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I lower it. "My pillow."

"You sleep with a weapon under your head?" She asks.

"Beside it."

She looks genuinely shocked. "That is not better."

Selena sits upright in the darkness and catches her own parchment before it touches her. Aricia's hovers politely above her desk until she reaches for it. Rowan's remains stuck to her forehead. She tears it away. "This Academy has no respect for sleep."

I unfold the parchment. Silver words appear across the surface. ALL FIRST-YEAR STUDENTS. REPORT TO THE MAIN TRAINING FIELD BEFORE FIRST LIGHT. STANDARD UNIFORM. NO WEAPONS. ATTENDANCE MANDATORY. Below the order is the Academy crest. Nothing else.

Rowan reads over my shoulder. "No weapons." She looks offended. "What are they planning to do to us?" "Something requiring poor preparation," Aricia answers.

Selena is already dressing. "Then stop talking."

Rowan looks toward me. "Do you think this is another Trial?"

"No." I answer.

"How do you know?"

I shrug. "I don't."

The Academy before sunrise feels like a secret. Its corridors are usually alive by the first bell, crowded with voices, books and arguments.

Now the stone halls are quiet. Lanterns burn low along the walls. Windows reflect darkness rather than mountains. Students emerge from every residence tower wearing identical black uniforms and the same cautious expressions. No one knows why we have been summoned. Naturally, everyone has theories. "Punishment," a siren whispers behind us.

"For what?" Her friend asks.

"The Place." She answers.

"Half the upper-years were there."

"That doesn't mean it was allowed."

A wolf farther ahead says the Academy is changing the Trial results. Someone else claims dragons have selected first-year candidates for early bonding. That rumor spreads so quickly that three students nearly turn around to change clothes.

Nyra joins us beneath the eastern archway. Her pale hair is braided neatly down her back, though sleep still softens her blue eyes. Cassian walks beside her. He appears offensively rested.

Rowan notices too. "How?"

He looks toward her. "How what?"

"You were awake as late as we were."

"I slept." He replies.

Nyra holds up her own summons. "Do either of you know what this is?"

"No." I answer. Cassian shakes his head.

Rowan answers, "Dragon selection." We all look at her. "It could be." She adds.

Professor Aldren would either be proud or furious. Possibly both. The main training field lies beyond the eastern courtyards, carved into a wide plateau between the Academy and the dragon cliffs. I have seen it from above. Standing inside it is different.

The field is large enough to hold every student at Varethia. This morning, only the first-years occupy the lower grounds. We gather in uncertain rows beneath a sky still dark enough to hold stars. Torches line the perimeter. Beyond them stand upper-years. Hundreds. Silent. Already arranged in precise formations. No one laughs. No one whispers. Not even Dax. That silences the first-years more effectively than any professor could.

The third-years wear formal black uniforms marked with silver detailing at the shoulders. Second-years stand behind them in narrower lines. At the field's highest point, six banners hang motionless from tall iron poles.