It takes three hours to hike to Velkar’s Descent. We will leave at dawn.
Valen tears a piece of bread in half before speaking.
“Velkar,” he says, his voice steady—like he’s told this story a hundred times. “The first dragon to bond with a rider. The one who started it all.”
I shift, leaning forward slightly, chewing absently on a piece of dried meat. Even though I already know the story from books, hearing Valen tell it makes it feel different. He tells it like it’s not just history, but truth.
Valen continues, “Dragons and humans existed for centuries before the first bond. They were forces of their own—dragons were the untamed rulers of the skies, humans the keepers of the land. There was no trust between them. No war, but no alliance, either.”
Lyra, who had been poking at the fire with a stick, perks up. “So what changed?”
Valen’s gaze flicks to her.
“The world shifted,” he says—voice even, measured. “The balance of magics, the way the elements moved. The land began to wither in places, the skies churned with unnatural storms. The dragons felt it first—something stirring, something coming. And for the first time, they realized they could not face it alone.”
Thane, who has been silent until now, finally speaks. “Velkar was the first to say it aloud.”
I turn to him, watching the way the firelight flickers across his face, deepening the angles of his jaw, the sharp cut of his cheekbones. He doesn’t look at me. He’s remembering.
“‘Now is the time for the bond,’” he recites, his voice quiet, but firm. “Those were his words.”
Lyra tilts her head, considering. “So he just . . . called to a warrior? Out of nowhere?”
Valen shakes his head. “No. He waited . . . watched. And when he saw the right one, he reached into his dreams. And called.”
The wind picks up, scattering sparks into the night. They vanish into the vast dark beyond our fire.
Valen speaks again. “The warrior was cast out by his own people. Unworthy in the eyes of mortals. But Velkar saw something more.”
I already know this part, but still, my stomach tightens.
“He followed the call to the cliffs,” Valen continues, “but when he arrived, there was nothing. No dragon waiting. No sign of the bond. Just mist and sky. And a drop into the unknown. He stood at the edge,” Valen says, his voice quieter now. “Faced with nothing but the abyss. No promises. No guarantees. Only the unknown.”
The fire pops, the glow flickering across Thane’s face across from me.
“He could have turned back,” Valen says. “And no one would have blamed him. But he didn’t. He stepped forward, not because he knew Velkar would catch him—but because he was willing to fall.”
Lyra is silent now, her expression thoughtful.
I shift, my pulse steady, but strong. Because I know that tomorrow, I’ll stand where that warrior stood.
Valen leans back slightly, exhaling. “That was the first Trust Fall. The moment that changed everything.”
I watch the fire, the flames dancing in my peripheral vision. I whisper, “And Velkar caught him.”
Valen nods. “He did. And for the first time, dragon and rider became one.”
The fire burns low, the warmth flickering in the crisp mountain air. Lyra leans forward, arms on her knees, brow furrowed in thought.
“Alright, but why him?” she asks. “Why was this warrior theone? What made him special?”
Valen exhales, stretching his legs out as he leans back slightly. “His name was Isandor, of the Fire Clan.”
I shift, unfamiliar with the name.
“The stories say he wasn’t chosen because he was the strongest,” Valen continues. “Or the fastest, or the best warrior. He was chosen because he was willing to stand alone. He was outcast,” Valen says, tossing another log onto the fire. “A traitor, according to his own people.”
Lyra’s brows shoot up. “Wait—so the first dragon rider was atraitor?”
