The world melted away, the path, the fog, the fallen cadets. There was nothing now but the shiver of their breaths and the taste of something forbidden that neither could stop wanting. When they finally pulled apart, it was only because they couldn’t breathe. Foreheads touching, they stood there panting, eyes closed, hearts hammering in sync. Her lips felt swollen, tingling. His thumb brushed her cheekbone like he couldn’t believe she was real. “Come on, let’s get you back to the dorm safely. I’ll take care of this.” He walked her slowly back to her dorm and then disappeared into the night.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
The summons came just before dawn, when the world was the color of steel, and the wind over Asgar’s southern rim hissed like a blade being drawn. The flight field was still covered in pre-dawn mist when the dragon riders arrived, each one silent, focused, and already armed. Weapons clinked softly as they affixed swords, bows, spears, and daggers across their backs. Shields glinted in the pale morning light. Each rider was clad in reinforced flight leathers, marked with the sigils of their squad, First Squad, and their element.
Thorne adjusted the straps at his waist and rolled his shoulders, his eyes narrowed to the skies. Behind him, the black behemoth known as Vornokh shifted his weight, wings flexing like thunderclouds ready to split the sky.
“You’re late,”Vornokh grumbled in his mind, voice like molten rock sliding through shadow.“Next time, try earlier. I nearly incinerated a squirrel out of boredom.”
“Barely,” Thorne replied, strapping his twin swords into placeon his back. “Commander Dareth changed the order that we leave at dawn so we can all get a night’s sleep after the events that unfolded with Thaelyn," he added, mounting smoothly and settling into the saddle between Vornokh’s shoulder ridges.
Nyxariel came. Her wings folded like liquid light, scales flashing between violet and silver storm. Thaelyn mounted her, the pull in her chest already thrumming, faint, steady.Him.She didn’t want to name it, didn’t want to feel it. But Thorne was there, even without seeing him at first, his presence humming like an ache behind her ribs.
Commander Dareth arrived on the field. His voice carried through the misted arch of the flight yard. “Saddle and seal. Border Patrol along the southern outpost. You fly light and fast.” His gaze cut to Thorne. “You take point.” Then to Thaelyn, a heartbeat of hesitation she caught and resented. “You’re with him.”
“Objective?” Rory said, strapping down a satchel at her saddle. Cool, steady. Always steady. She gave a nod to Baelor, her male burnished copper dragon. He was fast, skilled, and daring as his fearless rider. Together, they command the sky with impossible dives and spirals. His fire bends to the wind, creating living vortexes of light. He is descended from Razorth’s bloodline, and he carries both grace and arrogance in equal measure.
“Signal tower at Godshollow,” Commander Dareth answered, not looking away from the map cuff on his wrist. “Beacon flared twice then guttered. Scouts reported fog moving with the wind. No reply since.” His eyes slid to Thorne. “No glory. In and out. You see corruption, you mark it and pull back. I want heads, not heroics.”
Beside Thorne, a rush of air drew his gaze. Darian vaulted onto Kaeroth, his massive red dragon, whose scarred flank gleamed in the morning sun. Smoke curled from the beast’s nostrils as Darian tightened the last strap of his harness. "Try not to burn down a forest today, Kaeroth," Darian muttered, patting the dragon’s thick neck.
"I make no promises," Kaeroth rumbled with a smirk in his voice.
Behind him came Garric, calm and unreadable, hoisting himself onto Vaelion, the male green dragon with scarred ridges and eyes like frost, whose wings shimmered with silver veins.
Tarken, a serious and feisty, large female orange dragon, landed with a boom. She snarled at the other dragons. Rowan smiled at her and scratched below her chin. He then ran up her leg and hopped into her saddle.
Brynnek thundered in, helmet under one arm, muscles taut ashe swung onto Tieren, his thick-legged, earthen-brown dragon with armored shoulders and gnarled horns.
Last was Sorren, quiet, precise. He barely made a sound as he moved, and Mirra, his red-scaled, silver-eyed female dragon, padded in silence behind him. She lowered her head. He climbed on.
Each dragon was distinct, and as one by one they began their takeoff, the earth shivered. Vornokh launched first; his sheer mass thundered across the field as he galloped, then leapt. His wings beat once, twice, and the sky swallowed him.
Kaeroth followed, red and roaring, a streak of molten fire across the dawn. Then Vaelion, the icewind hum of his wings sharp and focused. Tarken roared and leaped into the air, leaving a trail of grass floating in the air. Tieren lifted with a rumble, scattering dust and leaves. Mirra was last, vanishing mid-run. Her cloaking magic swallowed both her and Sorren before they soared into the clouds like phantoms.
They flew for hours, the wind in their ears, the horizon stretching endlessly. They banked over mountain spines and dipped beneath low clouds. Garric leaned into a tailspin loop with Tarken, his blue dragon diving and pulling up with elegant control. Sorren and Mirra vanished from sight entirely, then reappeared beside them, silent and watching. Vornokh soared highest, massive and regal, while Nyxariel stayed close to his side. Kaeroth dipped in fireborne spirals, trying to keep a competitive edge over Baelor. Tieren coasted low to the ground, trees bowing beneath his wind pressure.
Thorne had not even spoken to Thaelyn yet. She wanted to talk to him about the kiss last night. She reached through the bond so no one could hear.
“You’re in a mood today. Anything you want to say?”
He didn’t even look at her. “No.”
“Not even about last night?”
Thorne met her eyes, finally. His were flat.
“Oh, so we are justpretending today.”
“I didn’t say that,” he replied coolly. “But if you're looking for meaning, don’t. You’re with Darian. We have a mission to do today. I don’t want my mind cluttered with things that don’t matter.”
“You’re an ass.”
“It was just a kiss, Thaelyn. I’ve had dozens of girls kiss me. It was nothing special.”
“You cocky bastard.”
