Jazmin Rhode

STURNIOLO TRIPLETS

Chris Sturniolo

The Big Day (One Shot)

Free Throws (One Shot)

Egg Challenge (One Shot)

I Don't Want To Leave (One Shot)

What Went Wrong? (One Shot)

Better Late Than Never (One Shot)

Almost (Headcanons)

Relationship Status: Private (Headcanons)

The One That Got Away (Headcanons)

Matt Sturniolo

I Thought So (One Shot)

Forever be your always (One Shot)

The Interview (One Shot)

Superstar (Headcanons)

If I Can't Have You (One Shot)

I've Loved You My Whole Life (One Shot)

Hey Google, Play 'Begin Again'

I Don't Love You Anymore (One Shot)

They Call It Puppy Love (Headcanons)

How Does He Know Your Name? (One Shot)

Other Sturniolo

Father Of The Bride Speech (Triplets x Sister)

I Miss Them Too (Triplets x Older Sister, One Shot)

You Don't Like Dr Pepper? (Triplets x Reader, One Shot)

I Hate You, I Love You (Triplets x Little Sister, One Shot)

For The Love Of A Sister (Triplets x Little Sister, One Shot)

A Tour Surprise (Triplets x Reader, One Shot)

You walked out of the Star Market with a messy bun, oversized tee and sweatpants and you looked as dreadful as you felt. You had a strawberry-flavoured sucker hanging out of your mouth and you were digging through your bag to find your keys.

Just as you found your car keys, the bottom of your plastic bag tore open from the weight of your shopping and its contents fell to the ground. “Fuck.”

You dropped to your knees and started picking up your shopping. Milk, 2 energy drinks, a tub of ice cream,  a loaf of bread, Twizzlers, some beef jerky and eggs that were surely all broken.

“Do you need some help?” you heard a voice approaching from behind you.

“I’m fine,” you replied, annoyed that someone was watching this.

You had just broken up with your boyfriend, your parents had just moved back to Minnesota and your best friend was on a 6-week trip in the UK with her boyfriend. As much as you missed them, you were glad they were gone. You just wanted to be alone and wallow in your old self-pity.

You felt some knee down beside you and hand you the cylindrical can of peanuts that had rolled halfway across the parking lot. Thanks, you said and he handed the can to you. You look at his for the first time and…. Damn.

For someone who wasn’t looking for anyone at the moment, you couldn’t skip all of the self-pitying bed rotting that was what the next 5 weeks of your life would look like for one date with this man.

He extended a hand, “I’m Matt.”

You took his hand and shook before he helped you up, admiring the rings on his fingers. He looked so effortlessly put together you began to regret not taking a shower or brushing your hair before you left the house.

He smile, almost as if he were waiting for you to say something. He was staring a little too intently at your mouth or your cheek. As he raised his hand toward your cheek you thought he was going in. Who on earth had that sort of confidence? Matt. That’s who.

And who on earth were you to let some stranger mack on with you in the carpark of a Star Market at 10 pm on a random Tuesday in the fall after the worst breakup of your life. Apparently you.

His fingers brushed your cheek and entangled themselves in your hair and then with a gentle tug, he was holding the sucker you had just purchased from the store. In the chaos of the bag splitting it must have gotten stuck in your hair. You felt your face turn red. He just smiled and handed you the sucker.

 “What’s your name?” he said.

Shit. You were so taken by the rings and the air and the black t-shirt, the tattoos and the near kiss that your brain forgot how conversations work. He told you his name and you stayed silent. Idiot.

“I’m Y/n” you replied, laughing off the embarrassment. “Thanks,” you said gesturing to the groceries that now sat in a neat pile in your trunk.

“No problem,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets and nodding awkwardly.

After what felt like an age of your bother staring and nodding and then breaking eye contact you pointed to the car, “I should get going…”

“Oh, of course,” Matt said has he gently closed your boot.

Then he paused and you caught his side profile and could have fallen into a puddle right there. “Oh,” was all he managed.

“What?” you asked, somewhat concerned by his tone.

He looked at you cautiously. “You have a flat tyre,” he said, pointing to your back tyre.

If he wasn’t here you would have fallen into a heap on the ground and cried your eyes out. It was the rotten cherry ontop of an already moulding cake. 

“Do you have insurance?” he asked.

“Yeah, you said as you scrolled through your phone trying to find their information. “You can go… I’ll be fine”.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m sure. Thank you,” you replied.

He gestured an awkward wave and tight-lipped smile before heading into the Grocery Store. You dialled the number for the insurance company and waited on hold for what felt like an hour. You sat on the tailgate of your car and waited. It was as if half of the Massachusets needed roadside assistance tonight. 

Finally, you got through to a human and they said someone should be out within the hour and you knew that meant that you could be here all night.

As you scrolled through TikTok, Matt was done with his shopping and piled it into the back of his Kia.

“Any luck?” he asked. “They’ll be here soon,” you assured him.

He stood there a few seconds longer than normal, rocking back on his heels. “Well, I hope they can sort you out quick,” he mentioned before he headed around to the driver's side door.

You were never this bold but, something about him made you feel calm. “Matt?” you asked.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Did you maybe want to wait with me?” you asked. Instantly regretting it.

“What?” he said, laughing out of awkwardness.

“You don’t have to. I was just thinking that I have a tub of ice cream that’s melting by the minute and…” You didn’t know what else to say. You knew that you looked like an idiot. Who wanted to eat ice cream with a stranger in a car park?

Before you could stutter through another excuse he said, “Sure.”

For what felt like hours, you and Matt sat in the trunk of your car eating ice cream and Cheetos and talking about all of your embarrassing moments.

He told you about the time he went to kiss a girl but, tripped and their heads knocked together. She got a nosebleed and never spoke to him again after that.

You told him about the time that your Dad was taking a family picture at the park and he slipped and fell into the duck pond.

You laughed about sibling fights and Thanksgiving day mishaps. He told you about his time in California and you told him about Minnesota.

Matt was nothing at all like the guy who dumped you 3 weeks ago on the evening of your birthday. At least, he didn’t seem that way but, then again all men are the same.

But, Matt made you feel comfortable and he gave you his number and he didn’t put any pressure on you to catch up again. 

After the roadside assistance crew came and changed your tyre, you and Matt were the only two people in the carpark.

Before he said goodnight, you closed the gap between you both and reached up to place a kiss on his lip. His arm snaked around your waist and when you pulled away there was an inquisitive look on his face.

He wasn’t shocked, or freaked out, or disgusted but, there was a flirty glint in his eye. “I thought so,” you smiled and you walked back to your car. “Good night,” he called after you.

Chapter 3: Platform 9 3/4

The Malfoy’s and Rosier’s stood at the train station, their presence as imposing as it was refined. The crisp black robes were immaculate, not a single thread out of place. Draco Malfoy’s platinum blonde hair was scraped back, every strand perfectly in place, while Isolde’s long, jet-black hair was neatly tucked into a low, sophisticated bun at the nape of her neck. Her father, Aaric, pushed her trolley of belongings with a distinct air of authority, his sharp features contorted into a look of distaste as he muttered about his disgust for muggles under his breath. Isolde, though used to her father's prejudice, could still feel the tension in the air as she held her mother’s hand.

She glanced back at Draco, catching his eye. He gave her a wink, a mischievous glint in his icy gaze. Isolde felt a surge of warmth, but before she could respond, her mother squeezed her hand firmly, guiding her toward the barrier. Isolde followed her mother, taking one last look at Draco before they passed through.

The platform on the other side was like something out of a dream. The Hogwarts Express stood tall, its red exterior gleaming, steam billowing out from its nostrils as if eager to begin its journey. Isolde’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen the train many times before in pictures, but now, with her heart pounding with excitement and trepidation, it felt different. This was the beginning of her own journey.

Her father moved toward the train, intent on dropping off her belongings, while her mother and Narcissa Malfoy gathered her and Draco close.

"Take care of each other," Narcissa said softly, her usually cold demeanour melting into something almost tender.

Isolde nodded, turning to smile at Draco, before her father returned and kneeled in front of her. His cold eyes softened, just for a moment, as he tucked the small black pendant under her tunic, ensuring it lay close to her heart.

"Take care," Aaric murmured, his voice low but firm. "And remember who you are."

He kissed her on the forehead, standing up and giving her a final hug. She wrapped her arms around her waist and held on tight. The weight of his hand on her shoulder told her to let go.

Her mother, ever composed, scooped her into a tight embrace. "Be careful," she whispered, "And make us proud."

Narcissa pressed a soft kiss to Isolde’s cheek, her lips cool, before stepping back to join her husband. Lucius Malfoy gave a curt nod, offering no words, but his gaze was steady, a silent form of approval.

Draco’s mother squeezed his shoulder one last time, and then he reached for Isolde’s hand, tugging her gently toward the train. Together, they boarded, waving at their parents one last time before disappearing into the train’s cool interior.

Hand in hand, Draco and Isolde walked down the corridor, their footsteps muffled by the train's rhythmic hum. They found an empty compartment near the middle of the train, and as soon as they sat, the door slid open. Crabbe and Goyle loomed in the doorway, looking expectantly at Draco.

"Mind if we join?" Crabbe asked, his voice gruff.

"Fine," Draco replied, unbothered.

Blaise, who had arrived just moments later, leaned against the doorframe with a mischievous grin. "I heard Harry Potter’s on the train," he said, glancing around as though expecting the boy to appear at any moment.

Draco’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. "I heard the same. If he has power from You-Know-Who, I reckon he’ll end up in Slytherin."

Isolde nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly. The thought of Harry Potter in Slytherin was both intriguing and unsettling. She could almost feel the tension in the air between the houses. The trolley lady soon arrived, and before anyone could speak, Crabbe and Goyle had already bought half the trolley’s contents, devouring everything in sight with no thought to manners.

Isolde grimaced, her lip curling in disgust. She grabbed the edges of her robes, excusing herself with a polite nod before heading for the bathroom to change. The train's long corridors were filled with chatter and laughter, but she kept her head down as she navigated the crowds.

As she turned a corner, she nearly collided with someone. A voice called out, and she looked up to find a girl standing in front of her. "Excuse me, have you seen a toad? A big, fat one?" the girl asked, looking flustered.

Isolde's nostrils flared. "No, I haven’t," she snapped, before pushing her way into a cubicle.

When she returned, Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep, snoring loudly and Draco was gone. She rolled her eyes. "They are quite useless," she muttered to Blaise, who had taken her seat by the window. Blaise gave her a sly grin, the kind she had seen her father give when he found something amusing. For some reason, Isolde liked it.

The journey continued, and soon enough, the train began to slow as they approached the station. As the train came to a stop, the sound of a giant’s voice boomed over the noise of the train, calling the first years to follow him to the boats. Isolde glanced at Draco, who was already standing, offering his hand to help her down from the train.

The first years were gathered in small groups, and Isolde stayed close to Draco, her hand gripping his tightly. As they made their way toward the boats, Isolde could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her. The castle loomed ahead, its towers reaching high into the sky, and she couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and excitement. The boats rocked gently on the water as they climbed aboard, the lanterns casting an ethereal glow as they floated toward the distant castle.

The sight of Hogwarts at night was breathtaking. The dark silhouette of the castle reflected on the lake, the windows of the towers flickering with light. Isolde could feel the thrill of it, the ancient magic that thrummed through the air, pulling her toward the castle.

Draco sat beside her, and Goyle occupied the seat behind them, while Blaise and Crabbe were struggling in the boat beside them. She tightened her grip on Draco's hand, feeling the pull of something bigger than herself as they sailed toward Hogwarts. She could see the silhouettes of the other boats, the lanterns bobbing in the water, it was magical.

Isolde took a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs. The world around her seemed to fade as she sat beside Draco, the excitement of the night and the promise of what was to come swelling in her chest.

They ducked underneath a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. The boats floated down a long, dark tunnel that seemed to be taking them under the castle. They docked in what seemed to be an underground harbour and climbed up onto the rocks,

“Oi! You there. Is this your toad?” Hagrid called.

“Trevor!” Neville cried as he stumbled forward to grab him.

“Follow me,” Hagrid called from the bottom of the stone steps. The first-years climbed up the stone steps behind Hagrid, excited chatter filling the castle and stopped outside a massive wooden door. Hagrid disappeared inside for a moment, leaving the first-years to murmur among themselves. The air was heavy with anticipation, but the quiet didn’t last long. Draco stepped forward, his movements confident, breaking the uneasy silence.

“So, it’s true then,” he said, his voice cutting through the chatter. “What they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”

All eyes turned to Draco, who stood flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. The pair wore their usual expressions, somewhere between stupid and mean. Draco gestured to them with a nod of his head.

“This is Crabbe and Goyle,” he said, his voice dripping with nonchalance. “That’s Blaise.” He inclined his head slightly toward Blaise, who was standing back, watching the scene with a wry grin.

“And Isolde,” Draco added, spitting out the other boys’ names but saying hers with distinct respect.

Isolde tilted her chin up slightly, meeting Harry Potter’s curious gaze. Draco continued, his smirk widening.

“I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

Ron snickered, his laugh cutting through the tense moment. Isolde’s sharp eyes darted to him, instantly recognising the freckled face and fiery red hair.

“Think my name’s funny, do you?” Draco snapped, his smirk vanishing into a sneer. “No need to ask for yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley.”

Ron’s smirk faltered, and he swallowed hard, glancing nervously between Draco and Isolde, whose glare was as piercing as her father’s.

Draco turned his attention back to Harry, his voice low and deliberate. “You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

He extended his hand to Harry, his pale fingers steady.

Harry hesitated, then replied coolly, “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

Isolde felt a rush of fury, her fingers curling into fists as she reached for her wand. She lunged forward, her rage bubbling over. “You—” she started, her voice trembling with anger, but Blaise grabbed her arm, pulling her back before she could act.

“Easy,” Blaise muttered, his tone calm but firm.

Draco put up a hand, silencing any further movement, before turning his head slightly to the side. His smirk returned as if Harry’s rejection meant nothing at all.

Before another word could be said, the massive doors to the Great Hall creaked open, revealing the glowing grandeur within. The first years turned as one, their anger, nerves, and excitement momentarily forgotten as they stared at the magnificent sight.

