Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Liam blinked suddenly, feeling a bit confused about what was happening. All he could remember was saving Violet's life from the wyverns at the cost of his own, and then… nothing. Liam had never thought much about the afterlife, probably because he had been too focused on fighting to survive. With death so certain, it had been easier to wish it away and divert his thoughts from it, as it was an immutable truth.

During his life, the only thing Liam had been absolutely sure of was that he could die at any moment—not just because of physical dangers, but also due to any misstep that could expose him as less than the exemplary citizen he needed to be. Small infractions overlooked for others would be held against him; comments dismissed for others would be heavily criticized when it came to him. Liam had grown used to being hated for merely existing, even though he had never liked it.

But now it was over. Liam was dead, and there were no more political games or angry crowds to contend with. He wasn’t sure what to expect from death, though he didn’t exactly find the uncertainty unwelcome. He had never been afraid of dying—especially not after saving his friend—and he wouldn’t fear what came next, even if it was unknown.

Around him, the place he found himself in was gradually coming into focus. Curious, Liam glanced around. It was a beautiful room, furnished with intricately carved wooden pieces adorned with black gold detailing. Two enormous floor-to-ceiling windows flanked his bed, allowing Liam to see the surroundings beyond. There was little else in the room besides the bed, a table, and two chairs, so Liam ventured toward the windows to take a look outside.

The view was stunning, a sight he assumed could only exist in the afterlife because he had never even heard of a place like this. There were countless trees, their branches lush with green leaves and occasional blossoms, covering a massive mountain. In the right corner of the vista, a large crystal-clear lake shimmered, reflecting the light. Liam thought he saw movement in the distance, but it was too far to tell. In any case, he figured it was best not to make assumptions when he still didn’t know where he was or what would happen next.

He inhaled deeply, appreciating the ease with which he did so. His last moments in life had been marked by the physical struggle to breathe, to move even a few centimeters, as Deigh’s death had spelled his own.

Speaking of Deigh—what had happened to the dragon? Did they also go to the afterlife alongside their bonded humans? Could he reach him? Liam wanted so desperately to apologize and express his gratitude. Deigh had never questioned his decision, even though it had cost him his life. Liam felt he owed him that much.

“You will see your dragon in a few minutes, child. Be patient,” a voice—female, almost gentle but a little too ethereal to feel entirely so—sounded in his mind. The sensation was eerily similar to when Deigh had spoken to him.

Liam’s eyes darted around, searching for the source of the voice. Standing before him was a tall woman with long white hair that cascaded down to nearly her hips, curling lightly at the ends. Her eyes were a dazzling shade of purple, glowing in the light streaming through the windows. Atop her head rested a beautiful crown, which Liam thought looked like white gold, though he wasn’t familiar enough with materials to be sure. The crown was adorned with cherubic engravings that only enhanced its elegance.

Feeling a little self-conscious, Liam lowered his gaze to his hands, nervously fidgeting with his fingers in a habit he’d long since developed. It wasn’t as necessary as it used to be—recently, he hadn’t felt as nervous or embarrassed—but it resurfaced now.

“Where am I?” he ventured to ask softly. Many people died every day, and as far as Liam knew, Soleil had died just minutes before him. He hoped he could find her and not be alone while awaiting Malek’s judgment on what would happen to his soul.

“You are at the Divine Tree, child. You will not find any other souls here,” the woman replied, stepping closer to the view and gazing out with an expression that could only be described as proud and admiring. “No soul is allowed here—though, of course, there are exceptions, such as yourself.” She turned to him, and Liam quickly lowered his gaze again. He couldn’t fathom why he would be considered an exception, or whether it was a good or bad thing.

Had he done something wrong and now faced severe punishment? Had he offended the gods somehow through his actions or words, and now they intended to punish him personally?

“Relax, child. There are many reasons why you were brought here, but none involve punishment,” the woman said. Liam considered that she might be Amari, the queen of the gods, and his suspicion was confirmed when she introduced herself. “You are correct; I am the goddess Amari. But you need not fear me at this moment.” She walked to the chair near his bed and sat gracefully, her presence both commanding and oddly soothing.

Liam shifted his gaze back to the view outside, swallowing hard. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to fly in such a beautiful place. Deigh had always loved soaring above trees in open skies, and this seemed like a place they both would have enjoyed exploring together.

“Forgive me… Goddess Amari, I don’t quite understand why my situation is special—why I’m here,” he stammered, unsure how to address her. While it had been perfectly acceptable to refer to her as "Goddess Amari" in life, he had never imagined standing before her and thus hadn’t thought about how to address her in such a scenario. If she found his manner of address offensive, however, she didn’t show it.

“Look out that window. It is a beautiful place, isn’t it?” Amari remarked softly, and Liam followed her instruction, once again admiring the breathtaking view. Slowly, he nodded in response.

“This is the original landscape of Navarre. We are at the heart of the continent, and this is how it should have looked in life as well,” she said. Liam’s eyes widened in astonishment. The vibrant, thriving forest before him was unlike anything he had ever seen in his lifetime. Was this truly what it once looked like every day?

“But… there’s no record of jungles this lush in history…” Liam trailed off, then paused. He realized that many truths—like the existence of the Venin—had been deliberately erased from history. His gaze dropped to the floor, sadness washing over him as he thought about how much they had lost and destroyed without even realizing it.

“You are correct, but this was not entirely humanity’s doing, child. Many centuries before you were born, the forest was alive, and magic was abundant. There was no distinction between draconic magic and the magic of griffins,” Amari explained, intertwining her fingers in her lap. “The happiness and magic were so powerful that even here, in the spiritual plane, they were palpable. But then the first Venin appeared, draining the magic from the land. The once-vibrant flora and fauna withered away, their life force consumed and twisted by the malevolent beings. By the time the griffins and dragons rose to fight them, it was too late to save the forest.”

She turned her palm upward, and an image appeared above it, illustrating her words. “Dragons and griffins took to the skies to fight, and thousands perished. The Venin had grown too powerful for individual magic to combat, and the griffins were particularly vulnerable without the hardened scales dragons possessed. Six hundred years ago, the Empyrium voted to consolidate their power into stones that would protect certain territories from the Venin. Thus, the wards were formed over Navarre, forcing the griffins to fend for themselves against the Venin. As time passed, the safety these wards provided led to complacency, and those who knew the truth about the Venin altered history to avoid widespread panic. Unfortunately, this also caused the knowledge of how to counter the Venin to fade into obscurity.”

As the goddess concluded her tale, she closed her hand, extinguishing the image. Liam looked up, both impressed and nauseated by the stupidity of his ancestors.

“I should have guessed—they suppressed everything about the Venin,” he murmured, shifting his gaze back to the view. The goddess nodded slowly before rising to her feet.

“Come, child. Though there is much I still need to tell you, Malek does not like to be kept waiting, and he is not in a good mood.” Amari turned and left the room, and Liam stumbled after her, hesitant but unwilling to stay behind and face the unknown alone.

The hallways were just as stunning as the room, their white stone walls adorned with countless gold embellishments forming flowers and even intricate figures. Stained glass windows let in natural light, depicting scenes that Liam was sure had taken place in the past.

“We saw what you did, child. You gave your life to save another’s, a precious life. That is why you are here,” Amari said as she walked calmly ahead, Liam trailing closely behind. “The Venin are amassing their forces once again, and this time, I fear the wards will not be enough to hold them back. That is why Malek and I have agreed to send reinforcements to the mortal realm.” She glanced over her shoulder, and Liam realized with a sinking feeling that he was the reinforcement she was referring to.

They entered a massive room entirely decorated in black and gold, with two enormous thrones at the end of a long hallway—one white and the other completely black.
But Liam was dead, and he didn’t have any miraculous power to face the Venin like Violet and Xaden did, even if he could return to life.

"There are few things the god of death cannot do, child," a male voice echoed, drawing Liam's attention to the right of the thrones. Unlike Amari, the man before him was undeniably terrifying, with two sunken red eyes, disheveled black hair, and skin as pale as a corpse.

And he definitely didn’t look like he was in a good mood, which Liam figured wasn’t a good sign for him. Amari ignored the furious tone and continued moving forward while Liam stumbled, unsure whether he should keep following her or not. Finally, he moved forward until he was just a few steps away from the podium where the thrones stood.

"Though I dislike letting a soul leave, there isn’t much use in keeping you here if the cost is so high. So, consider yourself lucky that I agreed to send you back," Malek said, narrowing his eyes at Liam, who wisely bowed and murmured that he was very grateful for this.

"You know very well what is happening, Liam. Your duty is to stop the Venin and restore the world to how it should be," Amari spoke again, stepping forward until she stood in front of him and took his hand. His body quickly grew warm.

"I understand that your expanded vision won’t help much in the mission you have ahead, so I am giving you my own gift to help you aid the world. Use it wisely, but know that it must be earned, and the past must be altered for the future to shine," the goddess said, stepping back. Her gaze glowed, and Malek scoffed, looking at him critically.

"You gave him too much, but whatever. I also have my own gift for you. I understand you have a very strong bond with the dragon you rode in life, and although the bond was severed by death, I will send him back with you—with a few modifications," Malek declared, mockingly waving his hand.

The thought of seeing Deigh again definitely comforted him. Though a bit ill-tempered when new, the dragon had been kind to him throughout the year they had known each other. Liam blinked at the divine pair before Malek snapped his fingers, and then everything went dark again.

Chapter Text

It was very hot; that was all he noticed at first while he was still waking up. His entire body was so warm it felt like he might burst into flames at any moment. But that never happened. Liam slowly opened his eyes, letting his body adjust at its own pace as he thought about everything that had happened.

Dying had definitely been a curious experience. He had expected judgment, then to face his fate—not to meet two gods and be sent back on a mission. Liam still wasn’t entirely sure what he was stepping into. Fighting the Venin had always been what he expected to do, so at least that was somewhat reassuring. But then he had the mental image of what they were capable of, and he knew that what Amari had shown him would repeat itself if something wasn’t done.

On the other hand, there was Navarra’s command and its ridiculous situation with him as a marked one. Liam wondered if the gods wouldn’t have preferred to show all of that to someone who would actually be listened to, rather than someone everyone immediately hated. But then he pushed the thought aside, wanting to believe there was a reason he had been chosen. The gods didn’t make mistakes, so he just needed to trust them.

He blinked at his surroundings, all built from dark stone—not the kind Liam had grown used to seeing in Basgiath, but the type commonly used in inns and some medium-sized houses. After a moment of effort, Liam realized he had seen this place before. It was the inn where he and Duke Lindell had stayed the night before recruitment, before Liam climbed to cross the parapet.

Amari’s words about the past made more sense now. Liam was back at the moment where it all began, even before he was a cadet, with an entire year of possibilities ahead of him. He wondered what had happened to his friends who had survived the Resson, whether they had done this because there were still Venin around. Then he shrugged, knowing that was another timeline now.

He needed to think about what would happen in this one, though he hoped everyone would be happy in the timeline he left behind. Liam would face the parapet again in a few hours and then have to go through the training, gauntlet, and threshing to claim Deigh again.

Curious, he hesitantly reached inward. Liam didn’t want to tap into any magic and accidentally turn into a Venin, but he needed to know if his bond with Deigh had been preserved.

He felt it—silent and still as it had never been before, but existent—and that reassured him somehow. At least it gave him some extra security: he wouldn’t need to worry about seeking out Deigh in the threshing or fighting other candidates to become a rider. He also didn’t want another dragon. His companion had fought valiantly by his side, and it would be utterly dishonorable to desire another dragon at that point.

Malek had sent him back with Deigh, and that was an even greater reason to remain content with keeping his dragon.

Tired, he got up and left the room. The sun was rising in the sky, so it must have been a little before six in the morning. Liam cursed Basgiath’s training because it would definitely be a routine problem. Still, he climbed onto the roof—nothing compared to scaling a dragon’s leg, obviously—and sat down to lazily observe his surroundings.

Everything seemed utterly peaceful, nature slowly coming to life as another day began, bringing with it the day where hundreds of lives would change dramatically. But only for themselves—because, in the end, for the rest of the world, it was just another day. Just another set of lives lost to join a quadrant so mistakenly revered.

Liam had lived in it for an entire year and now could say with absolute certainty that it was nothing to wish for or aspire to. The riders' quadrant should have been the place everyone avoided, yet every year, hundreds of people decided to risk everything for a chance to join the elite of a kingdom as corrupt as Navarra.

In a few hours, Liam would climb that staircase for the second time, this time knowing exactly what awaited him. Surprisingly, it did very little to quell the uncomfortable feeling of nervousness curling inside him. He would see Xaden again for the second time, as well as Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen. He would once more be just another cadet in the crowd until he became number one. Once more, he would be separated from Violet.

Or maybe not. He wasn’t sure exactly when she had joined the line, though he knew she climbed well before them, having come from within the fortress. Liam knew he had been sent there to change what had happened—not to him, because the gods didn’t care about him, but to make the world a better place. So the details had to be observed.

However, he did plan to approach Violet sooner this time—not because of Xaden and not because of an order. Liam might have been feeling just a bit frustrated with the older man for how things had ended between him and Violet. He hadn’t thought there was any chance Violet would believe it was just a job for him when, in truth, she was everything he wanted to protect. When she was on the verge of becoming Xaden’s best friend, Liam realized his own feelings.

Without having to worry about being chosen, Liam could focus on helping others succeed as well. Violet had suffered far too much trying to find a way to survive, and no one really took the time to help—not even Xaden, who was the closest to her.

But then, there was the fact that he didn’t know when Violet would climb the staircase. He needed to be there to go after her because Jack Barlowe had been there and had almost managed to knock her off. The parapet wasn’t much of a challenge for a trained rider, and Liam preferred to think his skills had come back with him because the alternative would be far too problematic.

The sun had risen now, and soon the bell would ring, signaling the last hour before recruitment day began. Since he didn’t know much about when things would unfold, he’d have to arrive early and wait until he saw her giving her name to the cadets.

Liam sighed, jumping down from the roof to the ground, and rushed to put on his gear. The material was expensive, of course, as Duke Lindell would never let his protégés wear just any scraps. However, it was undeniably uncomfortable after getting used to flight leathers. The soft fabric gave him the unsettling impression it might pull him off the parapet, but he pushed the thought aside, reasoning that if he managed it before in that outfit, he could do it again now.

He didn’t have many daggers at the moment, though he had managed to collect at least seven during the years he lived in Trivainne, thanks to the duke, who obviously wanted to ensure a positive success rate in that place—as if that were something the man could control. In general opinion, the duke definitely had a lot of luck in the strange allocation draw for the marked ones, having Xaden in his castle. Liam didn’t consider himself a bad prize either, though he was definitely not on Riorson’s level.

Curiously, he wasn’t particularly worried about his lack of weapons at this point. Soon, once he was in the quadrant, he could acquire more daggers through sparring matches on the mats, so worrying about it didn’t make much sense. Instead, he wondered where he could get rune-etched weapons. Preparing for the Venin was definitely something he needed to prioritize. The one he had gotten before had been given to him by Xaden, so he decided he’d have to figure out where his adoptive brother had obtained those daggers and get more of them.

Duke Lindell wasn’t pleased to be awakened before six in the morning, but in the end, once disturbed, the man wasn’t likely to fall back asleep. So, while Liam endured a long lecture about waking him, they still set off for the fortress just half an hour later. Either way, his host wouldn’t be bothered by him after that day, so Liam didn’t really pay much attention to the man’s words on the matter.

Basgiath was the same monotonous, somber, lifeless fortress Liam remembered, and it was absolutely unimpressive when he stood at the gates, pushing through the euphoric crowd to enter. He barely offered the duke a farewell nod, muttering a few words of thanks before heading into the walls.

Before, he had stuck close to the duke, as it had granted him some degree of protection. But Liam didn’t need that anymore, not when he had trained so hard to be the deadliest rider of his year. Ironically, after all of that, he had still been the first to die—though it wasn’t due to a lack of skill but rather a series of catastrophic events.

His thoughts returned to the one who had caused it all. Dain Aetos had taken advantage of Violet’s trust in him to read her memories and then sent them to Athebyne, where Liam had died. While Dain had been the catalyst for the problem, a mere second-year could never have caused it all on his own.

Reluctantly, Liam decided he couldn’t entirely blame Dain for the issue. Command was the real culprit for their location during the war games. Still, he needed to take steps to prevent Dain from accessing Violet’s memories again.

That was easier said than done, as the two were childhood friends, and Violet didn’t even know him now. There was no chance the girl would listen to him if he said her closest friend would invade her mind and memories without her permission. Perhaps he could scare Dain away from her, but that wasn’t entirely safe either, given his reality as a marked one. Ultimately, Liam decided that, for now, all he could do to manage the situation with Aetos was to get close to Violet and keep an eye on her to prevent any mental intrusions.

Liam was grateful for his height. He was at least half a head taller than the average candidate, which allowed him to scan the sea of heads for the silvery braid that always marked Violet’s presence. She wasn’t there yet, so he resigned himself to leaning against the wall next to the registration table to wait. Arriving early wasn’t his preference, but without knowing exactly when the girl would show up, there wasn’t much else to do.

The bells chimed, marking the approach of recruitment's beginning—one hour, forty-five minutes, thirty minutes, and then fifteen. Liam hadn’t bothered maintaining any coherent train of thought about what exactly to do next, determined to focus entirely on his search.

Violet appeared with what must have been just five minutes to spare before recruitment began, looking absolutely nervous despite being literally escorted by her older sister. Mira Sorrengail was a particularly complicated subject for him, as she was obviously loyal to Navarra, and Liam remembered the looks he had received in Montserrat because of his relic.

Even so, not even Liam could deny that the girl was truly a formidable warrior, and her presence definitely should have made Violet more comfortable than she appeared. However, Mira couldn’t ascend and cross the parapet with her younger sister, and Liam planned to cross right behind Violet, never intending to let her fall—not in a million years. But Violet didn’t know that, so she remained nervous.

He set aside his thoughts about Mira for later, when he would assess potential allies and people he might need to deal with, as he moved through the excited crowd to position himself directly behind the pair. They were discussing something in low voices before Mira pulled the shorter girl into a hug. Her chin, surprisingly far from Violet’s head, only emphasized the younger sister's short stature. Then, Mira left her just a few steps away from the table where two cadets were recording the names of the new candidates.

In his past life, Liam had let several cadets—or aspirants—move ahead of him in line for various reasons. It was safer, after all, since he preferred not to have particularly impatient people behind him, and there had been no real reason to cling to a specific spot in the line.

This time, though, he stayed put. When Violet stepped up to the table, he firmly placed himself behind her, ignoring anyone who tried to cut between them. He even risked standing a step closer than usual, though if Violet noticed, Liam might have to deal with her temper. It was worth it, though, as he managed to be right behind her in line to climb the parapet. He didn’t have much of a plan beyond that—only that he would somehow help Violet cross the parapet more easily.

Then his eyes landed on the girl in front of Violet. Her dark curls, perfectly complementing her darker skin tone, served as a recognizable beacon, and Liam had a sinking realization. Rhiannon was there. He wasn’t sure if the same had happened in the past or if the little changes he had made so far—like arriving earlier—had already begun to alter the course of fate. He preferred to think they hadn’t.

She wore tight but low-quality black clothing—apparently, the "riders wear black" culture was more widespread than he had thought—and a pair of smooth-soled shoes that Liam could say with certainty would slip as soon as they reached the parapet. He wanted to warn her, but it wouldn’t change much in that exact moment; he couldn’t conjure a new pair of shoes out of thin air, and they definitely didn’t wear the same size.

They were climbing now. The small flights of stairs were also smooth, though far less so than the parapet itself would be, and Liam could already see how Rhiannon’s shoes were starting to lose stability. Violet was talking to her and the boy in front of them. Liam had never seen him before, though he seemed increasingly close to Violet, and Liam decided the boy must have fallen off the parapet in the previous timeline.

Feeling determined, Liam knew he couldn’t save everyone—no one could—but he wasn’t going to stand by and watch someone who seemed close to his best friend die, even if they had only known each other for a few minutes.

“Hey, you,” he called out. The trio turned to him, each with a different expression. Violet looked a bit startled, clearly not expecting to be addressed now. Rhiannon seemed confused, and the boy—whom Liam intended to save—jumped like a deer caught in headlights. “Give me your bag,” Liam demanded, a little more rudely than intended. None of them had time for pleasantries; there couldn’t be more than fifty steps left, and Liam had no desire to face Xaden while compromising his own safety with rubber-soled shoes.

“What…?” the boy started to say, dumbfounded, and Liam scoffed.

“I’m not robbing you, but you need to lose the weight, or you’ll fall,” he muttered, moving past Violet—somehow without touching either girl—while opening the boy’s backpack. “And what’s your shoe size?” Liam asked, quickly rummaging through the bag. It was full of clothes that would never be used, and he wasn’t particularly selective as he pulled out a large set of shirts and pants, looking for those that were sturdier and tighter.

“Size 42,” the boy stammered, almost scared, as Liam reorganized the selected clothes in the bag and threw the rest away with near-military precision. Liam cursed under his breath—of course, the boy wore the same size as him.

“Good. Take off your right shoe. I’m giving you one of my rubber boots—it’ll give you better traction on the parapet stone, but it won’t save you from a fall if you slip with your left foot,” he said, already untying his right boot. Liam shot a sharp look at the boy, who snapped out of his daze and hurried to remove his smooth-soled shoe.

He glanced at the two girls climbing behind them, who looked surprised and utterly confused. Violet looked at him, and then a strange glimmer of gratitude shone in her blue-brown eyes before she turned to Rhiannon.

“We’re switching too. Smooth-soled shoes are always dangerous on the parapet,” she declared. Liam was genuinely thankful for that since Violet’s riding boots were perfect for slippery surfaces.

He put on the boy’s shoe, grimacing at how smooth it felt. His suspicion that the boy would have slipped almost immediately seemed much more plausible now that he knew what the shoe’s sole was like. Sighing, he pulled out one of his daggers and moved to the next step, determined to carve some much-needed traction into the sole. The cuts couldn’t be too deep due to the sole’s thickness, but he couldn’t climb with nothing.

He did the same for the boy’s left shoe. Liam wanted his boot back on the other side of the parapet, so he preferred to do a thorough job. Then he turned to the two girls.

“I can deepen the grooves in the smooth soles; it might help them grip the stone,” he offered, showing his own now-grooved sole. Rhiannon hesitated, though she didn’t seem particularly uncomfortable with him holding a dagger so close to her. Violet studied him before agreeing, seeming to realize that he wouldn’t have risked his own survival only to harm them afterward.

He crouched, carefully holding Violet’s ankle, fully aware of her tendency to fracture bones. The girl was tense, clearly thinking the same, though she had no idea how he knew. Liam carefully carved the sole, ensuring the cuts were deep enough to make a difference but not so deep as to pierce through and reach her foot.

He also made an effort to clean the mud caked into the sole, hoping it would help even more. Violet needed all the assistance he could offer at that moment, even though she was far from defenseless. He didn’t look up at any point, though he paused for a few seconds to let them climb one more step. When he finished, Liam sought Violet’s gaze as he stood, releasing her leg.

There was a curiosity in her eyes, which was unsurprising. No cadet should be helping another so much—they were all competitors for the same dragons, after all—but Liam had no doubt he would bond with a dragon. Deigh was already there. He turned to Rhiannon, who seemed less hesitant now, and nodded her approval. Liam repeated the process with her left shoe, taking his time without being careless, ensuring it was done right.

"Thank you," the dark-haired girl said when Liam finally stepped back, satisfied with his work. He preferred to think of it as saving potential allies, though he wasn’t quite ready to bet on that idea just yet.

"You're welcome," he replied with a shrug, stepping aside to let the two women go ahead before resuming his spot behind Violet. She glanced over her shoulder at him, clearly debating a few options in her mind.

“What’s your name?” she finally asked, all three of them now looking at him with curiosity.

“Liam. Liam Mairi,” he introduced himself. A glimmer of recognition lit up in Violet’s eyes as her gaze darted to his left sleeve, where just the edge of his relic was visible. He kept his expression calm and friendly. “Yes, I’m Marked, but I was hoping to make a few friends—and you all seem nice,” he added with a smile. Liam didn’t need to mention that he already had friends here or that his adoptive brother was probably the person Violet hated most at the moment.

“I’m Dylan,” the blond boy said quickly, his straw-colored hair shifting as he nodded. He seemed eager to make a friend. Liam decided that if the boy survived, he’d have to help him toughen up and become more cautious about the people around him.

“Rhiannon Matthias, but just Rhiannon is fine,” the dark-haired girl added with a smile, seemingly overcoming her initial distrust. She even extended her hand, which Liam shook with enthusiasm, though he made sure to be gentle. He looked to Violet, hoping she’d give him a chance; after all, he had just helped her, so he couldn’t be actively wishing for her death.

“Violet. Violet Sorrengail,” the shortest of the group finally introduced herself, relaxing her posture just slightly. There was still a spark of defiance in her eyes, as if she expected him to spit venom—or fire, perhaps—simply because she shared a surname with the general.

“I know who you are; everyone does,” he said warmly. Liam had no intention of being Violet’s enemy in any timeline, and whatever actions Lilith Sorrengail had taken were hers alone—they didn’t define her daughter.

Violet blinked at him, clearly surprised by his response. Perhaps Mira had warned her to stay away from the Marked, claiming they would kill her. While part of him wanted to defend his group, Liam knew that some of them would kill her without a second thought.

“Thank you for... for helping us—helping me,” Dylan said, sounding far less confident than before. Of course, after having so many things pointed out as wrong, anyone would start doubting their future performance.

“It’s okay, Dylan,” Liam reassured him with a smile, trying to ease his nerves. Liam wanted to give the boy a real shot at survival, which definitely wouldn’t happen if he was too tense and worried. “You’ll do great. Just remember to spread your arms wide and keep your muscles active to maintain your balance,” he advised gently, despite the tension of the moment. Dylan seemed a little more at ease, so Liam counted it as a success.

He wasn’t thrilled about losing one of his rubber-soled boots, but he kept that thought to himself—it wouldn’t help the situation.

“Why do you all want to join the quadrant?” Rhiannon asked curiously as they continued to move up the line.

“I’ve always wanted to join, ever since I was a kid, though my mom tried to talk me out of it these past few months,” Dylan said, his smile growing as he thought of his family. Liam decided not to follow that line of thought; mentioning his late family in apostasy wouldn’t end well. “And I have a girlfriend, though she didn’t want to get engaged before I joined here because she believes it’s bad luck,” he added with a laugh at her superstition. The engagement probably wouldn’t last, but that hardly mattered—Basgiath was already a nightmare on its own, without any love curses or the like.

“That’s amazing, Dylan! I’ve wanted to be a rider since I was little too, and I’m so excited about the prospect of learning to ride dragons,” Rhiannon exclaimed cheerfully to him. Liam kept his eyes on the path, noticing the staircase’s end drawing closer.

Part of him churned with nervous energy. His brother would be there, and Liam was only now realizing he didn’t know how to act. He was angry—petty and spiteful, but angry nonetheless. At the same time, he wanted to leap into Xaden’s arms because Xaden was his brother, and no fury on earth could stop him from missing him.

Even if they’d only been separated for seconds—or years, from Xaden’s perspective. Liam decided to focus on the positive years of their relationship because, ultimately, they had all made mistakes in the Resson situation. This was—or should be—a new life, with no room for pointless grudges.

“I’m a Sorrengail, and all Sorrengails are riders,” Violet said simply, her tone devoid of enthusiasm. Liam couldn’t help but feel some empathy for her situation.

They didn’t want to be there. Violet didn’t want to be there. She was unhappy. They were unhappy. In the end, they were all just following orders, with no other options or opportunities for choice.

“What about you, Liam?” Rhiannon asked. He blinked, uncertain. Nothing about Xaden’s arrangement was strictly confidential, but it was an unspoken agreement that no one should discuss it.

However, Liam didn’t want to lie to his new friends so soon, so he finally relented.

“I have to join the quadrant. It was the condition Navarra’s command gave us for pardon,” he said vaguely. Dylan reached the top of the stairs, and the walls rose toward the sky to form the cliffs that would lead them to the parapet.

“None of you had a choice?” Dylan asked, shocked. Liam shrugged.

“We can choose between risking death in the riders’ quadrant or dying immediately,” he said bluntly, entirely unfazed. Dylan and Rhiannon looked utterly stunned, but Violet seemed completely taken aback.

Liam knew she didn’t know anything—not even the basics of apostasy, much less the real threat on the other side of the wall—and there wasn’t much he could say to her now. First, he had to be sure she was an ally, and then he’d need to convince Xaden, somehow, though Liam had no idea how he’d manage that. He was still figuring it out, but he believed Violet Sorrengail could be the greatest advantage they’d ever have.

As he stepped into the corridor, he spotted the first of the cadets, the one responsible for recording names. Last time, Liam hadn’t paid much attention to him, too nervous and anxious, but this time he focused, intent on analyzing who he’d be dealing with.

It had been Bodhi then, and it was Bodhi now. Liam watched in amazement as Xaden’s cousin calmly wrote Dylan’s name on a clipboard. Back in Resson, Liam remembered that Cuir was having issues. He wondered if he could convince the dragons to organize preparatory training for the Venin. Bodhi was important to Xaden, and Liam genuinely thought he was a good person.

Another name to add to the list of people to save—there were already so many.

Bodhi raised his gaze, assessing the two women chatting animatedly—or so it seemed; Liam couldn’t quite tell—before finally looking at him. His dark brown eyes widened slightly, recognition flashing across his face. They had never spoken in person before this, but Liam bore a striking resemblance to his mother and carried the distinctive Mairi features, so it wasn’t hard to figure out. Coupled with the fact that Liam obviously recognized Bodhi, the list of possibilities narrowed even further.

A little nervous but also a little relieved, Liam gave the older boy a small wave, determined to establish a good relationship with Bodhi, both for the past and for the future he wanted to build.

Bodhi, just a year older than Liam but somehow infinitely more experienced, returned the wave with a composed nod and even a small, reserved smile. It was never safe for them to be too openly affectionate in public; Marked weren’t supposed to associate with other Marked. But for a few seconds, no masks remained between them.

Then Violet gave her name, and Bodhi’s attention shifted to her. Surprise and a flicker of cold anger crossed his expression before quickly vanishing. Liam wanted to think it irritated him to see that, but it didn’t. After all, he couldn’t fault anyone for their feelings on certain matters.

Bodhi had his reasons not to like the Sorrengails, though Liam wished he could show everyone that Violet was someone worth trusting. Taking another step forward, now almost beside Bodhi, Liam fought an overwhelming urge to throw caution to the wind and embrace the older boy. He didn’t care that he barely knew Bodhi in any timeline or that it might seem strange.

Still, he managed to restrain himself. None of them could handle the consequences of such an action, though Liam couldn’t stop his hand from hesitantly reaching toward Bodhi. It took a few seconds, but Bodhi eventually relaxed, grasping Liam’s fingers in a firm, encouraging, but gentle grip—a welcome gesture if ever there was one.

“Liam Mairi,” Bodhi said, following protocol. No one wanted to risk the older boy running into trouble over something so trivial, no matter how unlikely that might be.

“You can pass,” Bodhi said, nodding toward Violet, who had already taken three steps ahead. Liam quickly caught up to her, feeling slightly relieved, though far from relaxed.

Dylan stood at the edge of the parapet now, staring at it as if seeing it for the first time. If he kept that up, he’d panic and never take more than a step forward.

“Dylan, just remember—small steps with the smooth sole and long steps with the rubber,” Liam encouraged calmly. He’d been purposefully avoiding Xaden, but now he turned and saw him for the first time.

It was…difficult to decide how he felt. Hurt, anger, happiness, longing, and sheer relief washed over him as he stood face-to-face with the black-haired, golden-onyx-eyed boy. The person he trusted most—the one who had lied to the person he claimed to love most. The boy who had risked his life to save them and couldn’t do anything more.

Liam felt his vision blur, tears welling up. The petty part of him wanted to cling to anger, but instead, relief overwhelmed him, spilling out with the tears. Xaden looked exactly as he had before Resson, though somehow infinitely younger than he would be in the future. The tension lines in his face still held some softness, and there was none of the old discomfort that had seemed to linger after the arrival of the Venin.

Liam wished he could embrace the older boy, but like with Bodhi, there was no way that could happen now. And anyway, Xaden had never been much for hugs, so he’d have to settle for something quick later.

The older boy regarded him seriously, though after years together, Liam could immediately spot the curiosity in his expression. He had always made friends easily, but the line to the parapet wasn’t exactly the place to make connections.

Liam also knew Xaden would quickly categorize Dylan as a candidate for the death roll by morning. Not very fit, a farmer by nature, and clearly unaware of the true challenge ahead. But Xaden didn’t voice this aloud and seemed even better at hiding it when he turned to look at him. Liam wondered what exactly the older boy was thinking at that moment, but Xaden remained utterly unreadable.

Dylan stepped out onto the parapet—not fully confident but not insecure either, which was undoubtedly a victory. Arms spread wide, he followed Liam’s advice about his steps. He was doing well, now halfway across—far more than he would have managed with only the smooth sole.

Then movement drew Liam’s attention to the parapet’s sides.

Beside Dylan, one on each side, two shadows coiled and waited, ready to catch the boy if he faltered. Liam blinked, glancing back at Xaden, who wore a faint smile. The petty part of Liam’s feelings dissolved completely.

Xaden was helping a boy he didn’t know, didn’t believe in—because, obviously, Liam had befriended the boy along the way.

Feeling absolutely grateful, Liam smiled at the older boy, who scoffed but returned a brief smile nonetheless. Rhiannon was approaching the parapet now, a determined and serious look in her eyes as she clearly gave herself a motivational speech in her mind before starting the challenge.

Liam smiled as Rhiannon moved forward confidently, more balanced than Dylan though still lacking the grace she would eventually possess as a rider. Liam reached out mentally for his bond with Deigh, finding it still firm but silent. He’d probably have to wait until threshing to fully reestablish his connection with Deigh.

Violet stepped onto the parapet and then froze, clearly too scared to move forward. Liam wasn’t sure how to encourage her, but he didn’t need to, because a mocking voice sounded behind him.

“What’s wrong? Is the little princess scared? Want me to help you walk?” the voice teased.

A blond boy stepped past him and approached Violet. It took Liam less than ten seconds to recognize him.

Jack Barlowe.

Well, this was... a mess. He already knew Violet had a history with the cadet—obviously, since no one could hate someone else that much for no reason. Garrick had once mentioned, laughing, that Violet “had Barlowe by the balls,” openly mocking the cadet, but he’d never described what had actually happened.

Violet leapt forward, clearly unhappy about being pushed. Jack tried to follow her, but Liam stepped forward, blocking his way.

“No one likes a line-cutter. Better wait your turn,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He waited until Violet was a quarter of the way across before stepping onto the parapet himself.

The wind hit him, and for a few seconds, it felt like being back on Deigh’s narrow spine. Liam advanced with almost military grace, not even noticing the difference between the smooth-soled shoes as he moved toward the other side of the parapet. Violet was a quarter of the way across when Liam caught up to her. Some competitors might have pushed her off the edge, but he simply kept pace with her, respecting her rhythm.

He wasn’t particularly unbalanced in his position and wouldn’t be more or less so by going faster or slower up there. Liam glanced back, looking for Barlowe, who was moving confidently and faster than them. At his current pace, Liam estimated it would take no more than two minutes for the blond boy to reach them. Well, Liam preferred to deal with Barlowe sooner rather than later, so he wasn’t about to ignore him and just let him pass.

He kept an eye on Barlowe as he advanced, waiting for the moment he’d be close enough to attack but also feel safe enough not to expect retaliation.

Unfortunately for Barlowe, Liam knew exactly what to expect.

When Jack reached out to give him a firm shove, Liam crouched, letting Barlowe’s own momentum unbalance him. Jack stumbled forward, expecting resistance but finding none, and his own speed worked against him. His knees hit Liam’s back, and the boy found himself further off balance.

Liam barely had to do anything else. Moving too quickly and not expecting a misstep, Jack lost his footing and tumbled forward, his knees catching on the parapet. Unlike Liam, who was firmly anchored, the aspiring cadet—aspiring in this timeline, anyway—toppled over, falling to his death.

There was a silent second where Jack couldn’t process what had happened before his horrified scream echoed as he fell.

Violet, ahead of Liam, turned slightly, finally noticing his proximity and looking confused.

“Go ahead,” Liam said calmly. “That idiot tried to push me.”

He straightened, brushing himself off. Confidence should never be excessive, as it could drive people to make stupid decisions just as easily as it could push them toward success.

Barlowe had never understood that. He never would, as reckless as he would become, so Liam preferred that he was gone now rather than creating problems in the future.

Violet blinked once at him before nodding and continuing her path safely, with Liam close behind.

Basgiath was the same dark, intimidating fortress Liam remembered it to be, but it wasn’t frightening the second time around. So he simply focused on the people around him, who seemed utterly terrified, as if seeing the place for the first time.

Up close, the stones looked like massive blocks of uninterrupted darkness. But above that, the fortress’s sheer size and the dome where the dragons would land after bonding still caught Liam’s attention, even now.

After spending so much time around dragons, Liam’s sense of scale was severely skewed. He knew the structure was enormous, but his mind kept comparing it to the dragons, making everything seem small in comparison. The awe and surprise he’d once felt for the place were gone, so it was no wonder that Liam showed no reaction at all to the sight of it.

Still, he watched Violet take it all in, then Dylan and Rhiannon when they joined them shortly after. Liam took the opportunity to retrieve his boot, as did Violet with hers. He observed the awe and then apprehension on the trio’s faces, Rhiannon and Dylan showing it more openly than Violet, though the latter couldn’t completely hide her emotions from him.

“It’s just a big old pile of rocks, really impressive, isn’t it?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood for all of them.

Liam hoped they’d find Ridoc soon and make friends with him, as he was by far the best mood-lifter Liam had ever known.

"It looks like a fortress straight out of nightmares," Rhiannon remarked, tilting her head. She didn’t need to know how accurate that statement was.

"Nightmares end," Liam scoffed, shrugging, unfazed by the reality he’d just presented to the others. The sooner they woke up from the fantasy that this was anything other than hell on earth, the better for all of them.

"You seem quite cynical about this place, cadet," a serious and polished voice sounded behind him. Liam would recognize that voice anywhere, in any life, having heard it every day after threshing.

Dain Aetos stood no more than three steps away, arms crossed in what was supposed to be an impressive posture. Nothing was more impressive than Xaden, in Liam's opinion, and if there was anything that could be, it certainly wouldn’t be that man. Liam narrowed his eyes, a sudden, boundless anger rising within him—unlike what he’d felt with Xaden, which had been tethered to lingering feelings.

His body tensed as memories of his last moments flooded back—the pain, Deigh’s screams both in his mind and for all to hear, the sudden, crushing death, and Dain’s betrayal of Violet. The emotions coiled in his stomach like something physical, writhing and screaming at him to act, to strike that petty fool.

He might have done so in that first moment of bubbling rage. Dain Aetos deserved a punch right then if not for Violet stepping forward and embracing the boy.

The gesture was an unwelcome but necessary cold shower, reminding Liam where and when he was trapped at that moment.

It was still the start of the academic year. Violet was still the childhood friend who wouldn’t think ill of Dain, and Dain had yet to reveal the stupidly manipulative façade that would push her away in the future. Liam was still only a potential ally to Violet, and all of that could crumble if the second-year whispered his venom into her ear.

What did it matter if Liam had risked his own survival to help them? He was a Marked One, and everyone actively wanted Violet dead. Dain only needed to point that out to undo the past few minutes of effort Liam had made.

The realization tightened the anger in his stomach. Being Marked had never been easy, but it had also never been as actively inconvenient as it was now.

Still, Liam resigned himself to it—what he did best in both lives. He simply watched, irritated, as Dain hugged Violet and she seemed infinitely more relieved to see the second-year.

Pathetically, he wondered how much effort it would take to force Aetos to show his true face. How much work would it take just to be considered a friend to Violet again?

Liam averted his gaze, trying to control his temper. He’d never been particularly easy to provoke, which was a good thing since he dealt with Xaden, who was like a ticking time bomb. But Liam felt like a missile without a target, oscillating between nearly exploding and just continuing on the aimless trajectory he’d been sent on.

The sky was dark with clouds, and it was almost raining—a miracle since the last time he’d crossed the parapet, it had been in a particularly strong downpour. He knew it would be at least three more hours before the last cadet crossed the parapet.

Had he succeeded? Or had that first test ended in someone’s death?

Liam preferred not to think about that now as he waited—not so patiently—for Violet to let go of Dain so he could finally answer the question posed to him. A witty response couldn’t kill anyone, and any blow to Dain Aetos’s ego was welcome.

"Forgive my lack of enthusiasm. I’ve just crossed a narrow strip of stone and faced death," he replied dryly when, after three long minutes, Violet finally released Dain. Liam wondered if the second-year had already taken a peek at Sorrengail’s memories.

Dain narrowed his eyes at him, clearly displeased with his choice of words. But this time, Violet intervened, obviously deciding that hostilities at the start weren’t something she wanted to deal with.

"Come on, not all of us are happy to be here," she said, turning and winking at Liam. He gave her a conspiratorial smile, easily agreeing with the logic.

"What are you doing here, Vi? I thought you were going to the Scribes," Dain said. Liam mocked him silently; he couldn’t even pretend to be happy to see the girl he called his best friend.

If he could speak with Deigh, he knew the dragon would say something like, "We once had the prejudice that humans were stupid and weak. That has changed over time, but he is definitely the embodiment of that concept." And Liam would laugh until he couldn’t anymore.

His dragon enjoyed being poetic and was surprisingly detailed in his observations. Liam missed him. Three months until threshing felt like an eternity. Was it worth risking entering the Vale to regain his bond with the dragon?

Probably not, so Liam would have to settle for waiting, even if that meant enduring Dain without Deigh’s hilarious commentary.

"You know how it is when General Sorrengail gives an order—you obey," Violet said, shaking her head. There was a note of hurt in her tone that warned she wasn’t as immune as she wanted to seem.

"Vi, you didn’t..."

Liam decided to interrupt before something irreparably stupid came out of Aetos’s mouth. Violet was one of the greatest riders he’d ever known, and he wouldn’t hear anyone say otherwise.

"You crossed the parapet with flying colors. Maybe your mother saw something you haven’t yet," he suggested. While he wasn’t a fan of Lilith Sorrengail, one fact was that the woman had indeed seen something in her youngest daughter before anyone else. Why else would she have sent her to the Riders Quadrant?

"My mother only sees me as a failure, the defective daughter," Violet frowned, clearly unhappy with the thought. "I bet she expected me to die on the parapet so she could boast about only having my sister."

"But you survived," he pointed out calmly. "She was already wrong if that’s what she expected."

