They thought it was Citadel training. It wasn’t. Every year, he brought me down here to the Southern Peaks to prepare me for all of this, and it was Magda who used to take care of me during that time.
I remember when I was about five, I’d just started climbing trees, and one day—being the reckless little idiot I was—I went too high, slipped, and broke my arm.
I was more upset about missing training than the pain, and while Merrin argued with the healer about when I could start again, Magda sat beside me all afternoon feeding me cakes and reading stories until I fell asleep.
— T
The next few days,fire follows me everywhere.
Ahria still insists on using it as my personal alarm clock. Then Neeve, because I made the mistake of admitting my fear, makes me light the ovens before we bake. After that, Dave the Dick has me flat on my arse in about nine seconds, and by the time I get to flying practice, hauling myself up JC’s side feels like climbing a mountain with broken legs.And even she is spitting sparks in frustration at my failed take-offs. By midweek, my body stops trying to fight the pain and just takes it. Bruises layer over bruises until I can’t tell where one ends and the next begins.
But I keep getting back up, I keep trying as Ahria watches, judges, and on the fifth day, finally something clicks during training with Lucien, and I actually make it into the air.
At first, my grip is so tight my nails sting as they split against JC’s hot scales. Black spots crowd the edges of my vision next, the world tilting, and I’m sure I’m about to pass out—then Lucien reaches over and steadies my hands.
“Don’t freak out on me now, Bloom.” His deep voice breaks through my spiralling panic, grounding me. “Breathe, remember to breathe.”
Behind me, he drags in a deep inhale, and I follow suit. Pulling in a breath. Then another, and another. Forcing my lungs to work until the dizziness eases enough to think.
“That’s it.” He relaxes his grip on mine but stays close. “Now keep your focus forward, look out toward the end of the lake.”
Trusting the calmness in his tone, and the steadiness of his solid frame behind me, I slowly lift my head.
Wind tears past, ripping at my hair as my focus catches on the horizon ahead and for a single, fragile heartbeat, it feels… right. The speed, the power, the sheer freedom of it. And I think maybe I can do this. Maybe I belong here, maybe Icanbe a rider.
Then my head tilts.
“Don’t look down,” Lucien orders.
I look down.
After that it’s blank.
The dragon warningbell cracks through the tent and I jolt upright, heart lurching into my throat, bracing for a giant fire-breathing lizard to tear through the tent at any moment. It stops a second later but I stay frozen in the dull morning light, pulse hammering in my ears at the silence that follows. Then, finally, the all-clear call carries across camp, and the tension drains out of me as I exhale.
God, it’s already been a week, and the bell rings at least once a day, but my body still reacts the same.
My legs protest as I haul myself out of bed, but I ignore them, pull on some clothes, and head out with Ahria.
Weaving through the tents toward the centre of the camp, a shiver rolls through me. Despite it being summer, the earlymorning air carries a cold, harsh bite, lifting the hairs on my arms.
Damn, I knew I should have grabbed Talen’s flight jacket. Still, at least being up this early has some perks. I managed to avoid Ahria’s fire alarm for once, and the camp is still relatively quiet—calm enough to almost forget how tense it usually is.
People are constantly coming and going—bonded riders heading out on recon, senior recruits moving in and out on patrol, others arriving for the first time and wandering around looking completely lost.
New Innerlanders seem to turn up every day now, and I’m not sure how many more bodies this camp can hold. But apparently Darren will start training soon and get things more organised.
And I know it’s pointless, but I still find myself scanning each new arrival, in case it’s Finn. When Ezzy wakes, I want to be able to tell her he’s okay—that she’s not alone here. But so far, each time I look it’s only more disappointment.
Wincing, I step over a crate of supplies that hasn’t been moved—turns out climbing the cage to avoid being incinerated by Dave yesterday was not one of my best ideas, and my knees are making sure I don’t forget it. But I keep moving, boots scuffing against loose stone as I follow Ahria around the next corner toward the Healer’s Tent.
She seems to already know the routine and drifts ahead of me, her green scales catching the morning light for a second before she slips through a narrow gap and disappears inside. I follow, fingers lifting the flap, but then pause.
I’ve visited Ezzy every morning this week before bread baking, and each time her fever has been worse—an infection from the wound. So I brace myself as I step inside, half-expecting more of the same. Relief flows through me when instead I walk over and press the back of my hand to herforehead and find that her skin is cooler. Not normal, not yet, but better.
For a few breaths, I stay there, watching her chest rise and fall, but it doesn’t take much for it to start pulling at everything else.
“We’ll find Finn soon,” I mutter, pushing her hair back. “I promise.” Then I step back and head out before the guilt of knowing all this is my fault can settle too deeply.