Chapter 2: Diagon Alley

Isolde gripped her mother’s hand as the warm powdery sensation of Floo powder enveloped them. A second later, they landed with a stumble in the bustling, dim-lit antique store Borgin and Burkes. The air was thick with the smell of incense and old leather. As they left the story, the cobbled streets were eerily quiet as shadowy figures drifted past in cloaks of deep black. Isolde shivered at the chill in the air, not entirely sure why Nockturn Alley always felt unsettling, even when she tried to ignore the feeling.

Her father, a tall figure in the dark, turned to her and her mother, his expression already distant. “I’ll meet you later,” he said curtly, before disappearing further down into the alley. Isolde barely had time to call after him before her mother tugged at her hand.

“Come, Isolde,” Eldora said in her smooth, melodic voice, the kind that carried both authority and warmth. She led her daughter away from the dark alley and into the brighter, busier streets of Diagon Alley. The transition was immediate: the air grew warmer, and sunlight flickered through the tall buildings that lined the cobbled street. The scent of parchment and fresh ink mingled with the sweet scent of sugar quills from a nearby sweet shop. The atmosphere here felt vibrant and alive, filled with the buzz of witches and wizards of all ages, each with their own mission for the day. A small, excited flutter of excitement bubbled up in Isolde’s chest as they approached Gringotts.

The towering white marble building loomed before them, its massive doors opening with a silent sweep as they entered. The vast hall inside was lined with gleaming golden pillars, and goblins of all sizes moved swiftly about their duties, their sharp eyes never missing a detail. Isolde noticed how her mother’s presence seemed to quiet them all. Goblins whispered and scurried away, bowing slightly as they passed. Eldora’s cold, composed demeanour was enough to make the most confident of creatures tread lightly around her.

A goblin with a long, hooked nose and sharp green eyes approached them. “Madam Eldora,” he said, bowing low. His voice was gravelly, almost fearful. “Your vault, of course.”

Eldora nodded, her expression unreadable. “After you.”

The goblin turned and led them toward the entrance to the vaults. Isolde felt a strange, almost eerie sensation as they rode down the long corridors, the stone-lined with intricate carvings that seemed to watch their every step. The journey felt endless, each turn further away from the bustling streets above. Finally, they reached their destination.

The vault was massive—larger than any Isolde had imagined. It shimmered with a dim, golden light, and the air was thick with the scent of ancient coins. Eldora stepped forward, a small but deliberate gesture, and the vault opened with a soft hiss of magic. Inside, gold and jewels were piled high, but Eldora only gathered a few handfuls of Galleons, her movements precise and quick. Isolde stood at the entrance, staring at the treasures.

Once their task was done, they left the vault behind, travelling back to the main floor of the bank. Eldora gripped Isolde’s hand and they walked toward the door. “Don’t stare, Isolde. It’s rude,” she muttered as they walked down the steps to Diagon Alley.

Next, they entered a small, elegant dress shop, its windows filled with shimmering silks and lace. The moment they stepped inside, Isolde’s mother was greeted by a woman behind the counter with a warm, knowing smile.

“Eldora! It’s been far too long,” the woman said, giving her a quick, familiar hug. “And this must be your daughter, Isolde! Congratulations on her admission to Hogwarts!”

Isolde was ushered into the dressing room without a moment’s hesitation, her mother already picking out elegant black dresses for her to try on. As the woman, whose name Isolde didn’t catch, began to pull out the fabric, Isolde couldn’t help but roll her eyes. This wasn’t the most exciting part of the day, but her mother was insistent on having everything just right.

“Stand straight,” Eldora instructed as she adjusted the neckline of one dress, a look of concentration on her face.

Isolde tried to focus, but the pressure of having to stay still, to look just so, felt stifling. She sighed, barely keeping herself from fidgeting. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally left the shop with more bags than Isolde cared to count and made their way to Olivanders.

The wand shop was small, cluttered with shelves stacked high with all manner of wand boxes. The smell of old wood and magic hung heavy in the air. Isolde barely had time to admire the dusty shelves before Olivander appeared, his eyes narrowing as he looked up from his workbench. His gaze flicked from her mother to her, and he seemed to hesitate for just a moment before nodding.

“Eldora,” he said in a quiet, reserved manner. “I believe we have the perfect wand for your daughter.”

He led them to the back of the shop, where a quiet hum seemed to pulse through the air. Isolde held her breath as Olivander retrieved several wands from the shelves, testing each one. First was a slender, vine-like wand of willow with a phoenix feather core, but it flared out in an explosion of sparks. Then, a sturdy yew wand with a dragon heartstring core sent a ripple of warmth through her fingers before it, too, failed.

Finally, Olivander’s eyes lit up as he pulled out a sleek black wand. “Ebony, 11¾ inches, dragon heartstring,” he said with quiet satisfaction, handing it to Isolde.

As soon as her fingers closed around it, the air seemed to hum with power. Her mother nodded approvingly, her lips curving into a rare smile.

Isolde didn’t want to put it down. She wanted to carry it with her for the rest of the day but, her mother insisted and placed the wand in it’s box and in one of her shopping bags.

With a wave and a curt smile they exited the shop. Aaric, who was laden with books, a small cauldron and a cage tucked under his arm was waiting for them outside. Inside the cage was a sleek, cream-colored Siamese cat with deep chocolate points on its face, ears, and paws stared up at Isolde with large, almond-shaped blue eyes.

Isolde rushed towards them, her excitement bubbling over as she peered into the cage. The cat blinked slowly, then pressed its face against the bars, clearly taking an instant liking to her. She reached out carefully, and the cat purred softly as her fingers brushed its fur.

“Isolde, do you have everything?” her father asked, his tone impatient but fond.

She nodded feverishly, not taking her eyes off the cat. Her father took her hand in his as they made their back to Knockturn Alley, Isolde’s new belongings following behind them. At Cinder & Slate, the Malfoy family was already seated. Draco and Isolde’s new pets were the subject of their hushed conversation, their eyes wide with excitement as they watched their new companions.

“I saw a dragon in the window today,” Draco said, his voice low and filled with awe.

Isolde’s eyes widened in interest. “Really? I have dragon heartstring in my wand,” she replied, twirling it between her fingers. “I think that’s what makes it special.”

Draco’s eyes gleamed, and he nodded. “I have unicorn hair in mine.”

They were interrupted by a call from Draco’s father, who reminded them, “Wash up before dinner please.”

Isolde and Draco hurried off to the bathroom, the excitement of the day still buzzing in the air. As they neared the door, Draco leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper. “I heard Harry Potter’s coming to Hogwarts.”

Chapter 1: The Letter

Isolde Rosier had never felt this strange blend of excitement, fear, and anticipation as a letter with her name on it sat atop the kitchen table. The moment she saw the parchment, sealed with the familiar crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, her heart leapt into her throat.

She didn’t even bother to read the letter right away. Her hands shook with eager impatience as she tore open the envelope. Her eyes skimmed the elegant handwriting: We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Her chest tightened with joy. She had been waiting for this day for years, ever since her parents first told her about Hogwarts, about the wonders of magic, the wonders she would soon learn to wield. Her father, with his vast knowledge, had taught her many things—spells, charms, and even potions. And now, she was going. Finally, she would be joining a world where she truly belonged.

Her excitement only grew as she rushed down the stairs to find her father. The sound of muffled voices echoed from the study—deep, unfamiliar voices. She paused for a moment, unsure whether to interrupt. But her curiosity and the thrill of her acceptance letter spurred her forward.

As she pushed open the door to the study, the scene before her made her pause. Her father, dressed in his dark robes, stood amidst a circle of men, their faces hidden behind masks. Death Eaters. Isolde felt a flicker of unease, but she was no stranger to their presence at their house. Her father had always kept his dealings to himself, but his position at the Ministry meant that men like these often came to their home. Her gaze met her father's as he looked up, his stern expression softening when he saw her.

“My dear,” he said, his voice cold but affectionate, as he knelt down before her and took her hand in his. His dark, black eyes locked onto hers. “What is it?”

“I—I got my letter,” she whispered, holding up the Hogwarts acceptance letter, her hands trembling.

Her father’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek. The kiss was brief, but his next words were filled with something deeper. “Go and tell Draco. Run, Isolde.”

Before she could react, she heard her mother’s voice from upstairs, calling her. “Isolde, be polite to our guests.”

Isolde nodded, giving her father one last glance before she curtsied toward the men, her heart pounding. The Death Eaters barely acknowledged her, their eyes hooded in suspicion or indifference. She hurried down the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She couldn’t wait to see Draco.

Grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the jar by the hearth, she tossed it into the flames. “Malfoy Manor!” she called, stepping into the fire as the green flames swallowed her whole.

When the spinning ceased, she stumbled out of the fireplace and into the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor. The house, so familiar and cold, loomed large around her. She brushed soot from her black tunic as she looked up to find Dobby sweeping the floor.

“Good evening, Miss Isolde,” Dobby said in his usual quiet voice, his wide, large eyes glimmering in the dim light.

“Evening, Dobby,” she muttered, frowning at the house-elf, before hurrying up the stairs. Her mother would have scolded her if she knew how polite she had been to a house elf but, Isolde Couldn’t bear to be cruel to such a creature.

Before she could reach the next landing, Draco appeared, his white-blonde hair shining in the hallway’s light. He grinned at the sight of her, his usual air of arrogance tempered with something warmer.

“Isolde!” he greeted, his voice light. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

She handed him the letter, her eyes bright with excitement. “I got in!” she said eagerly.

Draco pulled out a crumpled letter from his own pocket. “So did I,” he said, showing it to her with a wide smile.

Isolde grinned, and without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this happy. They were both going to Hogwarts—together.

Draco pulled back slightly, brushing soot off her cheek. His fingers lingered for a moment too long, and the air between them shifted just slightly. Isolde's heart raced in her chest, but before she could say anything, Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the doorway, her presence regal and poised.

“Are you joining us for dinner, Isolde?” she asked with a soft smile.

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” Isolde said politely, curtsying slightly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so formal,” he muttered, tugging her towards the dining room. “Let’s eat.”

As they entered, Narcissa flicked her wrist, and the table magically filled with food. The rich scents of roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables filled the room, making Isolde’s stomach growl. She sat down, waiting for Narcissa to take her seat before anyone else could begin.

The sound of footsteps signalled Lucius Malfoy’s arrival. He walked into the room, his sharp eyes glinting in the low light. His pale, aristocratic face softened slightly when he saw Isolde, and he smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Ah, Isolde,” he said, his voice smooth. “I trust you’ve received your letter? Congratulations.”

Isolde nodded quickly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, especially when she saw Severus Snape entering the room behind Lucius Malfoy. Her pulse quickened. She had seen Snape before, at her house, speaking with her father in hushed tones. His presence here didn’t bode well.

Lucius Malfoy noticed her unease and chuckled, though there was no warmth in it. “Don’t worry, my dear. Severus here works at Hogwarts. You’ll see him there,” Lucius said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Snape gave a curt nod, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Lucius continued, his voice becoming more commanding. “Severus, this is my Goddaughter Isolde Rosier.” Any hint of a smile had disappeared from his face. “Severus will be there to look after you if need be. And Draco—” He turned his gaze sharply to his son. “—you will be on your best behaviour. Understand?”

Draco nodded stiffly, though there was a glint of defiance in his eyes. “Of course, Father.”

“Very good,” Lucius said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Severus will protect you both at all costs. Remember that.”

Isolde’s eyes flickered nervously between Lucius and Snape. The air was thick with tension, and she felt a chill creep down her spine. She knew what her father and Lucius were involved in, but hearing Lucius speak in such a way, commanding Snape to protect them... it all felt wrong.

As if sensing her unease, Snape’s eyes flicked to her. He said nothing, but there was a slight tightening of his jaw.

The meal proceeded in an awkward silence, the food growing cold on the plates as Isolde couldn’t shake the ominous feeling lingering in the air.

As the dinner at Malfoy Manor ended, Isolde said a quick goodbye. The weight of the evening’s conversation pressed on her chest, and she couldn’t help but glance over at Snape, still seated at the table, his presence like a shadow. She made her way back to the fireplace and Flooed home, her mind swirling with questions she wasn’t sure she was ready to ask.

When she stepped out of the fireplace into the quiet darkness of Rosier Manor, the house was still. She brushed soot off her tunic and walked toward the entry hall. As she peeked into the hallway, she immediately felt the familiar presence of her father. His figure was silhouetted against the faint light of the study, his face shadowed and unreadable.

“Isolde,” he called softly, his voice low and commanding. She didn’t respond immediately, instead walking toward him slowly, feeling an inexplicable pull. He was waiting for her as he always did.

He reached out, taking her hand in his with surprising gentleness. His grip was firm but tender as his thumb brushed over hers, his touch somehow reassuring. Without a word, he guided her up the stairs. As they walked, the sound of their footsteps echoed through the manor. She glanced up at her father but said nothing, sensing there was something looming between them.

When they reached the second-floor landing, he led her down the long, dimly lit corridor to her room. The door creaked as it opened. 

Isolde’s room was a strange mix of darkness and childhood innocence. Shelves lined the walls, filled with eerie trinkets and mysterious relics. Among them were bones, feathers, and fangs, carefully arranged in jars. The bed, a grand four-poster crafted from black wood, was carved with twisting serpents that slithered up the posts, and the silver silk coverlet shimmered faintly in the dim light, adorned with a black snake embroidered along its edge. Plush animals, with button eyes and patched seams, were scattered across the bed, their warmth contrasting with the chill of the room. Withered flowers sat in vases on her bedside table, while the room held an eerie warmth as the moonlight danced along the floor.

Her father sat in the black velvet armchair in the corner and lifted her onto his knee, the silence thick between them. He sat there for a moment, studying her, before reaching into his breast pocket. His fingers brushed over something hidden beneath the fabric, and when he pulled it out, Isolde’s breath caught in her throat.

It was a small, dark artifact—an intricate pendant, carved from black stone that hung on a gold chain. The design was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was small enough to carry, but the weight of it felt immense when her father placed it over her head. The pendant was shaped like an old symbol, a twisted figure that seemed to coil into itself, the edges sharp yet worn from age.

“This,” her father said softly as he pinched the pendant between his thumb and pointer finger, his voice tinged with something she couldn’t place, “is for you, my love. A gift... to always carry with you.”