Violet looked at him, as if realizing this for the first time, before her body relaxed, and she gave him a grateful smile, nodding.

"You’re right, Liam."

Her lips were still turned upward when Dain spoke again. Behind them, Dylan and Rhiannon exchanged glances, both looking slightly displeased with the you don’t belong here attitude Dain still held.

"You probably still have time to change your mind, Vi. Talk to Markham; he’ll agree, and you can join the Scribes," Dain insisted. Liam rolled his eyes, mocking quietly, though he remained silent—it wasn’t his place to fight Violet’s battles.

"She’d know. And either way, I’m already here," Violet said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. She looked absolutely dissatisfied with her interaction with Aetos, which Liam definitely counted as a win. "Mira told me to find you, that you’d help me," she changed the subject, making Dain nod abruptly.

"Yes, go to the redhead taking names. Tell her to put you in my squad," Dain proposed. Violet nodded before turning to look at the three of them, clearly deciding she wanted to keep them as allies.

"Your… allies too, of course," he added hesitantly the moment his brown eyes met Liam’s. Liam resisted the urge to smile triumphantly, resigning himself to a nod.

It was better than he could have hoped for, and Liam definitely didn’t want to tempt fate by provoking Aetos over his supposed defeat.

He had more important matters to deal with now.

Chapter Text

"Mother, run"... a flash of blonde entered her vision... black, pointed teeth bared before pulling apart...

Mother... screams...

There was fire then... everything around was burning... "MOTHER"... Sloane was screaming...

There was nothing left of the woman who raised him, only a pile of ashes on the ground and the scorched courtyard floor.

-*-

In his former life, Liam had been in the Fourth Wing’s tail section, first squadron to be precise, and his leader was Tomaz Belden with XO Ola Ryu. It was the Fourth Wing, Xaden’s wing, where his brother could reach him to help.

This time, predictably, as he had been forcibly integrated into Aetos' squadron, he wasn’t in the tail section, nor the first squadron, and certainly not in the Fourth Wing. Instead, he easily positioned himself behind Violet in what was the second squadron of the claw section in the Second Wing, with a shocked Imogen staring at him as if he simply didn’t belong there.

Whether it was at Basgiath or just his place behind Violet in the line, it was hard to say, and it didn’t matter much. The squadron had three third-years, two second-years, and then nine first-years that Liam recognized as Ridoc Gamlyn and Sawyer Henrick, whom he had often interacted with in his past life, Tynan, Pryor, and a girl Liam thought was named Aurelie, though he didn’t remember her, assuming she had died before joining the squadron.

Of course, he didn’t know anyone besides Imogen among the older students, so he paid no attention at that moment. Liam knew that the fact he and Dylan were in this squadron had pushed others into the one he’d been part of in his former life.

A part of him was slightly unsettled—not because his former squadron was particularly kind to him, but because of the distance from Xaden and his protection. Not that he necessarily needed it, not when he had a year’s worth of training experience in this place, but there were things he didn’t want to give up even in a second life.

Xaden had always represented trust to him. Although Riorson tended to keep secrets, it didn’t matter because Liam had already witnessed how far he would go to protect those he loved. Being far from him and under the command of Septao Izar, leader of the Second Wing, was at least unnerving.

Still, he remained firm, as a stupid fear wouldn’t stop him from fulfilling his mission. Liam would defend himself from anyone as needed and protect everyone he could.

That didn’t mean everyone.

Behind him, Dylan maintained what he considered to be a respectful posture, looking a bit comical as he pressed his legs together and kept his arms straight by his sides, his face serious and his gaze fixed on the back of Liam’s neck. It had been a bit uncomfortable at first, but now it was just amusing considering how eager the boy seemed.

Liam made a mental note to help the boy get in shape as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t survive the first week there, much less the Gauntlet.

At least it gave Liam something to do while dealing with the hundreds of repeated lessons.

The formation was about to begin when a commotion erupted on the platform, one that Liam recognized, causing his muscles to relax with relief just before Panchek’s voice rang out.

“Dain Aetos, gather your squadron; you’ll be switching with Aura Beinheven’s squadron.”

Liam could have jumped in celebration or cheered, but he did none of that, settling instead for a small smile as he followed the group and Dain’s instructions until they were in the flame section, again the second squadron, this time in the Fourth Wing.

Xaden shot him an unhappy look; he probably didn’t like not being able to choose which squadron Liam would join since he knew the dynamics better. But Liam resigned himself to nod calmly in his direction.

Everything was going well so far, and in any case, Xaden would thank him later when he realized Liam could now monitor Sorrengail’s entire routine. Liam wanted to be useful above all else, to repay everything the older man had done for all of them in the best way possible, and throwing himself into the wolves’ den was a small price to pay.

In any case, he also planned to get closer to Violet—not just because of her potential but because he couldn’t imagine a space where he wasn’t friends with her. It was truly surprising how attached he’d become to her in just over half a year, but she had a way of winning people over that Liam was only beginning to understand.

Panchek stepped forward. Liam knew the speech, though he initially thought the numbers would decrease; they ended up staying proportional. He had saved Dylan and condemned Balorwe—it was just a trade, quickly balanced.

That left him thoughtful. Things had balance because they had to, or everything would fall apart, and fate was already somewhat predetermined. Liam considered that it likely wouldn’t be easy to change the trajectory of time, not if his compensation theory was correct.

If he saved someone, the universe would probably choose someone else to take their place. Change one situation, and something would cause the same outcome at another moment. He would have to be very vigilant because he didn’t want to lose anyone due to that messed-up compensation.

“Three hundred and one of you survived the parapet to become cadets today,” Panchek paused, scanning the crowd. “Good job; sixty-seven did not.”

The exact same number as in Liam’s former life.

They had still lost Luperco and Sutherland—predictable since he hadn’t done anything to try to help them. Liam shrugged because if they weren’t prepared, there were no ten minutes that could save them. The same couldn’t be said for Dylan, not if it weren’t for Xaden being willing to help—but the older man couldn’t show favoritism toward the Marked Ones.

Panchek extended both hands toward the rows in a dramatic, unnecessary gesture and declared in a booming voice, “As the Codex says, now is when the real crucible begins! You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. If you survive Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders. Then we’ll see how many of you make it to graduation.”

There was a deliberately cruel tone in the commander's voice, though it was only Liam who noticed because it was very well concealed.

Twenty percent of those who ascended wouldn’t make it to their destination, and triple that number wouldn’t make it to Threshing. Liam knew even fewer would reach graduation. Xaden once said that one in three made it; Liam hadn’t been part of that lucky percentage before, but he would be now.

"You think you're untouchable! You're on your way to becoming the elite! The few! The chosen ones!" Xaden wore a sinister smile, and his gaze met Liam's for a brief second. The Mairi merely shook his head almost imperceptibly, mocking the older man's performance.

Liam had known Riorson for six years, and he didn't find him remotely scary anymore. Though Xaden still looked absolutely imposing, like a villain from the stories, Liam knew the tactic well—using their own prejudice against them. He just never managed to do it to himself, though he admired those who could.

Then the muffled sound of wings reached Liam's ears, faint through the roars of cheers and shouts. Liam looked up just in time to see the first dragon fly over the courtyard.

It was the red, sword-tailed dragon Nyra Voldaren rode—a powerful beast—but it was its color that caught Liam's attention. Red, just like Deigh, his companion, who was somewhere in the Vale, far out of his reach.

Deigh was probably relieved now, free of any human pushing him into death-defying madness, as Liam had once done.

The eight dragons landed on the courtyard, their claws sinking into the stone, toppling chunks of rock. The sound was drowned by the terrified screams of the cadets witnessing the shift in events. Well, everyone but Liam, who didn’t feel even a hint of fear. It was hard to feel scared when you had lived with dragons in a past life—harder still when you knew exactly what was about to happen.

Screams pierced his ears uncomfortably. Liam wished they would stop, as they were ruining the majestic moment. The massive, imposing figures of the dragons towered over them, seemingly as tall as the enormous stone fortress itself.
Liam wondered if he should feel uneasy staring at unfamiliar dragons, but all he felt was relief and a faint sense of belonging.

Sgaeyl stood directly in front of him, her golden eyes piercing into his very soul. Liam didn’t blink or move, remaining rooted in place, unflinching. The dragon would do as she saw fit, and Liam only hoped that if he were to burn, it would be just him and not those around him.

The dragon blinked and then shifted her gaze to a cadet in the squad nearby. Liam knew what was coming next as soon as he saw the first tooth appear in the dragon’s enormous mouth. He didn’t blink, flinch, or move as a stream of fire erupted from her throat, incinerating a girl from the first squad in the Flame Section.

More screams erupted. Violet joined in, and Liam turned his eyes to where the girl had stood—now reduced to a pile of ash.

He wasn’t afraid of dragons, not anymore, but Liam couldn’t ignore the pang of discomfort that came from witnessing someone being killed so mercilessly.

That’s how things worked here: you lived or you died. But it wasn’t fair, because so many didn’t deserve death. Liam blinked, feeling something between sadness and apathy as he looked at the now-deceased cadet. Another name to add to tomorrow’s death tally—a life with dreams cut short.

He averted his gaze, briefly tilting his head to offer a silent prayer to Amari and Malek, hoping the soul at least crossed into the spirit world peacefully.

Figures darted past him—cadets who couldn’t take it anymore and tried to flee. Liam didn’t look this time, but the sulfuric stench told him what happened next. Dragons didn’t tolerate cowards, and fleeing was nothing short of a display of a weak spirit.

Liam cast a quick glance at Dylan behind him. The boy looked ghostly pale with terror but kept his shoulders squared and held onto as much courage as he could muster. In Liam’s opinion, Dylan would be fine—he wasn’t burned yet.

Violet, however, seemed particularly shaken in front of him. Slowly, Liam stretched out his hand until it clasped hers.

“Breathe. You’re doing great,” he promised.

Violet turned to him, just enough to see him, holding his gaze for a few seconds before smiling faintly.

“Thank you, Liam,” she murmured, squeezing his palm to reinforce her gratitude. Liam just shook his head, dismissing the thanks.

The formation held steady as the dragons seemed satisfied with the five cadets they had killed—two more than in Liam’s last life—and Xaden resumed speaking, appearing absolutely indifferent. He probably wasn’t, but by now, pretending to feel things he didn’t was likely second nature.

“Does anyone else feel like changing their mind? No? Excellent. Approximately half of you will be dead by this time next summer,” Xaden’s voice echoed across the courtyard, where sobs and cries were clearly audible. The crowd quieted as much as possible to hear him. “A third of you the summer after that. The same as last year. No one here cares who your mommy or daddy is. Even the second son of King Tauri died during his threshing.”

Liam had two comments about Xaden’s speech. First, it was definitely untrue—everyone cared about who their parents were, especially those with that stupid mark on their arm. Second, Xaden was slightly hypocritical, given that, as far as Liam knew, it was Xaden who killed Alic Tauri during his threshing.

Still, most of it was true, so Liam gave the older man a pass.

“So tell me again: do you feel invincible now that you’ve entered the Riders’ Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite? Because to them,” Xaden gestured slowly to the dragon behind him, somehow looking even more threatening than the massive, fire-breathing beasts, “you’re just prey.”

With that, Xaden stepped down from the podium, and the formation dissolved. Dain straightened, his eyes fixed on Liam.

Liam didn’t know what he had done to catch the squad leader’s attention now. Not that it mattered; he contented himself with following the group toward the dorms.

The real challenge would start now. Life inside Basgiath would make the parapet seem like a walk in the park, and Liam, in particular, had even more to worry about.

-*-

The first was his situation with the Marked Ones and his recent association with Violet. He knew that at first, no one would notice, but once the formation dissolved, there would be nothing to stop the rest of the group from realizing the truth.

Most of them hated Violet as much as they hated Lilith Sorrengail, and Liam doubted that what he was doing would be taken lightly by any of them. However, Liam wasn't afraid of any of them. He was still the best of his year and had superior training as a rider. He genuinely wanted to see anyone try to beat him in a fight, though he desperately wanted to avoid fighting with those who were supposed to be his allies.

The first day was monotonous; passing the parapet and enduring the speech was thrilling enough for most people, but since Liam wasn’t particularly affected, the day simply dragged on. With no one to bother him or anything pressing to do, Liam found it hard not to feel completely bored as the squads were settled and slowly dispersed.

Liam threw himself onto his bed. By some stroke of luck, he managed to end up beside Violet and above Rhiannon, although Dylan was a bit farther away from them. He wasn’t too concerned since Dylan had Ridoc and Sawyer nearby. The duo was an easy addition to their growing group, mainly because of Ridoc’s cheerful nature and the fact that everyone there needed allies.

He decided that any planning could wait until the next day; the Battle Brief would be as good a time as any since repeated announcements weren’t exactly something Liam could focus on. Today, he wanted to ensure everything was clear about his situation. He needed to discuss things with Xaden and smooth things over with the older man after altering his plans.

For now, the best course was to convince him he was acting as a "spy." Liam had always been impulsive, so he could simply claim he saw an opportunity and seized it without considering alternatives. Xaden wasn’t usually particularly angry with him—benefits of being the younger sibling—so Liam was somewhat confident that, aside from a brief reprimand, he could escape unscathed.

He also kept an eye out for particularly hostile faces in the crowd. With Balorwe no longer around, Liam was only marginally safer, but it wasn’t as if Oren and Tynan would stay away for long. Both still seemed particularly bitter when he spotted them in the crowd, so he hadn’t escaped them yet.

Liam didn’t interact much beyond his squad until everyone was asleep. He intended to find Xaden as quickly as possible, and after curfew was the best opportunity.

The hallways were even worse at night. The stones were far too dark for the sparse torches to effectively illuminate, but Liam had navigated them enough for it to be almost instinctive to reach the dormitory stairs and then head up toward the third floor.

Liam also admitted that the darkness could be somewhat useful, allowing anyone to blend into the shadows—especially someone trained for it. As a wing leader, Xaden had the last room in the hallway, and as far as Liam knew, all third-year Marked Ones were housed around him.

It was almost a rule now—the Marked Ones stuck together no matter what. Liam almost smiled wistfully because there was a room for him there too. Xaden had shown it to him during one of their earlier meetings, saying softly that it would be his when he reached his second year—a gift and also a form of protection.

But Liam had never made it to his second year, and that room had probably gone to another Marked One who achieved what he didn’t. It didn’t matter if Liam had been the best of his year; he’d been dead.

Shaking off those thoughts, Liam moved down the hallway, keeping his steps as light as possible, passing without looking at the familiar door—the one that would have been his. Liam would make it to his second year this time. Then past three other identical doors.

Imogen, Bodhi, and Garrick, respectively. Xaden protected those he considered family, which meant keeping them where he could reach them. There weren’t many signets that could counter Xaden’s shadows, so the older man’s proximity was a safe zone against attacks.

He would bet everything that the rooms were empty. Liam knew the quartet met frequently to plan their next moves, so he didn’t bother paying attention to them before finally reaching Xaden’s door.

No light leaked under the doorframe, but the older man was definitely awake. It was a simple technique to block light paths, giving the impression that nothing was lit.

Liam knocked softly on the wood, so quietly the sound didn’t even echo in the silent, empty hallway, but it was enough to alert whoever was inside. There were no sounds—likely a sound barrier in effect—before the door opened to reveal Xaden’s stoic expression.

Liam blinked at the older man, opening a pretentious smile, his eyes darting over Xaden’s shoulder to spot Imogen seated at the table and, surprisingly, Nyra Voldaren by her side. Although he knew they had allies in the quadrant who weren’t like them, a wing leader wasn’t a bad addition.

“Wing Leader Riorson,” he greeted, keeping his tone mildly formal. Too late for anyone to overhear, but better not to take risks.

“Cadet Mairi,” Xaden nodded stiffly before stepping aside. “Better to talk in here.” Liam didn’t hesitate, lightly touching Xaden’s forearm to cross the wards. He wasn’t sure if they were already intertwined and didn’t want to hit magical walls just yet.

The door closed, and two more figures appeared—Garrick, who could obviously turn invisible, and Bodhi, who emerged from an improvised hiding spot. Liam waved amicably to both as he approached the table, still silent, letting Xaden decide which part of his actions deserved reprimanding first.

Imogen narrowed her eyes at him. Liam sighed, knowing she’d be the first to challenge him for being close to Violet. But then her expression softened, and she gave him a proud nod. He’d crossed the parapet—that was something. Even now, when it was normal for him, something inside eased with the acknowledgment from someone.

“Good evening, Wing Leader Voldaren. I didn’t expect to see you here,” he greeted, maintaining a lighthearted tone. The woman gave a sidelong smile, shaking her head.

“Good evening, Cadet Mairi. I’d say the same if I didn’t know better,” she responded softly. Liam shot a curious look at Xaden, realizing, of course, that he’d predicted Liam’s arrival.

In hindsight, Liam hadn’t been particularly discreet in hiding it from them. Not that there was a reason to.

Xaden returned to his usual chair. Liam wondered if it was because it was more comfortable than the others or because it was positioned farther away. Either alternative was plausible with Xaden. Liam followed him, grinning a bit triumphantly as he claimed his spot on the bed.

Xaden shot him a sideways glare, clearly unhappy that his meticulous arrangement had been disturbed, but he didn’t scold him, returning his focus to the group. Liam definitely enjoyed his position as the younger one—many exceptions were made for him because of it.

“Aetos will be a problem. He’s clearly not happy having two of us in his squad,” Imogen cleared her throat, obviously continuing the discussion she’d been having before Liam arrived. Liam turned his head to look at her.

“Ironic, considering it was Amber who placed Liam in his squad. Marcus was going to put him in the first Tail squad, but she stopped him, saying he’d already been assigned,” Garrick said, glancing at him. Liam shrugged.

“Stroke of luck—or misfortune, depending on the perspective,” he resigned, smiling at Xaden’s disapproving look. If the older man wasn’t going to share his thoughts, Liam wasn’t about to explain them.

“How on earth did this happen, Mairi? I can understand the farm boy—though I’d hope you’re smarter than to get attached to an untrained peasant—but Sorrengail?” Xaden finally spoke, his gaze burning into Liam’s skin. Liam simply shrugged.

"Dylan might be... well, untrained, but he's a nice guy and didn’t judge me because of this," Liam said, lightly touching his left arm where his relic rested. "Sorrengail was... well, she was already with Dylan when I met him," he decided. It wasn’t exactly a lie, since he did meet Dylan alongside Sorrengail. A tingling sensation pricked at him, and instinctively, he tested his mental shields.

There was nothing, and Liam remembered he didn’t have Deigh yet. Frustrated, he hastily pieced together a rough version of one, unwilling to take risks.

"And why did you stick with that boy?" Imogen muttered, sounding thoroughly disgusted by the idea.

"It’s not exactly easy to get allies in here, and I decided not to give one up just because Sorrengail was nearby. Honestly, after a brief misunderstanding about last names, it wasn’t particularly bad," he admitted, determined to diffuse some of the hostility toward the girl. No one had to adore her, but Liam preferred that the general’s guilt didn’t fall on her shoulders.

Garrick’s gaze shifted back to him, a little confused, before his eyes widened as he realized it was because of Violet that Liam ended up in that squad.

"It was because of Sorrengail that you ended up in Dain Aetos’s squad," Garrick concluded. Bodhi stayed quiet but looked as shocked as the rest. Xaden frowned, clearly unhappy.

"Something like that. He came after her when the parapet happened," Liam scoffed, his anger resurfacing as he had to talk about it. "You should’ve seen the idiot, belittling her with every word out of his mouth," Liam hissed. He detested people like Dain Aetos, so no one was surprised.

"And you defended her," Xaden stated, his tone brimming with reprimand, which was also visible on his face. Liam shrugged.

"Come on, she made it across the parapet. That can’t mean she’s unworthy of being in the quadrant," he insisted. Xaden groaned, pressing his forehead into his palm.

"Of all people, Liam," he muttered, and Liam felt slightly confused. It didn’t seem to be just about him being around her.

"This is bad," Nyra agreed. Liam blinked, even more confused. None of it made sense.

"Do you really have to pledge loyalty to the one person in the quadrant you shouldn’t?" Xaden raised an eyebrow again. Liam felt bad for causing that to the older boy, but he knew what he was doing.

"Xaden, you didn’t hear what I heard. She doesn’t want to be here; the general forced her to come," he explained. Nyra raised an eyebrow, surprised. "She’s like us, Xaden. None of us would’ve chosen to be here if we had the choice. She didn’t choose this," Liam defended, perhaps a bit too strongly, but he couldn’t just ignore it.

There was a few seconds of silence in the room. Xaden stared at him as if trying to peer into his soul. Garrick surprisingly had a small smile and a soft expression on his face. Imogen scowled, Bodhi looked shocked, and Nyra still seemed stunned. Liam realized it was probably the first time he didn’t follow Xaden’s unspoken order. For the last six years, he had obeyed every explicit and implicit instruction, and now he didn’t. And all because of Sorrengail.

"Xaden, I know you don’t… understand what I’m trying to do, but it’s good to have someone keeping an eye on her," Liam lowered his tone. He didn’t want to challenge anyone or act like a brat; he just wanted to prove he could help. "Imogen is obviously watching Dain, and even she can’t watch in two different directions. I’m in the same classes as her and can keep an eye on everything she does," he pointed out, feeling excited to have a task to help the rebellion. Liam had something bigger to fight for, but that didn’t mean he didn’t support what the marked fought for.

Navarre had to open its eyes as quickly as possible, or defeating the Venin would be impossible.

"You could’ve at least waited and told someone before making this decision," Xaden insisted. That “someone” was obviously him, and Liam knew well that if he had mentioned it, the plan wouldn’t have gone through.

"Come on, I know well enough that if I had told anyone, we wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be in the tail section," he raised an eyebrow and then straightened his shoulders. "Trust me, I know what I’m doing," Liam appealed. He knew how difficult it was for Xaden not to be able to control the things that happened, especially when they involved people close to him. But there wasn’t much to be done in that situation.

Xaden stared at him for a few more seconds, frustration appearing in his expression before he sighed and shook his head in defeat.

"Fine," he finally agreed, and Liam smiled, grateful for the vote of confidence.

"Aetos is still going to be a problem," Garrick returned to the topic, seeing the discussion was over. "Sorrengail isn’t here to pass information to her mother, but that doesn’t say anything about Dain, and anything she knows can be read by him." Garrick clearly trusted his words, and Liam sent him a cheerful smile for Tavis’s confidence, which was met with a playful and relaxed nod from the older man.

"Liam can just scare him off. Dain wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that in front of someone who’d know what he’s doing," Bodhi opined. Liam agreed with the analysis, and if he failed, he could always plant false things to confuse the man.

If Dain read Violet’s memories, but all she knew was how loyal they were, he wouldn’t need to know it wasn’t true.

"Sorry, Violet, but until I’m sure… it has to be this way. Soon, I hope you can be with us," he felt bad about lying to his friend and manipulating her, but it would only be for a short time. She’d feel worse if she caused the death of 107 children.

"This will work in the short term," Xaden agreed, leaning against the table. "How many do we have now?" he asked, turning to Garrick.

"Twenty-one. We lost Luperco and Sutherland, but everyone else did fine in front of the dragons," the third-year said, shaking his head. "I don’t know exactly how they’re doing with physical combat, but evaluations will be early next week, so we’ll find out soon," Garrick pointed out. Liam wasn’t worried about the challenges—not for himself at least—but he urgently needed to think of a plan to ensure his friends stayed safe.

Xaden clenched his jaw, unhappy about losing members of their group. He wasn’t gentle or demonstrative, but he cared about all of them.

"A week is too long. The cadets won’t wait until the evaluation, and if they can’t fight, they’ll be killed," Imogen reminded. Liam nodded, agreeing but also frustrated.

"First-years can spar among themselves. It wouldn’t be entirely absurd if I challenged some of them for a friendly match," Liam considered. "That could allow you to analyze everyone’s fighting styles. It won’t be completely effective and might not cover everyone, but it’s better than nothing," he said, eagerly looking around the table for feedback on the idea.

Liam probably needed to seek more experience in the future, but for now, it wasn’t a bad idea to wait for the older ones' opinions.

“That sounds good,” Bodhi agreed, nodding in affirmation. Xaden shot him a look that seemed far too proud to fool Liam and then nodded.

“We’ll do that. The training session for the Flame Division is at three in the afternoon. It won’t look too out of place if the division leader happens to watch,” Xaden directed toward Garrick, who nodded in agreement.

Liam blinked, feeling his eyes grow heavy. He had woken up far earlier than most, and while the day hadn’t been physically challenging, the emotional toll was catching up to him.

Xaden’s gaze hadn’t left him for long since Liam had arrived, his brow seemingly in a perpetual furrow as he focused on whatever thoughts occupied his mind.

Liam raised an eyebrow at him, questioning. If the older man had something to say, he’d have to do it out loud, but Xaden only pressed his lips tighter together before leaning back in his chair, balancing its weight on the rear legs.

“That’s enough. The meeting is over; you can all head back to your quarters,” Riorson said to the others, his expression still stern. The group didn’t hesitate to rise from their seats.

Liam let them take the lead down the hall. He watched their backs, all those who had fought alongside him at Resson and stood for the same cause he did.

Images of Soleil and Fuil being drained by the Venin flashed in his mind—their lives sucked away in seconds, no chance for recovery. The tired, fear-stricken faces of those who returned from that suicide mission lingered in his thoughts—a battle doomed to fail, a fate only avoided because of Violet’s signet.

They would have died without her. Every last one of them.
Liam clenched his fist and raised his chin. It wouldn’t be like that again.

Malek might not like letting souls go, but Liam would rip them from his grasp if he had to. The god wouldn’t take any of them.

The consequences could fall on Liam alone because, if he had learned anything, it was how not to fear death.

Chapter Text

"Take care of Sloane for me." He didn’t know the boy in front of him, but he had heard that the boy would be going to the same foster home as the girl, and he had to take the risk. In less than ten minutes, he would be heading to Tirvainne with Xaden Riorson.
Far from Sloane, very far, and from what was left of his family for six long years. Or longer if one of them died before they reunited. Liam preferred to think they’d meet again in life and not in the afterlife.

"I will," Jared—was that his name?—assured him, likely seeing how desperate he was.

The guards were approaching, and Liam jumped to hug his sister, a part of him wishing to squeeze so tightly that no one could separate them.

The guards did, pulling at limbs and with furious shouts, they yanked him back and then away, while cries of despair and calls left him. Sloane echoed them all from the other side, and Liam watched through tear-blurred eyes.

He only stopped when he was shoved into the carriage, facing a sullen boy with a scowl who could only, by any measure, be Xaden Riorson.

-*-

Liam never liked Battle Brief. The first time, it was because the information was so wrong it made him want to grab all of Professor Devera’s scrolls and burn them. Now, it was because he was seeing all that false information again.

Everything was exactly the same as the last time, except, of course, that there was no Jack Barlowe, but rather Dylan. And Liam was beside Violet instead of his old spot at the back of the room.

But that last part didn’t feel strange to him because, as soon as he was assigned as her bodyguard, that became his usual place as well. And there was no chance Liam would prefer Jack over Dylan in any situation, so that part was still positive. Hearing repeated information wasn’t.

He decided he wouldn’t pay much attention at that moment. While stimulating Violet’s brain to make her question what she knew could be useful, Liam could always do that later since there was a whole damn year ahead.

No, Battle Brief didn’t deserve his attention for so long, especially not with the false information it spread. Anything he might want to uncover could be obtained from Xaden and his reliable sources—none of them depended on that stupid class to be aware of the real situation.

So, when Devera began introducing the material, Liam pulled out one of his wooden blocks, determined to keep his hands busy for as long as possible. He carved Deigh. The familiarity of the red dagger-tail figure wasn’t something he’d forget so soon, and it didn’t matter if no one knew it yet.

The future wasn’t something he could plan all at once; he was still learning how his alterations might change the course of events and how things would try to revert to what they were before the change. But Liam had actions to take initially; the results could be evaluated for more detailed planning throughout the year.

To start, he needed to train Dylan and Violet for the quadrant—more the boy than the girl, in his opinion, but both nonetheless. He didn’t know exactly how she managed to overcome so many challenges at the beginning of the year with her posture, but he wouldn’t risk it this time.

As for Dylan, considering everything he’d seen so far, Liam was ready to bet that he had never been in a hand-to-hand fight in his life.

How the boy thought he’d survive here was beyond Liam’s understanding, but he knew not everyone understood precisely how things worked there. The boy probably thought they’d learn to fight there too, just like with everything else expected of riders.
A common but foolish mistake, and Liam couldn’t let it continue. He wouldn’t watch someone die if he could prevent it with a few special lessons.

A knock sounded, and Liam raised his face, seeing it was Violet who had hit the backrest, looking confused.
"Too high for griffons, don’t you think?" Violet glanced at him sideways, and Liam blinked. Of course, they were talking about the attack near Chakir in the eastern zone; the mountain range was absolutely too high for griffons to risk without prior planning, but desperation outweighed caution in Liam’s opinion.

"Maybe. They could still get there," he murmured. Perhaps it wasn’t too soon to start stimulating Violet’s brilliant mind, after all.

"Without powers," she reminded him, and Liam shrugged.

"They don’t need to use any powers at that height if no one knew they were there. Anything with proper planning can work, in my opinion," he murmured, glancing at the rest of the class, who were focused on the useless questions and answers about the subject.

Violet shook her head, frowning before looking at the map again. Whether she was getting to the point he wanted or not was hard to say.

"A planned attack, then. But why there?" She looked at Liam again.

"It’s hard to say, but maybe it helps to ask what’s there that isn’t in Poromiel? What does Navarre have at the borders that no other place does?" he threw in, forcing his voice into something bored. Violet frowned even more, clearly thinking about his words.
The situation with Poromiel could wait a bit longer; Xaden was already dealing with it, and before fighting the Venin, they would need strong and stable allies.

Liam also wanted to examine the current situation with Dain Aetos. He intended to keep him away from Violet's memories but also needed Sorrengail to realize what kind of person her best friend truly was. He hated the squad leader and was confident that the feeling was mutual, especially since Violet had defended him against Dain. Liam wanted to feel more smug about it but didn’t think he deserved it in any way.

He preferred to think of it as a fair trade—he helped them on the parapet, and she defended him. Nobody cared if others thought it was a disproportionate exchange of value. Liam didn’t want to turn his actions into something he could later demand repayment for; he acted because he wanted to, not to earn favors.

Even so, Dain could be useful to manipulate the command in their favor. Xaden might like the idea, and so might Imogen, although Liam wasn’t fond of the idea of using people. Reducing their distrust, however, could only be a good thing.

Planting false information might be a future option, but it was far too risky to do so without a concrete reason.

Lastly, Liam had to delve deeper into strategies, something he planned to ask Xaden for help with. The older man wouldn’t stop him from learning, and how could Liam complain about learning from someone as skilled as Xaden?

Liam blinked, raising his eyes when the others around him began moving, signaling that the Battle Brief was obviously over. Somehow, he had spent the entire morning considering his next steps, and it felt like time had flown by. He stood up, finishing sanding his piece—a long-acquired habit that he could do without even looking or thinking. Deigh looked absolutely identical to its real-life counterpart, though colorless. Liam turned it over to carve a quick coded message.

ITold🌸something about👹, you cantell 🦇?

The cadets were leaving, and Liam took the chance to approach Garrick. He tossed the small statue with a smile, catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye as Tavis caught it and examined it. He tilted his head, looking at the bottom of the figurine and giving a positive nod, though he didn’t look back at that moment.

Liam rushed to catch up with his squad on the stairs, smiling at them.

“Sorry, they held me up at the door,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, trying to look embarrassed.

“Now it’s the best time of the day!” Ridoc exclaimed, his laughter echoing down the corridor. Liam shook his head because there was no plausible reason to laugh at that moment, but Ridoc was Ridoc.

“Lunch!” Ridoc cheered, still laughing at his mental joke. Sawyer sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly.
Sawyer was the oldest of them, having repeated a year since he wasn’t chosen last year. This year, if all went well, he would be chosen by the swordtail dragon Sliseag. Liam liked him because he was calmer than most of the people he interacted with and a great counterbalance to Ridoc’s explosive nature.

“Come on, man, lunch is the only standard thing,” Sawyer reminded him as they walked downstairs alongside Ridoc. Rhiannon followed with Violet, leaving Liam and Dylan at the end of the line.

Tynan, Pryor, and Aurelie didn’t like him, which meant they didn’t join the group—not that Liam wanted them to, because getting close to more people meant worrying about more people. He excused himself from the lunch conversation, turning to Dylan.

“Do you know how to fight?” he asked softly, and the boy blinked at him. It was definitely a no. Dylan’s face turned red, and he opened his mouth to say something, probably an excuse.“Dylan, if this was your dream, then you should have prepared better. But I’m not here to blame you, though it is foolish to come here with nothing but courage.” Liam kept his tone neutral. He wouldn’t sugarcoat things, but he also didn’t want to throw daggers.

“I could just... they teach that here, don’t they?” Dylan’s voice trembled, and Liam sighed, shaking his head.

“No, they don’t,” Liam said, letting the air leave his lungs. “But you’re lucky. We have a week before any of us are thrown onto the mats to fight, so I can teach you enough to survive.” Liam hadn’t done all this to let Dylan—or any of them, really—die. But Dylan was in worse shape than the rest.

“I’ve been really lucky so far—lucky to have you behind us and willing to help, lucky to survive, lucky to have the chance to learn to fight,” Dylan said, his shoulders slumping as he stared down the corridor. Liam didn’t want to make him feel bad, but reality wouldn’t change just because Dylan wanted it to, even if that would have been easier.

“Luck can be good sometimes, but don’t rely on it,” Liam agreed, letting his face shift into a reassuring smile. “As long as you’re alive, you can still do something about it,” he admitted in a soft tone.

They reached the dining hall, choosing any table for their group. Lunch was absolutely nothing different from what it always was. Liam appreciated the comfort of something familiar that wasn’t boring or repetitive. While he wouldn’t call lunch his favorite time of the day, it was one of the few moments when Liam didn’t feel like he was on a roller coaster.

He ended up dragging his squad to the training mats afterward. Violet didn’t seem exactly pleased but eventually accepted her fate and joined Rhiannon on one of the mats. Liam motioned for Dylan to climb onto a second mat, sinking easily into a defensive stance, though he didn’t think they would actually fight on the first day.

“All right, let’s go,” Liam said with a smile as he stepped closer to his opponent. He had never formally trained anyone to fight, regardless of the reason, but Liam quickly realized it wasn’t much different from regular practice—just with more breaks.

Dylan paid close attention to all his explanations, moves, and positions, but Liam didn’t spend too much time on those. Instead, he introduced a series of physical exercises, knowing it wouldn’t help to understand the moves without the strength to execute them.
Rhiannon joined them in the exercises, though Violet stayed out of the sequences. Liam resisted the urge to send her a reproachful look, deciding he would talk to her later to make sure she understood the importance of it.

Ridoc and Sawyer were sparring against each other. Ridoc kept losing repeatedly but refused to give up. Liam was almost betting they’d reach their tenth match before he completed his set of twenty push-ups and thirty sit-ups for the third time.
But he didn’t find out because the session’s training hour arrived suddenly, and Liam blinked, realizing he’d lost track of his count while deep in thought. The room began to fill as first, second, and third-years from the session entered to train or challenge someone on the mat.

His squad decided to wrap up training for the day, with Dylan needing support from Ridoc when he couldn’t lift himself from the sit-up position. The boy hadn’t even finished the first set but had done considerably better than expected, so Liam couldn’t contain the smile spreading across his face.

Rhiannon, on the other hand, was buzzing with energy, mumbling something about training with him more often because she’d never felt so invigorated by physical workouts. Liam was happy to accompany her whenever she wanted and would drag Dylan and Violet along as well.

“You can go ahead. I spotted a few cadets I’d like to challenge for a friendly sparring match,” he said with a grin, scanning the room for Garrick. The boy was leaning against the wall, watching him with amusement, and Liam realized he’d have to deal with Tavis’ taunts.

He didn’t mind—Garrick never managed to hit him as effectively as Xaden did—so all he had to do was wait until it wasn’t fun anymore, and Garrick inevitably turned his attention to whatever new thing caught his eye.

The group didn’t argue, bidding him goodbye and leaving Liam there. He turned toward the crowd, deciding that if Garrick wanted to talk to him, he’d have to come over. There were already a few marked cadets around—Morgan and Elinda, if Liam remembered correctly—and he resigned himself to picking one at random.

“Afternoon workout?” Garrick’s mocking voice startled him less than the boy probably intended, and Liam just smirked.
“I’m not going to relax just because I made it past the parapet. And if Dylan wants a chance, he’s going to need every second he can get,” Liam replied, completely unfazed by the older boy’s teasing. “I’m going to call Elinda for a fight, so pay attention,” he said, moving through the cadets and riders until he reached the girl stretching in front of a mat.

Elinda wasn’t very big and didn’t have much muscle, but that didn’t mean much—she could be more agile than strong. She looked at him warily when he issued the challenge but ultimately accepted. After all, marked cadets weren’t used to fighting each other.
They stepped onto the mat, and Liam sank into the familiar fighting stance. That posture was as natural to him as breathing after so much time practicing and fighting in it. Just like analyzing an opponent’s stance. Elinda didn’t seem entirely untrained, though her feet were too far apart for balance, and her torso leaned slightly forward.

Those were obvious points to correct later. For now, Liam wanted to see how she’d handle the fight. Giving her an encouraging nod, he waited for her first move—a courtesy he was well accustomed to extending—keeping his stance taut enough to prepare for anything but not overly tense.

Elinda jumped closer, her torso leaning forward a bit more, opting for a low right punch aimed at his ribs. Liam slid his body to the side, striking her fist with just enough force to deflect the blow before spinning and delivering a quick strike to her lower back, right where the kidneys were.

He didn’t make contact, merely showing her it was a point in his favor before jumping back to create space again. Elinda frowned and charged in for another attack, this time with a cross punch aimed at his shoulder. Liam caught the punch with his hand—the force behind it barely enough to challenge his grip. She spun, attempting a kick aimed at his ribs, which Liam blocked before it could even begin by striking her left knee with his right leg.

Without balance, Elinda stumbled backward, her supporting leg too far to sustain her offensive. Liam followed her movement until she fully lost her footing and hit the ground, breathless. The fight had lasted less than a minute, and things didn’t look good if she was already winded from just a few moves. Liam glanced toward Garrick, who stood with his arms crossed, an unsatisfied expression on his face.

Tavis gestured that it was over, and Liam grinned, quickly kneeling and placing his hand on Elinda’s upper chest.
“Surrender,” he requested, and the girl huffed before nodding and tapping the mat to indicate her concession. Liam offered her a reassuring smile before releasing her.

He knew the older cadets would approach her later to offer help with hand-to-hand combat. Liam wouldn’t get involved in that since he already had too much on his plate. Leaving Elinda, he searched for Morgan among the mats. He wasn’t the only marked cadet there anymore; Liam identified at least four others.

Garrick’s earlier quip about it being a workout afternoon seemed more accurate now.

-*-

The week passed surprisingly quickly. Liam found himself distracted between training sessions that consumed his entire afternoon, battle briefs, and a not-so-free evening as his squad embraced a new tradition of cramming into a single bed—however they fit—and spending the night talking or just existing in silence.

Liam found himself surprisingly content with this turn of events. Soon enough, new responsibilities would arise, so some rest would do them good. The gathering with the marked cadets to assess their stances had been... Well, it was a success in the sense that they reached all of them, but it only heightened everyone’s tension because very few had even basic training to avoid being defeated by him so quickly.

The worst match lasted exactly six seconds, and it was tough to convince Xaden that losing to someone who had trained incessantly for the past five years to survive wasn’t exactly shameful. Still, that didn’t stop them from being stuck with an extensive training schedule supervised by Imogen. Liam was immensely grateful not to be one of them.

The day of the challenges arrived, leaving Liam half-anxious and half-nervous. His squad had made significant progress in training, particularly Dylan and Violet, who no longer seemed like complete novices. Violet hadn’t liked the idea of working out, but when Liam insisted she needed to train to survive, she relented. Liam also knew some exercises would do more harm than good to her joints.
Violet looked at him like she’d never seen him before when he stopped her from starting the standard sequence he, Rhi, and Dylan followed, guiding her instead through a challenging but more comfortable routine for her joints. He merely shrugged and said he’d looked at her file.

“Being different doesn’t mean being bad. All we need to do is find what works for you,” he told her before starting his usual sequence. Violet stared at him for a few more seconds before beginning her own routine with a soft, “Thank you, Liam.” And he never acknowledged it because he didn’t need to—it wasn’t like it was a sacrifice.

Violet progressed furiously once exercises tailored to her were implemented, and Liam was confident she could handle some cadets without resorting to external means—provided they weren’t particularly strong or knights.

He’d spoken to Imogen that week as well. The girl was still furious about having to deal with Violet Sorrengail but agreed not to harm her unless absolutely necessary—which it wouldn’t be.

Liam wondered if the changes he’d made so far would lead to them facing different opponents. It wasn’t unlikely, so all he could do was hope they’d be matched against someone who aligned with their skill levels or wasn’t willing to kill so soon.

Emeterio looked no more reassuring than the last time as he stepped forward once the entire quadrant was inside the enormous hall with the mats. Liam positioned himself calmly next to Dylan, realizing it was probably better to give Violet some space rather than pressure her unnecessarily.

“Welcome to the evaluation. I hope to see only the best from each of you, and we want to find out who the best and worst among you are. The fights on this first day will be unarmed, with no lethal force allowed. Second- and third-years, the use of signets is prohibited," Emetério shouted from his spot beside two mats. None of these rules were punishable if broken, after all, they were in a college where people believed that if you couldn’t win your fights, you deserved death.

Grudges weren’t always ignored either, and Liam knew how signets fed on emotions, often slipping out of the wielder's control. Violet was very lucky that Imogen’s signet in her former life was memory taker, despite the fact that only the gods knew what kind of memory she might have taken if she really used it that time, it was a fact that was a it was pure luck for Violet that this wasn't something more physical, like Sorrengail's own, or she might have ended up electrocuted.

Emetério called the first pairs to the mats, a boy from the first wing against a marked one from the second, and Liam couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through him. He didn’t want any of them to be at more risk than necessary, but this wasn’t something he could change.

The fight ended in less than a minute, and to his relief, the opponent wasn’t eager to kill someone so early in the year. The shameful defeat did little to dampen Liam’s satisfaction.

Rhiannon was called next to the mat to face Joss, an old squadmate from his previous life. Liam felt a twinge of embarrassment as he recalled that their relationship wasn’t strictly one of reluctant comrades. Instead, they had sneaked away on more than one occasion during the night. He pushed the memories aside—those moments hadn’t repeated themselves in this life.

