ChapterTwenty-Two
Major Kaler held up one hand, his expression grim but not unkind. “Fifteen-minute break. Ready yourselves. This next trial won’t be easy.”
Zander glanced down at his tunic, the soot and dried blood still clinging to the fabric from our journey. Without a word, he turned and left the Ascension Grounds, no doubt heading to don his flight armor. He didn’t look back.
I rubbed a smear of dust off my cheek and grimaced. I wasn’t exactly presentation-ready either.
Riven appeared at my side and bumped her shoulder into mine. “Barracks?”
I nodded, and we slipped away together.
Inside the stone-walled dormitory, the others were already removing gloves and splashing water onto their faces. The scent of ash and sweat clung to everything. I gave them the short version. Our flight, Kaelith’s return, Siergen’s cryptic approval, and our encounter in the village with the smith and the realignment of dragon loyalty.
Jax let out a short whistle. “So that was you two taking a small vacation.”
Ferrula snorted. “About time the crown got a wakeup call.”
I grinned, grabbing a cloth to wipe down my arms and neck. It felt good to tell them about our time away from the guild.
But the moment didn’t last.
A short horn blast echoed from the Ascension Grounds. Time was up.
We grabbed our gear and jogged back out, falling into formation behind the Thrall Squad banner. Our dragons were perched at the edge of the cliffs, watching with eerie stillness.
Then I saw him.
Zander.
He wasn’t with us.
My gaze tracked across the grounds and found him… standing with Crownwatch.
Whispers passed between him and Cade, their heads close together. Zander’s jaw was tight, his brow furrowed like thunderclouds were building behind his eyes.
What the hell?
The realization hit like a punch to the ribs.
The majors had separated us.
And Zander looked ready to burn down the sky because of it.
Major Ledor stepped forward, his boots crunching against the worn stone of the Ascension Grounds. A hush fell as every rider turned to face him, banners fluttering in the breeze, dragons watching from the cliffs above like silent sentinels.
“This next trial,” he began, his voice carrying clearly, “is called The Crescent Bridge.”
My brows drew together as I exchanged a glance with Riven. The name alone sounded ominous.
“The Crescent Bridge,” Major Ledor continued, “was once an ancient path carved through magic and stone—suspended high above the chasm of the Lowvale. Only true riders, bonded in both magic and trust, could pass its span unscathed. Now, it exists as a fractured echo of what once was. Pieces of it remain, just enough for you to fall to your deaths if you fail.”
He let that settle before pacing forward, hands clasped behind his back.
“This trial will test not just your flight or your power, but your bond. You will not complete it alone. You will be paired with another member of your squad, and together, you must cross. One of you will guide, the other will follow, trading roles at the halfway mark. If your communication falters, if your instincts are not aligned…” He let his voice fade off as he gestured to the great cliffs behind him.
The illusion shimmered to life then, runes flaring blue against the air, revealing the Crescent Bridge hovering high in the distance, an arch of fragmented stone platforms and floating crystalline steps suspended over a seemingly bottomless ravine.
Gaps yawned between pieces, some wide enough to need a leap aided by dragon wings, others twisted midair as if to disorient. Magic hummed between each broken segment, an ancient enchantment, testing intent, magic, and will.