Isolde’s fingers curled around her father’s, the warmth of his hand seeping into her skin. She met his eyes, her heart racing. “What is it?” she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

Her father’s eyes were unreadable as he looked at her. “A reminder of who you are. Of where you come from.”

Isolde’s chest tightened, and she felt a wave of confusion, fear, and fascination all at once. She could feel the weight of the pendant, but it was more than that—it felt like a connection to something she hadn’t yet grasped. Something much bigger than Hogwarts, bigger than the letter she had received.

He kissed her forehead gently, his lips cold against her skin. “Keep it with you, Isolde. Always. And remember, you are not just anyone. You are part of something far greater… You’re a witch.”

With that, he lifted her off his knee and got up off the armchair to leave, his shadow swallowing him as he stepped into the darkness of the hallway. The door clicked softly behind him, and Isolde stood alone in her room, the pendant still hanging around her neck. She stared at it for a long moment, trying to make sense of the words, the weight of her father’s expectations pressing heavily upon her.

Chapter 15: Signets

Dragons are drawn to potential, but signets only surface when you’re ready to confront your deepest truths. Be prepared to face the parts of yourself you’d rather keep hidden.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

The morning sun glared through the stainglass windows as Thana stepped onto the mat. She was out of the healer’s quadrant, finally, and Xaden had ordered her to resume her training with Garrick. Garrick was already waiting for her, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. His usually sharp, commanding tone had softened since her return, and that unsettled her more than anything else.

He greeted her with a nod and handed her a training sword. “Let’s see where your strength’s at.”

Thana hefted the weapon, testing its weight. “You’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”

Garrick hesitated for a fraction of a second before giving a half-smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

But as their session began, she couldn’t ignore how measured his strikes were, how he pulled his hits when she faltered. He wasn’t pushing her as hard as he used to, and it grated on her nerves. After a particularly restrained swing, she stepped back, lowering her sword.

“Stop,” she snapped. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Garrick frowned, his jaw tightening. “I’m building your strength back up.”

“No,” she said, her voice sharp. “You’re holding back. I don’t need your pity.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, she saw the old Garrick—the one who had trained her relentlessly under her father’s guidance. “It’s not pity, Thana. I—” He cut himself off, exhaling roughly, dropping his sword. “How are you holding up?”

The question caught her off guard. She tilted her head, studying him. “I’m fine,” she said carefully. “You?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he focused on the grip of his sword. “Imogen and I... we’re done.”

Her brow furrowed. “What happened?”

“It wasn’t working.” He shrugged as if it were simple, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “She has her path, and I have mine.”

There was a heaviness to his words, but before she could press further, he changed the subject. “When you were taken… Válka knew immediately.”

Thana swallowed hard, gripping her sword tighter.

“We came for you as fast as we could,” Garrick continued, his voice low and raw. “Válka wanted to burn the whole castle to the ground. Xaden—he was terrified. And Liam—he couldn’t stop blaming himself. We searched for days, and when we found you…” His voice cracked. “I would never have forgiven myself if your name ended up on that death roll–”

Before she could react, he pulled her into a hug. It was fierce and unyielding, more for him than for her. “I can’t lose you, Thana.”

Her breath hitched, but she returned the embrace, patting his back awkwardly. “It’s not your fault. This is just… part of it.”

He placed a kiss on the top of her head and pulled away nodding reluctantly but the guilt in his eyes lingered. She despised that. 

~

Thana walked into the lecture hall among a sea cadets as they filed in for battle brief. Bodhi was sitting next Violet, arms crossed over his chest and eyes shut. He must have had a big night with the red head from the third wing.

She scanned the crowd for a seat and saw Liam waving her over. One seat next to him with her name on it. Her stomach turned to lead.

The last thing that she wanted to do was to be cornered in and asked about how she was feeling or what happened to her. She wanted to escape into the little meadow in her mind and bask in the warmth of the sunlight.

“You don’t need to babysit me,” she muttered as she sat down next to Liam.

Liam frowned. “I should’ve never agreed to help Violet. Not if it meant losing you.”

Not a hello. Nothing. Not even a little small talk before he went off blaming himself.

“You didn’t lose me,” she said softly but firmly. “I’m right here.”

He nodded, though the guilt still clouded his features. As the briefing began, Thana opened her notebook and began sketching absentmindedly. The lines took shape quickly: her brother crouched in the corner of the cell, his eyes piercing through the page.

“What is that?” Liam whispered, leaning closer. “Is that…?”

Thana snapped the notebook shut, her heart pounding. “It’s nothing.” She shoved it into her bag and caught Liam glancing toward Xaden. She refused to follow his gaze.

~

The corridors were quiet as Thana made her way back to her dorm. She turned a corner and nearly collided with Dain Aetos.

“Glad to see you back,” he said, his tone guarded. There was an unspoken apology behind his words that Thana did not care for. If she had the strength to fight back in that cell she would have but, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of a retaliation now. She was not going to let him think that his words settled in her chest and festered for the past few weeks. She would die before she left him think that his words or his opinions mean anything to her.

Her hand hovered over the blade sheathed at her hip. For a fleeting moment, she imagined driving it through his heart. Instead, she stepped around him, giving him a wide berth.

Her mind churned as she reached her room. She thought of the challenge, the dungeon, the helplessness she’d felt. Thana often thought of her mother, her brother and her father but, never did they ever come to her as an apparition so clear as they did in that cold, wet dungeon cell. 

As she opened the door, her breath caught. Xaden was sitting at the desk by the window, her notebook open in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice icy. “Get out.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he held up the sketch. “What is this?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, but the lie was weak, even to her own ears.

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was low and dangerous as he slammed his hand on the desk. “Tell me the truth, Thana. I’m trying to help you and how can I do that if I don’t what happened?”

Her resolve faltered as reminders of her time under the castle came in flashbacks. The scent of damp assaulted her nostrils, her mother’s eery lullaby’s echoed in her mind. She did not want to relive her time down there. She didn’t want to talk to anyone about the hell she endured. The physical torment, she could endure over and over again but, the emotional turmoil was too much. 

When she saw Dain Aetos mere minutes before, she wanted to drive a blade through his heart over and over again. But, she knew that wouldn’t erase her memories. She knew that every time she saw him she’d be taken back there and that was something she’d have to live with. It was too much. It was too raw. She need him out.

“Get out!” she screamed as she grabbed his arm and shoved him into the hallway. She slammed the door in his face before he could say anything else and pushed the dresser in front of the door. She knew that wouldn’t keep out anyone who was determined to get in but, the gesture made her feel better..

She walked back over and took a seat on her bed as she tried to catch her breath. Liam and Garrick had both tried to ask her what happened down there and she wasn’t ready to tell anyone. What made Xaden think she’d open up to him? He had avoided her since she got out of the healer’s quadrant sending his little watch dogs to keep an eye on her. The gesture was kind but, didn’t he want to see for himself? She guessed he did otherwise why would he have come here tonight but, she needed to do this on her terms and now wasn’t the time.

As she sucked in a sharp breath she felt a small hand slip into hers. “How are you still here?” she asked Aric as he sat on the bed beside her. His feet dangled above the floor as he leant his head on her bicep.

Chapter 14: The Mother

You are not your mother, Thana. Where she saw only despair, you find reasons to keep fighting. I see it in every choice you make, every battle you take on. Strength isn’t the absence of pain—it’s carrying it and still moving forward, and you do that every day in a way she never could.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

Thana’s eyes flickered open, the chill of the stone seeping into her bones. The walls were rough, jagged, as though they had been untouched for centuries. The faint drip of water echoed in the silence, and her body ached as if she had been beaten senseless. But it wasn’t the physical pain that consumed her—it was the emptiness, the absence of something she couldn’t quite name. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to sleep, to escape the darkness that gnawed at her thoughts.

But then, a soft voice whispered in the corner of her mind, soothing, familiar.

“Thana.”

Her heart skipped a beat, a flutter of hope rising within her chest. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the dim light.

Her mother stood in front of her, bathed in an ethereal glow, her features soft yet distinct, like a faint memory.

“Mom?” Thana’s voice cracked, the word feeling foreign on her lips. She had never imagined she would speak to her mother again, not after everything that had happened. Her mother’s death had fractured her, and the absence had left a hole so deep, she feared it would consume her.

“Yes, Thana.” Her mother smiled gently, kneeling beside her. “You’ve grown so much. Stronger than I ever thought possible.”

Thana’s breath hitched. “But you... You’re not real. You can’t be…”

Her mother’s hand brushed her cheek, warm, comforting. “You’ve always had the strength to reach across the veil, Thana. Even when you didn’t know it.”

Thana swallowed hard, trying to process her mother’s words. “I don’t understand.”

Her mother’s expression softened, and she stroked Thana’s hair. “You are stronger than you realize, my darling Thana.”

Thana’s chest tightened. “I’ve failed him. I’ve failed everyone.”

Her mother smiled softly, her hand gently brushing Thana’s cheek. “No, you haven’t. You are more than capable. And your dragon—” She paused, her eyes glinting with knowing. “Your dragon would do anything to protect you.”

Thana felt the weight of her mother’s words, but her heart ached with uncertainty. “I can’t trust anyone, not after everything that’s happened… not even Xaden.”

Her mother’s gaze darkened, a shadow crossing her ethereal face. “A war is coming, Thana. Basgiath is corrupt. You cannot trust them, not even Xaden.”

The words echoed in Thana’s mind. She didn’t know if her mother was telling the truth or speaking is poetic psychosis. Before she hedge for more, her mother’s form began to flicker, as though she were fading away into the air itself.

“Wait—” Thana gasped, reaching for her. “Mom, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone again.”

But the apparition was gone. The warmth, the comfort, all of it vanished into thin air, leaving only the cold stone and the silence.

“Thana.”

Her name—spoken with such cruel finality—pulled her back to reality. She looked up to see Dain standing over her, his expression unreadable. He crouched down beside her, his fingers brushing against her temple, his touch cold.

“You’re pathetic,” Dain spat, his voice filled with contempt. “Your father was a coward, and so are you. Your mother was a derranged, and you’re no different.”

Thana recoiled from his words, as though they were a physical blow. She could barely keep her eyes open, but his presence filled her with a searing rage. She wanted to scream at him, to fight back, but her body was too weak.

Dain’s lips curled into a sneer. “No one is coming for you and you will sit here and you will rot for all eternity just like your father should have.”

He turned away, leaving her to perrish in the dungeon, the door slamming shut with a resounding thud.

As the cold began to settle into her bones, a small figure appeared in the corner of her vision. At first, she thought it was a trick of the light, but then she saw him clearly—an eight-year-old boy, sitting quietly, his big brown eyes watching her.

Thana’s heart stuttered in her chest. She blinked, trying to clear her blurry vision.

“Liam?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The boy shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “No, Thana. I’m not Liam.”

Thana’s breath hitched as she recognized him. “Aric?”

The boy nodded, his smile gentle but sad. “I always wanted to be just like you when I grew up. I wanted to follow everything that you did. When I was poorly and you would come and tell me about all of your adventures I wanted to go on them with, Thana. And now… Now I get to hike the valleys and ride dragon with you like you always promised I would.”

Thana’s chest tightened, and she felt tears welling up once more. “I’m so sorry, Aric. I should’ve protected you. I should’ve looked after you. If I had, you wouldn’t have…”

Aric shook his head and crawled towards her, his small hand reaching out to grasp hers. “You’re my hero, Thana. You always were. I am so proud to call you my sister.”

Thana’s heart swelled with an overwhelming mix of grief and love. “I’m so sorry.”

Aric smiled again, his eyes bright with warmth. “This is not your fault. None of it is. I was ill but, you made me feel well.”

The words struck her like a bolt of lightning, and for a moment, it was as if everything stopped—her grief, her pain, her doubts. But then Aric’s expression changed, a hint of urgency creeping into his voice.

“They’re coming,” he whispered.

Before she could ask who, Aric kissed her forehead gently. “I’ll be with you for many more adventures. Always.” Then he retreated back into the corner.

Thana’s heart shattered as she reached for him, but he was gone.

The door slammed open with a force that shook the room, and Liam rushed in, his face pale, his eyes wild with fear. “Thana!” He rushed to her side, lifting her gently into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’ve got you”

Thana’s vision blurred, her strength waning. But just before everything faded to black, she looked back to the corner.

Aric was gone.

~

Thana awoke in a soft bed, her body covered in a warm blanket. The sterile scent of healing herbs filled her nostrils, and she could hear the soft murmur of voices nearby.

She turned her head slightly, and her heart ached as she saw Liam sitting beside her, his hand cupped in hers and head resting on the edge of her bed, asleep. Across the room, Xaden sat in a chair, his posture relaxed as he slept in an armchair. Garrick, too, was slumped against the wall, his back to the chair, asleep on the floor.

Thana’s heart squeezed, but it was the absence of something—or someone—that pulled at her.

She reached out in her mind, calling for the one who had saved her, the one who had been there when everything else had failed.

Válka? she whispered softly.

His voice came to her like a distant rumble, warm and comforting. I’m here, Thana.

Thana let out a sigh of relief. Thank you, she said, knowing it was Válka who sent out a search party to look for her. For finding me, she clarified.

If the world burned down, I’d still search the ashes for you, Thana. His words wrapped around her, offering a sense of safety she hadn’t realized that she needed.

She smiled, a small, fragile thing, but it was enough. Rest now, Thana. You just rest.

Chapter 13: Forgotten

Thana had never felt more isolated than she did now. She knew it was her own doing—her decision to retreat into herself, her own inability to forgive and forget. 

Liam’s move to the second squad hit her harder than she’d anticipated. She knew that it was all part of Xaden’s plan to keep Violet alive but, she could not comprehend or accept why he had to do so. Every day, she watched Liam and Violet—laughing, studying, even training together—doing all the things he and Thana used to do. 

Her training with Garrick had also tapered off. She had no idea where he spent his time anymore—mostly with Imogen, she gathered. His quiet affection had turned to fleeting moments between his endless responsibilities, one of which involved helping Imogen to train Violet. She slowly saw herself being edged out by someone that she alone saw as the enemy.