This time, the fight was intense, lasting perhaps five minutes before Rhiannon locked Joss in an armbar, forcing him to surrender as he found himself unable to escape. Liam gave a surprised nod of acknowledgment when the girl passed by him. Her fighting level wasn’t exactly a secret to him—they’d inevitably ended up sparring on the mat in friendly practice.

More challenges were made, and Liam didn’t bother paying attention, remaining entirely indifferent even when others started discussing a particular cadet who seemed especially strong this year. He’d handle one challenge at a time. There were already too many things to deal with to start worrying about potentially stronger cadets this early, though mapping out the most hostile ones might not be a bad idea.

"Liam Mairi and Oren Seifert," Emetério called, and Liam huffed. Perhaps the gods were laughing somewhere in the spiritual realm, or maybe it was just bad luck that he’d been paired with the boy.

Whatever the case, he’d have to work harder, but Liam wasn’t afraid of Seifert—not when he had trained with Xaden for so long in the past. The boy had physical strength, and his stance wasn’t bad either, but that was it, and Liam had no intention of losing to him—not even in a million years.

The fight began, and seconds later, Seifert threw a left hook from below, clearly aiming for the ribs—a common but largely ineffective target due to its easy defense.

Liam scoffed, spinning to let the momentum of the punch unbalance him. As expected, the boy stumbled forward upon meeting no resistance, his torso lowering momentarily. Liam sighed, deciding to end things quickly. Using Seifert’s momentum and his own core strength, he twisted his body, locking his arm under Seifert’s extended one, flipping him over his shoulder, and immobilizing him by his right arm.

"Yield," Liam demanded, tightening his hold, genuinely unwilling to waste time convincing Seifert that he would break his arm. As if anyone here feared broken limbs—death was the only real concern, and even that was often circumstantial.
"No," Oren gasped, though his shoulder trembled from the strain and his face contorted in pain. Liam leaned further into the hold, eliciting a cry of agony from the cadet beneath him.

With a frustrated sigh at the muffled refusal, Liam shrugged. If Seifert wanted it this way, so be it. With one final move, Liam applied full force to the hold, causing Seifert’s trapped arm to bend awkwardly under his own.

A loud crack echoed throughout the room, drawing the attention of several cadets. It probably wasn’t a fracture, but that didn’t make it any less painful for the cadet beneath him, who let out a pained scream.

"Yield," Liam demanded again. Oren panted heavily before moving his free hand to tap the mat, signaling his surrender.
Liam immediately released him and stepped off the mat to return to his squad. He could feel the stares on his back, likely shocked by the speed of the confrontation.

He was no stranger to being the center of attention—whether the looks were of hatred, irritation, or surprise at his skill. It wouldn’t start bothering him now, though Liam didn’t particularly like the scrutiny or the burden that standing out sometimes placed on him.
He had barely settled next to Ridoc again when the next fight was announced.

"Violet Sorrengail versus Tynan Baren," Emetério called, and Liam cursed violently in his mind. He couldn’t even show his concern because he wasn’t supposed to know anything about Tynan.

Violet had trained; she was improving quickly, and Liam was incredibly proud of her progress. But he wasn’t entirely sure she could handle Baren. She had beaten him once, but that was with Tairn’s help—hardly a one-on-one victory.

Back then, it had been three against one, as Xaden had narrated to them. Liam forced himself to believe she could handle him in relatively fair conditions. The girl looked a bit hesitant as she stepped onto the mat, her steps reminding Liam of a wary prey, but overall, Violet didn’t seem too bad. She hadn’t lost the defiant glint in her eyes.

Tynan smirked, a cruel twist to his lips that was far from comforting. He advanced with arrogant confidence until he stood before Violet, clearly thinking a girl as small as her couldn’t possibly defeat him.

That prejudice came back to bite him. Liam was definitely smiling when Violet dodged Tynan’s initial attacks, her smaller, more agile figure slipping through the gaps in his stance with frightening ease. Using a sequence of moves Liam had taught her, she struck his stomach, chin, and then his knee.

It was a simple sequence, one Liam didn’t often risk because it was easily defended against. But Tynan clearly didn’t think the girl could actively fight back, so he hadn’t bothered setting up a proper defense. And though simple, the moves yielded results under those conditions.

Tynan stumbled as his knee buckled from the force of the blow, and Violet spun, twisting his arm behind him and striking again to bring the large body down to the mat. Liam knew it was over when she twisted his arm further, applying pressure to his shoulder and drawing a cry of pain from her opponent.

"Yield," Violet hissed, her voice almost too low to hear. Tynan panted, shaking his head in refusal. Violet twisted the arm further, just a few centimeters away from dislocating his shoulder entirely.

The boy screamed again before raising his free hand to tap the mat three times. Violet immediately let go and stepped back, staring at her opponent in shock. Liam wondered if this could be her first victory on the mat and in her first challenge.

Liam was smiling, his chest bubbling with pride at Violet’s accomplishment. To the girl, they had only known each other for a few days, but Liam had observed her long enough and had witnessed her consecutive defeats in the past. Seeing her win without external help was truly something that made Liam feel deeply proud.

Violet stepped off the mat, her eyes scanning the area. The squad was making noise, cheering and celebrating Violet’s victory. They had all seen how hard fighting was for her, so their reaction was expected.

It was wonderful to see how Violet’s face lit up with their support, though her cheeks flushed, and her shoulders relaxed as if a weight had just been lifted from them.

"I did it," Violet murmured, almost as if suddenly realizing her victory had been declared and that she had physically made it happen. Liam felt some of his tension dissipate.

"You did it," he confirmed, smiling softly. The girl blinked, returning his smile with a bright one of her own.

"Some things to tweak and more sequences to learn, but you did it, Violet, just as I knew you would," Liam added. He wasn’t lying—he knew she would win but hadn’t wanted to witness the effort it would take. He had slightly underestimated how quickly Violet could learn.

Sorrengail groaned in frustration, though it was more playful than genuine. Her eyes still shone with the idea of continuing to improve. The taste of victory clearly motivated her to keep striving for more.

Violet opened her mouth to say something, but someone else’s voice interrupted her. Once again, it was Dain, and Liam had to make a physical effort not to roll his eyes.

"Violet," Dain called, walking past Liam, having stood behind him the entire time. Liam could almost feel the distrust embedded in Dain’s gaze fixed on his back.

The girl turned, a bright, excited smile on her face as she clearly expected some praise for her accomplishment, for her development in fighting, and for her victory. But since it was Dain, that obviously never came.

"What were you thinking, challenging someone that big?" Dain hissed. Liam actually rolled his eyes this time—this was the evaluation day. How could Violet not challenge someone?

Sorrengail’s smile slowly faded as confusion clouded her face at the turn of events.

"What? Dain, what are you talking about? Today is the evaluation day, and I didn’t choose my opponent—no one did—" She seemed utterly lost at the idea that Dain might think otherwise; Aetos never really dealt in truths.

“Still, you just made yourself an even bigger target by taking down someone his size,” Dain insisted, and Violet’s jaw dropped in shock as she realized what he meant.

“I’m a Sorrengail. Existing puts a target on my back, but by winning challenges, people will know I’m not an easy prize,” Violet said, forcing her tone to remain steady, though her expression gave everything away.

“Flying under the radar is your best chance, Vi. Please, listen to me. If you start showing off, you’ll attract enemies—” Dain sounded absolutely exasperated by Violet’s stubbornness. Liam silently blessed the girl for inheriting that trait.

“Enemies? I already have enemies just for being my mother’s daughter. Or should I name the great Wingleader who hates me? Or the rest of the Marked?” Violet hissed, and Liam shifted uncomfortably because he was definitely one of them.

“Like him?” Dain pointed an accusatory finger at him, and Violet’s gaze shifted to Liam before blazing with fury—not at Liam, but Dain wasn’t so sure. “How can you even consider trusting him? He—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You will not talk about Liam like that in front of me, not when he’s the only one who stopped to help me practice fighting, who took the time to figure out how to make training accessible for me with my messed-up joints,” Violet stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Dain’s chest. The man stepped back, clearly shocked by her outburst.

A stunned silence fell over the squad, all of them staring at the confrontation, most of them looking somewhat annoyed with their squad leader.

“It’s fine, Violet,” Liam interjected, hoping to calm her anger on his behalf. He couldn’t care less what Dain Aetos thought of him.

“I just want what’s best for you, Vi. I’d hate to see you get hurt,” Dain said, regaining his composure. Liam scoffed.

“I’m fine. I won a fight, Dain, for Amari’s sake. When has anyone ever thought I could do that? And you didn’t even congratulate me for it,” Violet’s voice softened but still sounded deeply hurt.

“Of course, no one thought that—you’re a Scribe, Vi,” Dain exclaimed, and Violet’s gaze hardened. She shook her head.

“This conversation is over.” She brushed past Aetos, joining Liam and Dylan at the more distant end of the squad. Liam let her calm down a little before leaning in to murmur just for her.

“You can be whatever you want to be, Violet,” Liam murmured, not wanting to expose the nature of their conversation to anyone else. Violet looked up at him and smiled faintly.

“He’s right, though. I… I’m a Scribe, like my father,” she murmured, sounding a little desolate. Liam clenched his jaw.

“He’s an idiot, and an idiot who doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. You can be whatever you want,” he insisted, not caring if he should’ve been more careful about calling Aetos names. “But if you want my opinion, in every way that matters, you’re a Rider, Tolet. And above that, you’re one of us—of the second squad, of the Flame Section, of the Fourth Wing. And that’s all that matters now.”

Liam spoke slowly, ensuring she couldn’t misinterpret him. Violet turned her hazel-blue eyes to him, a sheen of tears suddenly appearing before she blinked them away and nodded, regaining her composure.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking down at the mat as Liam followed her gaze. Ridoc was fighting a boy from the Second Wing, unknown to Liam.

He won, just as Sawyer did, although Henrick had a much easier time than Gamlyn. Then Dylan stepped onto the mat to face Imogen.

Liam didn’t need to watch to know he lost, but at least Cardullo didn’t deliver any particularly harsh blows, and Dylan didn’t try to defy her after she gave him the option to yield.

Liam patted Dylan’s arm reassuringly, smiling a little at him.

“You still have time to improve,” he reminded, and the boy nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, looking determined.

Liam glanced around at his squad, letting a calm smile spread across his face. He was nervous about the day and all its implications, but surprisingly, its outcome seemed positive. He could only hope things stayed that way.

He might actually start to like the idea of coming back if this was how it would be.

Chapter Text

Xaden was intimidating on some occasions, but Liam could say with absolute certainty that he was also the most admirable person he had ever met—except for his parents, of course. He knew many types of daggers and fought with more skill than most warriors Liam had seen fighting for his mother in the past.

It had been no more than two weeks since they had been imprisoned together in Tirvainne, both confined to a small room in the most hidden corner of the fort and not allowed to do anything but exist or occasionally practice.

That didn’t stop Xaden. Every time there was a break, Liam watched him repeat sequence after sequence of combat exercises and strength training. It was truly incredible how the older boy could make it look so easy.

It was this illusion that made him start imitating him. Liam watched a few repetitions and then applied them to himself. He did this with all of them, even the ones that seemed difficult and exhausting. Xaden sometimes gave him strange looks, as if the idea of Liam using him as a model was odd or uncomfortable, but he never outright stopped him, so Liam just kept going.

-*-

Violet's lack of training was a problem—not that he would verbalize this to her, but it was an almost universal truth that needed to be addressed to increase Sorrengail's chances.

Training Dylan hadn’t been a challenge for him, except for the boy's poor physical condition. There was nothing that would prevent him from learning Liam's fighting style—the one he had learned from Xaden, which gave him a solid foundation to survive there.

The boy was determined, and with the right muscles built and the excess fat reduced, Liam was confident Dylan would learn to fight very well.

But Dylan didn’t have joints that made brute force strikes forbidden. His entire fighting style had been formed based on strength and brutal blows—moves that Violet simply couldn’t replicate without having joint problems.

That didn’t make her bad, just different, and Liam was determined to find what worked for her. There were many forms and fighting styles in the world, and he was confident one of them would suit Violet and her characteristics better.

A style that would make her as, or even more, lethal than they were without turning combat into something painful or burdensome for Sorrengail.

But Liam didn’t yet know exactly what that style was, which was why he decided to skip lunch. Instead, he made his way to the archives, determined to gather all the combat records available there—or at least the ones he could access.

It would be truly frustrating if what he was looking for ended up being in a classified section, which would probably require some kind of planning, though that wouldn’t stop him from trying. Liam just hoped he wouldn’t have to break a rule like that so soon, but he was determined and wouldn’t hesitate to move forward if necessary.

So far, that hadn’t been the case, fortunately. Since deciding to research this, he had turned to the archives and Violet’s always-kind friend, Jesinia. Liam had gained access to at least three fighting styles completely different from what he was used to, with little difficulty. He remembered Jesinia from the time he and Violet were responsible for tasks in the archives—he remembered her kindness and the acceptance she showed him, the casual flirting they shared, and her carefree help when Violet needed it.

A part of him, probably the more sensible part, pointed out that the girl had helped Sorrengail because of their years of friendship and that he shouldn’t expect the same treatment this time. But Liam chose to listen to the more reckless side of himself, which told him to take the risk.

It turned out to be a good thing because Jesinia not only didn’t stop him but also found scrolls for at least twenty hand-to-hand combat styles for Liam to analyze. He could read them freely as long as he didn’t take them out of the archives or damage them during the reading.

Liam definitely took advantage of that stroke of luck, grabbing as many diverse styles as he could. He wasn’t exactly someone who enjoyed reading and had never read more than the bare minimum necessary to survive—except letters, as those were an exception to the rule.

So here he was, intending to use any free time he had to analyze and adapt the information.

Liam nodded a thank-you to Jesinia, careful not to drop anything from the pile in his arms. He still wanted to figure out how the scribes managed to know where everything was in that place—the corridors were identical.

Shaking his head, he decided it wasn’t his task to think about that. He wasn’t a scribe and never would be. It was enough to know that whatever magic they used worked and that everyone had access to the information.

He chose a secluded table, far enough to be almost enveloped in shadows and well away from curious eyes, but not so far that the mage lights in the room couldn’t illuminate the scrolls. Liam would need every ounce of focus he could muster and didn’t want to be interrupted by the curious—or worse.

Grabbing the first scroll, Liam quickly glanced around to make sure he wasn’t being watched before starting to read.

"Traditional Wushu

Created at the top of the eastern mountains, in the region of the current village named Chakir, Wushu was the first defense technique to emerge, aiming to meet the population's need for a means of protection against attacks from Poromiel.

Created in 1AU, the style is based on physical strikes linked to the strength of the arms, legs, and isolated areas of the back. Its most common moves are transverse punches and brutal kicks to the rib area."

Liam shook his head, setting the scroll aside, knowing it wouldn't be particularly useful for what he intended now. He randomly pulled another scroll from the pile and opened it.

"Internal Wushu

Derived from Traditional Wushu, Internal Wushu was adapted when it reached the desert just below Chakir, passed on by travelers and migrants, and altered according to necessity.

The massive and rapid strikes proved ineffective in the desert region as they caused clouds of desert sand to rise from the ground, obscuring vision and compromising fights.

To overcome this problem, the master fighter Ryo Blackburn made alterations to the fighting style, removing compromising moves and turning the combat into something smoother and more fluid. However, the strikes remained true to their origins, with punches and kicks being the most common moves, but this time following a more fluid and gentle rhythm, avoiding limb dragging or abrupt movements."

That one was interesting in a way. Liam knew how supposedly simple moves could make a difference in a fight, although it didn't exactly give him a revelation about what to do. Liam decided to jot down some particularly promising moves.

The next scroll was about Taolu.

"Taolu

Originating in the northern part of Tyrrendor, a region known for its harsh habits and particularly crude manners, Taolu was created to counter the prejudices attributed to the region. Unlike oriental techniques, based on overwhelming physical strikes, Taolu was better classified as a method of armed dance.

Its style is based on pre-programmed choreographies, learned through rigorous and constant repetition, requiring balance and coordination from the individual.

Its most common moves are open-hand strikes, sweeps, jumps, and some leg strikes, all known for their high degree of difficulty.

The style also utilizes weapons like swords and daggers, relying on projected and quick strikes that are hard to defend against. There is a variation of the style that uses staffs for attacks, being the only one classified as long-range combat, while the others are recognized as close-range combat methods."

Liam resisted the urge to smile as he read the scroll. It wasn't perfect, but so far, Taolu gave him a basis to start from. He knew enough to realize that the perfect style for what he was looking for probably didn’t exist, but Liam was determined to find the parts of styles that could make one as close as possible to that ideal.

Taolu would serve as the base style; the rhythmic, quick, and stealthy moves would suit Violet's characteristics well enough. Everything she lacked in brute strength was absolutely compensated for with her speed and quick thinking.

However, the style generally lacked an efficient offensive method, so it would actually need some adjustments to be fully effective. But Liam found the hand strikes of the style particularly appealing, and with some modifications, they would become excellent.

Liam didn’t consider himself an organized or studious person. He did what he needed to avoid worrying about trivialities like failing a subject or making a stupid mistake due to lack of knowledge, but he definitely had never been interested in extensive notes and long readings.

Especially when it came to history, not when it was so full of lies that Liam could hardly read a line without finding at least five.

But he did what he could. His notes on the fighting styles were acceptable enough not to give the impression of disorganization or misunderstanding, keeping the information about origins, characteristics, and standard moves organized.

Some other notes, mostly personal considerations, were a bit more scattered on the pages, but at least they were understandable, and Liam was satisfied enough with that to care about organizing them.

His eyes flicked to the sides. He had used a rare free time during the afternoon to advance his research. Two days after the evaluation had passed, Liam was focused on the challenges that would begin in five days.

They were actually even more dangerous than that first day of fighting—not for everyone and at different levels for each cadet—but enough to make Liam a little more nervous with each passing day.

Dinner had obviously ended, and critically observing the movement of the scribes, Liam supposed the archives were beginning to close and wrap up activities.

The scrolls he had taken—all six—had already been read and analyzed, so Liam decided he was done for the day. The adjustments he intended could be made in the dormitory after the entire squad was already asleep. He hoped he had what he needed, and with a bit of creativity, Liam hoped to create something useful.

Shaking his head, Liam carefully gathered the scrolls in his arms and walked back to the central desk, smiling amicably at Jesinia. He didn’t remember the girl having a shift at that hour, but then again, Liam didn’t remember ever being in the archives at that time.

"Hello, I'm returning these," he signed after carefully placing the pile on the polished wood, maintaining his controlled smile. It was good to see that familiar face in particular, memories of the flirty but subtle exchanges they had shared—enough for Violet not to notice—returning to his mind.

Her friend had told him Jesinia wanted long-term relationships. Liam had replied with something silly about how they couldn’t make long-term plans. He hadn’t realized how accurate his observation had been.

A little sad, Liam realized that was something that would remain in his past life. Any romance that might have arisen between them would be just that—a failed possibility—because Liam knew his reality and was sure that long-term plans wouldn’t be a recurring thing in his life.

But he still wanted to be her friend. Friendships were far more precious to him than any romance on any day, so Liam still smiled with all the enthusiasm he could muster after spending at least a few hours reading fighting scrolls.

Jesinia smiled back at him, her full lips parting to reveal a long row of white teeth in a friendly grin, before nodding and setting her pen down to sign the return.

"Thank you very much. Did you find what you were looking for?" She signed, tilting her head slightly to the side, and Liam nodded in satisfaction.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for the help." Jesinia laughed, shaking her head, obviously dismissing the gratitude.

"Anytime you need something, just ask," she assured him, and Liam smiled. Not everything, of course, since he didn’t intend to get the scribe in trouble by asking for books about the Venin or things like that, but at least it was good to know there was some kind of ally there.

"I will. Thanks. I have to go now, or I’ll miss curfew," he signed, waving one hand in farewell, which Jesinia returned with her own wave.

"See you soon. By the way, what’s your name?" she tilted her head, and Liam gave her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I’m Liam Mairi, but you can just call me Liam," he informed her, to which the girl agreed, regarding him with intelligent eyes.

"It’s a pleasure, Liam. I hope we meet again soon," she signed, and Liam nodded. It wasn’t exactly a certainty, but he hoped something would lead him back to the archives again at some point in the future.

With one last wave of farewell, Liam headed toward the exit, his notes secured in his grip as his mind flew, piecing together and altering the information from those pages.

By the next morning, he would have something ready to apply and, hopefully, teach Violet. Liam would see her shine in the sparring challenges—and not because she had to rely on external items for it.

It was a promise.

-*-

"Again," he called Violet, his posture still perfectly balanced and steady, while Liam remained motionless in the exact center of the mat as he had been since they began this training session.

Violet, sprawled a few meters away, cursed loudly, clearly unhappy about starting the sparring over, which had so far been, to be honest, one-sided.

They had been there for at least half an hour. The squad had split into two mats: while Liam faced Violet on one, the others took turns in individual matches on the second. However, things were not exactly going as he wanted.

As he had planned when the day began, Liam had already developed the theoretical style and even rehearsed the moves he intended to teach Sorrengail, with particularly motivating success, even if it wasn't yet perfect. Then he moved on to the next part of the plan: teaching the style to Violet.

But to his frustration, this part was proving considerably less successful than the first.

Violet lifted herself off the ground, cradling her left arm, which Liam had locked in an armbar. For a few seconds, he worried he had applied too much force and injured the joint, but then she let the arm fall to her side and slowly returned to the initial stance he had taught her.

Liam scanned her posture, narrowing his eyes to catch smaller details.

"Spread your feet a bit more. Right foot slightly forward," he instructed, and Violet hissed as she followed his directions. Her body sank into the initial stance, looking satisfactorily balanced, and Liam nodded.

This stance isn’t comfortable," she informed him, and Liam shrugged, unfazed.

"It’s a new stance. I’d be surprised if it were. But the more you practice, the more comfortable it’ll get," he assured her. Violet narrowed her eyes, clearly still evaluating her sequence of moves. Although Liam wasn’t happy with how long she was taking to decide, the moves were still unfamiliar to her, so it was better to let her think before executing anything.

"I don’t understand why I need a new style," she finally said, and Liam gave her a carefree smile. Violet then leaped forward, launching a strike from the upper right. He raised his arm to block the attack, but in a quick motion, she disengaged and spun away from his reach, aiming a blow at his ribs.

Liam simply twisted his torso out of the attack’s path and then tapped a point on her scapula with his finger. Violet jumped back, and he gave her nothing more than a smile as he watched her arm go limp.

He had returned to the archives that morning, even though he had been confident the night before that he wouldn’t need to go back so soon. It became clear that his new style required some knowledge of human anatomy.

The understanding of the human body wasn’t particularly extensive or surprising, but it was good enough to support what he wanted. So, Liam let go of the frustration about the lack of depth in medical knowledge.

Liam frowned, unsure of how exactly studies on the human body were conducted, then shrugged because it didn’t interest him. Maybe in a universe where Liam was a healer, but not now. The thought left his mind as quickly as it appeared.

"Maybe you don’t need it," he conceded with an apologetic smile. "But it could be interesting. Knowing different styles can give you an advantage in a fight if one of them isn’t as effective as it should be." Liam shrugged, spinning through another sequence of Violet’s strikes before grabbing her right wrist and gently extending her fingers.

<"Remember, fingers extended and stiff, like needles," Liam reminded, and Violet made a noise of acknowledgment.

She stepped back with fluid movements, and Liam held back another smile because, as he had imagined, the balanced, lightning-fast motions were perfect for Violet’s figure. Even though she tried to deny it, she seemed infinitely more comfortable with this than with physical strikes.

But Liam let her discover that for herself or enjoy it without having it pointed out unnecessarily.

"It makes sense, I guess, but I don’t know why I’m learning this now. I’ve never even read about this style," she said with a shrug. Liam watched her rush forward, lowering her body to try and sweep his legs. He jumped off the ground for just a moment to avoid the attack before tapping Violet’s left wrist to deflect it.

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly considering what might break his sequence of evasions. Liam didn’t intend to make it easier for her, but he hoped she would find a way out.

"You wouldn’t have read about it. It’s something I developed," Liam informed her with a sideways smile, ducking as another strike came toward his torso.

It was the wrong move because a jab hit the top of his left shoulder, and Liam cursed under his breath as his arm went limp. Spinning away, Liam shook his shoulder to release the pressure point before smiling and nodding.

"That was good," he praised. Violet shook her head, satisfied, and then it was Liam’s turn to go on the offensive.

He leaped over Violet’s new sweep, then jumped behind her and delivered a strike to her forearm. Violet cursed loudly as the limb almost immediately became useless.

He crouched, aiming a strike at her left thigh. Violet spun to the right, escaping the attack as her body flowed. It was nothing less than he expected. But when the motion was complete, Liam countered with a right-hand strike to the top of her right femur.

A surprised grunt escaped her as her leg gave out beneath her, throwing her slightly off balance. With one arm and one leg entirely out of commission, Violet seemed poorly balanced in her current crouched position.

Liam stepped back, resuming his stance at the center of the mat. Violet huffed, shaking her head and loosening her limbs to relieve the strikes.

"You developed it? What do you mean?" she asked as she returned her leg to the mat.

The loud sound of impact made both of them glance at the neighboring mat. Liam winced in sympathy as he saw Dylan being thrown again by Sawyer. The squad seemed to have taken on the task of teaching the boy how to fight, but that scene was still alarmingly common.

"Keep a solid base, Dylan," Liam advised from a distance, and the boy grunted.

"I’m trying! Damn, this hurts," he hissed, but he got up the next moment, returning to his combat stance. Liam shook his head, impressed by the boy’s resilience, then refocused on his own fight.

"Yeah, I developed it. It’s based on a northern Tyrrendor fighting style—Taolu," Liam explained, knowing it would lend some credibility to what he had created.

Violet seemed intrigued before nodding and shaking her head.

“This one I know, a dancing fight” she agreed, and Liam smiled, nodding. “But why?” Violet tilted her head, and Liam shrugged.

“Utility” he was vague. It was better not to tell her it was made for her because Liam didn’t think she’d react well to that.

“Utility? Come on, Mairi, how can a fighting style dependent on speed and balance be exactly useful to you? Your fight seemed eerily perfect during the evaluation with the standard style” Violet didn’t seem particularly impressed as she approached again, this time opting for a sequence of quick strikes at the center of his abdomen.

Liam blocked them, pushing her wrists away while considering what to say next, then shrugged.

“Well, yes, physical fighting is what I prefer to use, but I learned it from someone very good at it” Liam was being more than a little humble about Xaden’s skill level. “And that can only mean everything I know how to fight with, he also knows. When I use this style, I developed it to counter that” it was a lie, of course, but not entirely, as Liam did hope it would provide some chance in combat against the older man.

Violet looked at him curiously, raising her leg to attempt a kick. Liam moved his arm to stop her motion, only to have his arm hit by a precise left jab. He retaliated by striking Violet’s left leg, leaving her no choice but to retreat away from him.

“Someone very good? Better than you?” She tilted her head while her right hand slowly massaged the muscle of her thigh, and Liam laughed.

“Much better than me. Every time we fought, I was on the mat in less than ten seconds” Liam shook his head lightly. Xaden might be an arrogant bastard, but at least he had the skills to back it up.

Violet, on the other hand, seemed reasonably surprised by that fact and then nodded, accepting what he had said.

“So you wanted another style to try and kick this guy’s ass” Violet guessed, and Liam nodded affirmatively.

“Yes, more or less that” he agreed. He’d have time to test if it worked or not in the future.

“And did it work?” She asked while attempting to hit him with a kick to the ribs. Liam grabbed her ankle, using her momentary imbalance to strike the center of her stomach.

He kept her steady as her body went a bit limp, then helped her lie on the mat despite the curses leaving her mouth. It was almost a knockout, so Liam decided it was enough.

They had fought at least seven times before that, and although it wasn’t perfect yet, there had been satisfactory progress in that training, so Liam declared it a success.

“I don’t know, I haven’t had time to test the theory yet, but I hope so” he laughed, shaking his head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter much why the style was developed, but rather that it was. I know what you’re capable of and that you’re progressing well with the traditional style, but I thought you might like something more aligned with your current expressive abilities” he said, shrugging, both to relieve the lingering tension in his left arm and to ease the nervousness that came with the admission.

“You think I can’t fight with punches and kicks?” Violet seemed more than a little offended now, and Liam blinked, alarmed, shaking his head in denial before her sentence even ended.

“Of course not. I think you can fight however you want, Vi. If you want to fight with punches and kicks, then do it. I just thought that while you’re still developing the physical strength the others here have and you don’t yet because of the shorter training period, maybe it would be good to have a style that gives you security in challenges” Liam hurried to explain, definitely not wanting to remain under Sorrengail’s scrutiny. Violet’s hazel eyes softened, returning to their usual calm state.

“Seeing it that way makes a lot of sense” Violet conceded, relaxing her posture before sitting down again, wincing slightly before exhaling and seeming a bit more at ease. “Thank you, Liam” she murmured, and he shrugged, a little embarrassed.

“Don’t thank me. It’s what friends do” he said before standing up and extending a hand to her. She took it with a surprisingly gentle look.

Liam turned to the other mat. Dylan was no longer fighting; instead, he was sprawled on the bench next to Ridoc while Rhi and Sawyer battled intensely nearby.

He sat next to Dylan, giving the boy’s calf a good-natured pat.

“So? How did it go?” he asked playfully and received a depressed grunt from Dylan and a side glance that made him raise his hands in surrender. “Alright, I get it. It didn’t go well, but you’re improving, so give yourself a bit more credit” Liam laughed, and the boy huffed, clearly not too moved by the comment.

“I’ll give myself credit when I manage to hit someone in a fight instead of getting beaten repeatedly” Dylan grumbled, sitting up as the fight on the mat ended.

Rhi had fought well, but Sawyer managed to pin her to the mat after a particularly good maneuver with cross punches, a sweep, and an arm lock. The Matthias didn’t seem particularly bothered by the defeat, laughing and teasing Sawyer. She was clearly asking him to teach her those moves, and Liam couldn’t help but smile.

Focusing on Dylan, he resigned himself to shaking his head and joining him on his feet, resting his palm on the boy’s shoulder.

“We’ve all been in this position, Dylan. We’ve all been learning to fight and know how frustrating it can be. And it will follow you until the moment you look back and see you’ve learned” Liam let him know, keeping his tone calm. “But the best part of all this is looking at yourself and seeing how much you’ve improved, seeing how much you’ve persisted and fought. There’s no feeling that compares to the pride you feel at that moment” he commented, pulling him forward as the squad prepared to leave the area.

“Maybe I’ll never get there” Dylan didn’t seem convinced, though he was definitely calmer than before. Liam looked at him over his shoulder, as certain as one could be.

“You will. And when you do, we’ll all be there to see it. I’ll make sure of that” he promised softly before pushing him a bit further. “I’ve never broken a promise before, and I’m promising now that nothing will stop us if I can do something to prevent it” he said seriously to the boy, who looked at him with slightly widened eyes before relaxing and nodding, clearly accepting his words.

Liam watched him join Sawyer and Ridoc in a playful exchange, while Violet and Rhiannon discussed something off to the side—something about fighting methods, if he read their lips correctly.

He couldn’t help it; he laughed. So low it didn’t seem like a laugh but rather a noise, yet it was such a genuine sound that, for a few seconds, it startled him.

Liam looked at his squad, all glowing in their excitement, more smiles and laughter leaving him as the tension abandoned him entirely.

There was no other answer: they were his family too, in a strange and uncertain way Liam didn’t know how it had happened, but they were his family.

As much as the Marked Ones were, as much as Xaden and Sloane.

Liam had feared being a replacement, that being there by Xaden’s orders and so late would make him an estranged outsider. But he was part of them, and they were part of him too.
The difference was that last time, Liam left too soon. This time, Liam would stay, and so would they. He wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.

Liam wouldn’t lose another family. Nor would he lose himself.

He wouldn’t lose anyone he loved again.

Chapter Text

Time had flown surprisingly fast after the evaluation day and the discovery of Violet's fighting style. The five weeks that followed brought their own victories and defeats. Ever the optimist—or as optimistic as one could be with a past like his—Liam decided to focus on the positives of it all.

The first positive point was that no one in his squad was dead after more than a month there, unlike at least a hundred cadets from their year. This was mainly because they generally stuck together most of the time, which discouraged attacks.

It also prevented stupid actions like risking a course for some challenge. Ridoc had come dangerously close to accepting one before Rhiannon, always the voice of reason, smacked him on the back of the head and refused on his behalf. Liam had relinquished the task of playing the group’s “mom”—or dad, technically, but that wasn’t the saying—because he already had too much to do.

On the flip side, not everything was exactly good during those weeks, especially since the marked ones in his year seemed to be getting worse rather than better despite all the training Imogen and Garrick gave them. Liam lost count of how many times he saw a relic-arm twisted or small flashes as one of them was thrown forcefully onto the mat.

He also lost track of how many curses older cadets hurled because of it, especially Imogen and Xaden. Liam had volunteered to train them, even though he wasn’t as experienced as the other older marked ones.

And then there was Dain’s relationship with Violet. Despite the horror show Dain put on after Violet’s first victory, she forgave him a few days later, though she seemed considerably less enthusiastic about their friendship. Liam considered this an absolute setback because the days she kept her distance were probably the best in recent times.

But one couldn’t have everything, and it was enough that she no longer seemed as confident staying in Aetos’ presence.

Convincing the rest of the group that Violet could be a potential ally hadn’t gone much better. He didn’t feel inclined to push too hard, considering Imogen’s temper. Still, he at least managed to convince Bodhi and Garrick to consider the possibility, and Xaden seemed willing to curb his stubbornness on the matter for now.

But it was still a work in progress, and Liam wasn’t about to give up. Maybe he should wait until Threshing, when Tairn would bond with her, and Xaden would be forced to keep an eye on her because of the bond between Sgaeyl and the black dragon.

When the sixth week began, Liam realized there were at least three things in his known timeline that hadn’t happened this time. In his previous life, Liam had been particularly lonely during his first months at Basgiath due to his status as marked. But now, he was part of the most united squad in the damned quadrant.

He still held his place as a top contender, though he hadn’t been declared the best of the year yet—or maybe he wouldn’t be. Liam wasn’t particularly worried about that. But he’d won enough to deter most cadets from challenging him.

There was also the fact that they hadn’t held any meetings with the first-years. In his old life, the older cadets had gathered the newcomers to give instructions and guidance, as well as to calm their fears. Not that it had entirely worked, since Xaden wasn’t exactly great at being gentle, and with the harsh realities of this place, they probably didn’t have time for it anyway.

But since they’d been observing and training the newcomers from the first week, Liam was happy to think he had contributed to the planning. None of the older cadets seemed to think it was necessary this time.

At least not yet, Liam thought, glancing at the Deigh figurine he’d given Garrick weeks ago, which had now been returned. The bottom of the piece, where Liam had carved his own message, had been sanded off just enough to make it disappear. In its place, another message had been written.

“💼12🕑”

Liam was genuinely impressed with Garrick’s drawing skills—if it had even been Garrick who did it—because the drawings were incredibly precise, even including small details of the objects. Why Tavis would waste time carving twelve notches on the clock or the opening of the little suitcase was a mystery to Liam.

But what mattered was that the message had been delivered, though the reason remained unclear.

Would this meeting follow the same pattern as the one Liam had witnessed in the past? Had some imperceptible change occurred that Liam somehow missed?

It wasn’t unlikely, Liam thought as he cautiously weaved through the trees, fully aware that Xaden was already there. How he knew that wasn’t entirely clear. Liam wasn’t about to get into a pointless argument right now.

Liam knew many things about the rebellion. His brother seemed confident Liam would make a good leader to manage Basgiath’s affairs after Imogen and Bodhi graduated. But he didn’t know everything, so it wasn’t illogical that something had changed drastically without him noticing or preparing for it.

He moved quietly around the willows until he stopped at the base of the third tree—the same as in his old life, along with the surrounding landscape, much to his comfort. From there, he observed Xaden discussing something with Imogen and Bodhi. Liam stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt whatever discussion had captured the older cadets’ attention.

Though, of course, his attempt to go unnoticed wouldn’t work, given Xaden’s signet. In the next moment, the Riorson was glaring at him.

“Good evening, Xaden,” Liam greeted, flashing the biggest grin he could manage. He knew perfectly well how much smiles at that hour could irritate Riorson, but he didn’t care.

Xaden rolled his eyes at him, though his expression relaxed slightly—almost imperceptibly—before he resumed his discussion with the others. Liam returned to his thoughts.

Soon, they would have to start training for the Gauntlet, which would present more challenges. Dylan was getting in better shape every day, and now Liam was almost confident he had a chance to pass the challenge, albeit with difficulty. They still had a few weeks to improve his odds.

But Violet would struggle with the challenge. She seemed determined to face it alone after he’d helped her with the tatami challenges—something about proving she could handle herself. Liam had no choice but to yield because, in his last life, Violet had completed the Gauntlet without anyone’s help.

It wasn’t worth arguing with Sorrengail about it, so he let her figure it out on her own.

The marked group gathered while he considered this, all the first-years looking nervous and restless about being there clandestinely. Liam could clearly see where this was going for all of them. Apparently, Xaden was still capable of giving the group a lecture.

“Is everyone here?” Garrick asked, keeping his tone low enough for the stream to mask the sound to anyone outside the clearing. A wave of nods passed through the group. “Very well, we’ve already lost two—Lupérco and Sutherland. We’ll lose more if you don’t step up.” Garrick’s blunt statement aimed to give the group a much-needed dose of reality.

“Why are only a few second- and third-years here? If this is a meeting, they should all be present,” an idiot—Liam cursed mentally—remarked, crossing his arms.

“It’s a meeting for first-years. If all of us in the quadrant gathered, we’d risk being discovered,” Bodhi retorted, raising an eyebrow at the first-year who’d spoken.

“None of us like this,” another chimed in. Liam shot him a sharp look, raising an eyebrow because he, for one, wasn’t complaining.
A strange vibration ran through his chest, familiar but just out of reach of his memory.

“Like it or not, you’ll have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation,” Imogen snapped at the first-year, her tone curt.
“And if they find out we’re meeting?” a girl from the Third Wing asked nervously.

“Obviously, they wouldn’t risk doing this if that were a possibility,” Liam thought, feeling a bit petty before pushing the thought aside. Everyone had a right to fear for their lives—it wasn’t their fault that Liam had simply lost any fear for his.

The vibration came again, stronger this time, accompanied by… laughter? Liam felt his body freeze, the deep baritone tone striking a chord of recognition that immediately reminded him why everything felt so familiar.

It was the bond—the one he’d shared with Deigh in his old life, which had lain dormant since he arrived in the past and was now awakening. The vibrations were nothing more than Deigh’s amusement at what he’d witnessed through Liam.

“Deigh,” he called out enthusiastically, a surge of satisfaction blooming in his chest that didn’t belong to him.

“You’ve finally awakened our bond, haven’t you? I thought you’d seek me out sooner, foolish human,” Deigh’s voice teased in his mind, and Liam let out a soft chuckle at the dragon.

“I thought the bond would only reappear after I found you at Threshing,” he replied, tuning out the meeting discussion for now—they were still debating the cadets’ combat capabilities.

“You thought correctly. You won’t fully sense me until we reunite, but the connection isn’t bound tightly enough to prevent muffled communication,” Deigh explained. In retrospect, Liam considered this a good thing—it meant he had a voice of reason to guide him.

“I can’t do this,” a first-year from the First Wing spoke up, shrinking back and pulling Liam’s attention away from his discussion with his dragon.

This was when the shitshow would probably start.

“What do you mean?” Xaden tensed, and the first-year student swallowed hard, trembling.

“I can’t do this,” he shouted, and Liam flinched, looking around, worried someone might hear. “The death, the fighting, all of it. People have died in front of me in the past few weeks, and I can’t take it anymore. I want to go home. Can you help me with that?” he asked, raising his eyes to Xaden, so full of hope and need that it made Liam’s stomach churn.

He knew what it felt like to be like that, to feel repulsed by death and terrified of facing it. Liam knew what it was like to see it approaching and be powerless to stop it. It was like that when he saw Deigh fall, his neck snapping, his body twisting into an unnatural position. That feeling of knowing you were going to die, no matter what you did, and still staying there, just waiting.

Liam felt as if everything had slowed down, a certainty of death so solid that he couldn’t remember what anything else felt like beyond that sensation. You became somewhat apathetic to the feelings of others. It had taken everything in Liam to not be indifferent to Violet’s suffering—not because he wanted to be, but because it all just seemed like too much.

But then he made it through that moment. The pain and silent suffering faded away without him even realizing they had existed amidst the confusing mix of emotions. Accepting death was strange. It didn’t involve wanting it or liking it, just a grim acknowledgment that there was nothing you could do to change it.

Malek didn’t care about trivialities like feelings or motivations to stay. He would take and take without blinking his blood-red eyes. They were just puppets waiting for their strings to be cut.

“People die,” Liam spoke before Xaden could start his speech, and the entire group turned to look at him. “People died today, they’ll die tomorrow, and for the rest of the time this cursed world still exists. It could be you tomorrow, or him, or me—any one of us,” Liam said, feeling slightly apathetic as he shared his hard-earned lesson, pointing to the group.

A faint flicker of encouragement came from his half-frozen bond with Deigh. The dragon obviously understood part of his feelings.

“It’s not pretty, it’s not fair, and it’s not nice, but they’ll die anyway because Malek will take them. And he’s not kind. The god of death will take and take until he’s satisfied, and fighting or begging won’t make a difference. Dragons don’t care about the will of humans, much less the gods,” Liam declared, shifting his gaze to Xaden, who stared back at him. There was nothing but recognition on his face as his posture suddenly relaxed.

Riorson obviously shared a similar stance because he supported Liam’s speech when the others looked at him. He continued defending the point even after everything.

“Xaden gave you the chance to fight, the chance to deny Malek the pleasure of taking you with his cold disdain. This isn’t a gift, and it’s not a present—it’s an opportunity, one that doesn’t belong to any of them,” Liam continued, pointing at the group of second and third years, who looked at him with varying degrees of understanding. “Your life is yours. What you do with it is up to you. So no... you can’t go home. It was destroyed years ago, along with our parents. No, Xaden can’t help you more than he already has. He won’t give more than he’s already given for all of us. So deal with your fears and disgust, or we’ll wish Malek takes you soon—and pray Amari is around, because the god of death is terrifying.”

Memories of blood-red eyes filled with fury, rebellious black hair, and a pale, lifeless face turned to him as Liam followed Amari through the divine tree’s throne room. In a twisted way, he resembled Xaden, except his brother had always been gentler with him and with those he cared about.

