Thaelyn stared at the ceiling. "I don’t want just to survive."
"Same," Feyra murmured. "I want to set something on fire, win a duel, and maybe find a boy who’s older than me before midyear."
Vaeryn arched a brow. "Ambitious."
"I like goals. What about you, Vae?"
"I’m not sure yet."
Later, as the dorm fell into silence and moonlight, Thaelyn stared up at the ceiling. For the first time in her life, she felt like she had found real friends.
Thaelyn hesitated at the threshold of the dining hall, the tray trembling in her hands. The noise hit her first, a low, constant murmur that filled the air like the pulse of a living thing. Laughter. Voices. The scrape of metal on stone.
The hall was enormous. Light spilled from tall arched windows, gathering in golden pools across the long rows of tables that stretched from wall to wall. The tables were worn smooth by generations of hands, and the benches creaked beneath the weight of a hundred black-clad cadets. The scent of charred meat and freshly baked bread curled through the air, warm and rich enough to make her stomach twist.
Her boots clicked softly against the stone as she stepped inside. The vaulted ceiling soared overhead, so high she felt small beneath it. Iron chandeliers hung from heavy chains, their flames throwing restless shadows across the banners and stone pillars. The banners themselves rippled in the faint mountain draft, sigils of theelemental houses stitched in silver thread, their colors dulled with age but still proud.
Everywhere she looked, the cadets wore their academy leathers like armor, buckles fastened tight, gloves polished, and eyes sharp. They moved with precision even when they laughed, as if discipline had already become muscle memory.
Thaelyn clutched her tray a little closer and tried not to stare. She felt the weight of the place pressing in, the sheer history of it. Every mark carved into the wood, every flag hanging from the rafters, whispered of those who had come before. How many had sat where she now stood, trying to look like they belonged? Her throat felt dry.
At the far end of the room, a stained-glass window caught her eye. Sunlight streamed through its crimson and gold panes, painting the dais beneath it in molten color. A dragon was depicted there, wings unfurled, curling around a crumbling citadel. Even from a distance, the image pulsed with quiet power. The commanders sat there during assemblies, she’d been told, their gaze sweeping the hall like judgment itself. Now the chairs were empty, but the weight of their absence was almost worse.
“Thaelyn!”
She turned to see Iri waving from the middle tables, her braid glinting auburn under the chandelier light. Relief loosened something tight in Thaelyn’s chest. She wove carefully through the crowd, brushing past shoulders and trays while catching snippets of conversation along the way. There were complaints about early drills, talk about the upcoming Air Trial, and bursts of laughter that rose and fell like sparks.
When she reached the bench, Iri scooted over to make room. “You look like you’re walking into an execution, not dinner,” she said, grinning.
“Feels about the same,” Thaelyn muttered, setting her tray down. The bread was still steaming, the broth thick and dark. She tore a piece absently, letting the warmth of the hall sink into her skin.
Around them, the noise built, cadets shouting across tables, metal tankards clinking, someone pounding a rhythm with a spoon. Despite the chaos, there was something steady underneath it all. A sense of rhythm. Belonging.
Thaelyn looked down the rows of tables, faces she didn’t yet know, names she hadn’t learned, but all of them tied together by the same insignia stitched at their collars, the same fire in their eyes. For the first time since arriving, she let herself breathe. Maybe this was how it began, not with triumph or magic or dragonfire, but with a shared meal and the quiet understanding that no one was alone.
She lifted her cup, listening to the hum of voices around her, and thought that maybe this hall wasn’t just where cadets ate. It was where they became something more. By the time she reached the table and slid onto the bench beside Iri, the tension in her limbs began to fade. The noise, the heat, the closeness, it was overwhelming, yes, but also something else.
It felt like the heartbeat of the academy itself. Here, cadets learned each other’s voices, memorized each other’s tempers, shared food and fear in equal measure. Here, rivalries would be born, and so would loyalty.
Thaelyn let her fingers brush the grain of the table, tracing the shallow grooves worn smooth by generations of cadets before her. This may be how belonging began, not with certainty, but with the simple act of sitting among others who were trying to find their place, too.
"I'm so nervous. I’m going to throw up," Feyra muttered beside her.
Iri rolled her eyes. “Do it on someone who deserves it. Preferably one of the iron-brained brutes who nearly crushed us on the way in.”
“That was Orion Tallen and Rhyslan Archer,” Vaeryn said, scanning the hall with a strategist’s gaze, her pale braid swinging as she surveyed the room.
They moved as a single thread through the crowd, dodging shoulders, slipping between the older cadets whose laughtersounded sharper, harder. They found a place halfway down the central row: close enough to hear, far enough not to be noticed. It felt right. Safe, for now.
The air shifted. It began as a ripple, subtle as the change before a storm. Then came the silence. Voices faltered mid-laugh, utensils stilled midair, and all eyes turned toward the entrance. Thaelyn followed their gaze. Thorne Dareth had arrived.
Even before she recognized his face from the Kaelthir, she knew it was him. The air itself thickened around him, heavy and electric, as though he carried the memory of dragonfire beneath his skin. His black rider’s coat moved like liquid shadow, brushing the floor as he walked. Bruises ringed his jaw, and a thin scar carved down the side of his throat. He moved carefully, slower than he should have, every step deliberate.
Whispers rustled like wind through leaves.
He survived the Kaelthir.
They said he burned.
