Garric gave him a half-mocking salute as he approached. “Very subtle, Lieutenant.”
“Wasn’t trying to be,” Thorne said with a little grin. “Mount up, everyone.”
He vaulted up Vornokh’s side with one fluid motion, landing in the saddle as Garric and Sorren mounted beside him. Darian was already on Kaeroth, spinning a blade in his fingers like he needed a distraction.
“Nice timing,” Garric called, grinning. “Want us to fly in a heart shape formation for your next goodbye?”
“Shut up,” Thorne muttered, adjusting his reins. His smile gave him away.
One by one, the dragons surged to their feet, wings unfurling like banners of flame and wind. The air buzzed with rising energy as the riders took their positions.
Brynnek called to his group, “Squad two, mount up. We sweep west, keep an eye on the ridge paths, and any ground movement.” Tieren crouched low, and Brynnek climbed into the saddle, already issuing flight formations.
Nyxariel spread her wings with a sound like thunder cracking, lifting her head to the sky and glancing once toward Vornokh, who rumbled a deep, reluctant goodbye across the bond. Though no words passed between them, all dragons on the field felt the lingering thread between the two ancient beasts, a bond not meant to be stretched.
Then, like a tide rolling outward, the air exploded into movement. Dragons launched into the sky, their wings sending great gusts of wind across the field. Dust spiraled upward, cloaks snapped in the storm, and within moments, the sky was filled with flashes of scale and shadow.
Thorne led his squad in a tight diamond formation, Garric beside him at command, Darian and Sorren just behind, and Rowan circling the rear. Their path cut eastward toward the rising cliffs, where rumors of strange movement had reached the council.
Behind them, Brynnek’s command group rose higher, Thaelyn and Nyxariel breaking the first wave of clouds like storm-born royalty. Feyra’s wind-blessed dragon danced beside them, with Iri, Feyra, Orion, and Rhys close behind.
From the ground, Commander Dareth stood with arms folded, watching them disappear into the brightening sky. The real patrols had begun.
Chapter
Forty-One
The wind whispered high above the stone towers of the Asgar Training Academy as Thaelyn and the rest of the first-year cadets soared through the skies on dragonback. The sun had risen past its morning haze, gleaming silver and gold against the wings of Nyxariel as she banked wide beside the formation. Aether shimmered in the currents around her, subtle, beautiful, and volatile.
Brynnek led the patrol, riding the earthy bulk of Tieren at the head. His voice echoed in their ears.
“Veer left. Keep your intervals sharp, we’re not out here for a pleasure glide,” he barked.
Feyra snorted from her place just behind. “Speak for yourself. I happen to enjoy my rides.”
“Keep up, and I’ll assign you to the rear where the updrafts are worst,” Brynnek growled, but the edge of humor in his voice softened it.
Rhys chuckled from above. “Remind me again why they gave him command?”
“Because Lieutenant Dareth was promoted and he’s the only one brave enough to be responsible when you crash into a cliff,” Orion said, gripping the reins of his dragon.
“I can hear all of you,” Brynnek muttered.
Thaelyn smiled quietly, her gaze scanning the peaks below. Nyxariel’s presence pulsed steadily beneath her, ancient and alert.
All is quiet, too quiet,the dragon rumbled through their bond.Something watches.
Thaelyn straightened slightly in the saddle. “Brynnek, I don’t like the feel of this air. Nyxariel says something’s off.”
“Copy that,” Brynnek said, voice clipped. “Everyone, hold formation and tighten ranks. Feyra, take the high arc. Rhys, sweep left. Thaelyn, stick close to me.”
Far below, the Asgar Training Academy’s stone walls framed the horizon. Unseen by the cadets above, another event was unfolding.
The wind was biting at the first year’s cheeks, sharp with the cold of the higher altitude. Thaelyn leaned forward in her saddle, the muscles in her thighs straining as Nyxariel banked into a slow, wide turn above the snow-draped mountain ridges. Below them, the Asgar Training Academy sprawled like a fortress of stone and history, the early sun gleaming against spires and arches. But out here, in the open sky, the world belonged to dragons and riders alone.
“Brynnek, I’m not seeing anything yet,” Thaelyn called, her voice steady despite the icy updrafts.
“Hold pattern above the second peak,” came Brynnek’s reply, his dragon Tieren flying just a few wing-lengths away. “Rhys, circle south. Feyra, take Orion and Iri westward. Stay tight, we’re only meant to run along the perimeters unless ordered otherwise.”