The boy looked as though he’d seen a ghost, turning pale and falling silent. Liam didn’t want to make him feel bad, but this was their reality.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with humans who can’t handle the truth. You gave him a valuable lesson from your own experience with death. If he prefers to lament rather than take your advice seriously, he doesn’t deserve your attention,” Deigh grumbled in his mind, likely sensing Liam’s discomfort at the boy’s reaction. Liam definitely felt far removed from the cheerful, carefree version of himself he’d been the year before.

But he could handle one thing at a time. First, he would restore his full bond with Deigh. Then, he could salvage what he could of that version of himself. The group was silent, though some seemed confused by his statement. Xaden filled in the gaps.

“What Liam said is correct. Although I can’t speak for Malek’s personality, he’s right that this isn’t a fairy tale where everyone makes it out alive. People can and will die every day, and you’re no exception. If you want to survive until graduation, if you want to survive until retirement, then you’d better start working for it,” Xaden said firmly, his gaze locking onto a few particularly stubborn individuals, despite having two others stating the same thing.

They quickly averted their eyes, properly chastised, before a girl from the tail section spoke up softly.

“I’m struggling with the battle brief,” she admitted, and some of the tension eased.

“It is a tough one,” Imogen agreed, casting a look at Xaden, who sighed and nodded.

“You listen to what they teach, memorize the information, and repeat it. That’s all you need to do. It doesn’t matter what you know,” Xaden said tersely. “Anyone else?” He raised an eyebrow questioningly, but only silence greeted him, and he nodded.

“Good. Then head back to your beds in pairs or trios and be discreet,” Garrick ordered, motioning toward the treetops. Slowly, the group dispersed until only they remained.

“Do you think I should tell them about you?” Liam asked Deigh. The bond pulsed once before a resounding affirmative echoed.
“Much has changed, Brave Heart. You’ll have to figure it out when everything is revealed. Admitting it will raise more questions than you might like to answer,” Deigh replied. Liam sighed, feeling tired, and nodded.

It made sense. Malek had said there would be changes regarding Deigh, and Liam couldn’t begin to imagine what they might be. Telling someone about a bond that predated the Threshing would lead to questions about how it happened and, indirectly, about which dragon he had bonded with.

So he simply gave a quick farewell to the group still lingering and slipped away into the trees, heading back to the dormitory. Everything was dark when he entered, and very quiet. His eyes instinctively sought out where his squad was grouped, and his muscles relaxed when he saw they were all safe and asleep.

They had managed to trade beds with other cadets to form a cohesive group of six beds side by side. Liam deeply appreciated this because it allowed him to have a bit more control over things.

He still struggled with the idea of not being able to help others. Liam wasn’t sure why this was so strong now, but it didn’t matter much if it would keep happening. Feeling the tension ease, Liam moved silently to his bed, quickly organizing his belongings in the sealed bag tied to the bed leg and starting to settle in for sleep when a murmur caught his attention.

“Liam?” a female voice called, and he turned around, startled. It was Rhiannon, blinking sleepily in his direction, looking confused. “Where were you? Did something happen?” she asked, now appearing concerned. Liam felt part of his nervousness dissipate when he realized it was his squadmate who had seen him, but he still felt tense at the possibility of being discovered.

“I’m fine,” he assured her softly. “I couldn’t sleep and went for a walk,” he decided. It was true, though not entirely. He definitely went for a walk.

“Is it about the Gauntlet?” Rhiannon seemed fully awake now, with a strange determination appearing in her eyes. Liam felt confused before sighing and sitting on his bed, somewhat defeated.

“More or less. I’m worried about our squadmates during the challenge,” he admitted, rubbing his forehead. Rhiannon got up, walked over to him, and sat by his side.

“Dylan is progressing a lot with your help, and Vi is no lightweight by any means. They’ll manage,” Rhiannon said, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. Liam pressed his lips together.

“The Gauntlet isn’t what people think it is. I’ve heard of people ten times more trained than they are who fell during it because they underestimated it, and I don’t want to see either of them fall,” Liam said, his mind conjuring the image of one of his former squadmates from his previous life—back when Liam still belonged to the Tail Section—plummeting on presentation day because he thought he had it under control.

The boy had been one of the greatest talents in the section, but it didn’t matter; he was still dead by the end of the day.

“Then we’ll make sure they don’t underestimate it. We’re a squad, and we support each other. You don’t have to carry the weight of keeping all of us alive on your shoulders,” Rhiannon murmured, and Liam sent her a surprised look.

Though it was more or less what he had been doing given his knowledge of the future, Liam had never thought someone would notice. He also wasn’t eager to give up keeping them safe. If Liam let his guard down, they could be taken from his life by Malek as quickly as he had been returned to it. His life should cost some price—he just hadn’t figured out what it was yet or if it had even been deducted.
Rhiannon simply placed her hand on his shoulder again, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“You might be the strongest and most experienced of us, and I’d love to know how you know so much, but that doesn’t mean you need to do everything alone,” she stated with a small smile. For the first time since returning to the past, Liam felt a knot in his stomach dissolve.

His chest filled with a warm, calming sensation that came from Deigh, the dragon letting out a suspiciously proud rumble before retreating to silence.

“Thank you, Rhi,” he murmured to the girl, who smiled and nodded. “As for how I know so much, my older brother is a third-year cadet, so I know a few secrets.” He laughed, watching her jaw drop in shock.

“You have a brother? And he’s here? How did you not tell us before?” she asked, shocked, her voice rising a bit. Liam hissed at her to lower her voice, and Rhiannon glanced around guiltily.

“Yes, I have a brother two years older and a sister one year younger. He’s here at Basgiath and is in the third year. I didn’t mention it because… well, I thought you might have some reservations about who he is.” His eyes wandered to where Violet slept peacefully.
Rhiannon followed his gaze, then softened again and shook her head.

“We know you, Liam—maybe not as well as we’d like since it’s been so little time, but enough. You’re the guy who wins fights so easily but never brags about it. You’re the one who helped a group of people ahead of you without hesitation and keeps doing it day after day,” Rhiannon listed earnestly. “The identity of your brother won’t make us like you any less. Any distaste that arises in the group will be directed at him, not you,” she continued, serious.

“You might change your mind when you find out,” he joked, slightly amused. Xaden had definitely built a less-than-charming image of himself and was hardly seen as anything but grim.

“I’ll take the risk,” she declared determinedly, and Liam sighed. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever, and Vi would probably already be furious that he hadn’t told her he was the brother of the guy who supposedly wanted her dead.

“Your risk, then,” he conceded, and Rhiannon gave him a falsely victorious smile. “Xaden Riorson,” he finally said, and Rhiannon’s brown eyes widened in absolute shock, her jaw dropping as the whites of her eyes were fully visible.

For a few moments, everything remained silent—Liam nervous about his revelation and Rhiannon utterly stunned by the discovery.
“Xaden Riorson? Our Wingleader? Like, the Xaden Riorson—the Sgaeyl rider, leader of the Fourth Wing—is your older brother?” Rhiannon’s voice came out high-pitched but blessedly low, much to Liam’s satisfaction. He nodded tiredly.

“The very one,” he agreed with a sigh. “There’s no blood between us, though. We were raised by the same foster family after the apostasy five years ago and became as close as brothers during that time,” he explained, raising his head to stare at the ceiling. His lips curved into a smile as he remembered all the adventures they’d had together in Tirvainne.

“I never would have guessed. He’s been so… impersonal in the rare times you’ve interacted,” Rhiannon shook her head in disbelief, and Liam offered her a soft smile.

“Things are hard for people like us, Rhi,” he confided, pulling up his sleeve to reveal his relic. “Marked ones are shunned by everyone because of our parents. We were separated from siblings or any family we had left and vilified simply for existing,” he murmured, sighing wearily. Rhiannon’s gaze softened as she rested her hand on his shoulder again.

“I’m sorry, Liam. Your sister…” she began, and he nodded.

“I haven’t seen her in five years. She was taken to some fortress in Navarre, and we were never allowed to exchange even a single letter. All I know is that she’s alive,” he admitted, his chest tightening fiercely. Living didn’t mean Sloane was okay, but at least it was better than nothing.

“Liam…”

“It’s fine. I’ll see her in a year when she enters the quadrant,” he said, shaking his head. “But it also means we can’t be as open with our affections for each other. Xaden cares about me, and I’ve never doubted that, but showing it puts a target on my back. He’s made plenty of enemies over the years, and he’s just protecting me,” Liam murmured, feeling a bit better as he reminded himself of this fact.

Xaden did what he could to give him the softer part of himself when everything around them sought to exploit any weakness. He did it because Liam sought him out without hesitation once. Xaden also did what he could to spare them all the risks. He made mistakes along the way, but all of them had, too. Liam had been petty in placing all the blame on Riorson.

He sent an apology to the Xaden of his original timeline and hoped he found a happy ending.

“He must be proud of you. I would be if you were my brother, and I’m not just talking about physical skill,” Rhiannon said. “You’re a good person, Liam—the kind most people never encounter in their entire lives. He’s lucky to have you as family, even without blood, just as we’re lucky to have you as a friend,” she continued, and Liam felt tears sting his eyes before blinking them away forcefully.

“We need to sleep. Ridoc will get the wrong idea if we both look disheveled in the morning,” he changed the subject, and Rhiannon smiled, obviously noticing but not pushing.

“Goodnight, Liam,” she said softly, returning to her bed and lying down.

“Goodnight, Rhi,” he replied gently, lying down and turning to face where her bed was visible.

Liam watched her until she fell asleep again, then for a while longer before a wave of calm feelings passed through the bond. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the hum of what must have been Deigh’s breathing.

He never realized when he fell asleep, but he thanked the dragon in the morning.

-*-

Liam had long resigned himself to attending boring meetings. Even before the apostasy, he had often joined work meetings on days when his mother decided to take him along. In the years between his parents’ deaths and his admission to Basgiath, his participation diminished considerably, given that the rebellion was being kept completely silent.

He was also still considered too young to participate—both then and now again. Liam disliked how he was always treated like a child, even though Xaden had actively participated in planning when he was at least two years younger than Liam had been in his final year before Basgiath. But that was in the past. Liam was now invited to participate, just as he had been in his previous life, and he was glad to return to that point more quickly than before. It was both good and bad to remember why he hadn’t wanted to attend those meetings with his mother.

Not that he wasn’t flattered or determined—this was, after all, what he had stood for, stands for, and will continue to defend for the rest of his life. It was what his parents had given their lives to fight against. So, it wasn’t boredom that would keep him away or make him waver in his duties.

But meetings definitely had a special way of being tedious.

Liam wasn’t the only one who thought so—or at least he believed he wasn’t, judging by Imogen’s closed-off, bored expression. Though that might have been because she hadn’t been granted permission to fly with the next shipment. Liam understood the feeling to some extent. In his previous life, Xaden had taken two-thirds of the year to consider allowing him to go, and Liam had only gone once, accompanying Garrick and Bodhi.

While the others discussed the rebellion’s future developments, Liam had something stuck in his mind that he needed to work on. The mental image of Deigh’s posture hadn’t left him for a second that day. Liam missed his dragon, and this feeling had grown stronger since discovering he could still communicate with him.

Carving was something he’d always done, ever since he was a little boy barely able to distinguish between types of knives. He had learned from his maternal grandmother and refined his skills with his mother during family breaks, which Colonel Mairi never failed to take despite her many responsibilities. It was something he had started to connect with his maternal family—a childish need when he realized that, apart from his eyes, he didn’t share much physical resemblance with his mother. But he continued carving when he discovered a love for creating something with his hands.

Though Liam had occasionally ventured into other crafts, Duke Lindell had, on a few occasions, allowed him to join his wife in embroidery and knitting—though the Duke hadn’t seemed too pleased about it. Liam wouldn’t call himself a skilled seamster, but the experience might come in handy someday. At the very least, he could stitch wounds if needed, and in their lives, that need would likely arise sooner or later.

The piece of wood began to take on a dragon-like shape. Looking at it felt nostalgic as memories of his first carved figurines returned to him. Liam would often get the proportions wrong, making what should have been a cute fox have a snout larger and wider than its body. At least those strange creatures had made his grandmother and mother laugh, though Liam had definitely felt defeated by each one.
Years later, determining proportions became almost instinctive. He never showed anyone the pieces he intentionally carved incorrectly just to reminisce about the past.

Xaden was talking about the last two deliveries—the furthest having taken place two weeks ago and the most recent three days ago. There was less cargo to deliver because the command was particularly more agitated than usual. This was by no means good for them because Tecarus wasn’t particularly understanding, and Venin attacks were effectively worsening. Poromiel needed weapons.

There wasn’t much they could do in that situation. They couldn’t promise more weapons than they could produce, so Poromiel would have to either accept what they had or go without. Still, according to Xaden, the next three deliveries would happen in quick succession: one the following night, one at the end of that week, and the last in ten days.

The shipments were already en route from headquarters to meet the new schedule. Xaden wanted to put Tecarus out of his mind for now, as the man was always a pain—someone who made Liam very grateful he only had to deal with Dain Aetos, his squad leader, who was equally frustrating.

Dain was as good a leader as he seemed to be—which was to say, absolutely terrible. Despite clearly wanting results from his squad, he did nothing to help them survive or improve.

This reminded Liam of his first squad in the tail section of his previous life, which had been under the command of Cadet Belden. The man had been distant and impersonal in most situations, but at least he had taken the time to help them train to stay alive.

Dain Aetos was a disgrace to the quadrant. Liam could name at least four people who agreed with that assessment, all of whom were in the room at that very moment. Imogen was the most obvious; Xaden didn’t try to hide it; and, of course, Garrick and Bodhi were naturally better at concealing their opinions—though not by much.

“A bit resentful,” Deigh opined. Liam frowned slightly, glancing at the sculpted snout of the dragon. A quick wave of satisfaction surged through him before he controlled it, somewhat irritated by the reaction. The figure wasn’t easily discernible yet, not unless he explicitly said which dragon he was carving—and even then, it was unlikely anyone at the table would recognize it. Deigh wasn’t particularly intrusive, and the return of their muted bond didn’t seem to have changed that, though the dragon now felt inclined to butt in.

“You’re bored,” Liam stated rather than asked. There was no point in beating around the bush about something so obvious. After all, there was no reason for Deigh to interrupt otherwise.

“Maybe. You’re projecting your thoughts onto me,” Deigh replied. Liam could almost see the dragon’s tail thumping against the ground—exactly what happened when Deigh was particularly frustrated, as he seemed to be now.

“Well, sorry. I’m a little bored with this meeting,” Liam justified, suppressing a shrug. No one wanted Xaden to launch into another lecture about the importance of paying full attention. Liam didn’t see how an explanation of how the anti-Venin daggers worked was relevant to him; he already knew the theory. “Dain is a detestable person. If I didn’t already know how corrupt Navarre is, I’d be surprised someone as idiotic as him managed to become squad leader,” he said mockingly. That kingdom was always something to mock whenever the chance arose, and the dragon usually seemed in the mood to agree.

“I’d suggest a therapist, but they don’t exist in this place, so deal with your resentments,” Deigh grumbled. Liam definitely laughed at that, though he fought to keep it from showing on his physical body.

Liam abandoned the dialogue with his dragon in favor of focusing on the meeting. If there were any questions directed at him, it would be better if he could answer them satisfactorily.

Garrick was chosen for the next shipment. He had a patrol mission in the northern region near Samara in two days, so he could slip away for an hour or two to drop off the cargo a few minutes from the wall. It was a bit risky, given the proximity to the fort, but it was the best they could manage with what they had.

Liam finished the first wing while piecing together his own idea—something he’d been considering for a long time but hadn’t found time to voice.

“You’ll limit yourself too much if you rely solely on missions. Command won’t always come up with them at the times we need, Xaden,” Liam said, lifting his eyes from the sculpture to meet Xaden’s gaze. The older man frowned slightly at his somewhat passive-aggressive tone, so Liam softened his voice to something more amicable. “We could use more common excuses to cover the deliveries. It wouldn’t be unprecedented if someone decided to take a flight at some point during the day,” he added with a shrug, moving the dagger to start carving Deigh’s legs on the figure.

Liam blinked at Garrick when he leaned against the table with an amused smile on his lips, confusing Liam a bit. It wasn’t exactly a fun topic, so what had caught Garrick’s attention?

“It’s considerably harder to justify carrying a dragon during daylight, especially under the excuse of a stroll,” Xaden vetoed, sending him a serious look. Liam nearly rolled his eyes at the attempt to shut down the topic. Too bad for Xaden, Liam had learned to be just as stubborn as the Riorson.

“I never said it had to be in daylight, nor did I say it would be a recurring thing. You assumed that on your own,” Liam replied, offering a playful smile to the older man, who huffed. “What I’m suggesting is that a nighttime flight could justify a trip when you can’t get a mission at the necessary time,” he proposed, lowering his gaze to his sculpture to ensure the details of the scales on the snout and neck were precise and well-done.

This time, there was more agreement. Imogen and Bodhi nodded, while Garrick grunted affirmatively. Liam felt a bit more confident, given that his idea didn’t seem so out of place in context.

“It hardly would be. It’s a simple, though effective, tactic,” Deigh’s voice echoed in Liam’s mind.

“What are you doing that’s boring you so much? You could fly again if staying on the ground is so unbearable,” Liam tried to project the sensation of frowning through their bond to complement his confusion.

“You’re not the only one stuck in a boring meeting,” Deigh admitted. Liam blinked, surprised. Dragons didn’t usually share much about the Empyrean’s schedule with their riders, nor did they often communicate about it. “It’s a low-priority meeting, Brave Heart. Codagh is delivering dull, irrelevant reports, so it’s not exactly wrong to inform you about it,” the dragon justified, and Liam accepted it without much more to question.

“Anyway, I’d say it’s a simple solution that Xaden is unlikely to accept,” Liam commented, tapping the dagger’s hilt lightly against his leg in frustration.

“Maybe,” Xaden finally conceded, snapping Liam out of his mental conversation with his dragon. “But it would be hard to justify creating a new habit so suddenly,” Xaden tapped his fingers on the table, raising an eyebrow. This time, it was his turn to receive the group’s agreement, and Liam shrugged.

“A new habit? I wouldn’t call it creating a new habit—just a random nighttime stroll,” Liam raised an eyebrow, determined. “And I’m not saying it should be a recurring thing, just that it’s a plausible excuse in cases of necessity,” he argued, holding Xaden’s gaze long enough for the older man not to dismiss the idea so quickly.

Silence stretched for a few minutes as Xaden analyzed his suggestion, obviously searching for reasons to deny it. Then he sighed, his lips tightening slightly, showing he hadn’t found any.

“Fine,” Xaden relented. He wasn’t particularly easy to sway, but it was a pity for Xaden that Liam had learned too much from him to back down when he wanted something.

"Excellent" Liam said, clearly satisfied with his new task. No more sitting idle without helping.

The discussion shifted to the third delivery day. Xaden immediately shut down Imogen's attempt to propose something as soon as she started, clearly unwilling to engage in another argument he might lose. Liam could have chuckled a little at Imogen's sour expression following the clear refusal. Of course, Xaden would blame him, because naturally, it was entirely unnatural for Liam to use his cards to win a battle.

Chuckling softly to himself, Liam returned to carving. Deigh was nearly finished, though Liam still needed to sculpt the scales across the dragon’s body.

A wave of frustration coursed through him—not his own, but from his dragon, who was also stuck in a tedious meeting. Liam couldn’t help but smile slightly at the thought. At least he had something to occupy himself during boring meetings; Deigh probably wasn’t as lucky.
Xaden started outlining the locations. Eya, who was assigned the first of two deliveries for the following week, would head to Athebyne, though she wasn’t to approach the fortress unless absolutely necessary.

Liam completed his small sculpture and pushed it away to examine the result. He wouldn’t call it perfect, as there were more than a few spots with grooves, but it resembled Deigh enough to be recognizable without looking strange.

"I’d say it’s quite good," he decided to try conversing with Deigh. The dragon was skeptical about many things but honest in his opinions, so Liam could use that to decide whether to keep the statue or start over.

"You shouldn’t worry so much about others’ opinions of your wooden statues, Brave Heart. You make them because you enjoy it, and if anyone dares to criticize them so carelessly, I’ll burn them for hurting you," Deigh grumbled with a low rumble, clearly in a foul mood. Liam felt slightly better with the dragon’s support, though he preferred no one got burned anytime soon.

"People have different tastes, Deigh. It might look good to me but bad to them," Liam tried to reason, and the dragon snorted, clearly disagreeing with his logic.

"Ridiculous," Deigh declared. "Your statues are good, and anyone with eyes can see that."

Liam felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment at the implicit compliment in Deigh’s words.

This, of course, drew the group’s attention, their confused gazes falling on him. They had been discussing the squad games scheduled for the near future and the best strategies, so it wasn’t a topic that should have left him embarrassed. Liam gave a sheepish smile, raising a hand to scratch his neck before regaining his composure. It had been a while since he’d felt like that.

"It's nothing. Carry on," Liam said with a shrug, not particularly inclined to share his internal dialogue with his dragon, and they left him alone.

"I’ll trust you, though I’ll probably need to improve my carvings," he decided, adjusting a few uneven edges and blowing away the remaining wood shavings before looking for sandpaper to finish the piece.

"Remember, you owe the riders nothing. They’ll take what we have or go without," Xaden maintained a firm tone, making it clear the topic wasn’t up for debate. "Keep your head high and control the conversation. If they want our help, they’ll accept it on our terms. Show them you won’t be easily intimidated—or have your dragons scare them."

Xaden’s onyx-gold eyes swept across everyone in the room as he reinforced the importance of his words.

"Got it," Garrick affirmed, nodding to reassure the older man that he understood. Imogen nodded as well, clearly having heard this speech many times and made countless deliveries himself, so he likely didn’t need to be reminded.

Bodhi nodded, though he wouldn’t be handling the third delivery—Soleil would. Durran would relay the instructions to her as soon as possible, and since her mission was still at least a week away, there wasn’t much urgency.

"Dismissed," Xaden decreed, and Liam nodded, not particularly concerned. The group stood and began to leave.

Imogen had already left with Garrick, the two of them discussing something entirely irrelevant to Liam. Bodhi lingered by the door, clearly waiting for him for some reason—likely to share some additional advice about the near future that hadn’t been covered earlier.

Liam waved a quick goodbye to Xaden before heading to the door to join Bodhi. They walked down the hallway, Xaden's cousin looking quite amused. Bodhi glanced at him, shook his head slightly, and then turned his gaze forward, appearing thoughtful.

"You played your words well to convince Xaden. Imogen tried something similar all of last year, and you can probably guess the response," Bodhi remarked with a sly smile, which Liam returned with a full grin.

"I’d say six years stuck with his grumpy ass made me an expert," Liam joked. Though he was deeply grateful to have been chosen for Tirvainne after the apostasy with Xaden—life had still been a mess, but it could’ve been worse, so there wasn’t much to complain about. "Anyway, there’s not much room to dodge in these situations, and I gave him a plausible, practical solution. I want to help, not just sit in meetings," Liam added, forming a small, petulant pout. He was never particularly patient, and hours spent sitting around a table were far from ideal, but it was better than nothing.

"You will," Bodhi assured him. "Though he’s agreed to suggestions for now, I don’t think it’s something that’ll become common. But even if all you can do for now is attend the meetings, you’re still helping."

As they descended the stairs, Liam glanced at the ground, looking a bit troubled.

"It doesn’t feel like much help, honestly. I’m not particularly good at strategy, and you’re all far more experienced, so I don’t see why I should say anything. I just... want to be useful," he murmured, sounding a bit defeated. Then, a reassuring hand rested on his shoulder.

"I know it can be tough at first, Liam. Trust me, I’ve been in your shoes. I know what it’s like to get here and want to make a difference because that’s what we fight for—what our parents fought for. I was stuck with Xaden, the control freak, Garrick, who always seemed to know what to say, and Imogen, who didn’t care and just blurted out her opinion without a second thought," Bodhi chuckled, clearly reminiscing about past moments. "It was hard to find my voice in the middle of all that, but I did. And just like it was for me, it will be for you too," he assured him in a calm voice.

Liam wasn’t entirely convinced, still feeling like he couldn’t quite overcome how out of place he felt in formal meetings. Even so, he could see Bodhi’s effort to help.

"I’ll try. At least I managed to get something practical to do soon," Liam said, trying to focus on the positive.

Bodhi nodded as they reached the second-year floor and stopped, as Durran would remain on that level.

"Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mairi. You’re doing very well, and trust me when I say that your presence in that room makes a big difference," Bodhi said as a parting remark before waving and heading down the hallway toward his quarters.

Liam returned the wave and continued down to the first-year floor, fully intent on getting a good night’s sleep to restore his energy.

He hated meetings, but if that’s what they needed him to do, Liam would endure anything to help.

Chapter Text

Liam followed the routine of faithfully imitating Xaden for three long weeks. He would have done it for longer if the older boy hadn’t simply approached him and said he should stop. If Liam wanted to learn, Xaden would teach him.

There was no possible response other than agreement. Liam joined him in silence during every training session.

-*-

"Mom, run," Liam cried as he sat up in bed, tears streaming down his face. It had been four months since he was sent to Tirvainne, four months since his mother had been killed by Codath.

This was supposed to be the first day he was truly alone. Lindell had left the fortress on business, though he had finally allowed them to have two rooms instead of just one. It was then Liam realized he didn’t want to be alone. It was too dark at that hour, and he didn’t know anything about that place.

Liam was scared. He didn’t know where his sister was, and his parents were gone. He wanted to run back to Arentia and jump into his parents’ bed like he used to when he had nightmares.

But it wasn’t his mom or dad who showed up—it was a confused and absolutely frustrated Xaden, clearly annoyed at being woken up. Liam had no idea he’d screamed so loudly. He would apologize once he got over the crying fit that had taken hold of him.

Xaden didn’t say a word as he sat beside him while Liam sobbed and gasped for air, the crying leaving him breathless.

"Why are you crying?" Xaden finally asked, maybe five minutes later.

"A nightmare," Liam mumbled. "About Mom." Why would he say it was about her burning when it was so obvious?

"Go back to sleep," was all Xaden said. Liam wanted to protest, but the words died in his throat when the older boy pushed him back down and covered him with the blanket again.

"I don’t want to be alone. I don’t know this place, and I hate being alone somewhere unfamiliar," Liam might have been begging, but who cared?

"Just go back to sleep, Liam."

Xaden was asleep in the chair when Liam woke up the next morning. That same day, they were moved to a larger room with two beds as roommates.

-*-

Liam watched with glazed eyes as one of the wyverns approached. He felt detached from himself as the creature drew closer, relentless, its golden eyes fixed on him. Where Liam’s were cold and impersonal, the monster’s burned with malicious fury and a thirst for blood.

He didn’t feel like himself, mostly because he couldn’t move, not even to avert his gaze, but also because apathy wasn’t something he was used to.

The wyvern approached, the golden hue intensifying in his vision. Liam was unable to avoid the creature’s monstrous eyes. Its jaws opened, blue fire gathering in its throat, and then everything became nothing again.

Or everything. Liam lost himself when, suddenly, he felt damp, breathless, and terrified. There was no longer a wyvern in front of him. Instead of those furious eyes, Liam was staring at a dimly lit dark stone ceiling, lying on a hard bed in the dormitory, with his squad moving around him.

Liam was used to nightmares. He’d had plenty of them after his parents died, and after so many years, he had perfected the technique of not reacting to them. Naturally, though, his mind always seemed sluggish in the minutes after waking.

So, even though he didn’t scream or panic, Liam remained still, staring at the ceiling with a vacant look as he listened to the squad move around.

"I’m excited! We’ve been training a lot, so I think I have a chance," said Dylan, his voice coming from the bed below Liam’s, sounding as optimistic as his words.

"That’s the spirit, but remember not to underestimate the challenge. Liam was very specific that it’s a fatal mistake," Rhiannon replied. It had been two weeks since he told her about his brother and the reason why he supposedly knew more about this place.

Liam had admitted it to the rest of the squad at some point, and although Violet had seemed hesitant when she found out, she surprised him by declaring she had nothing against it and that it was fine.

The first Gauntlet training was that day, he remembered with a soft sigh.

"Speaking of Liam, our esteemed friend still hasn’t woken up. Maybe we should give him a hand," Ridoc proposed, sounding very pleased with whatever “helping hand” he had in mind. Liam responded with a loud grunt, enough to alert them that he was perfectly awake, just immobile.

"He seems very awake to me. Some people just don’t like jumping out of bed like you do," Violet teased, her face appearing above his with a small smile. Liam returned it with a crooked attempt at a smile he managed to form.

Violet sent him a worried look, which he dismissed with a quick shake of his head. He just needed a few more minutes to stabilize his body after the strange nightmare, and then he would start the day as if nothing had happened.

Liam wasn’t happy that the first of those nightmares had struck on the morning of such an important day, but things rarely worked out the way he wanted, and he resigned himself to dealing with it.

"Are you okay, Liam?" Violet asked, and Liam blinked lethargically.

"I am. I just need a few minutes, but I’m fine," he assured her softly. It wasn’t exactly common for him to face that sensation of incapacity in the morning. Normally, it happened after some nocturnal ordeal or on the previous day, and Liam was very grateful for that.

But his mood always reappeared after half an hour of mental persuasion. Liam just needed to wait.

The girl stared at him for a few more seconds, indecisive, before agreeing and disappearing from his line of sight. Footsteps echoed faintly at the edge of his hearing, far enough away to belong to cadets other than his squad. Liam assumed they were leaving the dormitory to have breakfast.

"So?" That was Sawyer, his tone somewhat uncertain. Liam wanted to look, but moving cost him part of the motivation he was slowly gathering, so he just assumed the others were ready to leave.

"He needs some time, but he’s fine," Violet said in a low tone. "You can head to breakfast. I’ll wait here with him, and then we’ll meet you at the table," she announced. A murmur of agreement ran through the group, followed by louder footsteps, before everything went silent.

Liam blinked at the ceiling again. His limbs felt heavy where he had settled them the night before. Despite the nightmare, Liam hadn’t moved, perhaps because of the strangeness of that dream. If not for the fact that he was awake, Liam might have thought he was still there.

The sensation of emptiness—it was strange how nothing could feel like everything—buzzed through his body in intermittent waves.

The bed next to his, Violet’s, Liam remembered with some difficulty, creaked, indicating that the girl had returned to it to wait, as she had said she would. Guilt curled in his stomach because she should be entirely focused on conquering the Gauntlet, not staying there because his body decided to be uncooperative.

"You don’t have to stay, Vi. I’ll be fine," he tried, and the girl let out a mocking noise.

"Maybe so, but I still need to stay anyway. I’m not leaving you alone," Violet declared, sounding determined. Liam considered arguing but knew it would be futile.
Xaden and Violet definitely deserved each other in terms of stubbornness.

"If you insist," he relented, blinking at the ceiling. His bond with Deigh vibrated as the dragon sensed his state of mind, and a wave of understanding flowed from him.
Deigh was very familiar with moments like that. Despite their infrequency, the dragon hadn’t understood them very well at first but had inevitably accepted that they would happen and weren’t exactly dangerous.

"I didn’t think I’d make it this far," Violet began suddenly, and Liam made an effort to look at her, confused."In the quadrant, I mean. I thought that if I got past the parapet, I’d inevitably die in a challenge. But here I am, about to climb the Gauntlet," she commented softly, and Liam felt a laugh bubbling in his chest—a rare burst of animation piercing the emptiness of his feelings.

"I always knew you’d make it, even when it seemed otherwise to everyone," he let her know, feeling the girl’s gaze hit him, confused. "There’s a lot of strength in you, Violet, one that goes far beyond the physical and is actually more important. One that might make all the difference in this world," Liam felt like he was prophesying the future. Maybe he was, because Violet’s lightning was their best chance against the Venin.

A soft laugh escaped the girl before she moved on her bed. They were already late, Liam reminded himself, forcing his body to move. His body protested as he lifted his torso, his eyes scanning the empty dormitory with determination.

Liam gathered his things while still sitting, hunched on the edge of the bed, repacking his basic essentials and securing his weapon belts against his body slowly.

"I didn’t think I’d make it five years ago either," he provided slowly to Violet, who had risen when she saw him getting ready. Liam formed a half-exhausted smile for her, still feeling as though the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders, no matter how foolish that was. "When my parents died, I mean. I thought the idea of standing in front of a dragon again would give me a heart attack and kill me. Then I met Xaden, and it seemed easier to face because he was strong—for himself and for all of us," he continued, pressing his lips together. Violet looked at him with a rare expression of softness in her gaze.

"I’m sorry you had to witness the executions, that the shadow of apostasy fell on you and still does," she said as he stood. The muscles in his legs trembled momentarily before steadying, and everything normalized, including his feelings.

"It’s okay, Vi," he promised, tilting his head toward the exit, indicating they should go. "We have to go," he reminded her softly, and Sorrengail nodded, returning to her composed mask.

They left the dormitory to head for breakfast. Liam hoped everything would go well that day.

Bodhi was at the door, leaning partially hidden in shadows at the corner of the corridor, looking between him and Violet with an expression that mixed surprise and something like recognition. Liam gave him a smile, knowing he had overheard the conversation between them.

Violet hadn’t noticed the executive officer’s presence. If there was one thing both cousins excelled at, it was blending into shadows, so it wasn’t surprising that he wasn’t easily discovered.

Liam discreetly waved at the older man, who quickly gestured back, “All good?” Liam nodded affirmatively.

“All good, it was just a moment,” he signaled back. A bit of concern flickered in Bodhi’s gaze before he dismissed it and nodded.

“Don’t push yourself too hard; it’s still the first day,” was all Durran responded, and Liam nodded, yielding to the older man’s request.

It wasn’t as if he was about to take more risks than necessary on the parapet. Liam had gotten through it the first time and would do it again now.

-*-

Liam recognized the challenges ahead, the sensation of his muscles working like a familiar memory with every part of the Gauntlet his eyes fell upon. He also recognized the feeling of anxiety that always took hold of his body before starting, just as it did now.

His morning exhaustion was quickly forgotten as his body began to tingle with the excess adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was the kind of feeling he had missed in the final months of his old life.

To be fair, Liam had always been nervous and anxious during this period, but it was a strange and heavy feeling that accompanied the weight of his responsibilities—to honor his dragon and his brother's request. He spent his days nervous about failing at that and losing Violet, nervous about falling short of Deigh’s expectations when the dragon chose him, nervous about the possibility that this might be the last day of his life, and anxious to prove himself.

Being back here, at the first Gauntlet training, reminded him of a time when nervousness and anxiety were nothing more than electric whispers in his body, pushing him not toward a miserable existence but into that alert, excited state.

Liam took a deep breath, feeling suspiciously at peace with the idea of risking his life once again in this challenge.

Then he opened his eyes, looking at Sawyer's back. The squad had been arranged in a single line right behind the first squad of the Fourth Wing's Flame Section. Henrick, being the eldest and supposedly the only one with any experience on the Gauntlet, had been sent up first.

After that, it was volunteers. Liam gladly took the second spot, thinking it might help the group see what they were up against. After all, Liam had been through this before and had experience with the challenge.

Behind him, the line formed with Rhiannon, Ridoc, Pryor, Dylan, Violet, Aurelie, and Tynan. The first two seemed more excited than nervous as they looked at the obstacles. Pryor was pale but maintained a confident posture. Dylan and Violet, on the other hand, looked more frightened, though they bravely tried to hide it, while Aurelie simply seemed anxious.

Their squad was the only one that arrived with all nine novices at the challenge. Dain seemed particularly smug about this, as if it were a personal achievement, even though the idiot hadn’t lifted a finger to help them progress.

Liam’s experience with Squad Leader Belden was basically neutral. The man had been impersonal and skeptical of them from day one, but at least he had spent some time training them alongside his XO. Liam just assumed it was the best they could hope for.

Dain Aetos, however, had neither been kind nor helpful to their progress, and Liam summarized his performance as Leader as absolutely deplorable.

"I see your disdain for him has only grown," Deigh observed, amused. Liam resisted the urge to smile, thoroughly satisfied to be able to discuss this matter with his dragon.

"It should. I’ve had more time to deal with Aetos in this life, and he’s still absolutely deplorable," he replied simply. A rumble came from Deigh, accompanied by a wave of amusement.

"Your squad is about to start," Deigh pointed out, disappearing again, and Liam forced himself to focus. Attention was always important, regardless of one’s level of experience.

Liam raised his eyes to the top of the Gauntlet. Garrick sat at the table overseeing the Flame Section’s run, and Liam wondered how many Marked Ones had fallen that day—probably more than they’d like, judging by Tavis’s expression.

The deadly zigzagging deathtrap of a trail loomed above them, rising in five distinct switchbacks, each increasing in difficulty on the way to the cliff top that divided the Citadel from the Flight Field and the Vale.

Liam had mostly lost the feeling of fear and awe that had permeated his first time seeing it, but he still understood why cadets felt those emotions.

"Incredible," or most of them, anyway. Liam turned his head to see who the murmur came from. It was Aurelie, staring at everything with a face full of emotional admiration.

Violet and Rhiannon turned to her, looking shocked by the girl’s words.

"You think this hellscape looks incredible?" Rhiannon asked, raising an eyebrow. Aurelie smiled at that.

"I’ve waited years for this!" Aurelie grinned, her normally serious black eyes dancing in the morning sun as she rubbed her hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in joy. "My father—he was a rider until he retired last year—used to build obstacle courses like this all the time so we could practice. And Chase, my brother, said this is the best part of being here before Threshing. It’s a real adrenaline rush," she declared with a little hop of excitement.
Liam shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. That explained much of the animosity the girl harbored toward him. She was a legacy, and her father and brother had likely fought to defeat Tyrrendor’s rebels, so it was only logical that she’d inherit her family’s fight.

Liam knew how lucky he was that Violet wasn’t like that.

"He’s in the South Wing, right?" Violet asked, interested, and the girl nodded cheerfully.

"Yes. Mostly desk duty now, given all the action they see near the Krovlan border," she shrugged, pointing about two-thirds of the way through the course. "He said to watch out for those giant posts jutting out of the cliffside. They spin, and you can get crushed between them if you’re not fast enough," she announced, perhaps to help or to destabilize competitors. Liam frowned.

"I don’t think speed is all that matters. Of course, you don’t want to be slow enough to get crushed, but rushing won’t help if you can’t keep your body stable on the obstacles," he intervened. Aurelie’s lips tightened at his interruption, and her eyes grew colder.

"What do you know about the Gauntlet? My brother is a trained rider and knows what he’s talking about," her tone was anything but friendly. Liam noted how Rhiannon’s expression froze into cold indifference every time she looked at her, while Violet shot the girl a sidelong glare. Liam had forgotten how fiercely protective his squad was.

"I have my sources. In any case, I was just sharing my opinion; what you do with it is up to you," he shrugged. If she didn’t intend to listen, that was her choice, and besides, what he knew wasn’t the only way. Liam hoped speed alone could indeed get the girl up the Gauntlet.

"I still don’t get why they call this the Gauntlet," Ridoc cheerfully supplied, and Liam snorted, letting someone else answer.

"To ensure the dragons keep coming to Threshing by eliminating the weak," Tynan scoffed from his spot at the back of the line, his gaze burning every time it landed on Violet after losing humiliatingly to her in the assessment.

All of them had already fought several other opponents, but apparently winning most of the challenges hadn’t done much to soothe his bruised ego from losing to the smallest cadet in the quadrant.

"Knock it off," Ridoc snapped, a rare serious tone permeating his voice and drawing the squad’s attention to him. In hindsight, Liam had never seen him anything but absolutely cheerful.

"What’s your problem?" Tynan retorted, clenching his jaw and glaring at the Gamlyn. He obviously tried some form of intimidation, but Ridoc was still taller and broader than Tynan, so it failed miserably. With Liam standing closer, it was clear it wasn’t worth persisting.

"My problem? You think that just because you’ve made friends with Seifert, you have the right to be an idiot to your own squadmate?" Ridoc challenged, and Tynan shrugged, full of self-proclaimed entitlement.

"Exactly. Squadmate." Tynan pointed to the obstacle course. "Our times aren’t just ranked individually, Ridoc. We’re also scored as a squad, and that’s how the presentation order is decided. Do you really think any dragon wants to bond with a cadet who enters after all the other squads in the procession?" he sneered, and Ridoc’s jaw tightened.

This was a half-truth, but in any case, if a dragon liked what they saw, they chose; if not, it didn’t matter whether you were first or last in line—there’d be nothing left of you but ashes. Still, there were dragons who preferred watching the most capable, and they were at the front of the line.

"They’re not timing us for the Presentation today, idiot," Ridoc growled. Liam saw Sawyer step forward, ready to intervene, and he moved closer, stepping between the two.

"Enough," he decreed, shooting a stern look at Tynan and a reproachful one at Ridoc.

"Trust someone who went through the Presentation last year: your time doesn’t mean anything. The last cadet to enter last year adapted just fine, and some of the cadets from the first squad on the field were overlooked," Sawyer offered his insight. Liam sometimes forgot that he had repeated a year. It was a shame, but also a blessing, because they were much better off with him around.

"A bit bitter about that, aren’t you?" Tynan smirked mockingly, but Sawyer ignored him, unfazed.

"Besides, it’s not called the Gauntlet because it eliminates cadets," Sawyer continued as if the other cadet hadn’t said anything.

"It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that protects the Vale," Emmeterio approached, his uniform adorned with shining badges that gleamed on his body, as did his shaved head. "Also, real gauntlets—metal-plated gloves—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago," he informed them before motioning for the squad to move forward.

Sawyer moved to the front of the line, with Liam just a step behind him as the others slowly followed suit.

"You have one hour to reach the top of the Gauntlet. All of you must be at the top before the next squad begins," Emmeterio declared, his eyes scanning them all. "If you don’t make it... then you’ll have to be faster at the next training. I’d advise starting immediately. After watching some of you on the mats, you might need it," his eyes briefly passed over Dylan and Violet before returning to neutrality.

The professor stepped forward to the starting line, and Liam kept his eyes on his back for a few moments before shaking his head, letting it go. Like it or not, they both had a lot to improve on before being considered warriors.

"As is general knowledge, hand-to-hand challenges are suspended for the next two and a half weeks until the Presentation so you can focus here," the professor announced, resuming his speech. "Sawyer, you'll go first to show how it's done, then Pryor, Dylan, Tynan, Rhiannon, Ridoc, Violet, Aurelie, and finally Liam." Emetterio's smile twisted, and Liam huffed because it was obvious that the one most eager for this would be left for last.
With luck, the others would have climbed or given up by the time he went up, and Liam could complete the course without worries. Well, at least none involving other people, of course.

Emetterio reminded them that their squad was the only intact one and mentioned Dain's supposed pride.

Tynan, of course, mocked this, murmuring something too low about Violet and Dain that made Sorrengail hiss at him, everyone moving to their assigned positions. Liam didn’t try to listen, letting her—and apparently Rhiannon—fight their battles.