Thana’s refuge had become the library. In the back corner, by the stained glass window, where the light filtered in just so, casting colorful hues across the worn wooden tables. She had stolen a tome of folklore stories from the library cart and was immersed in the tale her father used to read to her as a child. The rhythmic lilt of his voice echoed in her mind as she read it over and over again. A story about a heroine who saved a burning kingdom.

Her fingers brushed over the brittle pages, each word bringing back painful reminders of her father. Of what she had lost, of what he was missing.

Before she could finish the story, the sound of scurrying footsteps interrupted her. A cadet from the Scribe Quadrant, Jessina, hovered nervously close by, clearly waiting for her chance to grab the book and return it to the shelf.

Thana slid the book across the table, and Jessina snatched it up before disappearing into the maze of shelves. Thana watched her go, her heart heavy as she let the silence fall back around her.

"What's that all about?" a voice asked.

Thana looked up to find Ruari standing closeby, leaning against one of the shelves with a smirk. He was the only person she’d been able to rely on lately, the only one who seemed to have the patience or desire to spend any time with her.

"Just doing her job," Thana replied with a small laugh, a forced lightness to her voice.

Ruari raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press. He stepped closer. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, and Thana motioned for him to do so with a nod.

They shared a few moments of silence, the air comfortable between them. The absence of words didn’t feel like a weight but rather like a safe space where nothing needed to be said. They could just be.

Ruari broke the quiet first, his voice warm but playful. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, Thana.”

Her lips curved into a small smile at that. “I’m sure you haven’t.”

“You’ve got a way of making everything seem… more interesting. Even folklore,” Ruari continued, his gaze softening as he glanced at the book in front of her that she had taken from the shelves a few weeks ago and didn’t have the willingness to return. “How’d you end up with that one?”

Thana hesitated, thinking back to her father. Her chest tightened. “My father used to read it to me… when I was younger. Before…” She swallowed hard, blinking away the sting in her eyes.

Ruari’s expression softened with understanding. He didn’t push, didn’t ask for more than she was willing to give. The way he respected her space, letting her share only what she wanted to, made her feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time: safe.

They continued to talk in hushed tones—about classes, about training, about their future, if there was one. But with each word that passed between them, Thana found herself missing her friends, even Xaden, though she couldn’t bring herself to face him now. They were slipping away, and she wasn’t sure how to stop it.

Ruari, with his quiet strength and gentle teasing, felt like the only constant at the moment. He said things that made her laugh, distracted her from the trap that was her own mind mind. At one point, his eyes softened, and he said, “I like spending time with you, Thana.”

The words, simple as they were, hit her harder than she expected. She liked spending time with him too. He was kind, easy to be around, and made her forget, even for a moment, that she was falling into a pit of her own making.

But as much as she appreciated his company, it was hard not to think of the gaping void where Liam should be. Thana’s thoughts drifted to the way he’d been with Violet earlier, looking so at ease in her presence. He hadn’t looked that way with her in weeks.

She tried to push the thought away, tried to focus on Ruari, on the comfort he provided, but it was impossible not to notice the growing distance between her and the people she cared about.

Her musings were interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from the doorway. She glanced up, her heart sinking when she saw Liam and Violet standing together, their heads bent in whispered conversation. Violet was laughing, leaning in closer to Liam, who—despite his obvious affection for her—flashed a glance at Thana and gave a small wave.

Thana forced a smile, the hollow feeling in her chest spreading like a disease. She wanted to scream, to ask him why he didn’t resent her, why he didn’t hate her mere existence. But all she could do was watch them, the friendship forming between them like a slap across her face.

Ruari noticed her reaction, his brows furrowing in concern. “Hey,” he said softly, placing a hand on the table, “you ok?”

Thana looked at him, her smile still tight. “I’m fine. Just…” She couldn’t find the words to explain what she felt, so instead, she lied. “I’m fine.”

She glanced at the two of them again, her chest tightening as she saw Liam smile more brightly at Violet, his gaze lingering on her in a way that only deepened the gnawing ache in Thana’s heart. He found Violet interesting, Thana could tell, he liked spending time with her.

Ruari, sensing the shift in her mood, leaned in slightly, his voice quieter this time. “I’ll walk you back to your room,” he offered.

Thana shook her head, pushing herself out of her chair. “No, it’s okay. I’ll walk myself.”

She shoved the tome under her jacket before making her way toward the door, taking the long way to avoid Liam and Violet. The hallway seemed longer than it ever had before, the silence in her footsteps deafening. The air around her felt thick and she couldn’t shake the sense that the world around her was fading.

By the time she reached the door to her room, everything went black.

~

Thana awoke with a sharp throb in her head, the pain blinding. She could feel the cold, damp floor beneath her, and as her vision cleared, she realized she was not in her room. She was somewhere that felt far away, the walls cracked and damp, the air heavy with an unnatural chill.

And there, sitting beside her, stroking her hair with a soft, tender touch, was her mother.

Thana’s breath caught in her throat as the haunting, sinister melody filled the air, her mother singing in that eerie, melodic tone she’d always used when Thana was small, when she would try to lull her to sleep. But now, the song felt wrong—too familiar, too unsettling.

Chapter 12: Execution

Accusing a wingleader of wrongdoing is the most dangerous of all accusations. If you’re right, then we’ve failed as a quadrant to select the best wingleaders. If you’re wrong, you’re dead.

My Time As A Cadet: A Memoir by General Augustine Melgren

~

Thana was never good at staying still. Even when she thought she could emulate Xaden’s statuesque composure, she’d notice herself tapping her foot or twisting her hair between her fingers. Today, as she stood in formation beside Liam, she found herself hyper fixated on the small stone that had lodged itself inside of her boot. She was trying her damndest to manoeuvre it to a position that was less maddening but, her attempts fell short. Despite its infuriating presence, it was a welcome distraction from General Lilith Sorrengail’s attendance on the dais.

Why is she here? Thana asked Valka as she glared at the woman who had her father executed. You’ll find out soon enough, was all she heard in reply.

Thana watched as Xaden descended from the dais and made his way over to Dain Aetos. She suppressed a smirk at the glaring power imbalance that clearly unsettled Dain, all his attempts to assert dominance falling flat. It was obvious he loathed taking orders from anyone, least of all a marked one—let alone Xaden Riorson.

When their conversation was finished, Xaden waved Liam over. After a few words back and forth, Liam joined the formation of the second squad, flame section, fourth wing.

What the fuck? Thana asked. More of a statement than a question. It seems Platinum has been moved to the second squad.

She glared at Xaden trying to catch his attention as Captain Fitzgibbons mounted the dais and made his way over to the podium. She could not understand why Liam would be moved and why he went without question. Fitzgibbons lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose, took an exasperated breath and began.

Thana had stopped paying attention as the names were read aloud at formation each morning. It was an unceremonious way to farewell the fallen cadets and she refused to let their sacrifices be reduced to mere names on a list. Plus, if she thought about them too much she’d surely feel the dread pool in her stomach, a premonition of worse things to come.

As she scanned the crowd, she noticed Violet and Rhiannon gossiping amongst themselves. Violet looked a little worse for wear this morning and Thana couldn’t help but think that Amber may have had something to do with it.

Amber Mavis had cornered Thana a few days after Threshing and tried to recruit her to join a few other cadets who wanted to kill Violet Sorrengail. Amber was still pissed that Violet broke codex on the Gauntlet and her little cronies were butthurt that they hadn’t bonded a dragon especially since Violet had bonded two. Thana would have said yes if Xaden hadn’t asked her more than once to stay away. She still didn’t understand why Xaden would want to protect Violet of all people but, she gave up guessing. She knew he’d tell her at the opportune time and, for now, no matter how much the urge for revenge knawed at her, she knew she had no choice but to trust him.

As Captain Fitzgibbons read off the last names on the death roll, Thana stomach sunk. She recognised those names–mostly unbonded cadets–all of them recruited to carry our Amber’s vendetta. Thana looked around in disbelief trying to find their faces in the crowd. Surely Violet didn’t kill them on her own. Surely Amber didn’t deceive them only to turn on them at the last minute. After all, she was friends with Aetos and Aetos and Violet were… friends? Fucking? Thana wasn’t sure but, there was history there.

How did this happen? she asked Valka, How did they all die? How is Violet -

I believe Shadowspawn is about to answer that for you, Valka replied, his disdain for Xaden palpable.

Xaden made his way to the podium flanked by Garrick and Bodhi. He looked out at the cadets before him, a merciless look in his eye.

“Early this morning,” he began, his voice calm but commanding, “a rider in my wing was brutally, illegally attacked in her sleep with the intent of murder by a group of unbonded riders. As we all know, this is a violation of Article Three, Section Two of the Dragon Rider’s Codex. It is also a capital offence.”

His gaze swept over the crowd, landing on Thana for a fraction of a second. Since when did Xaden care about the codex?

“The attack was orchestrated by a rider who fled before I arrived,” Xaden continued. “Wingleader Amber Mavis.”

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Thana stood frozen. How had Xaden or anyone else found out?

Thana had spent the last two weeks contemplating whether or not to tell Xaden but, secretly, she didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want him to stop them. Maybe that makes her guilty of violating Article Three, Section Two of the Dragon Rider’s Codex too but, she thought that Xaden would be happy. That he’d be relieved that someone else took the burden off his hands. And that was beside the point. Xaden trusted Amber. He trusted all of the wingleaders. Thana couldn’t comprehend why he’d reprimand Amber instead of keeping his mouth shut. It had to have something to do with Violet. Everything seems to have something to do with Violet. With Lilith. Was that why she was on the dais?

Stop overthinking. You can’t change this, Valka noted.

As Amber stepped forward, she protested, her voice shrill, “You’re only doing this because my family didn’t join your father’s rebellion.”

Xaden seemed unphased as he called upon the other wingleaders to form a quorum. Thana hated the politics of this hellhole. The decision of life or death comes down to the judgement made by three people a few years older than herself. Why not put it to the dragons? Why not give Amber more than 5 minutes to explain her reasons? Why didn’t Thana talk her out of it? Surely if she had, the six would still be here and Amber–

You are not responsible for this, Thana, Valka interrupted.

The sound of wings battering the air above them signalled the approach of the dragons flying in from the valley. Thana would never get used to the sheer size of these creatures as they perched on the citadel walls. She could feel the energy shifting around her, the air thickening with apprehension. Above the silence, she could hear her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

Xaden declared Amber Mavis guilty with the same cold resignation as Fitzgibbons had reading the death roll. Thana was disgusted by him. She couldn’t understand how he could be so nonchalant about the death of a peer. A friend. Basgiath had changed him.

The rider’s quadrant watched as Amber begged for her life, begged for Claidh. The desperate shrieks of Amber’s dragon pierced through the courtyard. Tairn snapped at her as the other dragons remained on their perches. Thana couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening.

As Tairn lowered his head, it all seemed to move in slow motion. The crowd retreated toward the courtyard walls as Tairn bared his teeth to Amber Mavis. Lilith Sorrengail looked on with contentment as a roar shook the citadel and a torrent of flames shot from between Tairn’s bared teeth. In an instant, the fire surged forward turning flesh to ash in an instant.

Claidh’s cries filled the air; the dragon’s mourning could be heard for miles as she launched from her perch back toward the valley. As ceremoniously as ever, Fitzgibbons read Amber’s name from the death roll before dismissing the cadets from formation.

Thana stood motionless, her feet planted firmly in place, as if her very soul had been held captive by the sight before her. As the other cadets fled from the courtyard, she wished desperately that Liam had been standing beside her to hold her steady or to assure her that this was not her fault.

But he wasn’t. And it was Liam who pulled her focus back to the courtyard. It was her squad leader, Exo Halt.

“Are you ok?” he asked. She realised they were the only two people left except for Garrick and Xaden who were in deep conversation on the dais.

She ignored his question. “Did you know?” she asked.

“About Amber? No, I-” he began. “About Liam.”

Exo's shake of the head was unmistakably sincere. Thana forced a tight-lipped smile, brushed her hand on his arm and started to make her way to Xaden. Before she could get to the dais, Xaden and Garrick disappeared into a crowded hallway.

Thana stood in the middle of the courtyard, mere feet from Amber’s ashes.

What now? She searched for Valka in the confines of her mind.

Chapter 11: Threshing

In the six centuries of recorded history of dragon and rider, there have been hundreds of known cases where a dragon simply cannot emotionally recover from the loss of their bonded river. This happens when the bond is particularly strong and, in three documented cases, has even caused the untimely death of the dragon.

Navarre, An Unedited History by Colonel Lewis Markham.

~

October first is always Threshing. Monday, Wednesday, or Sunday, it doesn’t matter where it falls on any given year. On the first of October, the first-year cadens of the Riders Quadrant enter the bowl-shaped forested valley to the southwest of the citadel and pray they come out alive.

“Don’t die,” Xaden had told her that morning at breakfast. She’d barely touched her food that morning, her stomach churning too much to eat. She remembered Professor Kaori’s words: If a dragon has chosen you, they’ll make it known. They’ll be calling. Yet as she stepped into the dense, misty forest, silence met her ears. No call. No sign. Only the quiet crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant cries of cadets who’d already bonded, flying back to the flight field on their dragon’s back.

Hours passed. Judging by the sun, she figured it must be nearing midday, and her nerves frayed further with every dragon that crossed her path. She passed greens, browns, even a few oranges, all of them letting her pass without a second glance. She moved with caution, taking in every rustle, every breath of wind, searching for a sign that one of them might choose her. But there was nothing. And now Liam was gone, having left about an hour ago, claiming he needed to “follow his instincts.” Alone, Thana kept pushing forward, her feet drawing her deeper into the valley. The forest grew denser, quieter, and she sensed she was nearing the boundaries that Professor Kaori had specifically warned them to avoid.

Her father’s voice whispered to her through the stillness of the trees, reminding her of the quiet nights they’d spent camping, watching stars above and learning to find peace in the wild. She felt closer to him here, beneath the canopy, where everything was raw and untouched. She loved this—the wilderness, the solitude. Even so, she knew her time was running short. She climbed a steep cliff edge, emerging into a sunlit clearing, dropping her pack to stretch. She couldn’t hear any other cadets anymore, nor the distant beat of dragon wings. Had she gone too far?

