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Nyra joins us. "Very specific."

A low vibration rolls across the field. Not quite a growl. Not quite a warning. I feel it through my boots before I understand where it came from. Cassian stills. Vyrael hasn't moved. His eyes remain closed. But apparently he heard us.

Nyra slowly turns toward Cassian. "I think he objects to your choice of words."

Cassian lowers his voice. "Noted."

Students continue filling the field. Not only first-years. Second-years too. Different Wings. Different Houses. No one separates by origin anymore. That changed yesterday. Today it already feels almost normal.

I spot Caelen farther across the grounds speaking with Dax. Soren stands beside one of the instructors. Maelis is checking names against a roster. The Chiefs aren't teaching today. At least not officially. They're observing. Which means they're probably still teaching. Just differently. Rhyven folds the parchment in his hands. Vyrael opens one eye. Golden. Ancient. It moves directly toward Rhyven. Rhyven doesn't look at him. Something passes between them anyway. I know it does. Not words I can hear. Not movement I can interpret. Just that invisible bond between Rider and dragon. A moment later Vyrael closes his eye again. Rhyven walks away. No command. No gesture. Nothing. And somehow that exchange feels more complete than half the conversations I've had this week.

Professor Kaelis steps onto the field. He's one of the senior Rider instructors. I've seen him before. Usually from a distance. He has the weathered face of someone who has spent considerably more time flying than sleeping and a scar running from his left temple into his hairline. He carries no weapon. Only a long wooden pointer. That seems somehow worse. "Sit." He points toward the rows of benches arranged across the field. Students obey.

Cassian lowers himself beside me. "This feels ominous."

"Everything feels ominous to you." I answer.

"No." He gestures toward the pointer. "That specifically feels ominous."

Professor Kaelis waits until everyone is seated. Then looks around. "How many of you know a dragon?" Nearly every hand rises. He nods. "How many of you believe that means you understand dragons?" Fewer hands. Much fewer. One brave second-year keeps his raised. Professor Kaelis looks directly at him. "No." The student's hand slowly lowers. A few people laugh. Kaelis doesn't. The laughter dies. "You are not here to learn how to ride a dragon." Several students visibly relax. "You will never ride one." The relief becomes disappointment for a few. "Unless a dragon chooses you and a bond is established, you have no business on its back." He points toward Vyrael without looking at him. "And if any of you decide to test that rule..." A pause. "I will allow the dragon to explain it." No one laughs this time. Kaelis walks slowly between the benches. "Riders spend years learning the language of dragons." He taps the pointer against his palm. "Not their bond. Their bodies." He stops. "The rest of you will learn it too."

A student raises her hand. "Why?"

Professor Kaelis turns toward her. "Because if war reaches Varethia..." The field becomes very quiet. "You will fight beside them." He points toward the dragons resting across the grounds. "They will land beside you. They will launch over you. They will attack around you. They will defend you. They may be injured beside you." His expression hardens. "And none of them will explain themselves for your convenience." One of the younger dragons lifts its head. Its nostrils flare. Professor Kaelis points immediately. "You." He chooses a wolf student near the front. "What did that dragon just say?"

The boy freezes. "Nothing?"

"Dead." A few students shift. Kaelis points toward another. "You."

The girl studies the dragon. "It smelled something."

"Obviously."

She grimaces. "Something unfamiliar?"

"Better." He looks toward a Rider standing near the dragon. "What?"

The Rider answers. "Food cart behind the southern building."

Several students turn. Sure enough a kitchen cart is moving along the distant path. Kaelis looks back at us. "The dragon knew before you did." He taps the pointer once against the ground. "Your job is to notice that it noticed."

For the next hour we learn how spectacularly ignorant we are. Diagrams cover enormous boards. Wings. Shoulders. Jaw. Eyes. Tail. Spine. Feet. Even breathing. Everything means something. Or might mean something. Which is somehow worse. "Open mouth." Kaelis says.

"Aggression?" Someone offers.

"Could be."

"Heat regulation?" Another student tries.

"Could be."

"Pain?"

"Could be."

Cassian mutters beside me, "This is terrible." I suppress a smile.

Professor Kaelis hears him anyway. "Correct." Cassian straightens. Kaelis points toward him. "Why?"