"Here we go!" Emetterio called, indicating the starting point for Sawyer. "You'll have your time at the top of the course if you make it, but remember, you still have nine practice sessions before your Presentation classification in two and a half weeks, which will determine whether the dragons find you worthy of threshing."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to let first-years start practicing this right after the Parapet?" Rhiannon asked, tilting her head and looking confused. "You know, to give us a little more time not to die?"

Emetterio was shaking his head before she even finished.

"Timing is part of the challenge. Now, Sawyer, any words of wisdom?" he called, and the oldest of them turned with a long sigh, his eyes scanning all of them.

"There are ropes every six meters there. If you think you're going to fall, grab one of them. Descents aren't allowed in the real gauntlet, but this is just training. Your lives aren't worth risking on a first try," he advised, his eyes passing over everyone, though they softened a bit when they landed on Liam.

Of course, so far, Liam had obviously been the one with the most knowledge, though he tried not to flaunt the knowledge collected by Henrick. Sawyer clearly assumed it wouldn’t be any different now.

"Alright, Sawyer will go up, and you'll wait until he's at the top to watch. The rest will start every sixty seconds," Emetterio shouted, everyone agreeing as he turned to face the challenge and waved.

Sawyer was off like a shot. He easily ran the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel to the cliff face and then onto the elevated pillars, but it took three rotations inside the wheel before he jumped through the solitary opening. Other than that, there wasn’t a single misstep on the first climb. Not one.

He turned and ran toward a series of giant hanging balls that made up the second climb, jumping and clinging to each one. With his feet back on the ground, he turned again and started the third climb, which was divided into two parts. The first part had giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff face, and he swung easily arm over arm, using the weight and momentum of his body to swing the bar forward and reach the next bar hanging half a foot higher than the previous one as he climbed the side of the cliff. From the last bar, he leaped to a series of trembling pillars that made up the second half of this climb before finally returning to the gravel path.

When he reached the fourth climb, the spinning logs Aurelie’s brother had warned about, Sawyer made it all look like child’s play. The rest of the squad seemed impressed and perhaps foolishly hopeful it would be as easy as Sawyer made it look.

But it wasn’t. Liam shook his head, shrugging. He knew well the difficulty the challenge offered.

Then Sawyer faced a giant chimney formation rising above him at a twenty-degree angle and paused.

"You’ve got this!" Rhiannon shouted from the side.

As if he heard her, he ran toward the tilted chimney and launched himself upward, gripping the sides and forming an X with his body. Then he started jumping through the conduit until he reached the end and dropped before the final obstacle: a massive ramp leading to the top of the cliff edge at an almost vertical incline.

No one breathed as Sawyer sprinted toward the ramp, gaining as much speed as possible to climb to the top of the challenge. He ran up the ramp, taking steps until it became impossible to move his legs further. Even so, the momentum he’d built was more than enough to propel his body upward until his hands latched onto the top, and he pulled himself up, running to the finish line.

Liam saw Garrick glance at the timer and tell him his time. It must have been good, judging by the section leader’s expression, and then Henrick stepped aside to wait for them.

"Perfect technique," Emetterio declared to the group of wide-eyed first-years in front of them.

"And yet he was passed over," Dylan muttered, slightly deflated, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as the professor waved for Pryor to take his place. The boy stepped forward with a confident look.

Emetterio released him, and Liam watched the unsteady and clumsy steps as Pryor navigated the first stretch of the challenge over the rotating log, his balance wobbling slightly as he jumped across the pillars and climbed onto the wheel. Pryor spun at least six times before finally jumping to the next part of the challenge.
He reached the large hanging balls as Dylan was released, his steps clumsy. Dylan wobbled precariously on the rotating log before jumping through the initial obstacles with a bit more balance. Liam groaned, making a mental note to add balance exercises to their regular training routine. Then Dylan climbed onto the wheel and spun once, then twice, before jumping. His trajectory was completely off, and he plummeted at least two meters beside the ledge where he was supposed to land.
Liam felt his body freeze in horror before the boy extended a hand and grabbed the rope right beside him. It was close, but Dylan managed to throw himself out of danger and stayed there, pale with fear but alive. That was enough for Liam to shift his gaze.

"Focus," Deigh hissed in his mind suddenly. "Your turn is approaching. You need a clear mind," the dragon reminded him. Liam winced at the reprimand.

Tynan was released, Pryor was on the last half of the challenge, gaining momentum to climb the final large ramp. Liam watched him ascend higher and higher until his body stopped just a few inches from the top, and he fell back onto the platform. Pryor retreated to try again but failed even more quickly without the full momentum of the run, and he didn’t have time to attempt again before Emetterio shouted for him to step aside so as not to block Tynan, who was sprinting for his own attempt.

Rhiannon was already on the wheel at that point, advancing impressively fast through the course. Tynan failed just like Pryor and retreated as Ridoc began his run. Rhiannon swung on the metal bars, jumping from one to the next with small leaps to bridge the gaps between them.

The girl didn’t make it, although she got considerably closer than the others. Ridoc managed to plant his palms on the top of the ramp but slipped and failed as well. Liam then focused on Violet, who was making her way across the log.

She seemed to be doing very well, though her crossing wasn’t flawless. She jumped perfectly balanced in the first half and then dealt with the considerable leaps between the bars. Aurelie was almost immediately behind her, seemingly enjoying herself as she ran through the obstacles.

Liam advanced, his steps confident as the nervous energy churned in his stomach with the anticipation of starting. Emetterio took a breath to release him when suddenly a scream caught everyone’s attention. Aurelie, who should have been navigating the rotating logs, was now hanging from the rope beside the obstacle, and Violet was holding the rope away from the area where the logs were spinning in opposite directions. If the girl fell there, it wouldn’t be the fall that killed her, and Liam didn’t want to think about the pain of being crushed to death.

But there was no time for anything else because Aurelie’s hand slipped. A second passed in complete shock before her scream filled the air, first of despair and then of pain, as she was caught between the logs.

Liam watched in silence as blood splattered everywhere, seeing Violet look at the scene in horror before she started moving again. Sorrengail couldn’t climb the first ramp.

But Liam kept staring at Aurelie’s blood. She wasn’t a price; she wasn’t an exchange of one life for another. Aurelie died because she was meant to die. Someone there gained one more day at the cost of the girl’s life.

Then Emetterio turned to him, and Liam pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Aurelie was dead, and Liam still had a challenge ahead. The course was completely clear since everyone had already gone through the obstacles—it was his to take on and conquer.

“Go!” the professor shouted. Liam didn’t hesitate, feeling his entire body pulse with a satisfied energy. Adrenaline surged through his system in a wave of exhilaration as he leapt onto the rotating log, barely registering the movement below him.

The pillars passed by even faster. Liam landed on the wheel, letting it spin once before jumping to the ledge and sprinting full speed toward the next obstacle.
Crossing the suspended balls felt as natural as breathing, the familiar sensation from weeks of training melting away his remaining nervousness, leaving only a good feeling inside him.

Liam knew what it felt like to fly; he had been a rider and knew that part well. But if there was anything on the ground that gave the sensation of being meters above, it was the Gauntlet.

He didn’t slow down as he crossed the logs, feeling the fluid sway of his balance, making it seem similar to the swing of a pendulum—though less smooth. Then he shot through the chimney, jumping to make the most of his momentum. He climbed two-thirds of the way before lightly bracing his arms in an X against the walls for the last few meters. Liam threw himself upward, barely taking half a step to recover before running again at full speed ahead.

The momentum from his reckless run allowed Liam to transition seamlessly into another burst of speed as he approached the wall ramp. The wind whipped furiously against his face as he began running up the ramp.

For a few seconds, Liam seemed suspended in the air, his body stretched out, offering little resistance to the wind as he continued to ascend surprisingly fast.
Then his palms hit the top of the Gauntlet, and with the remnants of his previous momentum, Liam threw one leg up, folding his body until his thigh pressed against his torso. Using the strength of that leg, he pulled the other one up, standing almost instantly after reaching the top.

Liam ran the final few meters, stopping next to Garrick, his chest heaving as he took long gulps of air to compensate for the low oxygen during the climb. His muscles trembled from the effort, almost causing him to collapse from the shaking in his legs.

But that mattered very little to Liam when his body felt electric, waves of warm satisfaction coursing through him. It had been so long since he had felt this way—so alive and awake.

The sensation was so strong that Liam took a few seconds to calm down enough to turn to Garrick. The section leader had already stopped the timer, and apparently Pryor and Tynan had been authorized to try again.

But Tavis had a suspiciously large smile on his lips, sending Liam a proud look and stepping aside to let him see his own time. Liam glanced at Sawyer’s time.

Four minutes and five seconds—it was a very good time, which would place Henrick among the Gauntlet highlights, though it wasn’t drastically ahead of the other cadets. There were few names without time penalties for using the rope, except for those who had repeated the year or a few others scattered throughout.

Then he looked at his own name and saw his time: two minutes and forty-seven seconds. Well, that was almost a record, wasn’t it? Although Liam was pretty sure Xaden’s time in his year had been a few seconds faster, it didn’t make Liam’s result any less impressive.

He never cared about the final time, though, of course, the idea of surpassing Riorson’s result had always been tempting—just to tell himself he had done it. But Liam generally didn’t think a fast time in the challenge made anyone more important than the others.

Still, Liam had learned to recognize personal achievements for what they were, so he offered a big smile after seeing his time. Garrick shook his head at him, giving him a quick pat of acknowledgment before gesturing toward where the rest of the squad was waiting. That was all they could give each other in front of so many eyes, but it didn’t matter.

The smile lingered as he joined his group, receiving unimpressed looks.

"What? You all seem so unsurprised," Liam laughed, the mocking gaze of Violet falling on him with more intensity.

"That's because we're not. You made it seem like you do this every day, and so far, nothing about you has seemed particularly strange," Violet pointed out, unimpressed. Liam shrugged.

"My brother wrote to me about this, I managed to do some simulations, and, anyway, I watched more than you did down there," he said casually, unconcerned. Violet mocked him again before smiling, looking far less skeptical than she wanted to appear.

"Of course, big brother Xaden to the rescue then," she teased, and Liam nodded proudly.

"Big brother Xaden is always to the rescue," he agreed happily. Deigh sent him a wave of amusement through their bond.

"I don't think the Wingleader would like you ruining his mask of indifference, especially for an entire squadron," Deigh reminded him, and Liam scoffed.

"He wouldn't want them to know about our brotherly connection, but it's too late to regret that now," Liam pointed out indifferently to the dragon, whose rumbling response only filled him with more amusement.

"Well, I can't judge him. My older sister Mira has come to my rescue many times before now," Violet admitted with a smile, and Liam returned it.

"Lots of heroic older siblings around here, then. Leave the rest of us simple only children to survive on scraps," Ridoc joked, and Liam snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sure Sawyer would accept you as an honorary younger brother if you ask. Just make sure to do it as loudly as possible and don't leave him alone. That's the recipe for convincing anyone to accept you," Liam said firmly and neutrally, despite the laughter building in his chest. Beside him, Violet turned her head, hiding her laughter behind a forced cough.

Rhiannon and Dylan weren't as discreet, and Liam immediately saw their shoulders shaking as they failed to suppress their laughter, Dylan even more so than the braided girl, while Sawyer behind them looked utterly shocked, already shaking his head before Ridoc even turned around.

The Gamlyn wore a grin so wide that it showed all his teeth as he spun to face Sawyer, the redhead taking a step back at the other boy's playfully devious expression.

"SAWYER, PLEASE BE MY BIG BROTHER!" Ridoc yelled at the top of his lungs. A series of surprised gasps echoed behind them, and Liam burst into laughter at the shocked expressions of the older cadets present.

"Shush, stop that. I'm not going to be your brother!" Sawyer said, blushing—a mistake.

"PLEASE, SAWYER, THEY ALL HAVE COOL BIG BROTHERS. BE MY BIG BROTHER!" Ridoc shouted again, jumping to cling to Sawyer's shoulder, repeating his plea over and over, while the older boy protested with increasingly flustered refusals, his face growing redder with embarrassment.

Liam doubled over, clutching his stomach, still laughing as his squadron was dismissed to make way for the next squad. Though the laughter eventually subsided into a bubbling chuckle in his throat, it lingered.

It had been a surprisingly good day. Liam wouldn't have believed it, considering how it began. He was looking forward to the future.

-*-

"Tairn will bond this year," the small golden feather-tail's voice echoed off the cavern walls. Sgaeyl had wanted a day off with her partner, so it fell to him to watch the hatchling—not that it was much of a challenge.

"He will." He agreed, keeping his eyes firmly closed, unwilling to argue with her assertion. But the hatchling seemed to think he was mocking her, as though he'd bother to do that.

"I'm serious!" The dragonet huffed, bouncing on his snout and scratching her claws against the spot. He opened one eye, giving her an unamused look.

"What did I just say?" he grumbled, and the hatchling tilted her head. He would have loved to sleep, but between the dizzyingly cheerful emotions coming from his bond and the hatchling’s energy, it was a fierce challenge.

Not that he was tempted to remove either factor. It had been months since he’d felt that kind of sentiment from the bond, given everything happening, so the human deserved some time to bask in good sensations. And Andarna, while persistent, wasn’t irritating.

"The others don’t believe me when I say that, but it’s good that you do," she chirped, her tone pleased. He responded with a rumbling chuckle.

"He’s so set on not bonding that they’d hardly believe anything to the contrary," he grumbled, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils and momentarily obscuring the hatchling. Andarna let out a delighted trill, shaking her wings to clear the smoke.

"What about you? Wouldn’t you like to try?" she asked.

"No." He grunted, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"It’s been nearly eighty years since your rider was lost. You could just take a look; maybe you’ll find someone worth it," Andarna pressed. He tensed but forced himself to relax.

Jurdan was a sore point for him. After returning as nothing more than a hatchling and being sentenced to wait for his true rider's return, he had decided to try bonding before the human arrived. That rider had been acceptable—not the best like his bond had been, but enough for a reasonably deep connection.
The rider graduated, but only two years later, he fell in an attack by those monstrous creatures, the Venin. The severed bond had almost cost the dragon his life; it would have, had it not been for the intervention of the humans' goddess. Since then, he had refused to bond again, both for the risk and for the sentimental value of what he’d lost. The other dragons had accepted this after his unyielding refusals to bond again.

But he still flew over Arentia when his rider was born—not exactly the version he would be when bonded, as consciousness and full awareness would only come when the time was right, but he existed.

Eighty years after Jurdan’s death and twenty since the human's birth, this would be the year he got his bond back and returned to active duty. But only he knew that, and to everyone else, he remained unwilling to bond.

"No, and don’t insist," he said, thumping his tail against the ground. Andarna was, unsurprisingly, undeterred.

"I heard Sgaeyl say that her rider’s brother is in the quadrant this year, and from what she’s seen, the boy is particularly capable. Maybe you’d like him," she suggested.

Of course, he was here—it was his year. And obviously, he would be capable; after all, he’d been through it all in a previous life. Still, it was nice to hear praise.

"He might be, but I won’t bond," he dismissed, shaking his head to dislodge her from his snout as he stood. "Now stop pestering me and come along. Maybe you’ll finally manage to catch a sheep to eat." The hatchling perked up, leaping out of the cave moments before him.

The sun glinted, reflecting a curious shade of blue after striking his body. He climbed slightly to get a better view of the Gauntlet. Liam had succeeded—it was a good time, and his excitement only grew.

In two weeks, all their lives would be turned upside down by Tairn’s bond—and his own.

But Deigh knew that. Tairn did not.

Chapter Text

It was during his second year in Tirvainne that Liam realized he thought of Xaden as an older brother. Before, his admiration for the boy’s fighting movements was simply because they were something to be appreciated.

His enjoyment of Xaden’s attention was just because Xaden was the only person he knew.

Until Xaden made a friend—or at least someone who could be called that, considering they barely tolerated each other at best. It was close enough, and Liam didn’t like it. Suddenly, Xaden didn’t have time to help him train anymore because he was training with that boy. Xaden spent nights out, doing who-knows-what with his friend, and sometimes even brought him into the fortress.

Liam spent weeks in a foul mood because of it, and of course, the older boy noticed. Even though Liam never allowed himself to be anything but polite—his mother had taught him well—Xaden wasn’t subtle. There wasn’t much Liam could do once Xaden noticed.

“All right, what’s going on?” Xaden cornered him one morning before either of them could leave their shared room—more torture than blessing in the last few weeks.

“What?” It came out too sharply, and Xaden narrowed his eyes. Liam averted his gaze, embarrassed. “Sorry, but what are we talking about?” he asked, trying for a softer but still direct approach.

“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you be anything but cheerful for the last two years, and now, suddenly, you’ve spent weeks in a bad mood. I want to know why.” There it was—Xaden’s steady confidence, the kind that said he would find out whether Liam wanted him to or not, and that it would be better to tell him willingly.

“Nothing’s going on,” Liam dodged, trying to slip past Xaden’s broad frame. At nineteen, Xaden was effectively a mountain of muscle and knew it well, while Liam, at seventeen, still looked like a slightly fortified stick compared to the older boy’s tank-like build.

“Let’s pretend you’ve fooled someone,” Xaden said dryly. “Is someone bothering you? Are they threatening you? Are you mad at some idiot out there?” He listed the possibilities, and Liam narrowed his eyes at him, deciding to end this.

“Yes, someone is bothering me,” he hissed, and Xaden raised an eyebrow.

“Who?”

“You!” Liam snapped, frustration lacing his tone. “All you do now is hang out with that idiot from the village and leave me here alone. You don’t have time to help me train, and you’re out almost every night,” he accused, discomfort settling in his stomach.

Xaden had every right to do all of that. He’d been kind in teaching Liam, choosing to share a room with him when Liam admitted he was afraid of being alone. Liam shouldn’t blame Xaden for not wanting that anymore.

But Xaden was…well, he was…his. They were something, and Liam didn’t know what that something was.

That boy was stealing everything Liam had in Tirvainne. He couldn’t do that—Liam had lost his parents and sister. He wouldn’t let that boy take Xaden too.

Xaden blinked, looking utterly confused, as if he hadn’t seen this coming. Then, visibly, he relaxed.

“You’re jealous,” he said softly, but it hit Liam like a thrown brick. Jealousy? Was that what this petty anger was when he saw Xaden near that boy? Lorcan, if he remembered right. Jealousy was why he couldn’t be anything but grumpy whenever Xaden wasn’t helping him train?
No. That couldn’t be.

“Jealous,” Liam scoffed, though maybe that only proved Xaden’s theory. “I’m not jealous of you, much less you and that idiot.”

The bitter taste told him it was a lie, and Xaden’s amused look didn’t help him believe it.

“Liam, Lorcan is just a friend,” Xaden said, obviously trying to soothe him. Instead, it only made his anger boil over.

“I know that! You and your little friend are always running around doing who-knows-what,” he growled, turning his back to Xaden. “You go with him and leave me alone. You prefer him over me, and it’s not fair, Xaden. They took everything from me, and now Lorcan wants to take you.” It came out as a whimper. He couldn’t lose anyone else.

Liam didn’t even know what Xaden was to him.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and then Xaden was at his side, looking at him calmly.

“No one is going to take me from you, Liam. Lorcan might be my friend, but you’re my little brother,” Xaden said softly.

Liam looked at him, surprised, then blinked, thinking about everything so far and finally noticing that detail.

He was so used to being an older brother that he’d missed the moment he became the younger one. Because Liam had always been the responsible one, the one to help Sloane, the one who should’ve helped care for the baby, the one the responsibility would fall on.

But there was no responsibility with Xaden. The older boy had taken it all on, and Liam just hadn’t noticed because it was good, calm, comforting. But it was so unfamiliar that it hadn’t been obvious until it was said aloud.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

-*-

Liam climbed to the top of the quadrant, the small balcony at the top of the north tower situated at the highest point of the area—which said a lot, given the location was already perched several kilometers high on the cliffside. It was freezing up there, and often a cloud, floating unusually low, would pass through, reducing his visibility to no more than five meters ahead and leaving him drenched.

In the past, he had avoided the place on cloudy nights, uncomfortable with the cold and dampness it brought, not to mention his dislike of losing sight of what lay ahead. But this time, the sensation of being engulfed by the clouds and so close to the sky—the closest he could get now—offered the tranquil relief that always came with flying alongside Deigh.

Up there, there was no responsibility to help his squad survive. He didn’t have to be the one who knew every challenge or faced difficulties with a calm expression. Here, he could simply relax and exist without worrying about politics or social interactions.

Liam kept his eyes closed, his body shivering from the night breeze against his damp clothes. A cloud had just passed, leaving droplets clinging to his body and face, which he didn’t bother to wipe away.

The water trickled down him, reminiscent of the times he had just stepped out of the river during weekends when his father would take him and Sloane swimming simply because he could, and because he believed there was no better way to spend rare free time than with his children.

He would save them from the dreaded rune lessons—Sloane’s nightmare, though Liam found them absolutely fascinating but exhausting—and then they’d all change clothes and leave their home to head to the river that cut through the back of Arentia.

At first, Liam’s younger sister wouldn’t want to get in because of the water’s temperature. He would leap in without hesitation, his father’s peculiar laughter a melodic backdrop that filled the air with joy as he joined Liam in the water.

They would have splash wars, and his father would let him win with a dramatic fall, prompting Liam to leap joyfully into his arms. Isaac Mairi’s warmth always radiated against him, even after long minutes in the icy river.

Sloane would eventually join, complaining about the cold but unable to resist the fun, and they’d play tag. Their father would scold them, warning they could get hurt doing that.

It had happened once—Liam tripped over a loose stone at the bottom of the stream and tumbled onto the rough gravel. The current dragged him a few meters before he managed to stand again. His knees were completely scraped, with thin trails of blood trickling down. The game ended then, but he only stood still long enough for his father to clean the wound before diving back into the water with Sloane.

The day wouldn’t end until the sun was nearly gone. Then Isaac would carry them home, where they’d be greeted with warm baths and an afternoon snack—and, of course, their mother’s arrival. Colonel Mairi was never late for dinner with her family, and those meals were always the best.

His mother would help him cut his steak because Liam always struggled with utensils, then do the same for Sloane, while his father fetched drinks—wine for the adults and pineapple juice for the kids, the only flavor both Liam and Sloane liked.

Then his father and Sloane would write something together in the living room, sharing a love for storytelling, while Liam stayed with his mother, who taught him how to carve. He was terrible with proportions, and though it often left him feeling utterly defeated, he kept doing it because his clumsy little animals made his mother laugh, and Liam loved seeing her happy.

His mother was also a singer, though she didn’t do it often. Every night while they carved together, she sang an old Tyrrish lullaby about the legend of the Jaguar’s Cave. The ancient peoples of the continent believed that somewhere in the desert lay a great cave where the secret to salvation was hidden. No one had ever found it—or if they had, they never returned to share its location.

Imagine a place
Far away from here
With dragons to roam.

It’s an expanse
Of culture and expression,
Chaotic, but yes—it’s a home.

Winds blow from the East,
And the Sun comes from the West.
Your camel needs some rest.

Come along, take a leap,
On the carpet, let’s sweep—
The night will soon arrive.

There’s a scent in the air,
And in every bazaar,
Cardamom and sesame.

If you plan to buy,
You’d better bargain right—
For silks or maybe for satin.

As you wander around,
Let the sounds surround—
It’s a place to enjoy.

Look closely around;
There’s nothing more profound.
The night is drawing nigh.

The desert’s night
And its day as well,
Are always so hot
That it makes you feel
So alive and well.

The desert’s night
Is the place to dream.
Magic is here,
In every sphere,
If you just dare to seek.

There’s a road that leads
To good or ill,
It all depends on what you will.

It’s not easy to choose—
Fortune or power?
Your fate is for you to build.

Only one may enter here,
One of great inner worth, a diamond in the rough.

The desert’s night
And its day as well—
Just trust the leap,
Soar and sweep,
To go beyond the veil.

The desert’s night,
So many moons in the sky—
Those who get distracted

Might just fall—
The dark is cruel.

Liam blinked, opening his eyes, the last words in Tyrrish slipping softly from his lips until he fell silent again. He hadn’t realized he’d been singing out loud. His mind was still caught in the image of his mother humming the melody to him in their home’s living room.

It was a time when his life was so simple, calm, and happy—mostly happy—and it had vanished so suddenly and cruelly.

His mother hadn’t looked gentle and happy, as in his memories, on the day Codagh burned her. She had been stern, cold, and furious, staring down her executioners with all the strength of her character. She hadn’t died satisfied with her life, nor surrounded by people who loved her. She had died a traitor, hated by every gaze upon her body, and yet she had still been strong enough to smile at him.

His father was no different. There was less anger in him when Liam saw him just a few days later, half-broken by the loss of his wife and the cruel fate awaiting his children. Yet even then, he had faced Codagh with all the strength he could muster and still managed to tell them to be brave.

Apostasy had given him his brother, Xaden, but it had taken everything else, and Liam wished the price hadn’t been so high for all of them.

“It’s a beautiful song,” a female voice said beside him. Liam sucked in a breath, his body freezing in horror before he turned to see it was Imogen.

The tension drained from him all at once, and he let his limbs fall back into a relaxed position.

"You scared me," he whispered, half-feeling like saying it out loud would make someone appear and use it against him. No one did, but Imogen scoffed.

"Being so distracted that you’re caught off guard isn’t a good thing. What if it had been someone with bad intentions?" she said, though there wasn’t much bite in her tone. Liam shrugged.

"It wasn’t someone with bad intentions. It was you," he replied, leaning back against the balcony railing. The older girl scoffed before stepping forward to lean beside him.

"Just be more careful next time. We’d all hate to lose the most proficient cadet of the first year," she teased. Liam let out a soft laugh, knowing she just didn’t want to admit she cared.

"All right, I will," Liam agreed, and the girl nodded, satisfied, her gaze drifting to the dark outline of the mountains in the distance.

"I didn’t think I’d find anyone up here," she commented, and Liam turned to look at her curiously.

"I can leave if you want to be alone," he offered, but she shook her head.

"It’s fine. I didn’t come here to be alone. It’s just easier to gather my thoughts here. Not many people know about this spot, so it feels safer," Imogen admitted, her relaxed posture a stark contrast to her usual serious and irritable demeanor.

That was how most of them were. After so much suffering, they tended to hide behind different attitudes and personalities to protect themselves. It was nice to know that Cardullo trusted him enough to show this side of herself.

"What song was that?" the older girl asked after a few seconds. Liam shrugged.

"An old Tyrrish tune. It tells the story of a cave that holds the secret to saving a people from evil," he explained. She nodded. "My mother used to sing it to me at night while we carved together. That was our thing. My mother’s gone, but the song is a comfort that’s never left me," he admitted, a flicker of sadness mingling with the longing for his family.

Imogen looked at him with surprisingly soft eyes before nodding.

"My mother used to take me to the greenhouse to show me medicinal herbs. I think she wanted me to follow the same path as a healer, but medicine never attracted me. And honestly, I wouldn’t have been a good healer anyway," Imogen shared, likely feeling she needed to offer a piece of herself in return for what he had given her. Liam smiled a little.

"You’d make a good healer, Im. Maybe not the most liked one in the quadrant, but still good," he opined, earning a raised eyebrow in response. "You’re direct and don’t shy away from problems. People think good healers are just the sociable ones, but what really makes someone good is their ability to do what they were trained to do. So yes, I think you’d have been a good healer if you’d taken that path," he explained, turning his gaze back to the view.

"Hmm... I’m a rider, and I wouldn’t trade that," Imogen replied, though her eyes remained fixed on the side of his face.

"It’s not like we had much of a choice anyway," Liam said with a shrug, exhaling deeply. Another cloud rolled in, covering the entire tower. The moisture clung to him, dripping down his face and clothes, sending another wave of cold through him.

Imogen scoffed in agreement, and then footsteps echoed. Liam really should pay more attention because ignoring footsteps at this height was an unnecessary risk. There were even members of his squad who wouldn’t hesitate to push him off just for fun. How would anyone ever figure out it was them?

The rules weren’t entirely efficient, and the only thing keeping them from being broken was the fact that the quadrant hadn’t realized it yet.

It was Soleil, and behind her were Eya and Bodhi. The trio stopped at the entrance to the balcony, looking surprised to see him there as well. Liam offered them a friendly smile, more so to Eya, whom he had never really known in this life and only rarely in the previous one, but he definitely wanted to maintain a friendly relationship.

"Looks like we’re not the only ones needing a break from the crap in our lives," Soleil remarked, tilting her head, and Liam chuckled.

"Definitely not, though I think my crap is a little different from yours," he said, tilting his head slightly. Bodhi scoffed.

"We don’t have to worry about the Gauntlet, that’s true," Bodhi agreed, stepping forward and leaning on the railing on the other side of Imogen, who nodded at the logic.

"If you’re even worried about it. Garrick told us it was almost a record," Soleil raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, he spent the whole afternoon acting like a kid, teasing Xaden. They even made a bet," Imogen agreed. Liam felt his cheeks heat up, lowering his head just enough for his hair to cover the area.

"Garrick exaggerates. It was a good time, but there’s still a lot to improve on before even thinking about breaking a record," he dismissed, embarrassed. Bodhi and Imogen shot him amused looks from their spots, while Soleil scoffed, and Eya gave a small smile. "Bodhi’s right, though. I’m still worried about the Gauntlet," he admitted, a bit embarrassed to say it out loud.

More footsteps approached, and then a serious voice rang out.

"Why? Record or not, what matters is that you passed the challenge without any issues."

It was Xaden, leaning against the entrance with his head tilted, his onyx eyes meeting Liam’s blue ones. Liam shrugged.

"Well, he’s going to break that record," Garrick chimed in, stepping onto the balcony. Liam shifted aside as Garrick moved toward Imogen, stopping beside Xaden.

"Whatever. What did you bet on it, Garrick?" Liam tilted his head curiously but then changed his mind when he saw Tavis’s grin. "Never mind, I’d rather stay ignorant. It’s not my concern anyway; my focus is on my squad," he admitted slowly.

"It’s because of the girl who fell—Aurelie Donnans, isn’t it?" Xaden asked, and Liam shrugged, the image of her falling between those two logs, being crushed, and the blood dripping down the cliff below flashing in his mind.

He should’ve known in hindsight. He hadn’t known Aurelie when he transferred squads in the previous life, nor Pryor. Xaden hadn’t swapped them out to make room for him. But seeing the girl plummet to such a horrific death made Liam worry about the others.

Just because things had gone well so far didn’t mean they would continue to, and everything was only going to get worse from here.

"A little," he admitted, turning his back to the view. Liam felt a bit ashamed to be admitting something like that in front of so many older cadets, avoiding their gazes.

Xaden sighed beside him, a sound filled with both weariness and understanding, before finally stepping fully onto the balcony and closing the door. His shadows moved swiftly, clearly forming a silence shield around them.

"There’s nothing you could have done to help her, Liam. She fell because of her own carelessness, and you shouldn’t let it affect you," Xaden said, though there was a rare softness in his voice—the kind Liam had only heard after they grew closer in Tirvainne, though it was sometimes laced with mockery.

"I could’ve tried. She was so excited before climbing," Liam murmured. Maybe if he’d pushed harder to keep in touch with her, if he’d tried to get her to join their squad’s training sessions, if he hadn’t just stood there and watched it happen.

"Stop. You bear no guilt for the girl’s incompetence. Don’t let your emotions control you," Deigh’s voice echoed reproachfully in his mind, the bond filling with the dragon’s feelings in waves.

"There was nothing to be done. She could’ve had all the physical capability in the world and still would’ve fallen on those logs," Garrick said, making Liam look up at the older cadet. He cursed how his eyes felt damp now. "You’re right; she was excited to climb, and that’s what sealed her fate. When you’re on the Gauntlet, your mind needs to be clear, and your emotions under control. Aurelie climbed the challenge with too much excitement, letting her actions chase that feeling. Because of that, she made rash decisions, abandoning caution, which led to her mistake and, ultimately, her fall," he continued, shaking his head and pressing his lips together as he spoke.

The others nodded, clearly aware of the truth in his words. There was probably one like Aurelie every year, and Liam had just been unlucky enough to witness it this time.

"Her death is hers alone, and in no way, shape, or form, yours," Bodhi took the lead, giving him a kind look. "You’re doing so much for your squad. That clumsy kid wouldn’t have made it halfway without your help, and neither would Sorrengail," Durran pointed out slowly. Liam shrugged.

"I do what I can, but there’s no way to make that challenge easier. I don’t want to see them falling on the final day," he reminded them, and the group shrugged in response.

"If they can’t do it even after all the training you’ve given them, then they probably don’t deserve to make it anyway. Everyone here is responsible for their own success or failure," Imogen said in a hard tone.

"The Gauntlet is designed to reflect the real difficulties of being a rider, and that won’t change. Let go of your guilt because it doesn’t belong to you," Xaden insisted, this time taking on a serious tone, likely to leave no room for argument.

A part of him wanted to argue—the part still mourning the sight of such a cruel death—but he kept it to himself because it was pointless. Disagreeing with Xaden wouldn’t make anything easier or different than it was now. It would only start a discussion Liam definitely didn’t want to have.

So, even though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, he conceded, nodding. Liam turned back to the view, his gaze only able to distinguish shapes without straining.

There was a second of silence on the balcony before Imogen—surprisingly, since she rarely initiated conversations—spoke again.

"I didn’t know you could sing," she said, clearly addressing him. Liam tilted his head, a smile filled with nostalgia forming as his chest tightened with pain.

"I wouldn’t say I can sing. I repeated that tune so many times it’s almost passable now," he chuckled, though it was more painful than it should’ve been. It wasn’t a bad memory, but Liam didn’t want to dwell on it. "My mother was a different story, though. Colonel Mairi—she was really good at it... at everything, actually. Whatever she tried, she made it work," he recalled, leaning on the railing.

"Sounds like someone I know," Xaden remarked, tilting his head. Liam shrugged.

"Was Colonel Mairi as strict with her troops as she was with you?" This came from Eya. A hiss came from someone Liam couldn’t see, but he only smiled a little.

"My mother could be strict when she wanted to be, especially about keeping the house organized, but all I can remember about her are the gentle looks she gave me when I told her something new, the joyful smiles when we traveled—even if it was just to the creek—and the kindness with which she bandaged my wounds when I got hurt," he said, blinking as the images came rushing back to his mind. "She was always a mother before she was a colonel to our family," he finished, blinking again to push back the tears. His family had been lost to history, and they were fighting to gather what remained of it before someone else was lost.

Again.

"Most of them were, especially after the apostasy," Soleil added, and Liam nodded.

His eyes were growing heavy now, part of the guilt over Aurelie dispersing and leaving him drained of what little energy he had left. Liam smiled at the group, deciding it was better to be up here with them than alone with his insecurities. He didn’t consider himself easily shaken, but it was better not to take risks when he could choose the cautious path.

There had been very few moments when they’d had time to simply exist in silence. In the entire year Liam had been there, it had only happened three times, all before Threshing. After that, it had been a frantic race to handle deliveries, the increasingly strict command, the Unbonded, and the bond that would tie Xaden and Violet’s lives together until one of them died, inevitably taking the other with them.

All of that left no room for any of them to even consider relaxing, let alone risk gathering such a large group in such an isolated area. Even in the rare times Liam had come up here, the only person he’d ever found was Xaden.

Liam looked up at the sky, the clouds leaving only a few stars visible to his eyes—stars that had once been so impersonal in his old life but now felt tender.

Navarre would never be his home, no matter how many lives he lived in this place, but it was a home now—one that had done surprisingly much to bring him to where he was and who he had become.

He knew he couldn’t have everything he wanted—no one could—but he’d also learned to accept the small gifts this stupid world had given him.

This group was definitely one of them.

-*-

The truth was, Liam didn’t know much about how Violet managed to climb the Gauntlet. Of course, he’d heard from the gossip that there had been a thirty-second penalty at some point and that Amber had, for some reason, tried to disqualify her, but that was all he knew.
He also couldn’t begin to guess what had happened because Violet had failed miserably at every Gauntlet training after the first. Dylan was a different story. By the sixth training, he’d managed to pull himself up and complete the challenge. He wasn’t exactly graceful or the fastest of the candidates, but he’d done it, and that had lifted a ton of pressure off Liam’s shoulders.

But now, on the day of the Gauntlet and the presentation, Liam decided it was far too late to try to change anything. Violet had succeeded in his old life, and Liam preferred to think that part hadn’t been altered along with everything else because of his actions here.
Whatever miracle had saved Violet in his past life must have already happened—or was about to happen—because Liam didn’t feel like what they’d done so far would be enough to get her through the challenge. Still, he was genuinely proud of the progress the whole squad had made in terms of strength and agility.

His eyes quickly scanned his companions, from Rhiannon and Sawyer’s already athletic forms to Ridoc, who had become increasingly muscular, to Dylan, who had shed most of his excess weight and was now starting to build muscle, and finally to Violet. While she hadn’t gained noticeable muscle definition or anything of the sort, she’d had surprisingly fewer issues with her weak joints now that her muscles were much better at supporting them.

They had improved so much in such a short time, and Liam was struggling not to feel overly proud—not because of his role in it, but because of their success. They all still had many challenges to face and overcome before they could afford to feel any pride in themselves.

And the first two challenges would happen in the next few minutes. This time, all the squads were moving one after the other toward the
Gauntlet in a single file, starting with the first squad from Talon Section of the First Wing and ending with the third squad from Tail Section of the Fourth Wing.

This was fundamentally driven by the fact that the timeframe was considerably shorter for everyone to either climb the Gauntlet or fall from the challenge so that all could cross the valley behind it for the presentation. It was also because today, they only had one chance to succeed.

There were no retries today. You either passed or fell to your death, and the next cadet would be released the second you were gone. The only good thing about this day was that they were released one at a time to ensure everyone’s best performance—or to avoid any slow cadet ahead causing delays.

By unanimous decision, Liam’s squad had decided to keep the same order as their training for the final day, even though the sequence didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. They’d simply decided on it for the sake of familiarity. Liam had to admit he preferred to go first, so he wouldn’t have to watch any of his companions fall before he faced the challenge.

But in the end, he admitted to himself that it was a selfish desire and probably a bit of a lack of faith on his part. So, Liam swallowed any comment about it and agreed to Sawyer’s suggestion.

Deigh didn’t agree with his decision. The limited bond glowed with reprimand and vibrant frustration, but Liam couldn’t tell if it was because of his choice to go last or because he dismissed his desire so quickly. He didn’t try to figure it out, either.

The last cadet from the First Squad of the Fourth Wing finished climbing safely. As far as Liam knew, only one cadet had fallen to their death so far, and they had belonged to the Second Wing. Since then, all the other cadets had crossed to the valley above unscathed.

And it would stay that way, Liam forced himself to remember, because they would all make it through the Gauntlet and onto the presentation.

Sawyer stepped forward, his usually friendly and gentle expression tightened in concentration as he waited for Emetterio's signal to begin. Above them, all the leadership was present this time, and it wouldn’t be Garrick timing the run but Xaden.

The leader nodded, signaling the squad’s start, and Emetterio released Sawyer. Liam made a point to watch his ascent, though no anxiety arose after seeing the boy climb with flying colors so many times before.

It was still surprisingly satisfying to see the technique with which Henrick tackled the gauntlet, the constant repetition of something he had done before allowing the skill to come naturally to him. Sawyer succeeded, unsurprisingly, clocking a good time at the top before stepping aside to watch the rest of the squad.

Pryor went next, dragging his body somewhat awkwardly through the challenges, but effectively enough to make it to the top, somehow also managing a decent time.

Liam had learned over time to mentally keep track of the clock—a very useful skill for ensuring his strikes had the maximum possible window for execution. Now, it served to gauge the overall performance of his squad, even though Liam wasn’t particularly strict about their times today.

Dylan also made it, dragging himself upward slowly, but he did it, and Liam was genuinely happy for him. Xaden shook his head at the top of the gauntlet, looking both skeptical and a little—just a little—impressed by the boy’s determination.

Liam wished he were standing next to the older man now, to nudge him and celebrate the fact that he had been right about Dylan, but that could wait for later.

Rhiannon went up next, followed by Ridoc, who seemed to laugh during the final meters of his climb, amusing Liam in the process. It was honestly surprising that Gamlyn could laugh in situations like this.

Then it was Violet’s turn, and Liam’s stomach flipped as he watched her approach the starting point. He kept his expression as neutral as possible, even as he waited.

His emotions were beginning to spiral out of control again, despite his promise to keep them in check. Liam would be damned if, after everything, he ended up condemning Violet’s life.

Emetterio shouted the signal, and Violet leapt forward. She passed gracefully through the log and then the suspended stakes, then the wheel in just three spins, running determinedly toward the next challenge.

She grabbed the balls, using every inch of her arms to hold on and make her way across before throwing herself to the other side and starting to traverse the horizontal bars leading up the wall.

Violet jumped onto solid ground, sprinting toward the chimney. Liam’s eyes followed her insistently, though part of him wished he weren’t watching.

She ran, using her momentum to get as high as possible before starting to fall. Liam watched, absolutely horrified, as she began to plummet toward the platform below—until her hand shot out, grabbing the rope in the challenge and using it to reach the top of the chimney.

She ran, increasing her speed to the limit as she began to climb the second ramp. She got far before gravity pulled her back, though not far enough to reach the top. Liam struggled to control his own nerves as he watched her hand dart to her ribs, pulling out a small blade and stabbing it into the planks.

Violet used the support of her dagger to propel herself upward, grabbing the upper edge of the ramp and throwing herself over it. Liam saw her pull herself up, retrieve the dagger, and then run to the finish line before relief washed over him all at once.

The squad, almost entirely gathered at the top, was cheering with shouts and praises. Liam wished he could be there with them in that moment but contented himself with appreciating the wave of satisfaction at Violet’s success.

“The girl found a creative way, I admit, but it still got her into trouble,” Deigh informed him, and he was proven correct because Liam was now watching Amber Mavis storm toward Xaden, looking absolutely furious.

From down below, Liam couldn’t hear a single word from the First Wing leader, but the way her arms gestured toward Violet and then the gauntlet made it obvious she disagreed with the way the cadet had been approved.

Probably because of the dagger, Liam thought curiously, before laughing because now Mavis’s outburst that day made sense if it was the same thing Violet had done in his previous life to pass. Garrick hadn’t gone into detail last time, only saying that the girl had been chewed out with her beloved Codex for not agreeing with how a cadet completed the challenge.

What happened in Liam’s past life happened again now because Amber had turned purple and shouted something—Liam caught a mention of the Codex, though not much else—before storming off in fury. Xaden motioned something to Violet before allowing Emetterio to release Tynan to climb.

The boy succeeded, performing well enough to stand out, though Liam didn’t think he was better than Sawyer and certainly wouldn’t be better than him.