Suddenly, a flash of blue caught her eye through the trees, and her breath caught. Golden eyes glared at her, framed by vicious fangs. She recognized the dragon instantly—Sgaeyl, majestic and terrifying in the shifting light. But Sgaeyl wasn’t alone. Stepping out from behind her was Xaden.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, disappointment flickering across his face. 

“Kaori said to follow your instincts” Thana shot back, barely hiding her frustration. 

Xaden was guarded. He looked like he was going to say something but, he hesitated. He knew something that she didn’t, she was certain of that but, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, not now.

Before either could speak, a dark shadow swept over them, and the scarred dragon descended into the clearing with a thunderous flap of wings making the ground quake as it landed. Sgaeyl tensed, shifting to stand protectively in front of Xaden. There was a strange, silent exchange between Sgaeyl and the other blue, as if they were locked in some kind of fierce, unspoken argument. Thana glanced at Xaden, who looked as tense as Sgaeyl, his gaze flicking between the dragons as though he, too, was part of the conversation.

When Sgaeyl snapped, baring her teeth at the other dragon, Thana instinctively stepped out from behind Xaden and ran into the clearing where she met Sgaeyl’s intense stare. “Stop it!”

Sgaeyl dropped her head to meet Thana’s stare. You can’t tell a dragon what to do, the voice in her head snapped. Thana blinked, realizing with a jolt that Sgaeyl was speaking to her directly. Thana froze.

Xaden’s hand twitched at his side as he addressed Sgaeyl. Please, stand down, he said. She heard that too.

“How are you doing that?” she asked Xaden. His focus was on Sgaeyl. He was attentive to her in the only way a man could be to a beast. He was being selective of what parts of their conversation Thana could hear and what was just between them.

Sgaeyl growled lowly but slowly retreated, still shooting Thana a warning look. And then, Thana turned to face the scarred dragon, her heart racing.

I’ve waited for you, a deep, resonant voice rumbled in her mind. She met his amber eyes, feeling their intensity pierce her as he lowered his head in a gesture of trust. Thana’s hands shook slightly as she reached out, her fingers brushing his scarred snout. 

“I thought you weren’t bonding this year,” she stammered, trying to comprehend what was happening.

I chose you on Conscription Day, he replied calmly. She still stood frozen, unsure if she was terrified or relieved.

Before you choose me, you must know one thing.... “I have a choice?” Thana asked. Always.

Before you choose, I must tell you that I would never lie to you but, that means there are things I can not tell you about your father. 

Thana was confused. What’s your choice?

“I want to go with you,” Thana said. She was scared but, she was certain.

Get on my back, the dragon commanded gently.

Thana wasn’t sure that the ramp on the Gauntlet compared to the steep climb it would take to mount this dragon. Without further hesitation, she scrambled up his leg and onto his back. Not bad. We’ll work on it.

Thana gripped on tightly with her legs and clenched onto the scales between his wings. I won’t let you fall, he said. Before she could exhale, he took flight. Xaden followed on Sgaeyl, soaring through the valley as her dragon swooped and veered in graceful arcs. Below them, mountains unfurled like rolling waves, with autumn meadows painting the landscape in rich hues of gold and red.

Thana took in the trees and the mountains and the river bends below. She could see everything from up here. For the first time in a long time she felt like she could finally breathe.

As they approached the flight field, her dragon took a gentle lap around the perimeter, savoring the wind and the beauty of the valley. I haven’t had company like this in some time, he murmured, a note of contentment in his voice.

When he finally landed, she noticed that Liam had already returned, standing beside the red dragon that had eyed him back at Presentation Day. He grinned when he saw her dismount, and his dragon, Deigh, rumbled approvingly. But as Jack Barlowe strutted by, Thana’s dragon hissed, making Jack flinch.

Go and tell the roll keeper we’ve arrived, he explained. Her dismount was a little clumsier that she would have liked. We’ll practise, don’t worry.

With a steadying breath, she made her way to where Garrick was taking roll, his face pale, his voice shaky as he tried to maintain his composure. “Thana Valaren, glad to see you made it back alive,” he said, the words scripted but his relief unmistakable. “For the record, tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.”

Thana hesitated, realizing she didn’t actually know his name. A low rumble filled her mind, Válka, he whispered.

“Válka,” she repeated aloud. Kaori and Pancheck exchanged glances nearby, their eyes focussed on her. Garrick cleared his throat and nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

Chapter 10: Get Ready

Basgiath’s dangers aren’t confined to training fields. The doors have ears and the walls have eyes–sleep with a knife closeby.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

With so many fallen, the first-years had been moved out of the dormitories and into their own rooms. The solitude was strange, unsettling even, and Thana welcomes the company.

Liam was sprawled across her bed, his legs dangling off the edge as he animatedly recounted his night with his latest fling, describing their encounter in far too much detail. Thana was only half-listening, her focus more on the lines forming under her hand as she drew absentmindedly in her notebook.

"…and then, well, things got fucking good,” he was saying with a smug grin, clearly enjoying himself. Thana smirked, pausing her sketch.

“By the way, thank you for the sculpture,” she interrupted, her tone soft but genuine. Liam stopped mid-sentence, his smile shifting into something gentler.

“You actually liked it?”

She nodded, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. “I loved it.”

He relaxed back onto her bed, hands folded behind his head. “Good. I wasn’t sure, you know… thought maybe... I don’t know what I thought.”

She chuckled softly, her mind drifting back to the path and the sight of the Red dragon. “I saw that Red dragon staring you down.”

Liam’s expression grew thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah… me too. I don’t know, Thana. Maybe that’s my dragon. Or maybe it’s just sizing me up as its next meal.” He laughed, though a hint of seriousness lingered beneath the joke. His gaze settled on her, and he hesitated before asking, “That blue… it’s not the first time it’s attention has been solely on you.”

Thana’s breath hitched as she picked up the dragon Liam sculpted for her, her heart beat a little faster. For the first time, she let her thoughts slip out, her voice barely more than a murmur. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I was kind of hoping, you know, until Professor Kaori mentioned that no Blues are left to bond, so I guess it’s just… wishful thinking? I don’t know.”

Liam shifted, his expression hardening, his gaze dropping to the floor as if choosing his words carefully. “What do you know that I don’t?” she asked, sensing he might know more than he was letting on.

He shook his head, hesitating for a long moment before meeting her eyes again. “I worry about you, Thana. More than I can explain.”

She swallowed, the words settling heavily between them. Not wanting to linger on the uncertainty, she rose, pulling on her training leathers. “I’ll see you later,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand before leaving the room.

As she headed down the corridor toward the gym, her mind wandered. She passed Violet and her friends on the way, each one clad in pristine uniforms. Thana’s fingers itched at the dagger sheathed at her hip, entertaining a dangerous thought. Maybe a dragon will do me the favor of torching her at Threshing. But Xaden’s voice echoed in her mind, reminding her of his request to stay away, and she forced herself to let it go.

When she entered the gym, she stopped short. Instead of Garrick, Xaden stood in the middle on a training mat, arms crossed, watching her approach with that same unreadable expression.

“Garrick won’t be able to train you today,” he said, voice low and clipped. “I’m stepping in.” He’s probably too busy fucking Imogen.

She swallowed hard, trying not to let her surprise show as she took her place, stretching and preparing herself for whatever he had planned. Xaden’s presence was as imposing as ever, and his gaze held a strange mixture of distance and intensity. The usual warmth she felt with Garrick was absent; instead, the air between them felt charged, taut with a tension she couldn’t quite place.

For the next hour, Xaden put her through her paces, his instructions curt, his focus unrelenting. There was no room for mistakes; each misstep was met with a critical eye, each stumble corrected with almost mechanical precision. 

“Thana,” he finally broke the silence, his voice softer, yet weighted. She stilled, expecting him critisize her lack of progress though she had been working her ass off for weeks.

“That scarred dragon… when it looked at you,” he hesitated, his gaze darkening, “I was terrified. That dragon’s behavior—it’s… erratic, unpredictable. It intimidated the Greens, even Sgaeyl.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of Sgaeyl, the dragon Xaden had bonded with. “Sgaeyl?” she asked, the revelation sending a shiver down her spine.

He nodded, almost reluctantly. For a moment, his expression softened, a flicker of something vulnerable flashing across his face before his defenses returned. “Dragons usually follow patterns, signals that might not make sense to us but, they make sense to eachother… but that one doesn’t. Even Sgaeyl struggles to understand its thoughts. It’s… unlike any other.”

He looked away, as though battling with himself over what to say next. It was like he was on the verge of telling her something important, something deeply personal. But instead, he simply said, “Be careful, Thana. Threshing is dangerous. Stay vigilant, know what you’re dealing with, and remember—most dragons will let you pass if they don’t want to bond. But if one shows interest, trust your instincts.”

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “And Sgaeyl? How did she choose you?”

Xaden’s gaze darkened, a shadow crossing his face. “She was bonded to my great-grandfather, but he… he didn’t make it through the quadrant. Sgaeyl chose me because of my scars. They represented… something she understood.”

Thana’s heart twisted at his words, a pang of empathy washing over her. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “What if no dragon chooses me?”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You won’t need to worry about that.” The way he said it made her stomach twist. There was something he wasn’t telling her—something he knew that she didn’t.

Later that night, sleep evaded her. Her mind kept drifting to Threshing, the dangers she would face, the dragons that could choose her… or choose to burn her alive. Quietly, she jimmied open her window and climbed out, scaling the wall to the roof, where the view of the grounds stretched out beneath her. The quiet night air settled around her as she stared out, letting her thoughts drift to her father.

“Dad,” she murmured, her voice barely audible as a tear slipped down her cheek, “if you’re out there… if you can hear me, what do I do? What would you do?” She looked up at the stars, searching for some hint, some answer in the silence. Her father’s dragon, the eldest of the Blues, had died with him during the Rebellion. She’d wanted a Blue to feel closer to him, to honor his legacy.

A faint light flickered below her, drawing her attention back to her room. The window had been left open, and someone was in there, she could see the shadows shifting in the dim light. She held her breath, waiting, until the figure finally left, leaving the room empty once more.

Climbing down, she slipped back through the window, her footsteps soft on the floor. Her eyes fell on her desk, where a note lay, the ink still fresh.

“Stay vigilant. Your father would be proud.”

Chapter 9: Presentation

Dragons respect intelligence as much as courage. Remember, it’s not strength they want—it’s resilience.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

The path stretched out before them, winding and narrow, lined by the intimidating presence of dragons on either side. Each creature loomed tall and still, all of them them averaging a massive twenty-five feet. The cadets waited in formation, several feet back from the path, each one trying to still their breathing, trying not to let nerves show. Thana felt her own pulse thrumming in her neck as she stood beside Liam, their squad braced for whatever was to come.

“Let’s go, Second Squad, you’re up next,” Garrick called, his voice sharp and clear. He locked eyes with Thana, giving her a reassuring wink, then slipped back into his professional demeanor. “Into formation!” he ordered.

Thana and Liam found themselves positioned in the front of the line—not the place Thana would’ve chosen but there was no changing it now.

"Walk straight down, stay seven feet apart," Garrick instructed. Luca, stationed a few steps behind, raised her hand with yet another question. Garrick’s patience visibly waned. Thana and Liam exchanged a knowing look.

"Is it true that a feather-tailed dragon might bond with someone?" Luca asked, a faint quiver in her voice.

Garrick's answer was brash, his irritation barely concealed. "Single file."

As he passed by, Thana caught the muttered "for fuck’s sake," under his breath, and had to stifle a laugh. It was an all-too-familiar reaction to Luca's endless questions.

Liam led the way, his shoulders squared, steps deliberate. Thana walked behind him, fighting to keep her composure steady. Up close, the dragons were massive—far larger and more imposing than they had looked on Conscription Day. As they passed each one, the tension in the air thickened, the dragons’ eyes tracking their every move.

They passed a Brown dragon first, its dark, intense gaze fixed on them as they walked by. Then, a Red, its fiery eyes narrowing, its head angled toward Liam as if sizing him up. Thana’s heart pounded harder, but she kept her expression steady, following Liam’s lead.

As they neared a yellow feather-tail, she could feel Liam’s subtle glance back at her, a silent check that they were both seeing the same thing. The murmurs from the cadets behind them grew louder, the nervous energy sparking among them like a frayed live wire.

Without warning, a scream echoed down the line. Thana’s stomach dropped as she turned in time to see Pryor incinerated in flame, his scream cut short as a Brown dragon unleashed another scorching jet of fire. Silence fell as the smoke dissipated, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. Thana clenched her fists, pressing down the icy chill creeping up her spine, and forced herself to keep moving. She could see the tension in Liam’s back, his fists clenched tightly as he continued down the path.

Breathing deeply, she took a steady look around. Dragons lay everywhere—some sprawled in the open, others hidden back in the tree line, their eyes glinting with watchful intensity. She was keenly aware of every sound, every whisper of breath and movement as they walked. Each dragon felt like a predator, waiting for the slightest sign of weakness.

As they walked, two Green dragons crossed their path, their powerful bodies moving with slow precision. They were the most temperate of the dragons, known for their quiet strength and reason. One of the Greens on the right lowered its massive head, coming close enough that Thana could have reached out and touched it. She held her breath, unsure what it would do, but then—

A loud rumble shook the ground. The Greens retreated, their heads turning away as a dark shadow moved toward them. Thana’s pulse quickened as she looked up and saw the scarred dragon. It was so close to the path that if she had stopped walking, she would be within striking range. Its gaze locked onto her, and as she passed, it dipped its massive head ever so slightly, almost as if bowing. Thana felt herself inhale sharply, her breath caught in her throat. Unsure of what else to do, she dropped her head in a subtle nod, maintaining eye contact. Then, just as suddenly, the dragon launched itself into the sky, its wings casting shadows over the path as it disappeared.

Keep walking, Garrick’s voice echoed in her mind, urging her forward. Thana picked up her pace to fall back in step beside Liam. Her hands shook slightly, but she forced herself to keep moving.

She exhaled, unaware until that moment that she’d been holding her breath. She kept walking, her mind reeling with the enormity of what had just happened. She could still feel the weight of the dragon’s gaze, as if its presence lingered even now, hidden somewhere in the trees, watching.

