The Queen turned back to the fire, her gaze distant. "So will we all."
As Thorne stepped out into the corridor, the shadows stretched long behind him, but his heart burned with purpose. He would not lose Thaelyn again.
Chapter
Fifty-Two
The sky above the Asgar Training Academy had turned a muted pewter, clouds thick with the threat of rain, but the fields below stirred with movement and readiness. Dragons lined the perimeter in disciplined formation, wings tucked close, eyes sharp. Armor gleamed where the sun broke through in faint slats, casting a diffused light over the cobbled training yard.
Thaelyn stood with her fingers resting gently on Nyxariel’s silver-scaled flank. The great dragon’s eyes, like mirrors of starlight, were narrowed as she surveyed the gathering cadets. The bond between them pulsed again, stronger with each passing hour since her return, since the pain and fog of her capture had finally begun to fade.
“They will come again,”Nyxariel murmured into her mind, “Next time, they will not attempt capture. They will seek to end what they could not control.”
"Then let them come," Thaelyn whispered aloud. Her voice was steadier now, her core reforged through fire and fear.
Across the yard, Thorne appeared, striding with quiet authority. Black flying leathers clung to his frame, his twin blades secured at his back, and the crimson-threaded sigils of the academy stitched into his collar. His presence was quieter now, heavier with purpose. Vornokh loomed behind him like a walking shadow, crimson eyes flickering beneath armored scales.
Queen Elyria emerged from the war tower moments later, herpale cloak billowing in the wind. She approached Thorne and Thaelyn without her usual courtly guards; her expression unreadable.
"It is time," she said simply.
Thorne gave a short nod. "We’ll draw the lines. They won’t catch her again."
The Queen turned to Thaelyn, her silver-ringed eyes searching. "The Watchers are not idle. They’ve felt your bond surge. The echo of Aether has begun to ripple beyond the Veil. That kind of magic draws more than prophecy, it draws predators."
Thaelyn’s brow furrowed. “What do we do now? Wait for them to strike again?"
Elyria stepped closer and placed a hand over Thaelyn's sigil. "No. We take the skies first. We make a statement: that you are not prey, and this academy is not blind."
Thorne's voice lowered. "And Kaen? He won't just sit idle. He’ll accelerate whatever he's planning."
The Queen's eyes darkened. "He already has. But I intend to make sure he never gains the leverage he seeks."
From the northern gate, Commander Dareth arrived, followed by Princess Aerisya,Garric, Darian, Brynnek, Rowan, Sorren, Vaeryn, Feyra, Iri, Rhys, and Orion. All wore the flying cloaks of active combat patrol, their dragons keeping pace behind. Garric offered a grim nod to Thaelyn as he passed.
"Scouts report tremors near the high ridge," Commander Dareth said, handing Elyria a weather-worn scroll. "Could be unrelated. Or it could be the start."
The Queen took the scroll without breaking her gaze from Thaelyn and Thorne. "Then let them see what it means to awaken the ancient bond. Let them see you together."
Vornokh huffed, smoke spiraling from his nostrils. “We will give them enough fire to remember.”
Thorne turned to Thaelyn, his expression softening. "We fly together this time. Side by side. No more distance."
They moved as one, climbing their dragons, the saddles tightening, and buckles locking with the smooth rhythm of seasonedriders. Nyxariel launched first, wings carving the air with a roar that sent nearby trees bending. Vornokh followed, his ascent swift and violent, spiraling beside her in perfect tandem.
From below, cadets looked up to see the three ancient dragons soaring together once more, lunar white, storm and shadow, wingtip to wingtip, unbroken. The sky darkened further. The war had not yet begun, but the warning cry had already been written in fire across the clouds. This time, Asgar would answer.
Chapter
Fifty-Three
The storm had been brewing for days. Kaen stood on the highest parapet of Draekmire’s Keep, the black fortress rising like a wound against the horizon. The wind off the mountains lashed at his cloak, carrying the acrid scent of burned wards and old blood. Below him, the valley seethed with movement, thousands of dark shapes, an army gathered from nightmare and shadow.
The first wave of his war. He had waited long enough. “Report,” Kaen said, his voice cutting through the wind. A cloaked messenger dropped to one knee behind him, eyes downcast. “The border sentries between Stone Grave Hollow and the Keldrin’s hold have fallen. The outposts near Veylar’s Reach are under illusion siege. No word yet from Asgar’s outer patrols.”
Kaen smiled, slow and thin. “Good. Confusion will serve us longer than blood.” He turned from the parapet, boots echoing across the stone. The war room stretched before him, a chamber carved into the mountain’s heart. At its center stood a map of the Sydarean continent, the lines of each elemental city glowing faintly. The map glowed the brightest around the Asgar Training Academy, the Queen’s Academy Citadel, and the capital city. Kaen’s hand hovered; his gloved fingers brushed over the points like a lover’s touch.
“Their strength lies in order,” he murmured. “So we’ll feedthem chaos.” The air rippled. Darkness folded in on itself, and from the shadowed corners, they came, the lords of his unholy alliance.