In the eight training runs after that first one, Liam danced close to Xaden’s record time, close enough for everyone to think he’d beaten it before the clock revealed he was a few seconds over. In the last run, just the day before, Liam had beaten the time by a mere second and a half and was confident today wouldn’t be a near miss.

He was driven mostly by emotion, confident that the technique he’d gained in the past could sustain his unbalanced emotions, but that also made him miss many opportunities to cut time on the obstacles.

That wouldn’t happen this time. There were too many eyes on him as Liam positioned himself at the entrance, taking a deep breath to extinguish the flame of unregulated anxiety within him.

His bond thrummed with warm encouragement and a tinge of pride. He allowed himself to bask in it for a few more seconds before focusing on Emetterio, waiting for the release gesture.

A second of pure anticipation passed before the professor’s booming “Go!” rang out loud, and Liam shot forward, reaching his peak speed a few steps before the log. He cleared it in two long strides, leaping onto the vertical poles without stepping on the narrow stretch of solid gravel, using his speed to propel his passage in large, swift, but no less secure, jumps.

He jumped onto the wheel, a laugh bubbling in his throat as he realized he had arrived at just the right moment. It spun halfway before Liam saw the opportunity and leapt onto the gravel, heading towards the balls.

It was a different feeling that enveloped him this time. The first time had been nothing but anxious, wild euphoria, but now Liam felt nothing but well-being. The feeling still made him feel wonderfully alive, but this time it wasn’t filled with chaotic wildness.
He swung through the challenge, hitting the ground, his feet slipping slightly on the gravel due to the speed, but Liam ignored it, jumping to grab the vertical bars. His momentum allowed him to clear the first one, grabbing the second and passing through them one by one with little effort, then he ran toward the rotating logs.

It wasn’t more challenging than the others, his body happily synchronized with their rotation, making the risk minimal. Liam shot forward as soon as he cleared the logs, his breath shallow and ineffective as he had no time or thought to maintain proper oxygenation.
The momentum he gathered was enough to push his body upwards until his palms reached the top of the chimney, and then Liam pulled himself up, his muscles pulsing with fatigue and tingling from the lack of air due to shallow breathing.

Liam ignored it, running with all the speed he could muster, climbing higher and higher. His palms reached the top, but Liam was still rising when he launched his leg upward to take advantage and landed on his feet without using his arms.

He didn’t feel like he could run much longer; his muscles were beginning to feel like jelly, but he refused to collapse now as he moved as fast as he could toward the finish line.

He crossed, leaning back to try and shift his weight onto his heels to stop his movement.

The reality was that his feet slipped on the surprisingly smooth gravel floor, and Liam kept sliding forward until he felt a hand grab the collar of his shirt from behind. The fabric tightened against his chest, expelling the rest of his air as he braked suddenly, but Liam was still grateful as he looked to see who it was.

Garrick, a Garrick with the biggest victorious smile Liam had ever seen on his lips, looking at him as though he had just given him the best gift of his life.

Liam would have questioned it, but he finally decided that he cared more about replenishing air in his lungs than asking about that smile at that moment.

His legs were also more than a little shaky, whether from the adrenaline or the effort he put into gaining speed faster was hard to say, but what mattered was that Liam felt like he was about to collapse on the ground because of it.

He shook his head in thanks as he freed himself from the section leader’s grip and bravely turned to face Xaden, the man who looked at him with the biggest and most open look of pride Liam had ever seen.

His chest puffed up a little more as Liam struggled and miserably lost the fight against a smile, with heat rising to his cheeks and ears as satisfaction slowly hit him.

Recovering a little from the pressure of his emotions and fatigue, Liam realized that everything was actually silent while the eyes of the entire quadrant were on Riorson, who shook his head before declaring loudly.

“There’s a new Gauntlet record!” Xaden’s powerful voice echoed across the top of the place, the entire quadrant seemed to take a surprised breath before a series of cheers and celebrations erupted from his squad.

Liam never had time to fully register Riorson’s words before he was hit by bodies. Slightly surprised, he looked at the attacker, who was soon followed by another and another.

His eyes became a little misty when he recognized Rhiannon, Ridoc, Dylan, Sawyer, and Violet clinging to him. His fatigued legs failed momentarily before Liam forced them to function so they wouldn’t all collapse to the ground.

He honestly didn’t know why everyone was so excited, although of course, breaking a record didn’t happen every day; it was definitely something anyone could do if they had enough experience.

Still, he accepted the group hug, moving his arms to reciprocate as much as possible, even though they were essentially pinned to his body.

There were many laughs in his ears, and Liam couldn’t tell exactly whose they were. Everyone was laughing and celebrating, so it didn’t matter, he was too, although it was more from the euphoria of the moment than from the Gauntlet.

They separated soon after, mainly because they were still in an official challenge, and everyone was probably preventing the next squad from starting.

When Liam was free, he searched for Xaden with his eyes. Riorson seemed a little surprised by what he had just witnessed, despite the brave effort to hide it, but the same pride from before was present when he moved the note to show him his time.

2 minutes and 36 seconds, a new record, six seconds below Xaden’s time on the spot.

Liam searched for any sign of negative feelings from Xaden. He couldn’t really be so calm about having his record beaten, as far as Liam knew, Xaden had been very proud of him when he beat it, and he didn’t want to upset the older man by bringing up that topic.

But there was nothing, just a flood of pride on his face, so Liam slowly accepted that nothing bad would come of it, and his excitement returned in full force.

He turned, joining his squad on the way to make space for the next squad to ascend the Gauntlet, and then, placing an arm around Ridoc’s shoulder, he laughed.

“Well, we’ve finished the easy part,” Liam laughed, letting another, bigger smile stretch across his lips as he received amused looks from the squad. “Now, let’s start the real nightmare,” he said, feeling strangely satisfied with that.

He turned his head to look at the valley, sending a quick wave of determination to Deigh, the dragon responded with the same feeling.

That was just the first step, but Liam was ready, or at least determined enough to be confident.

Let the presentation begin.

Chapter Text

Xaden was a strong person; Liam had seen him handle everything with his head held high. But even he would crumble, and when that happened, his reaction wasn’t great. Liam understood that for someone who valued control so much, losing it was an uncomfortable experience.

Liam didn’t quite know what triggered Xaden’s outburst, or if there was even an external reason. What he did know was that one moment, Xaden was fine, and the next, he was in the middle of a massive rage fit. No piece of furniture escaped his wrath—most were hurled against the walls, and some landed alarmingly close to Liam. But he didn’t run.

Xaden wouldn’t hurt him; Liam knew that, so he wasn’t afraid.

But Lindell would be furious when he found out, and both of them knew it. Xaden went pale as he calmed down and bolted before Liam could even think of what to say to him.

The decision hit him seconds later: Liam told Lindell that it was him, and then he went after Xaden. He didn’t care if Lindell found a punishment for him. How was that more important than helping Xaden?

Riorson was on the roof of the property when Liam found him, curled up and still trembling in what could only be lingering panic. Liam sat down beside him, motionless and silent, deciding that Xaden would appreciate his presence more than his words.

Instead, Liam sculpted—a miniature of the two of them hugging.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Xaden stated firmly, and Liam nodded.

“That’s fine. I’ve got you, brother,” Liam said with a smile, looking at the afternoon sun.

They never spoke of it again.

-*-

His squad was assigned to go first, mostly thanks to their record and the remarkable times achieved by Sawyer and Rhiannon. Not even Violet’s thirty-second penalty for using the rope or Dylan’s mediocre-to-poor performance could push them to second place.

This earned some pomp among a few in his squad—Pryor and Tynan strutted like peacocks, as if they were responsible for their squad’s honorary first entry. In reality, both had delivered average performances—neither good nor bad.

Liam, on the other hand, was calm. He had already walked through that corridor of dragons once and survived, so he could do it again. But more importantly, he preferred to go as early as possible to avoid building up anxiety.

“Will you be there?” he asked Deigh, a wave of excitement surging at the thought of seeing his partner again—this time whole, uninjured, and free of the agonizing pain that came with their bond in his final moments.

“No,” the dragon replied simply, and Liam felt his emotions spill out like a leaky jar. “There are many things at stake, Brave Heart, and my new position in this world requires me to abstain from attending the presentation. But we will see each other soon,” Deigh said solemnly. Liam sighed, letting his shoulders drop in what he hoped looked like an attempt to shake off nerves rather than defeat.

Still, he sent a quick affirmative. His dragon knew more than he did, and it was better not to contradict him if it could be avoided.

“Let’s go, second squad. You’re up first,” Garrick said seriously, firmly donning his section leader façade. Liam thought he looked far more smug than he let on.

Tavis had won the bet he made with Xaden, and although Liam didn’t know the nature of the wager, it was definitely not something trivial, knowing the duo’s tendencies.

But that was a matter for later. Instead, Liam stepped back to the last position in his squad, knowing it made no sense to draw more attention than necessary.

“I hope Aetos did a relatively decent job and told you to stick to the direct path through the valley, keeping two meters between each of you…” Garrick was interrupted.

“In case one of us gets incinerated,” Ridoc said helpfully. Garrick nodded.

“Correct, Ridoc. You’re free to cluster together, but you’ll do so at your own risk. The dragons will be more inclined to burn everything to get rid of someone they dislike than to let them pass,” he continued, about to signal them forward when a male voice called out from behind the group.

It was a boy from the first tail squad. From what Liam saw, they had landed sixth in line, but the boy had obviously ventured out to see what awaited him.

“Can I ask a question?” the boy’s voice trembled, sounding unstable. Liam glanced over his shoulder, seeing the indecision shining in his face and posture.

If he remembered correctly, this boy had also been part of Violet’s squad in his past life. Liam only knew this because the boy tended to be mocked for his indecision.

Lucca was the boy’s name, if Liam wasn’t mistaken, and apparently, changing squads hadn’t done much to alter his lack of confidence.

He’d be roasted soon, Liam lamented, turning his head back to look at Garrick, whose jaw muscle was twitching—obviously irritated by the interruption, though he nodded.

“I spoke to some older cadets earlier. They’re from the third tail squad, and…” Garrick scoffed, shaking his head.

“That’s not a question,” he bit out, clearly irritated. Liam shook his head sympathetically at the older cadet’s situation.
Garrick shot him a curious look, and Liam shrugged, winking conspiratorially as if to remind him to stay calm. The Tavis didn’t change his posture, though he nodded, evidently agreeing with the reminder.

“Right, it’s just that they said something about a feather tail existing?” The question ended with a sudden rise in pitch.

Of course, there was a feather tail here. That was Andarna, who would bond with Violet alongside Tairn. Liam wasn’t the least bit surprised by that fact and probably couldn’t fake it even if he wanted to.

Still, his squad was whispering and seemed curious about the boy’s statement.

“A feather tail? Who would want to bond with a feather tail?” Tynan said, shocked, and Liam rolled his eyes.

“No one, but that’s only because no one chooses a dragon, you idiot. They choose their riders, not the other way around,” Liam mocked. Tynan scowled at him, though the rest of the group laughed or smiled in support.

“Will you use that to console yourself when those dragons burn you as they should?” Tynan spat back, and Liam raised an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Try not to speak so loudly, Tynan. Someone told me dragons don’t like being ordered around,” Liam laughed, Deigh’s amusement filling him. “Or maybe do. I’d like to test that theory,” he shrugged.

“The boy won’t make it through Threshing if he thinks he can decide for a dragon,” Deigh pointed out mercilessly, and Liam snorted mentally.

“Maybe he shouldn’t, anyway,” he shrugged.

“You’re so confident you’ll bond, aren’t you? But dragons don’t choose traitors like you,” Tynan seethed. Garrick turned his body, looking tense, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Tynan was oblivious to the section leader’s actions—oblivious to many things, really. If he wasn’t, he would have realized just how terribly wrong that statement was. Every marked cadet who entered the quadrant and reached Threshing bonded with a dragon.

Xaden was living proof, alongside Sgaeyl, that none of them were inferior to Navarre’s cadets. Blues didn’t make mistakes.

Still, Liam gestured for Garrick to let it go. Tynan’s unwarranted hatred didn’t bother him in the slightest, and Liam could handle it on his own.

But he never got the chance because Dylan—the boy who, despite his good intentions, had always avoided confrontation—stepped in to defend him.

“Funny, coming from the guy who was average in the Gauntlet. Maybe the dragons won’t want to choose you, actually,” Dylan mocked, narrowing his eyes. “If anyone here has a chance to bond, it’s Liam. He broke a record in the Gauntlet, is undefeated in sparring, and unlike you, has a brain on his shoulders,” he declared.

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed Dylan’s defense. Liam then felt proud that the blond had gained enough confidence to stand up to someone. He shook his head.

“Let him think what he wants. The dragons will decide,” Liam said, placing a hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “We need to go now,” he reminded, giving Garrick an apologetic smile. The Tavis huffed.

"About the feather tails, well, they don’t bond, and I’m sure it was just curiosity that brought him here. Now let’s go because you’re already late," Garrick turned and began to walk, his group following him as they resumed the line. "Remember, you go up, wait for the entire squad to pass, and then come down. It’s simple enough not to confuse you kids," he tossed over his shoulder as they approached the entrance to the valley.

The wind hit Liam, pushing his hair back with an almost uncomfortable force, but he ignored it, focusing on Nyra, the senior wing leader of the quadrant.

"They’re all yours," Garrick announced, heading back the way he came. Tavis gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder discreetly before disappearing.

"Great, keep the line steady as you pass," Nyra began, looking at everyone.

Sawyer went in first, Ridoc second, followed by Pryor, Tynan, Dylan, Violet, and Liam at the end.

"Talk among yourselves; it will help the dragons see how you act as a group. We have records showing that talking helped more cadets than physical capability," she continued.

"Is that true?" he asked Deigh, who let out a rumble.

"We don’t choose you humans because you talk too much, but the theory is generally accurate," Deigh agreed, sounding bored. "Talking with your squad allows us to observe your ability to forge alliances through conversation and, of course, assess your intellectual capacity," Deigh informed him. Liam blinked, absolutely surprised. They could perceive all that from a simple conversation?

"That makes sense," he admitted, returning his attention to Nyra.

"...Make sure that if any of you get burned, the ground has stopped burning before you proceed," Nyra scanned them all, perhaps thinking about how many faces she wouldn’t see after this crossing—or maybe indifferent to it. "You can look at the dragons, just avoid looking them in the eyes if you want to avoid being a pile of ashes," she concluded, signaling for them to move on. "See you later," she said as they entered the valley.

The sight of the dragons was as stunning as it had been the last time. One hundred and one enormous, perfectly still bodies were arranged in two rows, leaving only a narrow passage between them.

The line didn’t stop, though Liam heard some audible gasps of shock. That was for the best because if one of them hesitated, the entire group would likely be finished given their location.

The sulfur smell was strong, even though no one had been burned yet, obviously coming from the dragons’ breath. But Liam quickly discovered it wasn’t unpleasant for him.

They passed three reds, their claws so long they could easily reach halfway up his body and disembowel him just as easily. But Liam didn’t dwell on that thought; if a dragon wanted to kill him, they’d burn him.

"I can’t see their tails; how are we supposed to know their breeds?" Tynan said from the front of the line. Some dragons turned to look at him, and Liam sighed.

"You’re not supposed to know their breed," Violet retorted, moving forward with balanced steps.

"I need to know which one I’ll approach during threshing," Tynan complained, and Liam rolled his eyes.

"This walk is for them to choose, Tynan. You don’t need to decide which one to approach," Liam reminded him, keeping his gaze respectfully low. A warm breath hit his body, but it didn’t feel like an irritated dragon—more like agreement.

"You speak well. Dragons appreciate those who know their place and what is expected of them," Deigh said softly. He seemed particularly more helpful regarding dragon selection that day. "Not that you couldn’t figure that out yourself," the dragon retorted, going quiet again.

"I hope one of them decides you won’t make it to threshing," Rhiannon’s murmur floated in the air, reaching Liam, but it wasn’t loud enough to catch the dragons’ attention. None of them moved except to analyze the group as they advanced. They passed a pair of browns, and Liam momentarily observed the familiar spiked formations on their shoulders.

The one on the left was Aotrom. He would bond with Ridoc in two days if everything went as it had in his past life.

Dylan was far too tense—more than he should have been—and Liam decided this wouldn’t work if it continued. Taking one last breath to steel himself, Liam approached.

"You said you’re engaged, right, Dylan?" he asked aloud, keeping his tone calm. The boy’s head turned, blinking in confusion, though he nodded.

"I am, but why now?" Dylan asked, confused. A nearby orange narrowed its eyes, tilting its head, and Liam cursed, refusing to let anything happen.

"Just curious. What’s she like?" Liam asked with an encouraging smile, and the boy nodded, filling with pride.

"Incredible. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met—kind and charismatic with everyone," he said. The orange shook its head again but looked away, so Liam decided they weren’t in danger yet.

"Sounds like the kind of person we’d all be lucky to find. That makes you a lucky guy, Dylan," Liam laughed, appreciating how the boy’s posture slowly relaxed.

"I am, but I’m sure you’ll all find someone like that—or at least those who deserve it," Dylan said, throwing a skeptical look at Tynan, who snorted loudly.

"Love is for the weak. When I bond, I’ll become the best rider and climb the ranks to general," Tynan boasted. That probably would never happen, and Liam refrained from commenting, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing with an egotistical fool. Recognizing which battles were worth fighting and which weren’t was a valuable skill Liam had learned early on. Convincing the boy not to dig his own grave was definitely not a battle worth his time.

"What do you think, Sorrengail? Maybe I’ll even take your mother’s position," Tynan laughed. They passed a group of three greens, one of which growled, baring sharp teeth but not burning anyone.

"You should think more about the present—focus on not getting roasted to ashes," Violet replied bluntly, keeping her focus on the path. "Rhiannon, you have a twin, don’t you? She’s pregnant, you said?" She obviously picked up on his attempt to start a conversation and effectively joined in.

"I have," Rhiannon confirmed with a smile as they climbed a particularly steep section. "The healers think it's a boy, but we still don't know for sure. I can't wait to send her letters in her second year," she continued, flashing a grin over her shoulder at them.

"That's a stupid rule," Violet huffed, moving her hand forward. That was when Liam noticed the blood-stained bundle tied around her palm. His stomach sank slightly in shock and frustration. When had that happened?

"On the parapet climb. Now focus," Deigh reprimanded.

"She's hurt, bleeding in front of a hundred bloodthirsty dragons," Liam hissed, annoyed at himself for not noticing earlier.

"And once again, it's not your place to stop it. The girl can handle a minor hand wound, and if no dragon has attacked her yet, they're probably ignoring the blood," Deigh retorted, sending a wave of sharp reproach that made Liam drop the subject. He knew his dragon's moods well enough not to test them.

"Don't you think it enhances the wing's integrity? I heard it's meant to encourage loyalty among squadrons," Rhiannon asked curiously, and it was Liam's turn to scoff.

"I haven't sent a letter to my sister in five years, and I don't feel any less loyal to her because of it," he pointed out with a shrug, and Violet nodded.

"That's true. Letters won't change my loyalty, whether they exist or not," she affirmed resolutely. "There are things that can't be broken so easily." Violet shrugged, her eyes suddenly darting upward before quickly lowering to the ground, though she seemed to struggle to hide her fear.

Liam experimentally looked up, meeting the gaze of an orange dragon. He didn’t hold it, lowering his head in respect, unable to feel frightened despite the situation.

"I'd be loyal to your sister too, Violet," Tynan grinned maliciously at Sorrengail. Liam frowned, feeling a bit disgusted by the implication. "She's one hell of a rider, and that ass. I saw her before the parapet, and damn, Violet, she's hot," he laughed loudly.

They passed a group of red dragons, then a brown one and two greens, before Violet decided to respond.

"Reverse course, Tynan," she said indifferently. "Mira would eat you alive for breakfast if you tried anything." She continued, and Liam huffed at the truth behind her words.

"I'm just saying, how did one of you get all the good traits, and the other seems to have been left with scraps?" Tynan's gaze slid over Violet's body, making her visibly shudder with disgust.

"Scraps, you say? I'd say the only one here with scraps is you, Tynan—scraps of intelligence, scraps of skill, though I'd argue not even scraps remain when it comes to looks," Liam retorted, giving a disdainful smile to the other boy.

"Leave it, Liam. He's just an idiot," Violet flipped Tynan off, who responded with a mocking grin and a glare at Liam.

"I'm just saying, maybe I'll try writing her a letter of my own when we get privileges." With that, he turned and kept walking indifferently.

"A nephew sounds nice, though," Rhiannon resumed the conversation. "Boys aren't so bad. They can grow up to be record-breaking stars like our dear Liam here," she joked, and Liam laughed, shrugging.

"Whatever time you get on the Gauntlet, it's all good if you pass it," Liam downplayed, earning twin sighs from the girls.

"Setting Liam and his modesty aside, Rhiannon's right about boys not being so bad," Violet agreed. They passed another group of dragons, nearly halfway through the path. "The only boys I grew up around were Dain and Brennan, though the first one is so obsessed with rules he'll probably scold me for how I climbed the Gauntlet as soon as he gets the chance." Violet seemed a bit resigned and indifferent as she said this, clearly tired of the strange way her best friend had been acting lately.

Dain Aetos had tried hard to make up for the blunder he made during the assessment. He succeeded thanks to Sorrengail's big heart, but it was obvious their friendship was beginning to wear thin.

That could only be a bonus for Liam, so he stayed out of it.

"Why didn't you tell us about the rope plan? And the dagger?" Dylan asked, tilting his head. "You know you can trust us," he continued, and Violet shrugged.

"I only thought of it yesterday," she announced. A quick glance over her shoulder made Liam frown because that had to mean something, but he couldn't recall doing anything to help her have a revelation the night before. "And if it went wrong, I didn't want any of you to be seen as accomplices. You have real futures here, and I won't drag you down with me if I fail," she continued seriously.

"We don't need your protection," Rhiannon responded, frustrated, and Violet shrugged.

"I know, but protecting each other is what friends do," she said firmly, and Liam huffed.

"You have as much chance as the rest of us. Not all strength is physical, and things can work out in different ways," he replied, dissatisfied that the girl still hadn't grasped that point. Violet's gaze caught him off guard.

"You sound a lot like your brother," she finally said, and Liam blinked in confusion, tilting his head, completely lost as to why she was mentioning Xaden. "Though you're obviously more inclined to help openly. You both said the same thing," she continued, and Liam shrugged, embarrassed.

"Well, Xaden and I were stuck with each other for three years. You learn something in that time," Liam declared slowly before narrowing his eyes. "But when did you talk to him?" he asked curiously, and Violet shrugged.

"I ran into him in the courtyard last night. He was returning from somewhere with Garrick Tavis and Bodhi Durran, and I bumped into him," Violet said, somehow keeping her voice low enough that none of the others overheard.

Liam felt terror threatening his judgment at the idea that someone might discover where they'd gone or what they were doing away from Basgiath.

"So you ran into him, and?" he asked, keeping his emotions out of his voice.

"He told me the same thing you did—that the right way isn't the only way. And that gave me the idea for the rope and the dagger," she finished, and Liam nodded.

"He has his moments," he agreed, shrugging.

"Are you two done whining back there? We're almost at the end of the line," Tynan grumbled, his feet dragging on the gravel noisily, and Liam rolled his eyes.

The rest of the squad was already at the top, waiting for them, but their eyes weren't on him, Tynan, or Violet. They were fixed on something to the right of the trail.

Liam knew who it was but was still shocked when they passed the last brown dragon and stood before Andarna. The golden feather-tail shone brilliantly in the sunlight, watching them all curiously.

Liam stopped at the end of the line, observing as the feather-tail rose to her full height, analyzing each of them slowly. Violet bumped into Tynan, looking as shocked as she was awed while staring at the dragon. She was like a miniature version of the brown dragon beside her, but yellow.

"What the hell?" Tynan exclaimed, disgust lacing his tone and sparking a flicker of anger in Liam's gut.

The golden eyes of the dragon met Liam’s, and he knew he should look away, show reverence, but he couldn’t. The golden eyes were so captivating that it made it difficult for him to think rationally and avert his gaze.

But Andarna didn’t seem irritated by his stare; instead, she looked curious as she tilted her head and flared her nostrils, clearly sniffing him.

He knew who she was and was starting to believe she knew who he was too. The dragon’s gaze was so intense it felt like she was peering into his very soul.

The squad was arguing about something in the background—something about Violet—but Liam was too absorbed in his staring contest with the dragon.

Liam felt confused and scared, though he fought hard to keep those feelings from surfacing. He had no idea what the feather-tail was thinking or intending, but he couldn’t imagine it was good.

He didn’t know what he should do at that moment. First, he shouldn’t have been staring at the feather-tail to begin with. Second, he probably shouldn’t have stopped walking. And lastly, he definitely shouldn’t be letting fear start to creep in.

“Deigh,” Liam called out, his voice trembling slightly even through the bond, and the dragon rumbled in response.

“It’s fine, Brave Heart. Just wait,” Deigh replied simply.

Andarna tilted her head, stretching her neck until her snout was just inches away from Liam.

“Liam!” A frightened voice called out, breaking his focus. It was Rhiannon, who looked at him and the dragon in front of him with panic. She took a step forward, but Liam shook his head.

“No, stay back,” he said calmly. Deigh would know better than him, and if Deigh wasn’t worried, then Liam wouldn’t be either.

“Or step closer. The dragons are obviously about to rid us of a traitor,” Pryor sneered, laughing loudly as if he were pleased.

Liam ignored him, focusing again on Andarna. Her golden eyes locked onto his, seeming almost excited, before a high-pitched trill escaped her. The sound wasn’t threatening or angry—it was... enthusiastic.

The noise drew the attention of other dragons. She was saying something, Liam was sure of it, and it was important because more eyes turned toward him.

He didn’t dare meet their gazes, though. Liam wasn’t foolish enough to do that, even if he sensed nothing but curiosity.

Then the brown dragon lowered its head, the sulfuric scent of its breath hitting him like a wave as it exhaled over him.

“Burn him already!” Pryor yelled, and Liam rolled his eyes, shaking his head in frustration.

“Ordering a dragon—what an idiot,” he muttered. The brown dragon rumbled as if in agreement.

Liam wished he could come up with a retort that would shut Pryor up, but he didn’t have time to think of one. The brown dragon’s snout extended toward him, stopping just inches away before gently touching his chest.

The dragon’s searing body heat warmed his skin, but not unpleasantly—it was oddly comforting. Liam didn’t know what to do, so he remained still, not wanting to offend the dragon.

It wasn’t burning him, so he hadn’t angered it. His squad was silent behind him, but Liam didn’t try to look at them.

Then the dragon pulled back, rumbling lowly as it shook its head. Hesitantly, Liam raised his eyes, meeting another pair of enormous golden eyes staring intently at him.

A second passed before the dragon blinked, raised its head, and shifted its reptilian gaze to something behind Liam. A deep growl rumbled from its chest as it opened its mouth, revealing a glowing throat as fire began to gather.

But it wasn’t for him. Liam wasn’t sure how he knew that—maybe because Deigh was still calm in his mind, or maybe because the dragon could’ve burned him at any point but didn’t. What mattered was that he knew.

Liam wasn’t disappointed when the brown dragon stretched its neck and unleashed its fire over his head, close enough for him to feel the heat but not enough to harm him.

He turned to look. His squad was scattered at the top of the trail, all staring in utter shock at a pile of ashes on the ground where one of their members had stood.

It had been Pryor—the idiot who tried to command the dragon. A little to the side, Tynan clutched a burned arm to his chest, panting heavily in pain.

The brown dragon retreated back to the line, and Andarna blinked at Liam one last time before returning to her place. Liam let his body relax and resumed walking until he reached Violet’s side.

The girl was pale, her wide eyes fixed on him with nothing but horrified concern. That’s when Liam realized he probably shouldn’t be so calm. A dragon had come within inches of him, touched him, and then spewed fire mere meters above his head to incinerate a squadmate.

Any other cadet would be trembling like a leaf, but Liam felt suspiciously at peace, free of fear. After all, the dragon did all that and didn’t burn him.

“It’s fine. We should keep moving,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the group’s tension, desperate to return to some semblance of normalcy.

“Liam, what...?” Ridoc asked, shocked and at a loss for words—a rare occurrence. Liam shook his head.

“I don’t know. I’m not questioning it either. It was the dragon’s decision,” he said seriously.

Sawyer shivered in front of him but nodded and started moving again.

“Pryor, he...” Dylan murmured, looking sick. His eyes were so wide they seemed like saucers. Liam realized it was the first time the boy had truly witnessed someone being burned. Most had felt the heat of dragonfire during the bonding day but hadn’t dared to turn and look.

That was just another thing Liam was tragically accustomed to, thanks to Melgreen’s punishment of his parents. For everyone else, witnessing death was still horrifying.

“He’s dead. You saw him burn,” Ridoc said, pressing his lips together and shaking his head to push away his own shock.

“But... why? He was so far away,” Dylan said, not exactly defending the arrogant boy but still sounding puzzled.

“He tried to command a dragon, that’s why. We warned him before we came in here, and he chose to ignore it. So he got what he deserved,” Ridoc said bluntly, clearly not sharing Dylan’s sentiment.

“That doesn’t seem entirely fair,” Dylan insisted, looking regretfully at the ashes. Rhiannon shook her head, her expression a mix of understanding and indifference.

“Actually, it’s very fair. He chose arrogance, and in the real world, that can cost lives. The dragon was relatively fair in burning him.”

“Fair or not, we need to keep going,” Violet reminded them, pointing to the path ahead, though she didn’t seem entirely indifferent to what had happened.

Death always shocked people. Liam was just desensitized to it through personal experience, so he had to remind himself that for others, seeing death was as terrible as taking a life.

The line moved forward, this time without Pryor, everyone still a bit shaken by what they had witnessed. Tynan clutched his injured arm but, to his credit, showed no other signs of pain.

Liam, on the other hand, was deep in thought. What exactly had Andarna seen in him that also caught the brown dragon’s attention?
He couldn’t find an answer. It was obviously something from draconic society that humans weren’t privy to, but he couldn’t simply let it go so quickly.

By all accounts, Liam should be dead now—a pile of ashes like Pryor—because he had been the one to stare at both dragons and draw the feather-tail’s attention. But Pryor had been the one burned.

Of course, Liam could understand why that had happened to the boy, but it didn’t explain why it hadn’t happened to him.

“They’re beautiful,” Ridoc’s voice came from the front of the line, his head tilting slightly as he admired the long line of multicolored dragon bodies.

“They’re disappointing, actually,” Tynan murmured, clearly not confident enough to say it loudly. “Compared to that blue one on the parapet,” he added with a shrug.

Liam scoffed but decided to ignore them.

"Did you know that reds prefer hunting over fishing?" he asked aloud, trying to steer the conversation to safer grounds. Deigh's preferences were vividly clear in his mind, thanks to a quick conversation about it in his past life.

It had been enlightening, realizing how different dragons were from each other, so it made sense they would have varied tastes. Deigh preferred goats over sheep; others favored deer or sheep instead.

"As if it makes any difference. They all eat livestock," Tynan scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, that's not true. Greens prefer fish and are excellent fishers. Their morphology allows them to dive at least half their body into the water without losing flight momentum," Liam explained, keeping his gaze low. "Oranges, on the other hand, excel at hunting faster prey like deer and elk. Their narrower wingspans allow them to maneuver through forests and strike with precision."

The entire squad was paying attention now, and several dragons perked up in their spots, emitting low sounds. Since Liam wasn’t a pile of ash yet, he decided to continue.

"Browns can also fish but tend to target livestock on the plains. They strike quickly, grabbing three to six sheep in one swoop. Reds, meanwhile, prefer livestock like goats and sheep. Their broader and more robust wingspans help them capture multiple prey simultaneously," he concluded, tilting his head. They were halfway through the path again, and Liam felt a bit less tense.

"How do you know so much about them?" Sawyer asked curiously, and Liam smiled.

"I read all of Professor Kaori’s dragon manuals, cover to cover, twice. I might be a bit of a fan," he admitted with a small, embarrassed laugh, his cheeks heating for no reason. He received an amused smile from Violet.

"Look at that. You could join him as a lecturer. Kaori might like having an assistant who appreciates dragons as much as he does," Rhiannon laughed, and Liam shrugged. He knew that even if he could, he’d never be allowed to teach there, given who he was.

"He doesn’t need someone like me teaching," Liam shrugged, not particularly bothered by the fact. Violet whipped her head around so fast her neck cracked, and she wasn’t the only one—everyone except Tynan did the same.

"Someone like you? What the hell do you mean by someone like you?" Violet hissed, looking irritated as she narrowed her eyes at him. Liam shrugged again.

"Well, a marked one and the son of a disgraced colonel. Kaori would never hear the end of it if he had an assistant with this," he said, reflexively patting his relic. The others’ expressions darkened.

"That’s nonsense. If you have the knowledge, then no cadet has the right to question your lineage or history," Dylan said firmly, and Liam shrugged.

"That’s not exactly a popular opinion in Navarre," he conceded, and Tynan laughed.

"I’d throw myself off the parapet if I were forced to learn from his kind," Tynan sneered, and Rhiannon’s face hardened.

"Then do it. You’d spare us the trouble of putting up with your stupidity," she snapped, earning a heated glare from the boy.

"You should talk to him if you want to try, Liam. From what I’ve heard from my mother, there aren’t many volunteers or cadets interested in this area. Most think it’s more exciting to ride a dragon than to learn about them," Violet encouraged as they neared the final stretch.

"He probably won’t accept," Liam pointed out, and Violet scoffed.

"That doesn’t stop you from trying. Come on, if I made it this far, then you can convince a professor to take you on as an assistant," she laughed lightly. Liam raised an eyebrow at her, ready to tease how distorted her comparison was.

But the words died on his tongue when a warm breath fell over them. Liam looked up slightly, shocked to see—for the second time that day—a dragon stepping out of the line. But this time, it wasn’t just one; it was two.

They were a pair of greens Liam didn’t recognize, lowering their heads enough for their eyes to align with Violet’s. She was petrified. Clearly, they had sensed something in her—perhaps her scent, judging by their sniffing—and for a moment, Liam worried it might be because of the blood.

But then he wondered if it could be something similar to what had drawn the brown dragon’s attention to him. Violet remained completely still, allowing the two dragons to get within inches of her without moving a single muscle.

His bond with Deigh pulsed stronger for a moment before the dragon’s voice sounded in his mind.

“They’re curious, but their motivations differ from the dragon that came for you, Brave Heart,” Deigh informed him calmly.

Violet lowered her gaze then, seemingly piecing together what was happening. Of course she would. Violet’s mind had always been sharp, connecting dots with ease thanks to her training for the Scribe Quadrant. Liam shouldn’t have been surprised, but he couldn’t help envying her ability a little—it would be immensely useful for him.

“You could still learn, you know. Speed isn’t everything when it comes to sharp perception,” Deigh grumbled, sending a wave of encouragement. Liam’s eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to catch any detail he might have missed.

His squad was frozen in place. Rhiannon and Dylan stared at the green dragons with apprehension, clearly debating whether they should intervene. Ridoc and Sawyer seemed outright paralyzed for the second time that day, and Liam pitied the emotional rollercoaster this presentation had become.

Tynan, on the other hand, looked indifferent—almost amused. Liam dismissed him as soon as he registered his position. Then his gaze returned to Violet.

Her right palm was cut, and the bandage was soaked with blood. But the dragons weren’t looking at her arms; their attention was fixed on her torso.

Like everyone else, Violet wore the standard first-year shirt and the cadet jacket reserved for pre-Threshing. The badge with her surname gleamed over her chest on the right side.

And then there was the armor—the one her sister had given her, which had saved her life more than once in the previous timeline. The armor that hadn’t let a single blow through because it was made of scales.

Liam blinked, his thoughts coalescing in a moment of clarity.

Scales. That was it. The vest beneath Violet’s shirt was made of scales. They had belonged to Mira Sorrengail’s dragon, Teine—a green club tail.

It wasn’t Violet herself that had drawn the dragons’ attention but the scent. The smell of Teine, a dragon from the greens’ eyrie, had obviously piqued their curiosity.

Relief washed over Liam, though he wasn’t entirely calm as Violet murmured something to the pair of dragons, too low for anyone else to hear.

They stared at her, blinked, and then, with one final sniff, retreated back to their ranks. Once again, everyone was alive and out of danger.
Liam stepped closer, disregarding the two-step rule between cadets, and placed a hand on Violet’s shoulder. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide, though she seemed more relieved than frightened.

Rhiannon joined them, murmuring something and shaking her head.

“I’m going to have a heart attack because of you two,” she muttered. Liam chuckled, knowing the shortest among them would need a moment longer to recover from the ordeal.

“Things aren’t fun without a little excitement, Rhi,” he teased, and Matthias huffed, shaking her head.

“Well, let’s try to keep at least six steps away from any dragon from now on—unless it’s your bonded one,” she grumbled, her gaze landing on Violet. “What was that?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“My vest is made from my sister’s dragon’s scales. They caught the scent,” Violet explained, glancing between them. Liam shrugged while Rhiannon smiled faintly. “Don’t tell anyone,” Violet pleaded, lowering her voice further.

“I won’t,” Matthias promised.

“As if I were a gossip,” Liam joked, nudging her shoulder gently to avoid causing pain. Violet’s posture relaxed a little, and she offered him a small smile.

The line began moving again, everyone eager to finish the path and put the day’s adventures behind them. They passed back out of the valley, where Nyra stood scanning the squad with a raised eyebrow.

“One dead, Pryor,” Liam told her. The leader could have figured it out herself, but perhaps it would make things easier for her.
Nyra shot him a quick look, her lips quirking upward as she nodded and dismissed the squad.

“I’ll see you all at Threshing,” she said.

She would see them, Liam was sure. His squad would bond. All of them.

-*-

The days between the presentation and Threshing were always a source of tension and anxiety for first-year cadets. The certainty many had maintained throughout their time at Basgiath began to crumble as the reality of bonding loomed closer.

Liam, however, was blissfully free from that anxiety—a perk of traveling back in time already bonded to a dragon. Still, he could feel it emanating from his squadmates.

He spent the first day distracting himself with his carvings. Liam had taken a break from them to focus on surviving the past few months but was glad to return to them now with less weight on his shoulders.

The first carving he made was, of course, Andarna. Liam had never managed to give the little feather-tail carving to Violet in the previous timeline, but he would this time. Then he followed the order of dragons he’d seen in the valley during the presentation, though the details of their upper bodies weren’t entirely accurate.

Now, on the second day, Liam decided that maybe—just maybe—he could take Violet’s advice about approaching Kaori.
He knew his chances well enough to bet on rejection. Liam was more than accustomed to hearing “no” to anything he asked for, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if it happened again now. But he decided to take the risk anyway.

There were no classes for first-years on the day before Threshing. It made no sense to keep them in a classroom when their attention wouldn’t be on the lessons.

For the upper years, however, the day proceeded as usual. That meant Liam knew where to find Professor Kaori.
He left the fortress shortly after lunch, knowing the third-years had flight maneuver classes with Kaori next. The plan was to catch him alone before the older riders arrived.

The path was familiar—almost enough to let his mind wander—but Liam decided it was better to stay alert and consider the best way to approach the professor.

He could start with questions about dragonkind, but that might disqualify him as a candidate for assistantship since he’d need to know about dragons to teach about them.

Or he could lead with a curiosity. Liam felt more confident discussing reds, so perhaps he could mention some habits he’d read about.

Then there were the books themselves. He could start by talking about one of Kaori’s manuals—people often liked discussing their creations, and it could serve as a good segue into the topic.

“Or you could just ask outright instead of stalling. The dragon observer has a class to teach,” Deigh grumbled sleepily in his mind. Liam shrugged, deciding the dragon was right—it was better to be straightforward.

Kaori was already on the flight field, as Liam had guessed, with his proud red tailsword dragon sitting behind him. The third-years’ dragons hadn’t arrived yet, so it was just Liam, Kaori, and the professor’s dragon on the entire field.

The professor turned toward him, clearly alerted by his dragon, looking only mildly surprised to see an unbonded first-year cadet there.
Liam approached to a respectful distance—close enough to speak with the professor without shouting, but far enough to avoid offending his dragon. Liam had no desire to anger a red dragon—or any dragon, for that matter.

“Cadet Mairi,” the professor greeted seriously, and Liam nodded in acknowledgment.

“Professor Kaori, I’d like to speak with you, if possible,” Liam said, keeping his gaze steady on the professor’s brown eyes, though the red aura surrounding him tempted Liam to delve into Deigh’s memories.

“Very well. I have a few minutes before the flight lesson begins, so we can talk now,” the professor agreed, stepping away from his dragon to stand closer to Liam. Relief washed over Liam at the man’s willingness, though he mentally shrugged—it wasn’t as though rejection was likely at this point. “Let me guess: you’d like a refresher on how to approach one of the dragons?” Kaori sounded knowing, as if this had happened many times despite the instructions to learn exclusively during class.

“I appreciate it, but no, not exactly,” Liam shook his head, feeling a little nervous. Deigh sent a wave of exasperation through their bond, urging him to get on with it. “I’ve memorized those procedures, actually. From the lessons and also… I read your manuals on dragons,” he admitted quickly.

Kaori’s expression shifted to genuine surprise, clearly not expecting a cadet to have taken the time to read manuals about dragons, let alone all of them.

“You’ve read them? How many?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“All of them, actually. At least, the ones available to the public,” Liam replied, shifting his right foot against the ground—a familiar nervous tic. “Some of them more than once, I admit. I just wanted to know… if I bond, of course, would you… maybe, if you needed one, consider my name as a volunteer for your assistant?” The words tumbled out, his normally confident posture crumbling under the professor’s intense gaze.

Kaori blinked once, his dragon emitting a sound that resembled a laugh, before the professor visibly recovered and crossed his arms.

“You want to be my assistant?” he asked, and Liam nodded quickly.

“If you need one, obviously,” he added anxiously, feeling a small surge of confidence since it wasn’t an immediate no. “And if I bond,” he continued. Kaori didn’t need to know that Liam was already bonded—everyone would find out the next day anyway.

The professor considered his words in silence for a few moments. In the background, the sound of wings flapping grew louder. Liam turned his head just enough to see the third-years’ dragons arriving and landing on the field. He quickly returned his attention to Kaori, not wanting to risk offending any of the dragons.

Kaori gave a quick laugh, shaking his head as he straightened his shoulders and nodded.

“Alright, here’s the deal, cadet. You know I can’t accept you as my assistant until you bond—it might not happen, after all. But I’ll admit, there aren’t many volunteers for this position,” he commented, a hint of indignation in his tone. Liam nodded, fully aware of this fact. “So here’s what I’ll say: after the threshing, if you bond, I’ll administer a test. If you pass, I’ll accept you as my assistant,” he declared.
Liam blinked, utterly shocked. He’d done it. While it wasn’t a guarantee, it was far more than he’d expected—a chance was all he could ask for, and he’d gotten it.