As they neared the end of the path, finally out of sight of the dragons, Thana spotted an old oak tree. She dropped down beside it, her legs shaky as she sat next to Liam. He leaned his head back against the trunk, his eyes closed as he breathed deeply. She could feel the tension in his shoulders easing as she rested her head on his shoulder, the weight of the ordeal finally lifting now that they were out of the line of fire.

Nearby, Xaden stood, arms crossed, his gaze scanning the cadets still lined up on the path. He looked impassive, his face set in an unreadable mask. But something about the way his eyes lingered on the path—sharp, alert, and just the faintest bit relieved—caught her attention.

Thana tried to decipher his expression. Was it relief? Fear? Or something else entirely? She couldn’t be sure. Xaden’s emotions were often locked away, hidden behind the carefully constructed walls he kept in place.

“Not what you expected?” Liam asked softly, his voice breaking her train of thought.

She looked over at him, offering a faint smile. "I’m not sure what I expected, honestly."

Liam nodded, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the sky. "I can’t believe we made it through that."

She gave his hand a squeeze, her own fingers still tingling from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. They had survived—barely. 

From across the field, Xaden's gaze flicked toward her for a split second, and she met his eyes. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw something there—something vulnerable and raw. But just as quickly, his expression returned to its usual impassivity, unreadable as ever.

Chapter 8: The Gauntlet

Your father often said Basgiath’s cruelty had a purpose. It forces you to find what you’re made of. But don’t let that cruelty harden you. I’d hate to lose you to this place.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

The weight of the Gauntlet was beginning to settle into Thana’s bones. It had been weeks since they started their training, and each time she climbed, balanced, or swung through the course, she felt more sure of herself. The muscles in her arms had hardened, her grip tightened, and her sense of balance had sharpened. There was still fear—a steady hum at the back of her mind—but it no longer controlled her. Instead, it pushed her, a reminder of what was at stake. Every climb, every jump, every slip was a lesson, and she was learning faster than she expected.

Garrick had been pushing her harder each day. His patience was unwavering, but there were times when his frustration showed—when she slipped, when she missed a rope or lost her footing, he’d flinch and his jaw would clench, and she'd see the flicker of concern in his eyes.

"Again, Thana," he would say, his voice clipped. "Don't think, just do it. Focus."

Thana would nod though aggravated at his tone, nevertheless she'd try again. She was stronger now, but the Gauntlet was unforgiving, and there were days when the course felt like it was mocking her. Today, however, she was determined. Today, she wouldn’t slip.

They worked on climbing, scaling walls with nothing but their hands and feet, then testing their agility and balance on beams set higher and higher. They moved from rope to rope, from wall to ledge, until the only sound was the pounding of their hearts and the crunch of gravel beneath their boots.

Despite her progress, there were moments when Garrick’s frustration was too palpable. When she missed a jump and had to scramble back, or when she faltered, gripping the wrong rope too tightly, he would sigh deeply.

"Focus, Thana," he would mutter, his tone softer but still tinged with impatience. "I know you can do better than this."

He had always been like a big brother to her, but lately, it seemed that the pressure was weighing on him too. It wasn’t just about the training anymore; it was about making sure they all survived. And Thana could sense that if they fell, if she fell, he would carry the blame.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon and the evening training session ended, she was exhausted—her arms burned, her legs ached—but she couldn’t stop. They had to be ready for the final climb tomorrow. Presentation Day was almost here.

The next morning, the courtyard was quiet, more subdued than usual. As Thana lined up with the rest of the cadets, her stomach churned with anticipation. She could see the other squads, most of them tense and jittery, the realization of what today meant settling over them. It was different today—there were fewer of them than there had been when they started, the attrition of training already claiming so many. The air hung heavy with expectation.

Captain Fitzgibbons stood on the dais, his voice steady and strong as he read from the death roll. The names seemed to echo in the crisp morning air, each one a grim reminder of the stakes they faced. The crowd of cadets was smaller than before, but Thana knew it would only shrink further. The toll of the Gauntlet was unforgiving, and Presentation would be the final test for all of them.

"Evander Vossir," Captain Fitzgibbons called, his voice like a bell tolling. There was a brief silence, and Thana felt a knot form in her stomach. She’d seen it—the fall, the sickening plummet as Evander lost his grip. Thana had wanted to scream at Jack for not helping, for not doing more, but nothing had come of it. Jack was who he was.

“Second and third years,” Captain Fitzgibbons continued, his tone unyielding, “unless you’re on Gauntlet duty, head to class. First years, it’s time to show us what you’ve got.”

Thana’s stomach twisted as the words settled into her chest. It was their turn now.

Imogen leaned over to Violet, a sly smile crossing her face. "Good luck today," she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Hopefully, you don’t fall short."

Thana bit back the snide comment she wanted to make in response. She didn’t have the energy for it—not today, not when everything was on the line.

Liam, standing next to her, squeezed her shoulder. "Ready?" he asked, his voice calm, though there was a flicker of nerves in his eyes.

"Let’s just get this over with," Thana muttered, trying to shake the anxiety that was tightening around her chest.

They walked toward the Gauntlet, the towering cliffside looming ahead. Thana could feel the tension in the air, like a charge in the atmosphere, building with every step they took.

Garrick fell into step beside them, his face set in an expression that was half-steely determination, half-worried concern. He glanced at both of them, his eyes lingering a little longer on Thana. "Focus, all right?" he said, his voice gruff but kind. "You’ve trained for this. I know you can do it."

Then he handed her a small piece of folded paper. Thana took it without thinking, her mind still caught in the haze of nerves. She unfolded it quickly and read the short note from Xaden.

"Don’t die," it read, in his familiar, scribbled handwriting. The words were blunt, but they made her smile.

"Don’t die," Thana murmured under her breath, folding the note back up and tucking it into her pocket.

An hour later, she was at the base of the Gauntlet, the wind whipping at her hair as she stared up at the cliff face. It felt different now, like she was staring at something that could break her. The pressure was heavy, the weight of everyone’s expectations threatened to consume her.

As she started the first climb, she focused on Liam, just ahead of her. He was always so sure-footed, moving with the kind of confidence Thana still struggled to find in herself. But today, she couldn’t let her mind wander. She had to do this—she had to prove she could make it, for herself, for Garrick, for Liam.

The climb was a blur. She focused on one handhold, one foothold at a time, her body moving in a practiced rhythm. The panic crept in when she neared the steep incline, her hands slick with sweat, but the voice in her head wasn’t hers this time - it sounded like her father’s, steady and firm, a reminder to breathe.

"You’ve got this," she whispered to herself.

As she reached the top and sprinted for the final stretch, she saw Liam standing at the end of the flight field, his smile wide and encouraging. Beyond him, Garrick watched with an unreadable expression, his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving her.

Thana pushed harder, her legs burning, the ramp steep under her feet. She didn’t slow down, not until she reached the top and heard the roar of the crowd around her. She glanced over and saw Ruari, with a smile from ear to ear, clapping his hands rapidly. Then, her eyes darted to Violet, who had made it as well. Thana didn’t even try to hide her feelings.

Then, Liam was there, wrapping her in a tight hug, his arms strong around her, and she exhaled the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding.

"That’s all me," Garrick mouthed over Liam’s shoulder, his smile wide as he watched them.

By the end of the morning, only 169 cadets remained, and their squad had come fourth out of thirty-six. Liam had been the fastest, winning the coveted patch, though Thana was convinced he didn’t know how to accept second place. Prick.

The box canyon was breathtaking in the afternoon light, the sun casting a warm golden hue over the meadows and the peaks rising around them. The leaves had begun to turn, gold and amber, painting the landscape in vibrant color.

As they walked toward the narrow entrance to the valley, Liam reached his had back to get. She gripped it tightly, her heart still pounding from the Gauntlet.

Liam leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"You did it," he whispered.

Chapter 7: Fear

Some will try to scare you into obedience, but your mind is your strongest weapon. If you can conquer fear there, the rest will follow. Stay steady, even when you feel the ground shift. You are as beautiful as your mother but, you are father’s daughter.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

The library was quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages turning and the scratch of pens on paper. Thana sat across from Liam at one of the long wooden tables, her notebook open in front of her. The ink from her pen smudged as she absentmindedly doodled the view from the tower that Xaden had shown her the other night—the sprawling fields and the sharp outline of the mountains in the distance, the pale sky stretching endlessly above. She focused on the little details, the way the moon caught the jagged edges of the cliffside, casting long shadows.

Liam sat opposite her, his brow furrowed as he scribbled notes into a thick, leather-bound book. He was deep in his studies, his eyes flicking between the page and the open text before him. But something about his posture seemed off, his usually steady hand faltering occasionally. His foot tapped softly against the floor in a rhythmic pattern, though it lacked its usual energy. Thana watched him for a moment, her pen stilling mid-stroke.

"You're quiet today," she said, her voice softer than she intended, a hint of concern threading through her words. She studied him closely, watching the way his shoulders tensed whenever he turned the page.

Liam didn't respond right away, his eyes lingering on the page before him, but his hand stilled as though he'd been caught in the act of overthinking. Thana's gaze softened, her hand resting on the table, fingers tracing the edges of her notebook.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her voice gentle, trying not to sound too insistent.

Liam hesitated, exhaling slowly, then met her gaze. His eyes were tired—more than usual—and there was a weariness in his expression that caught her off guard.

"I—" He paused, then sighed. "I’ve been writing to Sloane." He looks around to make sure he’s out of earshot of others. “Xaden’s been sending the letters toher.”

Thana blinked, not expecting that response. Liam rarely spoke about his sister, not since they’d both arrived at Basgiath. She had been there in the background of his conversations, but never at the forefront.

"Writing her?" Thana echoed, tilting her head slightly. "What about?"

"The trials," Liam said, his voice tinged with a sadness that made Thana’s chest tighten. "How to survive them. How to survive. I have to, Thana, I have to do what I can to make sure that she makes because if she doesn’t I…"

Thana’s heart ached for him. She had never truly understood the bond between siblings like the one Liam and Sloane shared, but she could see it now in the quiet pain that seeped into his words. It reminded her of the way she’d felt when her father died—helpless, unable to do anything but watch the people she cared about suffer.

She shifted her notebook aside and leaned forward, her fingers brushing the edge of the table. "Liam," she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of everything unspoken between them. "She’s stronger than any of us. She’s going to make it. You’re gonna see her again."

Liam looked at her, his blue eyes bright with a mixture of gratitude and doubt. Then, without a word, he reached across the table, his hands wrapping around hers. The pressure of his grip was firm, almost desperate, as though he needed the reassurance of her words to anchor him.

"I just… I need to believe that," he murmured, his thumb brushing across the back of her hand.

Thana gave his hand a gentle squeeze and repeated, "You’re gonna see her again."

The words hung in the air between them, a quiet promise to one another. Thana held her composure, her steady gaze never leaving his. She could feel the weight of his worry, and for a moment, she let herself believe that everything might just be okay—if only for this moment.

Liam finally broke the silence, a faint but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I love you."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and lent down to place a kiss on the back on his hand. “I love you too.”

~

Thana craned her neck to take in the obstacle course carved into the cliffside. It stretched up and up, switchback after switchback, an impossible series of challenges leading to the ridge that separated the citadel from the flight field and the vale beyond. Her stomach twisted as she traced the path with her eyes, each ledge more intimidating than the last. She felt a prickle of fear not only for herself but for Liam… and Ruari. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the course itself was taunting them, daring them to try and fail.

Liam, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, practically bouncing on his heels in excitement. “Finally,” he breathed, grinning as he took in the daunting course.

Thana swallowed hard, trying to focus on the memories that rose unbidden. She thought back to the obstacle courses her father used to set up, to the walls he’d made her climb back at Riorson House. It was as if he’d been preparing her for this moment, training her without her even realizing.

“I still don’t know why they call it the Gauntlet,” Ridoc muttered, arms crossed as he surveyed the course with a mix of disdain and nervousness.

Garrick leaned close to Thana, his voice a low murmur, “It’s to weed out the weak before Presentation. You’ll see.”

The memory of her conversation with Xaden the night before weighed heavily on her as she glanced over at him on the other side of the group. He stood with his arms crossed, talking with the other wing leaders, his expression unreadable as he watched the remaining cadets of the quadrant. She could only imagine the pressure he felt, bearing the responsibility of the lives around him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an argument nearby—Ridoc and Tynan were at it, their voices raised and indignant. Ridoc must still be fuming over getting humiliated by Rhiannon on the mat. Sawyer tried to calm them down, his tone serious. “Look, you could be the best at the challenges and still get passed over by a dragon. Happened to me last year.”

Professor Emetterio’s voice cut through their bickering. “Listen up. The Gauntlet got its name because this cliff guards the vale. And, yes, if you’re wondering—like an actual gauntlet, it’s slippery as hell.”

The cadets stilled, some of them wide-eyed as Professor Emetterio continued. “Hand-to-hand combat is on hold for the next two and a half weeks. You’ve got nine attempts to master this before Presentation. You’ve got one hour before the next squad goes. Now pay attention, because each ascent is designed to mimic challenges you’ll face in battle.”

Thana took a deep breath as she and Liam moved to the edge of the line. She glanced up, watching Violet’s squad attempt the Gauntlet. The challenges were brutal—one cadet after another slipping, grabbing for the ropes, each grab costing them time. And still, they struggled forward. Thana’s stomach clenched. This couldn’t be the worst of it.

Her gaze shifted, catching sight of Dain standing off to the side, watching Violet with an expression that could only be described as terrified. She nudged Liam. “Dain’s ridiculous, isn’t he? Acting like he’s in love or something.”

Liam laughed under his breath, glancing from Dain to Tynan, who was pacing a few steps away. “Yeah, and Tynan… He’s irritating as hell. One of Jack Barlowe’s cronies. Dain would probably slap him with the rule book, but, Xaden… Xaden would just knock him out.”

After what felt like forever, it was finally their turn. Thana’s heart hammered as Professor Emetterio addressed their squad, his voice echoing down the cliffside. “Remember, there are ropes every six feet. Grabbing one costs you thirty seconds, but death will cost you more. Let’s move.”

Thana steadied her breathing, eyes fixed on the ropes stretching up the cliff, each turn steeper than the last. She watched a few cadets go before her, then Liam stepped up, his stance confident as he dashed forward onto the spinning log, crossing it with ease. Thana’s nerves tightened as she watched him.

