So I watch instead. Let the outpost unfold around me.
To my right, faint markings shimmer across the stone—curved lines and angled script I don’t recognize.
“Old Fire Clan wards,” Thane says, matching his pace to mine. “Etched during the Shadow Wars. Reinforced with dragon magics—at least, that’s what Valen thinks. No one really knows anymore.”
We pass a half-hidden archway wrapped in vine. Just beyond it, a statue leans forward, its face worn smooth by time.
“Used to be a temple,” Thane says. “People came here before the clans, before the courts. To honor the elements. This was long before I was born.”
Up ahead, a wide yard lined with tall wooden frames and netting rises into view. Crates, pulleys, sand pits.
“That’s the aerial course. Teaches riders how to fight midair, keep their balance, adjust for wind. Looks chaotic—but it works.”
He pauses.
“It doesn’t get used as much anymore.” His voice softens. “Fewer dragons have been calling to riders these past ten years.”
My brows knit together. “Why is that? Why are fewer dragons calling?”
Thane slides his gaze toward me. “No one really knows.”
He pauses; there’s something heavy behind his voice.
“And they won’t say. Dragons have their own culture. Their own rules. Asking them something like that is . . . taboo.” He shakes his head. “It’s seen as a violation of the bond. A breach of trust.”
His eyes stay on mine.
“And we need them. Especially now. So we don’t push. We respect their ways.”
We walk on. Red banners ripple along the corridor—each one bearing a single word in bold flame-colored script.
Honor.
Strength.
Loyalty.
Endurance.
“I had them moved,” Thane says. “They used to hang in the great hall. No one saw them there, not unless it was a ceremony.”
He glances at me. “Felt like they belonged out here instead. Where people earn them.”
I glance at the word nearest me—Endurance. My stomach tightens. I’m not sure I’ve earned anything yet. Just survived.
We walk in silence again. The only sounds are the distant clang of steel and the low hum of voices drifting from the training grounds.
Then Thane speaks again, his voice lower now, careful.
“Thank you, Amara. For choosing it.”
He doesn’t say whatitis, but I know.
For a moment, I don’t know what to say; I don’t know how to put any of this into words. The grief. The weight of stepping into something I didn’t ask for. The knowing that nothing will ever be the same again.
Eventually, I manage, “I don’t know what it’s going to mean yet.” My voice is quiet. Honest. “But I couldn’t walk away.”
It’s the only truth I have to give.