A bright smile spread across his face, excitement surging through him. He worked to contain it, keeping his tone steady and professional as he replied, “That’s great. Thank you, professor.”

Kaori nodded in acknowledgment. “Good. Now, you should go. The third-years’ lesson is about to start, and you have other things to focus on at the moment,” the professor said, and Liam agreed, heading back toward the fortress.

As he walked, his gaze met Xaden’s. The Riorson was arriving at the flight field with Garrick and Nyra, their expressions suggesting a serious discussion. But when Xaden’s eyes landed on Liam, confusion flickered across his face.

Liam offered him a grin, too satisfied with his accomplishment to worry about explanations. He gave a quick wave in Xaden’s direction before jogging toward the fortress, eager to rejoin his squad on the field.

Let the threshing begin.

Chapter Text

Ghriam was the nickname Xaden used for him when they were alone. In the common tongue, it meant sunshine. The older one said it was because Liam brightened his days and made him better.

Liam called him Treór, which translated to Guide, because he would follow Xaden wherever he went without hesitation. Xaden was the only leader Liam would ever recognize, and his orders were the only ones Liam would obey.

-*-

Xaden left for Basgiath, and Liam was alone again in that godforsaken place called Tirvainne. At least this time, it was a familiar godforsaken place, and he didn’t have trouble with nightmares.

Liam worried about the older boy—whether he would survive, whether he’d be alone, or if any dragon would choose him.

But this was Xaden. If anyone could make it, it was him. Liam poured his frustrations into training instead.

-*-

Liam sprinted across the parapet, and the look of exasperation on Xaden’s face was hilarious. Later, he’d think about how reckless it had been to do that. He had practiced too much and knew he needed to put on a show; otherwise, he’d be seen as weak. Marked ones couldn’t afford to be weak, especially those who were the children of the rebellion’s leaders.

Liam heard people asking if he was a Mairi, like Colonel Mairi, more in the last three hours than in the past five years, and it was already irritating him.

It didn’t matter much. He had three months to prove his worth and bond with a dragon—or die trying. Liam would show he was worth it; he wouldn’t be the first to fail at bonding a dragon.

-*-

"Only one year left," Xaden murmured. They had climbed onto the roof on a particularly dark night at Basgiath. It had been no more than three weeks since Liam became a cadet, and so far, everything was going relatively well.

"For what?" Liam asked, confused.

"For you to get Sloane back—your last family," Xaden teased, as if Liam was the odd one for not remembering. But Liam could only look at him like he was the stupid one.

"You’re my family too. You’ll be Sloane’s family as well once she meets you," he huffed. This time, Xaden turned to look at him. "You’re my older brother, Xaden. Nothing will ever change that," Liam smiled, turning his gaze back to the stars.

It was so quiet that Liam almost believed he could hear the creek at the bottom of the valley. Unlikely, but a nice thought nonetheless.

"Thank you, Liam."

"It’s okay. You know I love you, Treór."

Silence.

"I love you too, Ghriam."

-*-

October 1st was always Threshing Day.

The day when cadets who survived the parapet, the challenges, the daily grind of Basgiath, the Gauntlet, and the presentation had the chance to bond with a dragon.

It was the day cadets became riders—or piles of ash or unbonded failures. It was also the most anticipated day for all first-years.

It felt familiar, every detail playing out exactly as it had in Liam’s previous life—from breakfast to the events of the day. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel slightly calmer.

But not much, because Liam was still nervous as they were led to the Threshing Grounds. There were no divisions that day; all the cadets entered together. It was one of the few days when no rules applied, except that older riders couldn’t intervene.

Squads meant nothing, the Codex meant nothing. All that mattered on Threshing Day was you, the dragons, and your competitors for the bonds.

Kaori stood at the front of the freshman squad. The older riders were scattered across the campus, likely enjoying the day off or curious about the new bonds. Kaori maintained a stoic expression as he surveyed the anxious faces before him. One hundred and forty-seven cadets were entering the Threshing Grounds that year, and only one hundred and one dragons were willing to bond.

"Remember to listen here," Kaori tapped his chest to emphasize his point. "If a dragon has already chosen you, they’ll be calling—" another tap to his chest—"so pay attention not just to your surroundings but to your feelings. Follow them," he instructed, scanning the group again. Liam bumped shoulders with Ridoc, knowing his friend had already felt a connection with the brown dragon he knew to be Aotrom.

"And if your feelings tell you to go in the other direction… listen to that too," Kaori added.

The group murmured amongst themselves, a mix of excitement and apprehension. Some cadets looked more nervous than others, clearly unsure of what the next minutes would bring.

"You have a better chance alone than in groups. It’s your choice, but be aware that the odds are higher you’ll be incinerated than bonded," Kaori warned a cadet in the middle of the group. "The scribes did the statistics. You’re better off alone," he said seriously.

Liam scanned the field, his eyes stopping on Tynan, who was flanking Oren Seifert along with another cadet from the Third Wing. Loyalty between squads meant nothing that day, and the concept was entirely lost on Tynan. But honestly, Liam didn’t like seeing him act like someone else’s lackey—especially Oren’s.

"What if we’re not chosen?" a man with short brown beard asked from a few rows ahead.

"If you’re not chosen by nightfall, there’s a process," Kaori explained. "You’ll be presented by a professor or senior leadership, so don’t give up and think we forgot about you." He checked his pocket watch. "Remember to spread out and use every inch of this valley to your advantage. It’s nine o’clock, which means they’ll be flying in any minute. My final words to you are good luck." He wished them well before heading up the hill and disappearing into the treeline, leaving them in the clearing.

Cadets scattered in all directions, vanishing to seek out their dragons. Liam watched them go, turning one last time to his squad.

He’d see them in a few hours, riding dragons if everything went as it should. But he still took a moment to calm his nerves.

"See you soon. Don’t die," Rhiannon hugged Violet before throwing herself at Liam. He hesitated but returned the embrace appreciatively.

"We won’t," he promised with a smile. Ridoc grinned brightly, while Dylan nodded, looking intimidated but determined.

Sawyer was probably the most taciturn among them, and Liam felt for him. He’d been through this once before and hadn’t succeeded, so it was understandable that there was more weight on Sawyer than the rest of them.

Liam stepped forward, placing a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. The older cadet turned to look at him, and Liam gave him his most reassuring look.

"We’ll all be fine. In a few hours, we’ll be on the flight field with our dragons," Liam said, meeting Sawyer’s gaze. The Henrick blinked before relaxing and nodding with a small smile.

"All of us," he promised. Liam stepped back, feeling a small pang in his chest before nodding.

Their squad split with one final look, each seeking success and fulfilling their promises.

"All right, now come find me, Brave Heart ," Deigh called him in a much softer tone than usual.

"I’m coming," Liam replied, disappearing into the trees.

-*-

Liam knew he was being followed, not because he could see the cadets trailing him, but because he could hear them. The forest floor where he was moving was littered with branches, and he had heard several of them snapping under the weight of someone who wasn’t him.

Although he had expected something like this might happen, Liam had hoped his pursuers would at least be more careful, but apparently, he was wrong.

It had been at least two hours since the start of the Threshing, and the sky was already filled with multicolored bodies as dragons found riders worthy of them and took to the skies to test them.

Deigh was guiding him with a firm and solid pull on his chest, drawing him deeper into the Threshing valley. Since then, he had been moving at a light jog—fast enough to close the distance at a comfortable pace but not so fast as to drain his energy unnecessarily.

This proved to be a great idea, considering there were cadets following him. It was hard to tell exactly how many, but Liam wasn’t afraid and was fully determined to win the fight if it came to that.

“She will, but not yet. Keep going,” Deigh informed him, sounding tired. Liam huffed at him, increasing his pace slightly to try to reach wherever the dragon was leading him faster.

His attention momentarily wavered when he saw a massive black shadow flying overhead at full speed—one he knew all too well, which caused half his tension to dissipate.

If Tairn was flying, then the chances of Violet having bonded or being about to do so were very high. He allowed himself a small smile before shaking his head and focusing on his own situation.

He leapt over a cluster of roots. Despite the bright sun, everything was dark due to the dense canopy, but Liam was far too accustomed to navigating dark areas to care at that moment.

There was a mountain ahead, and Liam was almost at its base—close enough for the terrain to start sloping upward, though not enough to be steep or cause any trouble.

His trajectory had been a straight line toward the northwest of the Threshing valley, a path that apparently wasn’t very popular, as Liam had only encountered ten other candidates in the area—a number that was definitely uncommon.

The dragons didn’t seem to like the area much either. Liam passed three of them—a brown, an orange, and a red—but kept his distance far enough to only receive snorts of disinterest from them.

The area was remote enough to make Liam think they didn’t want to be found, which made sense in hindsight. Just because a dragon was willing to bond didn’t mean they thought there was a candidate worthy of them.

This was part of the reason why, despite the number of dragons willing at the start of the year, the number of bonded riders was always much lower.

As far as Liam knew, there hadn’t been a year in history where the bonding rate between dragons and humans reached one hundred percent, and it had only been getting worse recently.

With the number of dragons willing to bond decreasing and the annual bonding rates plummeting, the outlook for the fight against the Venin wasn’t promising.

Especially considering that many of those riders never even graduated.

“Enough thoughts. You’ve gone far enough,” Deigh decreed, the bond between them vibrating more vividly than ever before. “You need to deal with the competition first. You’ll continue once you’ve handled your pursuers,” he informed, and Liam huffed, feeling a muscle twitch lightly in his cheek.

But he did stop, letting his body skid a few meters until he came to a halt with his back pressed firmly against a tree to secure his rear. The sound of hurried footsteps grew louder as the pursuing group closed in on him.

Liam kept his posture alert but not overly tense, trying to project a false sense of indifference.

The pursuing group—large, even by cowardly standards, with six individuals—joined him in the small clearing, spreading out to form a semicircle in front of him.

The one in the middle, clearly the leader, wore a smug smile as if he were about to receive a great gift. He took a small step forward—it was the boy from the Third Wing who had been with Tynan and Oren earlier that day. Liam hissed in irritation at the sight.

Liam wasn’t foolish enough to focus all his attention on the boy, though, and kept his eyes moving between all six cadets.

“Well, looks like you finally got tired, huh, Mairi?” the boy taunted. Liam narrowed his eyes at the boy’s stupidity, as it seemed he couldn’t recognize this as a strategic stop. Liam wasn’t even close to being out of breath.

In fact, his body was regulating itself back to optimal levels, and Liam was certain his stance was absolutely steady and sharp.

“Is that what you think?” he mocked softly, his gaze darting to the leftmost cadet when they stepped to the side. Liam shifted his body more securely against the tree for assurance.

“It’s a shame we’re meeting under these circumstances. You seem like the kind of person who’d have such a bright future, but then there’s this,” the disdainful gaze focused on his left arm, the relic of the rebellion that Liam had never bothered to hide and never would, as he wasn’t ashamed of it.

It would be a funny day indeed when someone came up with an insult to throw at him that didn’t involve his status as a marked one or his parents. But today wasn’t that day, and Liam could only scoff at the boy’s lack of creativity.

“A bit bitter about it, apparently,” Liam derided, keeping his tone soft and indifferent, almost as if they were chatting about the weather in a random Basgiath hallway.

He had learned early on from Xaden that sometimes it was better to let people think they didn’t affect you. It would irritate them, throw them off balance, and make them more prone to mistakes. At best, it might even discourage them from continuing their attack.

“I wouldn’t be so bitter if you weren’t such a filthy traitor. Your kind struts through the halls as if you deserve the honor of serving in Navarre’s elite, stealing dragons that should belong to real warriors of our kingdom,” the boy spat, his face pale with rage. Liam scoffed, letting out a cynical laugh.

"As if any of us owned a dragon or could even think of forcing them to accept us," he hissed inwardly. The semicircle was slowly closing in on him, though as he’d expected, they couldn’t fully surround him.

It was ironic how people were so convinced of their own importance that they thought others’ decisions revolved around their existence. Liam thought it far more likely that a dragon would eat them than bond with them—especially in a group. The thought made him chuckle silently as he scanned the six advancing students again.

“You clearly don’t know much about dragons if you think we stole any of them. Kaori must be really disappointed in the intelligence of some of his students,” Liam remarked, letting out another laugh. He hoped the act would irritate the stupid boy in front of him even more.

His hands reached for two of the daggers at his belt, his feet shifting into a solid stance as he observed the group’s movements.

The boy, whose name seemed to be Jiah, turned purple with rage, taking a step forward, grinding his teeth, and cursing, looking ready to lunge at Liam at any second.

“You little—”

“Don’t, Jiah. Can’t you see that irritating you is exactly what the traitor wants?” a girl to his right said loudly. Liam didn’t recognize her entirely, though her figure wasn’t completely unfamiliar.

Jiah paused, then took a deep breath, regaining his former arrogance. Liam rolled his eyes before refocusing.

“You’re not stupid, obviously. That’s why we need to get rid of you,” Jiah announced, sounding as if he regretted it. He clearly didn’t, and Liam only gave him a skeptical look.

“You can try, but I doubt a coward like you could beat me in a fight,” he said in a bored tone, his best imitation of Xaden’s signature “I don’t care” attitude.

"Stay firm," Deigh advised suddenly, and Liam grunted in agreement through the bond.

“Who are you calling a coward?” Jiah growled, narrowing his eyes in fury. Raising an eyebrow, Liam gave him a slow, taunting smile.

“Obviously you. I don’t see any other Jiahs around here,” he mocked, his familiar combat stance settling over him like second nature as the fight drew closer.

“I’ll kill you, you filthy traitor, and then we’ll see who the coward is!” Jiah roared furiously. The entire group stepped forward as Liam gripped his daggers tightly, bracing himself.

“It doesn’t matter if I win or lose this fight. The truth remains the same and won’t change,” he taunted, his voice mocking. “You’ll always be the coward between the two of us. Look around— you need five lackeys just to feel confident facing me alone. There’s no courage in you, Jiah, only opportunistic bravado.”

Liam held the other boy’s gaze firmly until he saw the unrestrained rage flare in his eyes.

Liam was ready when the boy lunged forward, delivering a clumsy, unskilled strike that met his solid defense. Liam let the boy’s blade slide against his own, spinning to create some distance before lunging with his left-hand dagger.

Jiah’s eyes widened as he felt the blade slice into the left side of his abdomen. He jumped back, staring at the blood on his body, the ground, and Liam’s dagger in disbelief. Liam rolled his eyes, returning to his previous defensive stance just in time to block the attack of another boy from the right.

This one had more brute strength than Jiah, and Liam decided he couldn’t go head-to-head with him for long. Using a similar feint to the one he’d used on Jiah, he gained some space—only to have to dive and roll away when a girl on the left lunged at him.

The movement cost him his secure position, leaving nothing behind him but empty space.

The circle closed in the next second, drawing a curse from him. Liam focused, waiting for the girl to make her move. She came at him with a diagonal slash, which Liam blocked, shoving her back hard enough to make her stumble a step.

The boy seized the opening to attack, but Liam spun on the ball of his left foot, slashing the boy’s throat in a swift, decisive motion.

“Luke!” a girl screamed as the large body crumpled, utterly and undeniably lifeless. Liam should have felt more guilty, but this was a risk they all assumed by entering here.“You filthy traitor! I’ll kill you!” the girl seethed, breaking from the circle with a wild series of attacks. Liam dodged some, using the gaps in her poor technique to maneuver away from her blows, while others he blocked with his blades.

“What was he to you? A friend? A fling? Maybe a boyfriend?” Liam murmured to her, half-curious and half-determined to provoke her further.

“You worm, I’m going to kill you” she growled, pushing her sword against his two crossed daggers. Liam glanced sideways, catching sight of a boy approaching stealthily.

“You’ve already said that” he reminded her softly. “I think he was your boyfriend based on your reaction. It’s a shame. Didn’t anyone tell you this quadrant isn’t a place for relationships?” he asked cynically, shoving the girl backward while keeping an eye on the not-so-stealthy attacker preparing his strike in the corner of his vision.

“It’s none of your business, traitor” she roared, trying to regain the ground she’d lost, but Liam was stronger than her, so it was all in vain.

“Maybe it is if you and your cowardly little boyfriend were trying to kill me. But, well… it looks like neither of you will succeed” he taunted before yanking the girl to redirect her attack suddenly, just as the stealthy one moved to stab him.

Liam watched as anger gave way to shock on their faces when the short sword pierced the girl’s body. He didn’t wait to see their shock fade, darting forward and slicing the stunned boy’s jugular.
 

Circling the clearing, Liam observed the remaining trio—Jiah, clutching his bleeding wound, and two others who looked increasingly less confident about their ability to take him on.
 

“Come on, don’t just stand there. Kill him!” Jiah shouted, though he didn’t move himself. The two boys clearly feared their leader because, despite their obvious terror, they advanced together.

Liam panted, spinning to evade the near-simultaneous attacks from the duo. He couldn’t attack anyone, constantly forced to pivot and move his weapons to block or dodge.
 

He rammed his elbow into one’s stomach during a brief opening, causing the boy to stumble backward, then momentarily turned to face the other. Slamming his dagger against the other boy’s, Liam tried to force him back, but they were evenly matched in strength. Seeing no advantage, Liam aimed a strike at his opponent’s kidney instead.
 

He never got the chance when the sharp sound of a blade slicing through the air reached him.

Liam turned suddenly, cursing himself for forgetting about the second boy.

The next thing he felt was agonizing pain on the right side of his face, right where his eye was. Liam staggered back, letting out a cry of pain as his hand flew to clutch the injured area.
 

His dagger clattered to the ground with a sharp sound, and his face felt like it was on fire. 

Every sense was overwhelmed by the sensation of something warm and wet spreading over his fingers and down his face.
 

Liam pressed harder against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding before abruptly pulling his hand away. He tried to open his right eye, though the action tripled the pain.

His vision was blurry on the injured side, but still present, so Liam admitted that, by some luck, the cut hadn’t damaged his eyeball.
 

The duo was advancing again, taking advantage of his weakened state caused by the injury to try landing a more serious blow. But Liam ended it for them, throwing himself suddenly at the bigger boy and knocking him to the ground. His impaired vision made it difficult to tell exactly where his strikes landed.
 

It didn’t matter, though, because Liam hit him enough times for the boy to join the other three corpses.

Jiah looked pale from what Liam could see, and though he shouted encouragements to the remaining girl, he himself was retreating.
 

He reached the trees and then bolted, disappearing from sight. Just as Liam had said, a coward.

The girl now looked terrified, being the only one left. Liam rose again, the dark forest at his back, and drew another dagger from its sheath, readying himself for a fight.
 

His face still burned and throbbed from the wound, and Liam felt like his balance was rapidly deteriorating. But he wouldn’t surrender, even if he ended up trapped in that clearing indefinitely by his own weakness. Liam would win the fight.

“You’ve done well, Brave Heart. Now step aside,” Deigh’s voice suddenly thundered in his head. It wasn’t the restrained tone from before but a booming voice hammering in his mind, just as it had been the last time he’d heard it.

The girl, who had been pale, now turned a sickly shade of green as her gaze shifted from Liam to something directly behind him.

His face burned, and Liam was feeling dizzier than before, with more blood pouring from his wound. Still, he made the effort to turn and see what the cadet was looking at.

A dragon—it was Deigh. The familiar spines made him recognize him quickly. Deigh blinked his golden eyes at them both, though his gaze held nothing but rage for the girl and amusement for him.

But that wasn’t what made Liam freeze, blinking his good eye at Deigh.

No, it was the fact that Deigh, once a proud red dagger tail, was now a massive and deadly blue dagger tail. The dark ocean-blue scales were identical to Sgaeyl’s, except for the lighter tones at the edges, which contrasted against the rest of his scales.

Liam felt frozen, shocked, as his mind registered what he was seeing. Was this what Malek meant when he spoke of modifications? Changing a dragon’s species? Or was there more he had missed? Was this really Deigh, or was Liam losing his mind?

A deep, baritone laugh echoed in his mind, the familiar sound dispelling the last question because it was undoubtedly Deigh.

“It’s me,” Deigh confirmed with a proud rumble. “And you’re right. I’m no longer a red, though I still classify myself as proud. Many things have changed, and my species is just the first of them,” he explained, shaking his massive head. His eyes left Liam and fixed on the girl, who was retreating slowly.

A growl rumbled through his body, the sound making the cadet shudder as a whimper escaped her. Liam might have found it a bit pathetic if he weren’t so focused on processing what was happening.

She hadn’t been whimpering when she had five companions backing her murderous escapade, and Liam couldn’t feel sorry for her even if he wanted to.

“I’ll explain everything later. For now, you need to step aside, ” Deigh insisted again, his snout lowering closer. Liam stumbled to the side, clearing the way for the dragon.

The massive blue head advanced. With every meter Deigh moved forward, the girl under his scrutiny took a step back. Liam watched as Deigh stopped mere inches from her, baring all his sharp teeth. Another growl rumbled from his body before his mouth opened wide, and a jet of fire engulfed the girl.

Her scream of agony echoed through the clearing, and the scent of sulfur and burning flesh filled the air almost uncomfortably. Liam didn’t look away, watching almost without blinking until the flames completely died out, determined to witness and pay the only tribute the girl would receive now.

“May your soul be entrusted to Malek,” he murmured. Then his body shivered as a cold shock seemed to run down his spine. It passed as quickly as it came, and Liam had to focus on other matters.

“You… you’ve been here this whole time?” Liam asked, slightly stunned. The dragon snorted, releasing a puff of smoke.

“ I have, but it’s not my duty to intervene in this fight, and you are fully capable,” Deigh replied, shaking his head again before stretching his body. He was massive, certainly even larger than he had been in Liam’s previous life. “Now climb up because we need to be seen putting on a show,” he instructed.

Liam discovered that his impaired vision made it much harder to judge distances and locate objects. This became evident when he accidentally hit Deigh's paw slightly too far to the right and took an extra second to start climbing, which resulted in a minor collision with the dragon's limb.

Still, Liam managed to make it work. He was grateful for the year of practice that had turned mounting a dragon into almost second nature. He climbed diagonally up Deigh's shoulder, hoisting himself onto the spot between the dragon's shoulder blades, right over his spine.

He pressed his thighs against Deigh's scales to secure himself, gripping the dragon's spikes tightly to ensure he wouldn't slip. Then Deigh unfurled his massive wings and took off.

They shot into the sky at an incredible speed. The wind whipped against Liam’s body, causing him to slide back a few inches before tightening his grip on the spikes and squeezing his legs more firmly against the dragon’s scales. Deigh’s tail swayed in their wake, the daggered tip whistling sharply as it sliced through the air with force.

They ascended until they were level with the clouds, the flight evening out briefly, giving Liam a moment to catch the breath he had left behind during the takeoff. He looked around in awe, the miles of plains stretched out far below him. From this height, everything seemed smaller, and the ground felt so far away. There were also several dragons on the ground, clearly searching for riders who might be worthy.

“You’d better hold on tight. We’re about to put on a show,” Deigh announced, his tone almost smug with his own plan.

Liam groaned, deciding that whatever was about to happen couldn’t possibly bode well for him.

His fingers tightened around the spikes until his knuckles turned white from the pressure. Deigh spiraled downward, folding his wings and diving almost vertically toward the mountains below. The movement knocked the air from Liam’s lungs, and though his stomach churned slightly, he felt an unexpected thrill. The familiar rush that always came with flying returned, filling him with a sense of exhilaration.

The wind tore through his hair, almost painfully violent, but it also enveloped his body in a strangely invigorating way. It was as if he was always meant to be up here. Perhaps that was why he had felt so out of place on the ground and among the other quadrants.

They were close to crashing when Deigh adjusted his body, leveling out to glide for a moment. Liam fought to control his breathing and hold on tighter. His legs were slipping, and he pressed them harder against the dragon to ensure he wouldn’t fall.

They climbed again in an uneven ascent, the sensation of not being able to breathe returning, along with the slightly painful tugging at his scalp from the force of the wind. Yet even the second time, the experience was absolutely incredible, the furious winds wrapping around him as they soared high above the ground.

Unlike before, Deigh didn’t immediately drop into another steep dive when they reached altitude again. Instead, the dragon began a dizzying series of rolls and half-turns that sent Liam’s body careening from side to side. Then, abruptly, the dragon returned to a parallel flight path, gliding over the valley. His massive blue wings flapped almost lazily, maintaining a steady speed as they moved forward.

Deigh’s wings moved with a deliberate, almost resigned rhythm as they approached the flight field. This was part of the tradition: bond with a dragon, climb onto its back, hold on during the flight to the field, and then announce the dragon’s name for proper record-keeping.

Liam felt himself relax, the tension of months of anxiety melting away like snow under the sun. It was incredible how, even with a guaranteed bond, he had still felt as though a massive weight was pressing down on him.

But now, everything was okay. He had his partner back, he was a rider, and he was about to potentially become an assistant professor at Basgiath. Things were going well, and so far, Liam had been surprisingly successful in his mission.

Still, Deigh seemed more than a little wary, and Liam supposed it was too soon to celebrate any of those things.

They passed the walls that separated the threshing valley from the rest of Basgiath's territory. Liam could already see the flight field, teeming with multicolored bodies of various sizes. The largest of them was undoubtedly Tairn, stretched out in all his black-scaled glory.

Deigh let out a low rumble, turning his head to look at Liam. There was a hint of resignation in his gaze.

“There’s something you should know now. I’ll explain the rest later. In this world, my story is different from the one it was last time,” Deigh began, shaking his neck. “The most important thing is that in this universe, there’s another type of bond between dragons, aside from the one between mated pairs, of course. We call it the fraternal bond, and it’s equivalent to the bond between human siblings,” Deigh explained.

Liam blinked in surprise.

Clearly, he understood about fraternal bonds—Liam shared one with Xaden and with Sloane, although he only shared blood with the latter. What Liam didn’t know was how that applied to dragons.
 

“In essence, it works like mating bonds, except, of course, for the mating part. But sibling dragons are bound until the death of one, at which point the other will follow,” Deigh continued. They flew over the field, casting shadows over several dragons as they circled without descending to land just yet.
 

“Like the bond between Sgaeyl and Tairn?” Liam asked hesitantly, and the dragon let out an affirmative rumble.
 

“Exactly. The point I’m trying to make is that I have a fraternal bond,” Deigh informed him, and Liam blinked, utterly shocked.

In hindsight, he should have realized it—there was no reason for Deigh to share that information unless it was something they’d need to worry about. But Liam simply hadn’t considered it until the dragon spoke.
 

“With whom?” he asked, just as the formation of dragons opened up to make space for Deigh, landing right beside Tairn, who had his head turned toward them, his black gaze fixed on Deigh with an utterly judgmental expression.
 

“Sgaeyl,” the answer sent Liam reeling again, though the dizziness that accompanied it was due to blood loss—his facial wound was still bleeding, albeit considerably less.

Then they hit the ground, Deigh stretching his body to its full length while snapping his jaws at Tairn in a grumpy manner.
 

“You and Sgaeyl? You’re siblings? You’re bonded?” Liam knew he should control himself better; none of them needed to deal with a nervous outburst right now.
 

But things were already difficult enough without having to worry about everything a bond between dragons might entail. Connected lives were not something Liam wanted to impose on anyone.
“Yes, to all the questions,” Deigh grumbled, shaking his head. “You can deal with this later, preferably with the other two involved in this story. For now, you need to give my name to your professor—Deightamol,” he instructed, turning his head to look at Liam.

Still stunned, Liam moved to Deigh’s shoulder, descending back to the ground. His world spun slightly before stabilizing, allowing him to proceed. Everyone’s eyes were on him—Liam could feel his body heat under the scrutiny, a mix of anger and shock as the entire quadrant watched his approach.

Liam was a somewhat wild sight—his hair violently tousled, his body covered in blood that wasn’t his, splattered from the cadets he’d killed, and a not-so-visible wound on his face that had stained at least half of it with his own blood.

If not for the slight wobble in his steps, Liam might have passed as completely indifferent to any of the above, but his unsteady, slightly crooked walk due to the last item meant he couldn’t boast of being entirely unfazed.

He didn’t look anywhere but the podium where Kaori stood with a clipboard, the professor’s eyes shifting between him and his dragon, looking more surprised than judgmental.
There had been no blue dragons in the presentation, just as there had been no black dragons—but there they were.

Liam stopped two steps from the man, blinking to clear his vision a little before squaring his shoulders with as much pride as he could muster. The professor cleared his throat, shaking his head and jotting down something on the parchment.
 

“Cadet Mairi, what is the name of the dragon who chose you?” Kaori’s voice projected across the silent field, the judgmental gazes from the other team members and command making Liam feel uncomfortable.
 

“Deightamol,” he announced loudly. He wouldn’t let anyone make him feel threatened or less proud—not this time, at least.

The professor’s pen scratched against the parchment as he wrote the dragon’s name, then nodded, a rare smile crossing his lips as he gestured toward the medical tent.
 

“Very well, proceed to the healers if you wish. The formation will be reassembled once the last dragon lands,” he informed, and Liam nodded, retreating back toward Deigh.
 

“What does it mean for you to be Sgaeyl’s brother?” he asked. The dragon blinked at him with a bored expression before shaking his head and letting out a huff.
 

“I said I’d answer your questions later. Right now, you need to see the healers,” Deigh cut in, shaking his head. Liam pressed his lips together, unsatisfied, but relented.

Whatever he wanted to find out would have to wait until that cut was taken care of.
 

“Leave the mark—consider it my branding,” Deigh grumbled. Liam sent a sharp look at his dragon, though he gave in as quickly as before.

The infirmary was crowded when Liam stepped through the door, healers rushing back and forth with various tools to attend to the cadets. There were injuries of almost every kind—a boy with a cut from his shoulder down to his wrist, twisted or broken limbs, and Liam even spotted someone whose legs were at least half raw from burns.

Liam decided he was quite happy with his cut—a quick touch told him it wasn’t close enough to slice his eyelid or eyeball. The blade had struck his temple just above his eyebrow, cutting straight down to the brow before losing contact with his face and continuing to the top of his cheek, where it sliced a few more centimeters.

His impaired vision was due to the blood dripping from the wound, blurring his sight and tinting it red.

Liam scanned the room for a free healer to help him—he wouldn’t interrupt anyone already attending to someone, so he’d likely have to wait, as there didn’t seem to be anyone unoccupied.

Instead, Liam stopped searching when his eyes landed on a completely familiar figure—shorter than average, hair braided into a crown with silver-tipped ends. 

Liam couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he approached the girl. Violet looked a few shades paler than usual, sitting on a cot while a healer wrapped her left arm in bandages.

The hazel eyes met Liam's blue ones, and then she widened them before a smile broke across her face, one he returned with his own.

He closed the distance with a few steps, his eyes scanning from Violet's face to her overall condition before freezing in place with surprise.

Liam knew she was injured—he hated to admit it, but she had an uncanny knack for attracting situations dangerous to her health. The bandage the healer was wrapping around her arm had already made that clear, but he’d deluded himself into thinking that was the extent of it.

Her face was covered in scratches, though they didn’t seem to be from human nails. Her right knee was bent at an unnatural angle, clearly dislocated, and her standard first-year uniform was torn in two places: one over her right shoulder blade and the other on the left side of the shirt’s front.

But the worst was her arm—the one under the healer's care. The pale skin was now red and irritated, with blisters of varying sizes spreading from her bicep to her wrist.

It was unmistakably a burn. Liam’s stomach churned with anger at the sight, his fists clenching. Violet noticed, offering him a reassuring nod and patting the cot beside her before casting a worried glance his way.

Liam remained rooted, trying to push down the wave of frustration crashing over him. This could have happened—wasn’t unprecedented, after all. Liam himself had been attacked by other cadets before, if that’s what this was. But if they hadn’t split up, if Liam had stayed with Sorrengail, this might not have happened.

Cadets hesitated more around him—not that he was bragging. It was just a fact, earned through his string of victories. He wouldn’t pick a fight with someone undefeated without good reason either. Violet wouldn’t have had to get hurt so badly or face whatever this was alone.

“She needed to. You wouldn’t have found me if you’d stayed with the girl, and you’re not here to coddle her. You’re here to prepare her,” Deigh growled in his mind, sending a wave of frustration through him. “The girl had to prove herself worthy of being a rider, and she did. Now stop the sentimentality and go heal yourself,” the dragon continued before retreating into silence.

The reprimand left a bitter taste in Liam’s mouth, but he still moved to the cot, sitting down with a low sigh of relief.

The action eased the worst of the dizziness and made his fatigued muscles stop throbbing as they had been. The healer glanced at him before nodding.

“I’ll tend to you after I finish with her,” the man informed him, and Liam nodded in agreement, unconcerned. He was in no hurry to be treated.

Liam wanted to ask a thousand questions—more than that, really. From how this had happened to who the stupid bastard responsible was. But he found it hard to demand answers when Violet looked so genuinely happy and shocked.

“I did it, Liam,” she murmured, an astonished smile lighting up her face. It wasn’t joy or even triumph, as was typical for the newly bonded, but disbelief that laced her words.

Liam felt himself soften at that. This was another thing he had been struggling to accept—that the certainty of events belonged only to him.

It belonged only to him because Liam had been the only one to see it happen before.

“You did, Vi,” he agreed with a soft smile, and a laugh escaped the girl in response.

“I’m a rider, Liam. A real one, like my brothers and my mother,” she sighed, seeming even more surprised with each word. “And you, too—you bonded, didn’t you?” Her questioning eyes turned to Liam, who smiled wider and nodded.

“I did. We both did, Tolet,” he assured her, and another laugh escaped the girl—this time filled with relief and satisfaction—before she grew serious again, and Liam suspected she was gathering courage.

“Do you want to tell me what caused all this?” he suggested gently, his curiosity burning deep as he watched her consider in silence.

“Not now, Liam. I’m fine enough, and besides, it’s what gave me the chance to become a rider,” she argued decisively, shaking her head.

The healer finished wrapping her arm with a final complicated knot before stepping away briefly and returning.

“Apply this ointment to the scratches on your face and back. As for the burns, come to the infirmary twice a day, and one of us will redo the dressing,” the man—who didn’t seem like an apprentice and must have been in the quadrant for at least a few years—explained to Violet, who nodded, clutching the jar.

Then the healer pulled his cart closer to Liam, quickly assessing his body, clearly searching for injuries and sources of bleeding. His eyes finally focused solely on Liam’s face before nodding, grabbing clean bandages, and soaking them in warm water.

“This is your only injury?” he asked, clearly confirming his assessment. Liam grunted in affirmation.

“The rest of the blood isn’t mine,” he informed. If the man was disturbed by Liam almost admitting he’d killed or gravely injured someone else, he didn’t show it, merely nodding and pushing Liam’s unruly hair away from the injured area to press the damp bandage against the wound.

The burning pain spread like fire across the facial region with the pressure applied, and Liam had to summon all his self-control not to flinch and let the man do his work.

A hand gripped his in support, and Liam struggled to open his good eye to see Violet. She had a sympathetic look, clearly knowing the kind of pain he was experiencing—or worse, considering burns had a way of hurting thirty times more.

It took three full bandages to clean all the blood and scabbing from the wound before the healer stepped back to reassess the situation.

“Can you open your right eye? I need to make sure the eyeball wasn’t punctured,” he requested, and Liam grumbled, forcing his eyelid apart. His vision was still slightly blurry, though much better than before, which could only be a good sign. The man nodded.

“Alright, I can call Nolon in a few minutes to heal this for you. No scar will remain,” the healer said.

Liam shook his head before the man could finish speaking, giving him a sheepish smile.

“It’s a scar from my dragon. If you could just stitch and bandage it, I’d be grateful,” Liam asked slowly.

The man blinked, now looking decidedly surprised, before nodding and shrugging, clearly used to the eccentricities of the riders’ quadrant.

“Your dragon did this?” Violet asked in surprise, and Liam chuckled, shrugging.

“Not exactly. He didn’t make the cut, but he claimed it because he was going to mark me anyway,” Liam explained, flashing a quick smile at the girl.

“‘You can say I claimed him because it demonstrates his bravery and courage in facing challenges,’” Deigh grumbled before letting out a rumble. “‘It’s not a lie,’” he added, and Liam sent him a quick wave of appreciation.

“He says he decided to claim the cut because it shows my courage in battle,” Liam explained, shivering as he watched the healer approach with a needle, thread, and alcohol.

He hadn’t realized how painful it would be to have his face stitched while awake. He had experienced it once before in his previous life when a pair of bitter cadets ambushed him at night and managed to stab him in the arm.

Liam hadn’t gone to the infirmary when it happened; instead, he turned to the older marked ones. Garrick and Bodhi helped him, with the former stitching up his injured arm as best as he could.

He’d passed out before the second stitch was complete, but the sensation of the thread pulling through his skin and the needle breaking through his flesh had never left him.

Being back in a situation like that was not what Liam wanted for himself at that moment.

The infirmary tent door opened, just enough for Garrick to slip through before it closed again. The squad leader was clearly looking for something, his brown eyes scanning the nearby cadets with purpose. Occasionally, his expression tightened at the sight of the injuries he encountered.

The tent had grown even more crowded since Liam first entered. Clearly, the unbonded cadets were returning or had been retrieved, and most of them were injured.

Liam flinched as another bandage made contact with his eye, hissing in pain as it caused the wound to throb agonizingly. Violet tightened her grip on his hand, and Liam realized he was still holding hers. His previously gentle grasp was now strong enough to hurt.

He forced his fingers to loosen, releasing Violet’s hand, but she only tightened her own grip around his palm.

“It’s okay. You can hold my hand if you want,” she assured him softly. Liam pressed his lips together.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I really won’t be able to control my strength with this,” Liam muttered, wincing as he watched the needle inch closer to his face before looking away, unwilling to see it happen. Violet just shook her head and smiled.

“It’s okay,” she repeated. Liam looked at her again before hesitantly closing his hand around hers once more, keeping his grip as light as possible.

His plan fell apart quickly when the healer began the first stitch. Liam felt his entire body tense as the pain of the needle piercing the skin of his temple registered.

He was reduced to this. Despite doing his best to keep the area being stitched as still as possible—knowing how much worse it could get—there were moments when his muscles spasmed from the constant tension caused by the pain.

The movement caused the thread to pull at the sensitive area, and at other times, the needle pricked places it shouldn’t have.

Still, his body remained stable enough not to hinder the stitching of the cut, both above and below his eye. Liam honestly hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

It was only a hand on his shoulder that convinced him to open his eyes. He had missed so much while they were closed. Then a voice sounded, comforting.

“It’s done. You can relax now,” it said, the hand remaining firm on his shoulder throughout the time Liam needed to calm his frayed nerves and endure the discomfort in the stitched area.

It was Garrick. Liam had forgotten that he’d been searching for someone in the infirmary before the stitching began, but the squad leader now stood firmly beside the right side of the cot, maintaining a relaxed posture.

Liam observed him for a moment before accepting his advice, letting his muscles finally relax. This sent a strange wave of exhaustion through his body, along with some muscular discomfort.

The last time Liam had allowed himself to relax this much had been before the Gauntlet, during those days when he wasn’t so tense about whether any of them would make it.

But all of that was close to ending now, and Liam didn’t need to worry so much anymore.

He turned his head to look at Violet as she moved, her eyes analyzing Garrick as though weighing the pros and cons of leaving them alone.

Liam smiled at Violet, slowly releasing her hand before moving to stand.

His body swayed a little as it adjusted to bearing his weight again, but Liam felt at least three times better than when he’d entered the infirmary.

“We need to go, I suppose,” Liam said, looking at Garrick for confirmation. The third-year nodded, his posture becoming more formal, though he regarded Violet with surprising softness.

The Sorrengail met his gaze before relaxing her own posture and nodding in agreement.

“All bonded cadets need to join the formation in a few minutes. Codagh is already on his way,” Garrick informed them, stepping aside to give them space as Liam and Violet moved toward the infirmary tent’s exit.

They stepped out into the flight field, and Liam had to keep his eyes closed as the sudden brightness hit his retinas uncomfortably.

There were even more dragons this time as Liam observed the field, their green, brown, orange, or red bodies gleaming in the sun that was beginning to set. Yet none of them were as breathtakingly large or unique as the two dragons sitting squarely in the center of the area.

Deigh was enormous in this life, his head only two lengths away from Tairn’s instead of the five it had been before. His deep blue color made him stand out effortlessly among the sea of bodies surrounding him. His eyes, however, were fixed on Tairn, his massive teeth bared as he was clearly growling something at the enormous black dragon.

Tairn was impressive in his own right, stretched out to his full size. He was undoubtedly the source of much of the shock Liam saw on the faces of the cadets around them. He also seemed more than a little irritated with the blue dragon.

“He judges me for choosing a rider without leaving Sgaeyl, and he’s well aware of it,” Deigh grumbled irritably in his mind. “So, I reminded him that he also didn’t inform anyone he’d be bonding this year and that his arrogant backside isn’t special enough to monopolize positional changes,” he continued, releasing a long plume of smoke.

Liam didn’t have much time to ponder this as his eyes briefly caught the golden figure of Andarna. She was sitting between Tairn’s front paws, watching the two ancient dragons’ argument with what appeared to be amusement. Then, a commotion arose on the podium where the instructors and commanders stood, and Professor Kaori’s voice rang out across the field.

“Riders, take your positions with your dragons!” he shouted. The field was a chaotic mess of people celebrating and laughing in the wake of the day’s success.

Liam followed alongside Violet, offering a playful grin when she inevitably realized which dragon he had bonded with. Letting out a sarcastic huff, she gave him a light punch on the arm.

He moved forward until he stood in front of Deigh’s left foreleg. A burst of warm air hit him, soothing his aching body and making Liam smile slightly.

“It could have been worse,” Liam offered to his dragon, who let out a rumble in reply.

“You downplay your pains, but your resilience is, in some ways, admirable,” Deigh grumbled. His head lifted to look toward the valley’s entrance, and a wave of tension surged through their bond. “Codagh is here,” he warned.

Just in time, Liam caught sight of the massive black swordtail entering the valley, his body so large that it was all that could be seen from their current position. The reptilian golden eyes scanned each dragon on the field before settling on Tairn, accompanied by a series of guttural growls.

The morningstar tail responded with his own roar, raising his claws and stepping forward to block Violet from Codagh’s gaze. Behind him, Deigh appeared much tenser than his posture let on. His emotions burned with frustration and tension, and his dagger-like tail repeatedly slapped its flat side against the ground.

Liam watched as the dragons reached an apparent stalemate before Melgreen’s dragon let out a roar, spread his wings, and took off. Dragons across the field followed, leaving their riders looking confused.