When her turn came, she squared her shoulders and sprinted across the log, feeling it shift beneath her. She tried to focus on the memories of her father’s training—the logs he’d make her cross at the edge of the garden, the ropes he’d hung from trees over the creek. But this was harder. The course was relentless, and each new challenge more grueling than the last.

She swung from bar to bar, her grip aching, her focus narrowing to the few feet in front of her. Liam was up ahead, light on his feet, as if the obstacles were mere stepping stones. She drew strength from his determination, forcing herself to keep up.

But as she neared the final stretch, the ramp looming just ahead, she watched in horror as the girl in front of Liam lost her footing. She slipped, reaching for the rope but missing, and fell halfway down the cliff. The sight was seared into Thana’s mind, and she staggered backward, pressing herself against the rock wall, bile rising in her throat.

Liam caught her arm, his hand grounding her. He tilted her face up, his eyes gentle but firm. “Focus, Thana. You’ve done this before. Just breathe.”

When she caught her breath, he let go, running up the final slope and calling back to her, his voice steady. “Come on, you’ve got this!”

She swallowed hard, blinking away the stinging in her eyes as she took a shaky breath. She couldn’t fall now. Not after everything. Summoning the last of her strength, she sprinted up the ramp, her feet slipping against the steep incline but catching just in time. She stumbled as she reached the top, collapsing to her knees, her breaths ragged as she fought to keep her composure.

Liam was beside her in an instant, his arm around her shoulders, murmuring comforting words. She looked over, catching sight of Xaden and Garrick watching from the flight field, their faces unreadable as they conversed. Imogen rushed over, pulling Thana into a warm, unexpected hug.

“I’m so glad you made it,” Imogen said, her smile soft. “You did amazing.”

The following morning, they gathered in formation, the air somber as Captain Fitzgibbons approached to read the death roll. Thana’s stomach twisted as he began, his voice solemn and unwavering.

“Calvin Atwater. Elizabeth Stimer. Seraphine Mungo.”

Thana felt a pang in her chest as Seraphine’s name echoed through the air. Seraphine had been one of the marked ones, terrified she wouldn’t make it. Thana had tried to reassure her, to tell her she’d be fine. But it had been a lie. She hadn’t been fine at all.

There was nothing remarkable about that morning. The first trial had only lengthened the list of the fallen, each name a reminder of the precariousness of their lives. Corilus Rickman. She remembered him—kind, a bit odd, but nice enough.

She slipped her hand into Liam’s, and he squeezed it three times, a silent reassurance she clung to. She didn’t know what she’d do if she ever heard his name on that list, if he didn’t make it through this gauntlet of trials and impossible odds.

Chapter 6: Sparring

Training will test you but, pain means progress here. The goal is to know your limits and push just a bit further each time. If you fall, get back up–it’s a rule of survival.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

Thana leaned back against the rough stone wall, suppressing an eye roll as she watched the novices on the sparring mat. Each attempted jab, every sloppy block, only heightened her frustration. She muttered under her breath, cataloging their mistakes. “Wrong stance, too loose… you’ll get flattened in a second,” she murmured, her fingers drumming against her thigh. She couldn’t help but smirk as her gaze landed on Violet Sorrengail, hoping she’d get a chance to put her through her paces.

“That guy—way too much weight on his front foot,” came a voice beside her.

She turned, surprised to find Ruari standing close, arms crossed and nodding at the sparring match in front of them. “You noticed?” she asked, a hint of approval slipping into her tone.

Ruari chuckled. “Amateurs practically fall on their own swords, don’t they?”

Thana nodded, sizing him up a little differently. “Not bad, Ruari.”

She glanced back at the sparring mat, where Garrick, talking to Imogen, exchanged a look with Xaden. She saw Xaden’s barely perceptible nod before Garrick turned and walked over.

“Alright, Ruari, enough commentary,” Garrick said, not unkindly, but with a gentle push that sent Ruari back into the crowd.

As Ruari glanced at her over his shoulder, she mouthed, “Sorry,” with a quick shrug. Ruari rolled his eyes but grinned before disappearing back into the group.

Imogen wandered over, a faint smirk on her face as she sidled up to Thana. “You’re getting popular,” she teased.

Thana crossed her arms. She liked Imogen well enough, even if she didn’t fully trust her yet. “Ruari’s… different,” she admitted, watching Liam talking with Xaden across the room. Both of them seemed to be sizing up Violet, and she raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

Liam caught her gaze, and his mouth tugged into a grin, giving her a wink. Even the smallest gestures from him made her feel grounded. Then, Professor Emeterrio’s voice cut through the room.

“Violet Sorrengail!” he called.

Thana’s heart leapt. She stood slowly, anticipation prickling in her fingers, ready to show Violet what it meant to spar with someone serious. But to her surprise, Professor Emeterrio’s gaze shifted.

“Xaden Riorson, take the mat.”

A flash of thrill shot through her as Xaden crossed the room, confidence radiating off him. She could see the concern flicker over Dain’s face, but Xaden’s smirk only grew. He turned to Violet with a look that made Thana’s stomach twist.

“Don’t worry, Sorrengail,” Xaden drawled, his voice a low taunt. “You’ll be in one piece when I’m done with you.”

“Kill her, Riorson!” Jack Barlow shouted from the edge, his face twisted with glee.

The fight was brutal—Xaden’s calculated moves against Violet’s stubborn resilience. He taunted her, his insults cold and cutting, and for a moment, Thana almost pitied her. But when Professor Emeterrio called the match, and Xaden stepped back, she was less satisfied than she’d hoped. She wanted an answer to his reasons, his restraint.

After class, she jogged to catch up to him. “What the hell was that?” she asked, voice barely more than a hiss.

He looked at her, unphased, his face closed off. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “I mean, you didn’t finish her. Not even close. Why did you hold back?”

“Violet needs training,” he replied, his voice quiet but steely. “She’s important. I’m asking you to trust me.”

The request stunned her, and she felt a surge of anger. “You want me to her? You’re out of your mind.” She shook her head, trying to catch his gaze. “It’s like you don’t even care that your father died!”

He grabbed her arm, his eyes dark with anger. “Everything I’m doing is because I lost my father.”

She wrenched her arm free, fury smoldering in her chest, and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. She nearly ran into Liam, who caught her arm and slung it over his shoulder as they walked toward the dining hall.

“Talked to Xaden, did you?” he asked, his face softening in that way only he managed.

Thana nodded, still simmering with frustration. “Yeah, and it was about as satisfying as talking to a wall.”

“Did he mention helping Violet?” Liam asked, his tone calm but probing.

She stopped, pulling her arm away. “How’d you know about that?”

He shrugged, unbothered by her reaction. “Xaden asked me to keep an eye on her. I trust him, Thana.”

Her anger faltered, softened by the knowledge of all Xaden had done for Liam back in the foster home, keeping him safe. She took a breath and collected herself. “I’m not going to help her.”

Liam looked down, understanding in his eyes. “Are you okay with me helping her?”

She forced herself to nod. “Of course. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” She offered a small, resigned smile.

Liam pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re an enigma, kid.”

After dinner, Thana slipped away from the dining hall, letting the murmurs and laughter fade into the background. The main corridor stretched before her, dimly lit and unsettling in the dark. She stuck to the shadows, her footsteps soft on the worn stone floors, taking a left hallway she’d yet to explore.

She moved with care, pausing to listen to each distant footfall, catching sight of the occasional flickering torchlight that signaled someone nearby. She ducked into an alcove as a familiar figure turned the corner—Dain. His brow was furrowed, clearly focused on something as he swept his gaze down the hall. Thana held her breath, watching him pass, only exhaling when he’d rounded a corner and the hall was empty again.

She slipped out from her hiding spot, feeling a surge of satisfaction at her quiet escape, and continued deeper into the castle’s lesser-known passages. As she traced her hand along a cold, uneven wall, she found herself lingering in a small, forgotten courtyard cloaked in shadows.

Someone cleared their throat from behind her, sending a thrill down her spine.

Thana whipped around, irritation flaring as she found herself face-to-face with Xaden, his gaze sharp and unreadable. He raised an eyebrow, stepping into the moonlight that pooled through the narrow windows, his arms crossed as he studied her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his tone calm but carrying a hint of warning.

Thana rolled her eyes, her earlier frustration simmering back to the surface. “Just getting some air, away from everyone,” she muttered. “Don’t tell me I need permission for that too.”

Xaden sighed, shaking his head slightly. “If you’re going to roam around, at least try not to get caught. You have a knack for attracting the wrong attention, you know.” He gestured down a narrow passage she hadn’t noticed before, its stairs spiraling up into the dark. “Come on.”

She hesitated, but her curiosity won out. She followed him up the winding staircase, the walls narrowing as they ascended. Finally, they emerged into the open air at the top of one of Basgiath’s towers, the entire campus stretching below them. The landscape beyond lay shrouded in shadows, only the faint lights of the school and the stars above illuminating their view.

Thana sucked in a breath, the vastness of it all striking her. She could see every training field, every building, every cliffside path winding away into the distance. The quiet here felt different—heavy, almost reverent.

Xaden turned to her, his gaze more serious than she’d ever seen it. “Thana… I need you to stay safe. There are people here who knew your father, who remember him, and not all of them see you as separate from him.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence. She regretted it almost instantly, her childish challenge hanging in the air.

Hurt flickered in his eyes, and for a moment he looked away, the mask slipping. “Because, Thana… I don’t just care because I owe it to your father. You’re important to me.” His voice softened, carrying a weight she didn’t fully understand. He didn’t owe her father anything.

The words touched something deep in her, stirring memories of the friendship they’d once shared, before everything became fractured. “What happened, Xaden?” she asked quietly. “We used to talk about everything. Now it’s like every time I think we’re getting back to who we were, you pull away.”

He leaned against the stone railing, his gaze distant as he struggled to find the words. “There are things I can’t tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I don’t want to, but because keeping you safe means keeping you out of this mess. And it’s… it’s too much to ask of anyone else. Especially you.”

Thana’s eyes narrowed, pain and anger mingling in her voice. “Basgiath changed you.”

“No,” he scoffed, meeting her gaze with a quiet intensity. “The rebellion did that. Every scar on my body, every day I wake up knowing I’m fighting battles that aren’t even mine… that’s what changed me.” He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders falling as he let the words out. “I pray to Malek every night that this death will be the last one but, there’s always the next one and the next one. I can’t… I can’t wear that, Thana.”

A pang of sorrow cut through her anger, softening her voice. “You’re not alone. Isn’t that what you always told me? Garrick, Liam, me… we’re here for you, Xaden.”

His face crumpled, and for the first time, he looked raw, vulnerable, his voice cracking as he spoke. “They’re just kids, Thana… and they’re dying because they were forced to come here because of a decision that I made.”

She reached out, closing the space between them, and pulled him into a hug. Xaden sank into her embrace, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in her shoulder, his tears soaking through her shirt. She held him tightly, letting him feel the weight of her presence, grounding him as he let go of the pain he’d held on his own for too long.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, brushing her hand over his back in gentle circles. “It’s not but… It’ll be we’re figure it out.”

For a moment, they stayed like that, the cold night air and vast sky above them their only witnesses. Slowly, his breathing steadied, and he pulled back, wiping his eyes, a faint smile breaking through his exhaustion. He took her hand in his.

“Thanks, T,” he murmured, his voice laced with gratitude.

Chapter 5: Ruari

Cadets come and go, most don’t last, and some don’t deserve to. But there are a few you’ll trust with your life. Keep your eyes open for allies. You’ll need them sooner than you think.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

Thana was jolted awake, her chest heaving, the torment of her nightmare still lingering. The vision of a locked, pitch-black room where her mind unraveled had been too vivid. As her breath steadied, she felt an arm wrap around her waist—Bodhi's, heavy and warm in his sleep. She hadn't meant to wake him. She'd woken up with him in her bed for the third time in as many nights, and she'd been meaning to call it off but...

Carefully, she slipped out from under Bodhi's arm, the chill of the early morning air biting against her skin as she stretched. She couldn’t fall back asleep. Not with her thoughts running wild. She threw on her fighting leathers and left the women's hall, making her way toward the gym. She needed to burn off the restless energy, to chase away the fear gnawing at her insides.

The gym wasn't empty when she arrived. To her surprise, Ruari, Hawke a fellow first-year, was already there. His tall, muscular frame moved with focus, sweat gleaming off his tanned skin. His thick brown hair caught the early sunlight as he trained, throwing a series of punches at a practice dummy. He'd gotten better since his disastrous first sparring match a few days prior, though he still had a long way to go.

Ruari acknowledged her almost immediately, pausing mid-swing to offer a nod. "Thana," he greeted her, his voice warm and genuine. "You're up early."

She just nodded in reply. She moved to stretch, eyeing him from her corner of the gym. His progress was clear, but there was still a hesitancy in his movements. She didn't know a lot about him, but she liked that he didn’t seem to care about the markings etched across her arm—a rarity among the Riders.

After a few minutes, she found herself unable to watch any longer. She stepped closer to Ruari, watching as he struggled with the stance. "Your footing's off," she remarked quietly, not wanting to embarrass him.

Ruari looked at her, startled for a moment before he grinned sheepishly. "I was wondering why I felt like I was about to drop like a sack of potatoes. You mind showing me?"

Thana hesitated but eventually nodded. "Sure." She guided him through the movements, her own thoughts momentarily forgotten in the rhythm of training. He followed her instructions carefully, and although they kept a comfortable distance, she couldn't help but respect his determination. He wasn't the strongest fighter, but he was improving—and that counted for something.

As they continued, the door swung open, and in walked Garrick and Imogen, looking far too comfortable with each other for Thana’s liking. Imogen’s pink hair was tied up, an undercut visible, and she laughed at something Garrick said, her eyes twinkling.

Thana rolled her eyes and as she went back to her stretching. "Impressive work this morning," Garrick remarked, though she couldn't tell if he was addressing Imogen or her.

Ruari packed up his things shortly after, offering Thana a small smile. "Thanks for the help. If you ever want to train together again..." He left the invitation hanging, an olive branch of sorts. Maybe more.

