would ease. For now, she refused to look foolish in front of her new squadmates, forcing her voice to sound calm and unaffected.
“Then you’ve got the right spirit for this place.” The girl stuck out a hand towards Thaelyn. “Irielle Vale, my friends call me Iri.”
“Thaelyn Marren,” she replied, almost distracted, eyes locked on the motion in the sky. She shook Iri’s hand and turned towards the guy next to her.
A second hand was outstretched. “Rhyslan Archer, call me Rhys.”
A deep horn bellowed through the mountain, silencing all chatter. Thaelyn looked toward the platform at the arena’s center, where a lone cadet stepped forward, tall, broad-shouldered, and far too composed. The crowd hushed.
The dragons began to descend. A crimson-scaled one swept low, its wings stirring the air into a gale. Thaelyn’s knees trembled with the force of it. A green dragon spiraled above the ring, its shadow sliding over the crowd.
Commander Kieran Dareth’s voice boomed through the gallery, “Darian Vale.”
Beside her, Iri stiffened. “That’s my brother.”
Darian, a second-year student, stood expressionless and unreadable. His movements were sharp and steady, shoulders squared in silent readiness. Every part of him exuded control. Thaelyn’s eyes followed him. Something about the tension in his jaw made her uneasy. He descended the platform stairstoward the arena below. Above, the dragons began to stir faster, shifting in spirals.
During the Kaelthir Reckoning, a dragon will select a human whom they find is worthy of them. The dragons watch and wait for a rider to excel in some sort of elemental magic. No one knows exactly why a dragon ultimately chooses a rider. Being chosen by a dragon is one of the highest privileges and ranks in the royal army.
The crowd fell quiet as Darian stepped into the center of the arena. The red dragon landed before him, claws striking sparks from the stone. Its gaze was molten and unreadable. For a long breath, nothing happened. For a moment, it didn’t move. The dragon finally stepped forward and let out a roar. The crowd waited with anticipation. A flare of light bloomed in its mouth. The dragon blew fire around Darian. Iri let out a scream. The dragon’s fire did not touch Darian. He let out another deafening roar and then nudged Darian’s forehead with his snout.
Iri let out a strangled laugh and clutched Thaelyn’s arm. “He did it,” she breathed.
The Kaelthir was complete. Cheers erupted from the tiered terraces as cadets and instructors applauded. Thaelyn smiled, but her attention snagged on something else, a sudden, strange stillness that rippled through the crowd like the hush before a storm. Every spine straightened. Even the instructors went silent. A figure stepped from the shadows of the upper stairs. Thaelyn’s breath caught.
He wore no pristine cadet uniform, only a black tunic with the sleeves rolled back, revealing cuts and scars. Wind caught in his tousled brown hair, and his eyes, Gods, they were a piercing blue as if created from shards of ice, sea, and fire. He carried himself like a honed warrior with nothing left to prove, as if the mountain itself stepped aside for him.
Iri’s voice lowered, suddenly more serious. “That’s Thorne Dareth, second son of King Dareth. He started training in military hand-to-hand combat at a very young age. He will use his lethal skills to protect his older brother, Prince Kaen, when Kaen becomes king. Thorne is known for being extremely cunning and ruthless. People usually try to avoid speaking to Thorne; he’s very intense.Cadets say he came to the training academy to face the Kaelthir, where he has a chance to bond with a dragon.
Thaelyn whispered, “I heard someone say he wasn’t offered a bond earlier today when a dragon approached him, but it just flew away. Why would he risk his life and go through the Kaelthir?”
Iri replied softly, “King Dareth expects Thorne to bond with a dragon; failing would be nearly disgraceful to him and the crown.”
Thaelyn forced her gaze forward, but curiosity gnawed at her. There was something in the way the air bent around him, how even the dragons circling above shifted course, sensing his presence. The next heartbeat came with a tremor. A shadow blotted out the sun. The world seemed to hold its breath. The sky split with a roar that shook every bone in Thaelyn’s body. The dragon that descended was unlike the others. He was massive, with scales streaked with threads of red fire. The air turned heavy, electric. Thaelyn could barely breathe.
The wind shifted violently, as if in warning. Overhead, the enormous shadow passed over the glass ceiling of the arena. The other dragons moved away as if they were bowing in respect. They moved to a higher range and then reformed. The arena grew darker and quieter, despite the thousands of initiates and cadets watching from the terraces.
Thorne stepped into the center of the ring. His jaw was tight, and his face was pale due to the bruising that darkened his cheeks from the series of trials that day. He wore no armor or visible weapons, just the silent expectation of a bloodline soaked in legacy. He was visibly letting out big breaths of air as if he were trying to calm his mind.