Thana nodded, watching him leave before turning her attention back to Garrick and Imogen, who were still engrossed in their conversation. Imogen shot Thana a curious look, but there wasn't any gossip to share. She wouldn't give Imogen the satisfaction of thinking anything had happened between her and Ruari.

Later that day, Thana sat by the banks of the Ikabos River, the soft breeze ruffling her hair as she absentmindedly twisted the ring between her fingers—the one Garrick had given her before she crossed the parapet. She hadn't known it was engraved with her father's name until recently, and now the weight of it felt different. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Garrick came barreling down the riverbank, shirt discarded, and dove straight into the water with an enthusiastic splash, laughing with the others as he surfaced. Thana smiled briefly but couldn’t shake the anxious pit in her stomach.

Then she heard the crunch of footsteps behind her. She didn’t have to look to know who it was—she’d felt the shift in the air before he even spoke.

"Mind if I sit?" Xaden's voice was low, steady. He was always so composed, and it unnerved her sometimes.

"Go ahead," she replied, scooting over to give him space on the sun-warmed rock she was perched on.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, watching the others in the river. Thana continued to fiddle with the ring, her fingers tracing the engraved letters, lost in thought. Xaden's presence was usually suffocating, but today it felt grounding. After a while, he finally spoke.

"You're thinking about the challenges," he stated more than asked, his gaze steady on her.

Thana hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "And Presentation... and Threshing. I don’t know if I'm ready for any of it." She paused, casting a sidelong glance at him. "What if I fail? What if no dragon wants to bond with me?"

Xaden shifted slightly but didn’t close the gap between them. His dark eyes softened, something almost like concern flickering beneath his usually hardened exterior. "You're not going to fail, Thana. Whether you know it or not, you've trained your whole life for this." He pointed at her father's ring, "he's trained you your whole life for this."

She let out a small, shaky breath, feeling the vulnerability she’d tried to suppress all day creeping in. "But what if I do? What if this whole time... all the training with Garrick, all the work I’ve put in... what if it’s still not enough?"

Xaden raised his hand, as if to rub her back, but hesitated. His hand lingered in the air before falling back to his side. "You're going to be okay," he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle. "I won't let anything happen to you."

The gesture was subtle, but Thana noticed it. His instinct to comfort her was there, but something held him back. It left her feeling both reassured and unsettled, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside her.

She looked up at him with uncertainty still clouding her eyes. "Xaden... how do dragons choose their riders?"

At that question, Xaden’s expression shifted. Something unreadable flickered across his face—something guarded, like he was choosing his next words carefully.

"It's... complicated," he finally said, his voice quieter now, like he was speaking more to himself than to her. "Sometimes it's instinct. Sometimes they see something in you that you don't see in yourself."

Thana’s gaze sharpened, her thoughts immediately going to the scarred dragon she’d seen. She remembered the way it had looked at her during Conscription, like it was evaluating her, judging her in a way no one else had. "And the scarred dragon?" she asked cautiously. "The one we saw on Conscription Day. How does a dragon like that choose?"

Xaden’s jaw tightened. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that same intense look he’d given her the day of Conscription. The same look that had unnerved her then and unsettled her now.

He finally sighed, looking away towards the mountains. "That dragon... It doesn’t choose the way the others do."

Thana frowned, confusion knotting in her chest. "What do you mean?"

Xaden shook his head slightly, a shadow crossing his features. "It's already decided who its rider is going to be."

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Thana couldn’t help but feel a chill run down her spine. There was something more he wasn’t saying, something about that dragon and the way it had looked at her.

"Did Sgayel tell you that?" she asked.

Before she could press him to answer, he stood up, offering a hand to help her to her feet.

"Come on," he said, his tone shifting back to that composed, commanding voice she was more familiar with. "We’ve got to get to dinner."

Chapter 4: Bonding

They say that a dragon without its rider is a tragedy. But, a rider without their dragon is dead.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson; beneficiary unknown.

Thana’s fingers brushed against the cool metal surface of the counter as she placed the last of the plates in their rightful spots on the line. The kitchen smelled faintly of fresh bread and spices, the soft murmur of other students chatting in the dining hall beyond just barely reaching her ears. Kitchen duty before breakfast wasn’t the most glamorous task, but it kept her busy—and at this hour, it was better than sitting alone in her room letting her thoughts spiral.

Across from her, Evander Vossir was fumbling with a tray of plates, his hands shaking as he tried to arrange them neatly. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but despite his effort, his movements were stiff and clumsy, and every few seconds, a plate would slip from his hands and clatter noisily against the counter.

Liam was sitting on the bench nearby, eating an apple, looking entirely too relaxed for someone who had been up at the crack of dawn for sparring. He raised an eyebrow at Thana, casually tossing the core of his apple into the nearby bin.

“So, about that girl in the mess hall yesterday—her name's Estella, right?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Thana shot him a sidelong glance as she adjusted a few plates, keeping her voice flat. “Liam, can we not talk about your lady friends while we’re doing this?”

“Just trying to lighten the mood.” He leaned back, hands behind his head, clearly enjoying the break.

Meanwhile, Evander dropped another plate, sending it crashing onto the floor, the sound harsh and grating. Thana winced as the pieces shattered.

“Take it easy, Evander,” she said, her tone softer than it might have been. She knew the kid was nervous; he was barely holding it together. She couldn’t blame him. Everyone was on edge, even if they weren’t showing it. “I know you're scared, but this is kitchen duty. Stop stressing yourself out.”

Evander looked up at her, his wide eyes full of panic. “I—I’m not messing up on purpose, I swear! I just… I can’t—”

“I know,” Thana said, cutting him off, trying to sound more reassuring than she felt. She paused, then added with a small shrug, “You’re not getting graded on how you stack plates.”

Liam chuckled, but Thana didn’t miss the way his gaze softened when it landed on Evander. He didn’t like seeing people struggle either, even if he made light of it.

Evander gave a shaky nod, wiping his hands on his apron as if to somehow clean away his nervous energy. “I don’t want to mess up,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, as his hands shook slightly.

“Evander,” Thana said, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder gently. “You’re doing great.”

But just as she said that, the door to the kitchen opened with a soft creak, and in walked Xaden Riorson, his tall figure casting a shadow across the room. He was talking with Liam about something, his tone calm and easy, but Thana noticed that Evander stiffened at the sound of Xaden’s voice. It was almost as if the tension in the room doubled.

Thana looked over at Liam, who raised his eyebrows in amusement. Xaden’s voice was smooth as he greeted them casually, unaware of the other presence in the room. “Morning.”

Liam gave a lazy wave, barely acknowledging Xaden, but Thana offered a small smile, trying not to laugh at the sight of Evander quivering in the corner. Before she could say anything, there was a loud crash behind them. Thana whipped around just in time to see Evander drop the tray of plates, the clattering sound echoing in the quiet kitchen like a bomb going off. 

Evander froze, his eyes wide and filled with horror. He bent over quickly, scrambling to pick up the pieces, hands trembling violently.

Xaden turned around, his expression unreadable as his eyes landed on the mess. “Evander?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with concern. “You okay?”

Evander’s face was flushed with embarrassment, his mouth working but no words coming out. He nodded feverishly, as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “I’m fine, really. Just—just a little slip, that’s all.”

Xaden took a step toward him, kneeling down beside him and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. The contact was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the room moments earlier. “Evander, take a breath,” he said calmly. “You're going to cut yourself if you keep going like this. Relax.”

Evander didn’t look up, still scrambling to clean up the mess, his hands shaking with the effort.

“Evander,” Xaden repeated, this time more firmly. “You’re excused. Take a walk or something. Let someone else clean up.”

Thana watched as Evander’s face went even redder, but after a long, awkward pause, he finally nodded and stood, moving quickly toward the door with a muttered, “Sorry. Sorry, everyone.”

Xaden watched him leave, his gaze lingering on the door for a moment before he stood up and turned back to Thana and Liam. “You’ve got a lot of nervous energy around here today, don’t you?”

Liam smirked, grabbing another apple. “Tell me about it. You should see the other first years. It’s like watching a bunch of rabbits in a snake pit.”

Thana shook her head, but she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. She had a feeling this was going to be one of those days where every tiny thing felt like it might just fall apart.

They finished setting up the breakfast buffet before joining their peers in the dining hall.

Thana sat at the far end of the long table in the dining hall, her head propped up on one hand as she absently stirred her porridge with the other. The early morning sun streamed in through the tall windows, casting golden light over the breakfast crowd. Across from her, Liam was already devouring his food, as if the day’s lessons had already started and he needed every ounce of strength. Next to him, Bodhi was lazily picking apart a roll, making casual conversation with Imogen about the upcoming challenges.

“You look like you’re plotting someone’s demise,” Liam teased through a mouthful of food, his eyes glinting with humor as he glanced up at Thana.

Thana smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe I am. Plenty of candidates around here.”

Liam chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t start your day by decapitating anyone, please. At least not before lunch.”

"Fine,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I’ll wait.”

As they finished breakfast, the bell chimed, signaling their next lesson. Thana pushed her tray away and stood, pulling her satchel over her shoulder. The group headed toward Professor Kaori’s lecture hall, their footsteps echoing in the corridors. The energy was tense—Presentation and Threshing were drawing nearer, and everyone’s mind was on the dragons that could either bond them or burn them to ashes.

In class, Thana’s attention drifted as Professor Kaori began speaking. She found herself sketching again, her fingers dancing over the page as she drew the scarred dragon that had been haunting her thoughts lately. She captured the jagged line across his eye, the powerful frame of his body as he perched on the ledge, and the fearsome image of him flying overhead, wings darkening the sky.

“Keep the temperaments of each specific breed in mind when you decide which dragons to approach and which to avoid at Threshing,” Professor Kaori’s voice pulled her back to reality. She glanced up, her eyes narrowing slightly as the professor’s signet projected images onto the large screen behind him. The latest was a bright red dragon with a whip-like tail, tipped with a venomous barb.

“The red scorpiontails,” Kaori continued, “are the quickest to anger. And if you piss them off…”

“You’re dead,” Ridoc finished the sentence from across the room, earning a few chuckles.

The professor didn’t seem amused. “That’s right. Does anyone know how to properly approach a red scorpiontail?”

Silence hung in the room, and Thana’s eyes flicked to the others around her. No one raised a hand. After a beat, Kaori sighed. “Approach them from the left, and make sure it’s from the front. They hate being surprised.”

Next to her, Liam scribbled down every word in his notebook, his handwriting neat and precise. Thana, however, was only half-listening, her thoughts flitting between Kaori’s lesson and the strength she felt growing in her limbs thanks to Garrick’s brutal training. Her sparring victories gave her confidence, but they also made her aware of just how much more there was to learn.

“For this Threshing,” Kaori added, “there are three red scorpiontails willing to bond.”

“Three?” Rhiannon asked, her voice rising slightly in surprise. “How many dragons total?”

The room fell silent again, and Thana felt a sense of tension creeping in. Kaori’s expression was unreadable as he replied, “There are one hundred dragons. But remember, some may change their mind at Presentation.”

A hundred dragons didn’t sound like a lot. Not when there were so many first years vying for a chance to bond.

A first year in the front row raised his hand. “Do they ever explain why they don’t want to bond?”

Jack Barlowe’s scoff cut through the air before Kaori could answer. “No, jackass.”

Kaori shot Jack a look, then turned back to the class. “If you respect their life, you won’t question their decisions.”

The projector shifted to another image, this time of a sleek blue dragon with shining scales. Kaori’s expression hardened as he turned to the class. “Now, you won’t have to worry about blue dragons this Threshing. None of them are left to bond.”

Thana’s heart sank. She had been hoping—foolishly, maybe—that the scarred dragon she’d been sketching might be one of them. But Kaori’s words dashed that hope. 

Kaori’s gaze swept the room, landing briefly on Thana. It felt like he could see through her thoughts, straight to the disappointment she was trying to hide. He continued, “The most powerful of the blues, Sgayel, is bonded. If you see her without her rider, find somewhere else to be. She’s dangerous.” 

There was a murmur of unease that rippled through the room. “What about the other blue daggertail?” someone asked.

Kaori paused. “The other blue is none of your concern. We hadn’t seen him near Basgiath in over a decade. He is even more unpredictable than Sgayel and he’s been known to kill on a whim. I can’t say whether or not he’d keep his rider alive.” Thana shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Now,” Jack Barlowe spoke up again, his voice filled with bravado, “what about the black dragon?”

Kaori’s face darkened. “He’s a morningstartail. I haven’t seen him in five years. He doesn’t bond, and if you see him, run. He’s a killing machine.”

The rest of the class passed in a blur of dragon breeds and bonding odds, but Thana’s mind was elsewhere. Her fingers drummed lightly on the edge of her desk as she thought about the moves Garrick had taught her that morning. He had warned her she could decapitate someone if she wasn’t careful and they flirted with the idea of trying it on Violet Sorrentail. Or Jack. He’d do too.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, Thana and Liam gathered their things. Thana ripped the pages of her dragon sketches from her notebook and stuffed them into her bag before they left the classroom. The crisp air outside hit her as they stepped into the courtyard, and Liam walked beside her in companionable silence for a moment.

“You’re over thinking again,” he finally said, nudging her shoulder gently with his own.

Thana sighed. “I can’t help it.”

Liam stopped walking, turning to face her with an intensity she wasn’t expecting. He looked into her eyes and she felt exposed. She though he was going to praise her for training so hard with Garrick but, he caught her off guard. “You’ll bond a dragon, Thana. You’re more worthy than any of us. And, I know you want it to be but, I hope it’s not him,” he said with a nod toward her sketch sticking out of her bag.

She shrugged. “Kaori said none of the blues are left to bond.”

Liam offered her a tight-lipped smile and Thana watched as he strolled toward the sparring gym. There was some girl he had promised to train but, Thana knew Liam better than that.

As she walked through the halls back to her bunk in the first-year dorms she kept thinking about the dragons from Kaori’s class. What was it like to bond a dragon? Can a dragon change their mind? What if she’s not worthy? What if no dragon even wants to bond with her?

As she unpacked her bag and stuffed her sketches under her mattress she saw a small sculpture on her night stand. She picked it up to examine it and in her hand sat the blue daggertail with the scars etched perfectly across it’s wooden frame.

Alongside the sculpture sat a note written in Liam’s handwriting; 

Thana,