Liam understood what was happening—this had occurred the last time. Deigh let out a weary rumble, lowering his snout to nudge Liam.

“Keep an eye on Sorrengail and find the Wingleader,” Deigh instructed, nodding toward the line of unbonded dragons. “They’ll come after—”

“Violet, I know. That’s the whole reason I became her bodyguard. You don’t need to remind me,” Liam said, rolling his eyes. Deigh responded with a growl and sent a spike of annoyance through their bond.

“After you, Brave Heart. They’ll come after you,” Deigh said mercilessly, causing Liam to glance at him, a bit stunned. The blue dragon’s scales shimmered as he delivered his chilling resolution. “From this day forward, you are the second target of the unbonded. You’re right to think they’ll go after the silver-haired girl first because of Tairn, but you bonded with a blue dragon—and not just any blue dragon. So don’t delude yourself into thinking she’s the only one in danger. Now, find the Wingleader,” he growled, his gaze unwavering until Liam nodded in acknowledgment.

Liam watched as Deigh spread his wings and leaped into the air, following the other dragons. Turning back, Liam saw Tairn staring at him. He froze momentarily, unsure whether he should break eye contact, but Tairn simply snorted. Then, to Liam’s absolute shock, a deep voice sounded in his mind.

“Take care of her, Sunlit,” the gruff voice commanded. Liam blinked, utterly stunned that he could hear Tairn, and nodded in agreement, still reeling from the experience.

The massive black dragon took off, followed by Andarna. Both flew toward the distant cliffs where the dragons gathered, likely to discuss the fact that Violet had bonded with two dragons.

“Two dragons, huh?” Liam teased as he approached the girl, who huffed in response.

“A blue one, huh?” she retorted before her expression turned serious again. “Tairn says I should stay close to you and…find Xaden,” she added with a mix of hesitation and frustration.

Liam placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Deigh told me the same. Besides, as long as I’m around, my brother won’t be as inclined to pull any stunts,” he offered as they moved to escape the thick of the crowd.

Scanning the gathering, Liam quickly spotted Xaden leaning against a corner, half-shrouded in his own shadows. His jaw was tight, his eyes radiated frustration, and his brow was furrowed deeply.

“Or not,” Liam muttered under his breath, sighing as he continued forward.

May the gods help him—Liam was about to be caught in the middle of Violet and Xaden’s conflict.

Sometimes, Liam was so tired of his friends’ and family’s dramas. Perhaps he’d take a permanent vacation once his mission was complete.

He probably deserved it.

Chapter Text

Liam looked at a visibly defeated Xaden, slumped in the simple chair Liam had managed to put together with scraps of wood. He was very grateful for his woodworking skills because of that. Xaden had shown up in the middle of the night, knocking on his door, barely offering a greeting before sitting down, and they had remained in silence until that moment.

Something really bad had happened, but despite his urge to demand answers from Xaden, Liam let him stew in his thoughts while he searched for the bottle of tequila he had brought at the beginning of the year, which was still half full. The older man didn’t need another person—or anything else—demanding things from him, and Liam knew Xaden well enough to understand that if he hadn’t spoken yet, it was because he needed time.

Riorson grabbed the bottle when Liam placed it in front of him, taking a long swig before slumping back into the chair and sending him a grateful look. Liam just shrugged, climbing onto his small first-year bed and settling in to wait.

“How are you?” The question caught him by surprise, and Liam shot Xaden a confused look at his sudden curiosity. “I haven’t been able to pay enough attention to you with all the problems that keep coming up. I just want to make sure you're okay,” Xaden explained slowly, and Liam shook his head reassuringly.

“I’m fine, Xaden. We both know there are more important things to do than keeping an eye on first-years,” Liam said with a sideways smile that made Xaden shake his head.

“Maybe, but I should find time to check on you now and then. Has any Unbonded come after you?” Liam shook his head before the question was even fully asked. He hadn’t been bothered by them so far, and he figured his growing streak of victories was probably discouraging them from trying.

“No, they haven’t,” he assured, and Xaden nodded, letting out a long, tired sigh as he set the bottle back on the table.

They remained in silence for a while longer. Liam had never been a quiet person and usually got restless when things stayed silent for too long, but it wasn’t like that with Xaden. Being still and silent was just natural and comforting.

“Unbonded broke into Violet Sorrengail’s room tonight.” Xaden finally dropped the bomb, and Liam turned his head to look at him, immediately processing the implications of what could have happened.

The girl could have died. Liam had seen enough to know she couldn’t defend herself alone. And with her, her dragon would have been lost. Sgaeyl. And by extension, Xaden would have died too.

Everything— the rebellion, the Marked, his brother— could have ended in a single night, and no one would have realized it until morning or only when it was far too late.

All because Sorrengail couldn’t defend herself yet.

That brought another realization to Liam— the real reason why Xaden had come to him when he had more experienced people to deal with these issues. Why else would it be, if not to ask him to protect the girl?

Who else could do it? Liam was in the same year as her, and he was no lightweight in any sense.

Liam saw Xaden take a breath, obviously about to ask for his help.

“I can do it, Xaden. I can protect the girl if that’s what you want me to do.” Liam didn’t care that she was the daughter of the woman who had killed his parents. First, because he didn’t believe children should pay for their parents’ mistakes, and second, because no grudge would stop him from helping where it was needed.

The older man looked at him, seeming surprised, before letting out a short laugh and shaking his head.

“I should have known you’d figure out where I was going before I even said it. I’d be worried about you being a mind reader.” He joked, and though it would have doomed him to a cruel fate, Liam still chuckled at the comment. “I don’t want to force you into this, Liam. I can find another way.” Xaden’s tone was serious again, and Liam scoffed.

“When have you ever forced me into anything? I’m doing it.” He teased, but Xaden only clenched his jaw.

“I forced you to come to this godforsaken place. I won’t make you take on even more weight to protect the daughter of the woman who killed all our parents.”

Liam let the older man’s words sink in for a few seconds, a weight settling on his shoulders with his thoughts. They had never really talked deeply about life before the apostasy, except when it came to those still alive or in passing mentions.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the bed and running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You… there was no other option for me, Xaden, in any scenario.” He said softly, drawing the older man’s confused gaze. Liam sighed, letting his shoulders drop. “Because of the deal with the general or not, without our parents’ deaths, I still would have ended up in the Riders Quadrant.” He admitted, pressing his lips together— for many reasons, but mainly because it hadn’t been entirely his choice.

“You would have chosen this?” Xaden asked, keeping his tone light. His gaze told Liam that he understood this was a difficult subject. Lately, what about their parents wasn’t?

“Maybe. I don’t know. I gave up on having a choice long before the apostasy, knowing I’d end up here.” Liam laughed without humor. He liked protecting people and wanted to fight for what was right, but sometimes he wished that decision had come from within, not from external forces. “My parents decided I should join the quadrant when I was old enough, at least a few years before the apostasy,” he revealed, shivering as the mention of both made the pain of loss feel just a little sharper.

Xaden observed him in silence for a while, those golden-onyx eyes staring so deeply it felt like he could see into his soul before the older man took a deep breath and straightened up.

“Are you okay with that?” The words were barely more than a murmur, and Liam smiled at Riorson.

“I am— with my parents and with you, Xaden,” he promised. “You don’t have to worry about overburdening me, Xaden. I want to help, and I won’t stand by and watch your life be put at risk because Sorrengail can’t defend herself yet.” Liam assured, determined, and he saw the tension in Xaden’s muscles ease.

“If you say so.” Still, he chose to tease before standing up. “Tomorrow morning, I’m moving you to Dain Aetos’ squad. Be careful with him, Mairi.” Xaden warned, and Liam could only nod.

“Yes, sir,” Liam mocked lightly, tilting his head at Riorson, who snorted and made an indecent gesture before heading to the door.

He opened it but stopped, turning his head to throw over his shoulder.

“Thank you, Ghriam.”

“As you command, Tréor.”

-*-

Violet’s POV:

Violet had been wandering through the valley for at least an hour, the sun rising higher in the sky, and more dragons emerging from the ground. She could see the patches of different colors filling the once light blue background as they tested their new riders in flight.

She had encountered at least six dragons of different species during her time there—orange, green, brown—but hadn’t felt a single connection with any of them.

Violet hadn’t entered the area with a dragon’s call like Rhi and Ridoc, but she also didn’t feel any negative sensation warning her away. In a way, she figured she would probably wander aimlessly until the threshing period was over.

At least, she considered tiredly, she wasn’t the only one who had entered blindly. As far as she knew, Sawyer, Dylan, and Liam also hadn’t felt any connection with a dragon during the presentation.

It was actually surprising to hear that from Mairi the night before. Liam had been in a good mood ever since Kaori agreed to test him as an assistant. Violet found it truly sad that Liam was so convinced he would be rejected simply because of who he was, especially when the boy had so many good qualities.

But that was another topic, and the shock of the moment had been the fact that Liam felt nothing toward any dragon—not even the brown one that nudged him during the presentation and seemed absolutely curious about him.

It was a little pathetic that Violet felt more relieved than worried for him. She realized that she felt calmer knowing she wasn’t the only one who had left that walk uncertain. It gave her a glimmer of hope that she might have a chance.

If the strongest cadet of their year—though it hadn’t been officially declared, it was an unspoken truth—wasn’t absolutely sure of a bond, then maybe Violet had a chance of getting one too.

However, that didn’t make it any easier to be there alone, without any sense of direction or connection.

Violet headed east toward the cliffs. Her knee joints were starting to ache, but it was just background noise at this point—she was used to the pain.

She had woken up earlier to wrap her most fragile joints more securely. Violet didn’t need sprains or dislocations right now, so she preferred to be cautious. The muscle training she had done so far had also helped significantly in preventing those episodes.

Her body was still a problematic mess, but at least it was a manageable problematic mess, and Violet was satisfied enough with that for now.

Making it to the threshing had been surprising. Despite her determination, she had almost been convinced she wouldn’t make it through the challenges or the gauntlet. Sometimes, she thought the dragons would burn her during the presentation simply for being so small and obviously fragile. But she had made it through all of that—against all odds.

No one had ever believed she would. Not Mira, who had looked at her as if sending her to her death, seemingly certain she would become an only child. Not her mother, who had probably sent her there to die, to rid herself of the disgrace attached to her last name.

And Violet knew that if her father and Brennan were alive now, they too would have considered her a walking corpse.

She had long accepted the reality that all she could ever be was a scribe and that physical training was completely out of the question.

But then she entered the quadrant and met her squad. They were the first people to look at her and believe that Violet could be a rider too.

Violet looked at herself and saw a lost cause. Her squad looked at her and saw an equal—a part of them.

That was what gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, a small part of her was meant to be a rider—even if it was too insignificant to attract a dragon.

It was in the way their eyes always shone with simple recognition.

It was in the way Rhiannon helped her wrap her ankles before a fight without complaint, while discussing the kind of technique she wanted to teach Violet, never caring that a real rider wouldn’t need bandages on a normal day.

It was in the way Ridoc always greeted her with jokes when their squad left the dormitory—most of them still half-asleep except for Liam, who was always on watch—laughing and lifting her spirits even on the bad days.

It was in the way Sawyer patiently advised her about future challenges—ones he had already faced once before, persevering despite being rejected the previous year—and in the way he had been kind from the moment they met.

It was in the way Dylan supported her as the only one who deeply understood what it felt like to lack the physical strength and skill to have a guaranteed passage through the quadrant, in the way he pushed forward despite everything about him being labeled as wrong.

And most of all, it was in the way Liam looked at her and truly saw her—not the daughter of the general who had killed his parents, not a dead weight—but her, Violet Sorrengail, the girl who fought for the little control she had, the girl who had been forced to be there, just like him.

It was in the way he looked at her and understood her struggles—not pointing them out as failures or burdens, but observing and finding ways to help without hesitation.

Liam Mairi was the one who accepted her as she was and treated her as his equal, even though Violet knew she truly wasn’t.

Not when he shone with the image of a true rider while she still resembled a scribe. Not when his sharp eyes were always analyzing people, searching for weaknesses or ill intentions. Not with the way his fighting ability seemed to come naturally to him—the posture, the grace of his movements.

Liam Mairi was made to be a rider in a way Violet had never seen before, not even in her siblings or her mother.

The dragons probably agreed, judging by the amount of curious—rather than threatening—looks he had received. And Violet hadn’t even mentioned the incident with the feathered tail and the brown dragon two days ago.

Her squad had made her feel like she belonged in the quadrant, and that was something she was deeply grateful for.

Violet flinched when a loud growl suddenly interrupted her thoughts. She frantically looked around, searching for the dragon that had made the sound. She cursed herself—she should have been paying more attention to her surroundings instead of getting lost in her own mind.

The cliffs were a few meters to her left, stretching hundreds of meters in a sheer drop to the valley below. To her right, the last stretch of the western forest extended, and straight ahead was the field surrounding the precipice.

There was no dragon near enough to make her think the growl had been directed at her, but it had been so loud that it definitely felt like it had been.

Violet kept searching frantically—she really wanted to know where the dragon was so she wouldn’t accidentally run into it.

Her eyes suddenly locked onto a flash of gold, followed by a much larger orange figure. Violet blinked, trying to make out more details. It was obviously the feather-tailed dragon from the presentation.

It was too far for her to see all the details, but she saw it running toward the cliffs. Violet frowned in confusion—until she saw the massive orange body charging after the smaller one.

The pursuing dragon was at least six times the size of the smaller one, closing the distance alarmingly fast. And with horror, Violet realized that its intentions were probably not friendly.

She had never heard of dragons hunting other dragons—though she had read about cases where dragons chased unworthy cadets.

But this… this looked like predation. And the idea made her stomach churn because it was absolutely absurd.

Her legs moved without permission. She sprinted across the field, unable to tear her eyes away from the golden body skidding to a stop at the cliff’s edge.

Violet was too far away. Even though she was probably running faster than she ever had before, she was far enough that she was almost certain she wouldn’t make it in time.

The orange dragon skidded to a stop, its scorpiontail coiling behind it like a snake ready to strike as its jaws snapped in the air.

There was someone on its back, Violet realized with nausea, a spark of rage twisting inside her at the thought that a cadet would allow such a thing. Her feet pushed harder, her breath ragged from the effort as she let out a curse.

She was only a few meters away when the enormous orange mouth opened wide, revealing a glow of fire deep in the dragon's throat. Violet swore, skidding to grab a rock along the way. Screw common sense—there was no way that dragon was burning the feather-tail in front of her if she could stop it.

Violet hurled the stone with all her strength, her arm swinging back before launching it straight at the orange dragon’s snout. She followed its trajectory with her eyes, watching as it struck exactly where she intended, forcing the dragon’s head to jerk sideways and send the stream of fire meters away from the feather-tail.

The smaller dragon let out a trill, its body shifting a few steps to the opposite side of the flames before turning its golden eyes toward her. Violet took advantage of the momentary distraction, closing the remaining distance and positioning herself between the feather-tail and the orange dragon.

Furious golden eyes bore into her soul, but Violet refused to look away. Any dragon that thought killing another was acceptable did not deserve an ounce of her respect.

"Get down here! I know there's someone on that dragon—you feel real brave up there, don’t you?" Violet shouted. The dragon growled, as if scolding her.

Then, a figure emerged over the dragon's shoulder, and Violet watched in a mix of shock and fury as Oren Seifert’s large, muscular, and arrogant form dismounted from the orange dragon’s back.

His blue eyes gleamed with manic satisfaction as he stepped away from the dragon’s foot. Why the hell this bastard had managed to bond was a mystery to Violet, but he had, and he clearly reveled in it.

He moved with confident ease, a smirk curling his lips, laced with unmistakable cruelty.

"Look who showed up. Are you planning to bond with this one? It suits you," he mocked with a laugh, and Violet narrowed her eyes, irritated. "The two weakest links in this quadrant. I'll get rid of you first, then I'll finish it off so no one makes our quadrant look weak."

He scoffed, unsheathing his sword and lazily pointing it at Violet.

"Killing a dragon goes against everything we believe in," she snapped, pulling two daggers from their sheaths and shifting into a more solid stance.

"Keep your body low. Your height may not be an advantage, but knowing your weaknesses and how to counter them is what makes an average warrior exceptional."

Liam’s words echoed in her mind, his blue eyes surprisingly gentle as he dodged her strikes and guided her into new combat stances.

Mairi had taught her so much over the past few months, and that training had been the only thing keeping her afloat on the sparring mat.

She analyzed Oren’s open stance. He was at least half a head shorter than Sawyer and Liam, though still taller than Ridoc and Dylan. He exuded absolute confidence in his skills and was clearly accustomed to attacks aimed at his shoulders, ribs, and torso.

"Letting something as weak as that live goes against everything we believe in," Oren retorted, swinging his sword toward her.

"I won’t let you touch her," Violet said firmly, and Oren laughed, clearly amused as if the very thought of her fighting him was ridiculous.

Violet felt her blood boil. She shouldn’t have, since it was a well-known fact that everyone in the quadrant underestimated her, but she was sick of being belittled for simply existing—just for being different.

"I'm going to kill you and then kill her. The quadrant will thank me," Oren declared before lunging forward in a downward slash.

Violet could have tried to block the strike with her daggers, but he obviously had more brute strength than she did, making that useless.

So instead, she ducked low and slipped under his raised arms, entering his space before he could complete his strike.

Violet slashed her daggers at his unprotected stomach—the first blade slicing across his left side while the second plunged just above his hip bone.

Oren let out a pained cry, leaping back. His eyes filled with the same shock she remembered seeing in Tynan's when she not only dodged his attacks but defeated him.

Oren took the dagger embedded in his hip with him, and though Violet was frustrated to lose it, she resigned herself to drawing another. Hopefully, he would pull it out and drop it, which was the most likely course of action for idiots like him.

"You bitch," he snarled, and Violet arched a brow, unimpressed.

"Such an original insult. Do you have anything better?" she taunted, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to check on the feather-tail.

The dragon was still there, watching her with curiosity.

It blinked at her, seeming… moved? Violet shook her head.

"This would be a great time for you to use your wings and get out of here," she told the dragon.

It blinked again before letting out a trill and sitting down, utterly unconcerned.

Violet sighed in frustration before turning her focus back to the bigger issue in front of her.

Oren was pale now, his previous arrogance gone. Her dagger was no longer in his body, just as she expected, and it now lay discarded on the ground.

She smiled at his faltering confidence. Oren no longer seemed so sure of his easy victory over her, and Violet was immensely proud of that achievement.

Then, a deep growl rumbled through the air, and Violet realized she had forgotten about Oren’s bonded dragon.

She had completely dismissed the fact that the massive orange beast was only two steps away.

Her head snapped up just in time to see furious golden eyes and a maw full of teeth widening before her.

Her body locked in terror as the orange dragon’s mouth gaped open, flames building in its throat.

Violet couldn’t accept that she would die like this—because of a coward and his idiotic dragon.

But she didn’t look away. She refused to give the dragon the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

Violet was stubborn to a fault. That seemed to come with the Sorrengail name, and she wouldn’t change that just because of some stupid fear.

She held her head high, staring down the orange dragon with furious defiance.

It was almost laughable how this dragon was so ready to kill one of its own over a foolish human—or maybe it was simply a foolish dragon.

The fire surged forward, and in a split second of clarity, Violet threw herself to the side, avoiding the brunt of the flames.

She wasn’t fast enough to avoid all of it, though, and a scream of pain tore from her throat as fire engulfed her left arm.

The fabric of her uniform sleeve vanished, either melted by the heat or incinerated entirely—it didn’t matter.

She fought the instinct to clutch at the burn, knowing her dirt-covered hands would only make it worse.

Instead, she turned her head to assess the damage. Her stomach churned at the sight—her normally pale skin now an angry red, with blisters rapidly forming and growing.

Another growl sounded, and Violet rolled to the side, ignoring the sharp sting as the rough ground scraped against her unburned skin and sent searing agony through her injured arm.

But the pain saved her.

Another blast of fire struck where she had been lying just a second earlier.

Frantic with fear, Violet scrambled to her feet, searching for Oren.

He was back on his dragon, his previous arrogance returning now that he was safe and had a fire-breathing beast at his side.

"Coward. You’re a fucking coward, Seifert!" she shouted, stepping back as the dragon slammed its tail into the ground.

Violet had no idea how she was still dodging the strikes of a dragon, but she was immensely grateful that she was.

"Get down here and fight me like a man!" she yelled again, stepping back further as the dragon’s tail struck again.

A trill made her freeze.

Then she realized—her boot sole was half-suspended over the edge of the cliff.

Violet realized in terror that the whole time, the dragon had been trying to corner her against the edge. Her heart pounded in her chest as the orange dragon once again opened its mouth, fire accumulating in its throat. This was the end. She was going to die because of a stupid coward, and she wasn’t even just talking about Oren.

Somewhat resigned, she squared her shoulders in defiance. She would not show fear. And, in any case, she had made it this far.

"Jump." A deep, masculine voice suddenly echoed in her mind, almost making her jump in place on the ledge. Violet blinked in absolute confusion because there was no way she would voluntarily jump off a cliff. "You can jump, or you can be burned alive, Silver One." The voice spoke again, teasingly, and Violet might have felt offended if the decision hadn’t been taken from her when the orange dragon released its fire.

Violet cursed as she threw herself backward, the flames exploding exactly where she had been just seconds before. She didn’t scream, even though fear coursed through every inch of her body.

She fell for what must have been dozens of meters before, suddenly, her body was grabbed and her descent abruptly halted. Her shoulder screamed in pain as it dislocated, and Violet was almost certain her knee suffered the same fate.

She cried out in pain, her eyes darting to whatever had caught her, but all she could see was a sea of coal-black scales.

They ascended higher and higher until, at last, Violet was dropped onto solid ground at the cliff’s edge. Her limbs failed to support her, and she tumbled across the dirt, gasping at the pain that lanced through her wounds. Then, she looked up at her rescuer.

Shock settled in as she found herself staring at a terrifying Black Morningstartail, one of the largest dragons Violet had ever seen, towering above her like an unscalable mountain.

Its underbelly was covered in rock-hard scales, and its long, razor-sharp claws dug into the earth. Its scales were larger and thicker than Violet’s hand. A series of jagged spines rippled down most of its neck like a mane, each one looking sharp enough to skewer a soldier from meters away.

She recognized this dragon. How could she not? She had heard about it through her brother’s countless letters, in which he practically boasted about being best friends with the dragon’s rider. And, of course, they had studied this very dragon in Dragonkind.

Violet felt something between shock and awe as the massive black dragon landed above her, pinning her between its two front legs before snapping its teeth at the orange dragon, which seemed to have lost all of its bravado.

A deep, guttural growl rumbled through the black dragon’s chest, the sound so menacing that it made the ground tremble beneath Violet. The orange dragon flinched, lowering its head with a pitiful whimper before turning, spreading its wings, and flying off, carrying a pale and terrified Oren, who barely managed to hold on.

He could have fallen, Violet thought with mild frustration, but she shook the thought away, focusing on her own condition instead.

She moved, gasping as her knee popped, nearly giving out. It was definitely twisted—possibly broken at worst.

Still, she dragged herself far enough away to properly look up at the massive black dragon. Its golden eyes bore into her, its height forcing her to crane her neck just to meet its gaze.

"You're bleeding. Stop that." The dragon’s voice rumbled in her mind, blinking toward the gashes on her right arm, where blood trickled down. "I did forget how eloquent you humans are." Smoke puffed from its nostrils as it shook its head.

"I'm not bleeding on purpose, you know how hard it is not to when you've just—" Violet cut herself off, realizing it was pointless. She sighed. "You know what? You're right."

She moved her left arm to grab the hem of her shirt, hissing as the motion sent a fresh wave of agony through her burnt skin. The wounded flesh sent flashes of pain through her body, like hundreds of needles piercing her at once, but she clenched her jaw and continued.

Her uniform shirt was already torn in multiple places, but she managed to rip a long enough strip of fabric from the waist and, using her teeth, tied it over the worst of the gashes on her right side.

"That’s good enough. Now, get on my back." The enormous black dragon ordered.

A golden flash peered out from between its front legs, and for a moment, Violet found herself looking at the feather tail before focusing back on the dragon.

Violet blinked at the sheer height. There was no way she could climb onto it. That dragon was probably the size of one of Basgiath’s towers, and getting onto its leg was the equivalent of climbing three gauntlets.

"I don’t care how you do it, only that you do. And don’t even think about stabbing one of your daggers into my scales like you did in your challenge." The dragon growled in her mind, baring its massive, pitch-black teeth as it repeated the warning aloud.

Violet shook her head. Climbing a dragon seemed like an impossible feat on a normal day, and with a burnt arm and an almost useless leg, it became truly impossible.

But still, she hobbled forward, prompted by the dragon’s impatient growl, until she stood at its front right leg, tilting her head up to assess how she could possibly do this.

Its scales were rougher than most materials Violet had ever tried climbing, but they offered none of the footholds she was accustomed to from trees or walls.

She tried pulling herself up, gripping the dragon’s leg as tightly as she could, only to slip right back down.

Then, a deep snarl echoed through the field, so loud that Violet felt it reverberating inside her skull.

That was it. She was going to die because she couldn’t get on the dragon that, for some reason, was giving her a chance to be a rider—or because she was too slow.

Mira would be an only child. The quadrant was right after all—she wasn’t capable of being a rider. Her mother would bury yet another child, though this time, she would mourn infinitely less than she had the first.

But none of that ever happened. She wasn’t incinerated or devoured by the massive black dragon. Instead, the moment the growl ceased, the dragon inclined its enormous body forward, shifting its shoulder just enough so that its leg was no longer a vertical climb but a steep, yet manageable, ramp.

A steep ramp—but one that was doable.

Dragons did not bow for anyone, not even their bonded riders.

Yet here was one of the largest dragons in the world lowering itself to help her onto its back.

She stared at it in silence for a few seconds before shaking off her conflicting thoughts. Dragons didn’t like to wait, and that was not something she wanted to add to the list of things this dragon had already done.

Violet gathered as much momentum as her injured body would allow and climbed up the black dragon’s front leg, hauling herself onto its shoulder and then up onto its back, carefully avoiding the sharp spines that jutted out along its ridged spine.

"Holy shit, I’m on a dragon’s back." Violet finally acknowledged, more than a little stunned.

"You are. Now sit." The dragon’s gruff voice commanded, making Violet shuffle a few paces across its back.

Her eyes found the smooth leather plate where riders made their seat—the only area of a dragon’s body not covered in sharp, lethal spines.

Then she stopped and looked over the dragon’s shoulder at the small golden dragon, which seemed even smaller from this height and in comparison to the massive black one.

“I can’t leave him here. What if Oren and his dragon come back?” she asked the dragon. A great huff left the black beast’s body as if in response to her question, and then the golden wings spread wide, and the little one took flight.

Well, that could have been very useful about ten minutes ago. Violet shook her head before turning her attention back to the present. What mattered was that, despite all the setbacks, everything had worked out.

Violet crouched into the seat, gripping the spines that acted as pommels, the ones that emerged from the area where the neck met the body, rough enough not to injure her hands.

“My name is Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descendant of the astute Dubhmadinn lineage,” the dragon informed her as he stretched his body to its full height. Violet was now high enough that her eyes aligned with the tallest trees nearby. She took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the spines. “But I will not assume you’ll be able to remember that by the time we reach the field, so Tairn will suffice until I inevitably have to remind you.” He huffed.

Holy shit. She’d been right. This was really Tairn. Not that there had been any other massive black dragons, but still…

How had this happened?

Tairn was a legend, a full-blooded war dragon known for his ferocity. Violet was… well, not entirely weak, since after so much time in the quadrant, every part of her had grown considerably stronger, but she was definitely not the strongest.

The dragon had chosen her over so many other, far more capable names from her year. And Violet wasn’t even talking about her blonde squadmate who made everything seem second nature, though Liam definitely deserved it.

“I didn’t choose any of them. Not even the Wing Leader’s brother. I chose you, and my reasons are my own, Silver One,” Tairn growled, clearly unimpressed with her hesitation.

“Still, why me? I’m…” Violet never got to finish as the dragon’s firm, uncompromising tone cut her off.

“I know exactly who and what you are, Violet Sorrengail,” he said enigmatically before shifting his body, spreading his wings, tilting forward just slightly—then launching into the air without warning.

Violet barely had time to clutch at his body before it happened. The sensation was akin to being shot from a catapult—except a thousand times worse.

The ground fell away as if he were in freefall while Tairn beat his wings forcefully against the air, bending it to his will and climbing higher and higher into the bright blue sky, scattered with multicolored bodies, all of which veered out of the way the moment Tairn’s massive form became visible.

She couldn’t care less about any of that as she felt her body slipping backward, completely off the seat. A scream bubbled in her throat as she desperately clung to Tairn’s spines.

It worked for a few moments—apparently, months of physical training with her squad had made some difference—as Violet managed to hold on to a few spines just behind the seat, trying to drag herself back up.

It was useless. The wind was too strong, and her position did nothing to help keep her fingers locked in place. The spines slipped from her grasp, and then Violet was falling, scrambling to catch hold of any part of the massive dragon’s body.

Her fingers grazed the spines, but the sheer speed of her descent made it impossible to hold on for more than a few fleeting seconds.

Her body slid along Tairn’s spine, getting closer and closer to the enormous and deadly morningstar tail—but then the black dragon suddenly dove left, and any attempt at grabbing hold became futile because there was no more dragon to hold on to.

Violet didn’t even have time to scream before she plummeted into freefall.

The sensation consumed her entire body, terror surging through every fiber of her being. The wind became a solid wall she broke through again and again, gaining more speed.

Violet screamed. This wasn’t how she wanted to die. She didn’t want to prove the other cadets’ prejudices right.

She cursed, looking down in horror as the ground rushed up as fast as it had receded—but then talons wrapped around her body, and her fall was abruptly halted.

She blinked, momentarily dazed, before realizing she’d been caught midair by Tairn’s massive right foreclaw, his sharp, deadly talons hovering placidly around her, not piercing even a fraction of her skin. The dragon rumbled deeply—then threw her into the air.

Her stomach dropped in the opposite direction, twisting with each meter she climbed back into the sky before gravity took hold again and pulled her downward.

Only for Tairn to angle himself just beneath her, so that she landed dead center on his back, a few meters below the seat.

Frantic, she clutched at the nearest spines, not caring if they might cut into her fingers.

The dragon had caught her.

Add that to the growing list of impossible things that had happened that day.

“Get back in your seat.” It wasn’t a request, and Violet gasped, looking up at the place where she was supposed to be. It was so far away it seemed physically impossible to reach.

“Sit. And this time, stay there, or no one will believe I actually chose you,” the dragon growled as he adjusted his angle, now gliding through the air with considerably more smoothness than before.

If only Violet truly believed she had been chosen, she might care what the other cadets thought.

Still, she crawled inch by inch across Tairn’s body until she managed to settle back into position, her hands securely gripping his spines once more.

"You need to improve your leg strength," Tairn informed her in the same grumpy tone that would likely become his trademark.

Violet felt offended because she had definitely trained her legs. Ever since she learned her new pressure-point fighting style, most of her strength training had been focused on making her leg and fist movements stronger and more precise.

But she had no time to protest as Tairn maneuvered his body into a right turn, this time considerably smoother than before, and Violet decided she would rather focus on holding on.

"Use your knees and thighs. I can barely feel you back there," the dragon grumbled, and Violet squeezed her legs tighter, trying to follow his instructions. It wasn’t much, and she doubted it changed his perception of her presence on his back.

She scanned her surroundings momentarily before, suddenly, her legs were mysteriously pressed into place. It felt as if invisible bands were wrapping around her joints, keeping them immobile.

It was a sensation that sometimes hurt, but it didn’t now—though it made moving even a single inch impossible.

Violet blinked, momentarily confused, before realizing it had been the dragon. Tairn had used his power to secure her in her seat, and she hunched her shoulders slightly in embarrassment at the necessity.

She should have paid more attention during leg training—the same ones both Rhiannon and Sawyer had insisted on maintaining and had dragged Dylan along for. Liam, for the first time, had stayed out of it, despite normally being one of the first to join any physical conditioning his squad invented.

But in hindsight, Liam could afford to skip leg day now and then. No one could say he lacked strength in any part of his body. The guy was built like a damned mountain of muscle.

There was no time to dwell on her past mistakes, though. The dragon was holding her in place—probably because he didn’t want his choice to be questioned—and Violet could commit to her training after the Threshing.

"Recognition is enough for now," Tairn warned, shifting his head just enough for her to see his left eye. "Now focus. We need to put on a show," the dragon said as they flew over the mountain ridge. "You will trust me. I will not allow you to fall." It wasn’t a request; it was a firm command.

As if Violet had any room to argue, considering she couldn’t even move her thighs.

Instead, she resigned herself to whatever Tairn’s idea of a “show” was.

It wasn’t enough, Violet concluded when, suddenly, the dragon folded his wings and dove into a near-vertical drop toward the ridge. His massive body plummeted at high speed toward the rock before he snapped his wings open and spun to the side to avoid impact.

But not the fall.

The trees were less than ten meters away when Tairn unfurled his giant black wings and climbed once more. The gust of wind slammed into the trees, toppling some and making others tremble violently. But Violet paid little attention to that, feeling as if her stomach had been left behind at some point in the maneuver.

That had been faster than her brain could process, and some part of her was grateful for it. She didn’t need the terror accompanying the vertigo.

Tairn climbed again, his flight surprisingly smooth as he redirected toward the flight field on the other side of the Threshing valley.

"That was sufficient," Tairn assured her, shaking the spines along his neck.

Violet wholeheartedly agreed—she’d had enough two-hundred-meter drops for one day and would be very grateful never to experience another in her life. Unlikely, but she allowed herself a few moments of hope and focused on another question instead.

"Why did you choose me?" she attempted to ask, uncertain if she had truly spoken through the bond, but the dragon let out a tired rumble. "You see, everyone knows dragons value strength above all else, and I’m not—" Her words were abruptly cut off by the dragon’s irritated tone.

"And you would think I know what I value," he growled sarcastically before huffing. "I chose you because you defended the little one," he informed her before falling silent again.

This time, Violet didn’t attempt to interrupt.

Instead, she looked over Tairn’s shoulder toward the valley floor, where enormous dragon bodies roamed the ground, unbonded, while others had just taken to the skies with small figures clinging to their backs, cadets trying to prove themselves worthy.

Violet watched as a massive orange sword-tail launched into the sky with a small cadet on its back, its flight just as erratic as Tairn’s had been with her. She watched as the cadet failed to hold on and plummeted from the orange dragon’s back.

The dragon didn’t catch him.

Instead, she watched the distant body fall until it vanished among the trees, while the dragon descended to land once more.

Violet’s stomach twisted. That was the expected fate of anyone who couldn’t hold on—at least a hundred-meter drop. She had been the exception only because Tairn was too stubborn to accept having his choice questioned.

A red clubtail launched into the air with a roar, pulling her from her morbid thoughts. She watched with nervous anticipation as it climbed with its new rider, then twisted and dove through the sky to test them.

The cadet held on, their body locked to the scaly form beneath them with enough strength to stay in place.

Violet vaguely remembered the girl—Milla Crockford, small but skilled, from the First Squad of the Fourth Wing’s Flame Section. She had performed well in the challenges and the Gauntlet, though she definitely wasn’t among the best of their year.

Her mind drifted to her own squad—to Sawyer, Ridoc, Rhiannon, Dylan, and Liam. She hoped they had all bonded. They deserved it just as much as she did, if not more. But if they didn’t, she at least hoped they lived.

Lived, unlike the cadet who had tried to mount the orange dragon. But he wasn’t one of them—Violet hoped he wasn’t.

The landscape changed around them as the massive plain faded behind, and the flight field came into view, along with rows of dragons sitting behind their new riders.

There were more than she could count, and Violet didn’t even try, knowing there would eventually be an official tally from the scribes or command.

A chorus of celebratory roars echoed as they circled above the field, the deference dragons held for Tairn apparent. Dragons across the field turned to watch, some moving aside to make space for him to land.

At the center of the flight field.

Violet gripped the spines as tightly as she could, the pain from burns and wounds returning now that the worst of the adrenaline had worn off. Her vision blurred and darkened before she pressed her fingers into a cut, the sharper pain pushing unconsciousness away again.

"You must dismount and give my name to the roll keeper. Then you may reunite with your healers, Silver One," Tairn’s voice was firm in her mind.

The bands of power holding her in place loosened abruptly, allowing her to slide toward Tairn’s shoulder. She hesitated at the sheer drop that was his leg.

But then, as before, the dragon leaned forward, making his left leg a massive, sloped ramp—still intimidatingly large but definitely manageable.

Violet didn’t take a second look before descending, sliding down his limb. It felt like an enormous, spiny slide, and she almost laughed at the comparison.

Tairn straightened proudly while the nearby dragons grumbled. If dragons could whisper, they were doing so now.

"They do. Just ignore it," Tairn commanded with a rumble as she stepped forward.

The small golden dragon landed beside the massive black one, sitting with an air of deep satisfaction.

Violet smiled at the tiny dragon, relieved it didn’t have a single scratch.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Violet said, her voice exhausted but steady.Fully aware that her feelings were closer to deep relief at that moment, she still said, "Still, you could consider listening to the advice of someone who only wanted to help." She tilted her head toward the golden dragon, who flicked her feathered tail.

"Perhaps I was saving you," the melodic voice was considerably more pleasant in her mind than Tairn’s harsh tone, yet it sent just as much shock through her as when she had first heard the black dragon.

"You shouldn’t speak to a human who isn’t your rider, little one. Don’t get into trouble because of me," Violet murmured to the dragon before shaking her head and turning her attention back to the platform where all the professors and fortress leaders stood.

Violet searched for her mother’s gaze, hurt but unsurprised when all she saw was calculated coldness, and then she stepped forward.

"It’s him…" A murmur made her glance to the side. It came from a first-year cadet standing in front of a massive red clubtail dragon. He belonged to the Fourth Wing’s Talon Squad, but Violet was completely unable to recall his name.

"Yes, it’s him," she confirmed, straightening her posture despite the pain from her wounds and walking forward with confident steps toward the platform. Eyes shifted between her and the enormous dragon that had chosen her, and she even heard someone begin to say a name before being abruptly silenced.

"For the record, what is the name of the dragon who chose you?" the scribe called out loudly for all to hear.

"Tairneanach," she said aloud, ignoring the collective sigh of realization, as if the fact that she had arrived on the dragon’s back wasn’t proof enough to make them believe.

"Your pronunciation could use improvement," Tairn grumbled before the golden dragon’s animated, melodic voice chimed in again.

"And Andarnaurram!" she declared excitedly.

Violet froze, and the scribe’s eyes locked onto her with concern.

"Violet, are you all right? Do you need a healer?" she asked, but Violet was too confused to pay attention.

"Tairn? What should I…" He didn’t let her finish.

"Say her name for the record keeper," the dragon instructed, sounding unconcerned.

"Tolet," the scribe repeated to prompt her, and Violet turned her head, taking a breath.

"And Andarnaurram," her voice came out in a rush of air, barely above a whisper, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

The scribe’s face paled several shades.

"Both dragons?" she questioned, as if she couldn’t believe it. Violet shared the sentiment.

Bonding with even one dragon had seemed impossible. Much less with Tairn—the legend who, in theory, wasn’t supposed to bond this year. But two dragons? That was beyond comprehension.

Yet she nodded, because it had happened.

Chaos ensued.

-*-

Violet sat heavily on the cot, trying to keep pushing away the searing pain that consumed every inch of her body. Ignoring it until now had been relatively simple, with far greater things unfolding in an exorbitant sequence.

But that didn’t seem like it would make her mission any easier—not with the way her arm throbbed with every miserable beat of her heart. The sensation in the wounded area also seemed determined to replicate with precision the burning agony she had felt when the injury first occurred.

If Violet were forced to describe it, she would say her arm felt as if it had been plunged into a jar full of alcohol and then covered in thousands of ants.

She had no idea what that would actually feel like, but it was the closest comparison she could come up with.

Her skin felt itchy, yet it also burned with every slightest movement she made, and Violet hissed, thinking it wouldn’t improve even after being treated.

The pain in her dislocated knee and shoulder was something she was far too familiar with—though no less cruel each time it struck—and Violet decided she could have gone the entire day without either of them.

She glanced around, noticing for the first time the healer at her side. He stared at her, having clearly arrived only moments ago, examining her injured arm while she struggled against her own scattered thoughts.

Violet didn’t have the energy to do more than nod, exhaustion hitting her like a brick as her body finally seemed to register the full toll of its physical exertion.

Wandering aimlessly for hours, then engaging in a fight with a coward and his dragon, and finally the sheer effort it took to make it back—though she hadn’t even been the one holding on for at least half the flight.

The healer didn’t hesitate as he swiftly gathered everything he deemed necessary to treat her wounds—bandages, burn salves, and, apparently, alcohol.

He started with the welts on her right side, clearly intending to get that over with and leave the worst for last. Violet had read enough in the past to know that treating burn wounds could make patients much more volatile and sensitive to other sources of pain.

The healer obviously didn’t want to risk being unable to handle her other injuries if she had that kind of reaction.

The pain was sharp but no worse than she had expected, and in any case, Violet was already in pain all over, so she wasn’t particularly more interested in this one than in the familiar aches in her shoulder and knee.

The first sensation she actually paid any real attention to since entering the makeshift tent didn’t even come from her—it came from the new bond she shared with Tairn.

A wave of confusion, followed by frustration, then a strange burst of fury that quickly melted into grumpy irritation.

Violet didn’t know what had caused the mix of emotions, nor did she have time to question it before the real burn treatment began.

The touch felt as if it were melting her limb, and the sensation of the salve being applied to her raw nerves made her stomach churn.

She focused on that instead—on keeping her lunch in her stomach and not on the floor, if it even still existed somewhere inside her after so much time. But the concept was what mattered because something would come up if she vomited.

Violet kept her gaze fixed forward, not at her wound being treated, watching as other cadets were tended to by healers, with even more arriving through the tent’s entrance.

That was why she saw him—a particularly strong wave of burning pain that had accompanied the placement of the first bandage on her wrist disappeared instantly at the sight of the newcomer.

Violet blinked at her squadmate, who had stopped scanning the infirmary until he inevitably found her among the others, his expression lighting up with genuine happiness at the sight of her.

Liam Mairi had a truly unique way of showing his affection—completely opposite to the typical rider demeanor, yet so undeniably his that it made him infinitely better than any other.

Better in the way that he never judged or belittled them for knowing less than he did—he simply pointed out what needed improvement and helped them fix it without hesitation. Better in the way he was strict and persistent when she initially refused his combat lessons, but never forced her—only advised her with the wisdom of experience.

Liam was better than the others because he saw her as Violet, not as the weak daughter of General Sorrengail.

And Liam was at his best when he looked so genuinely happy to see her in the infirmary, when he smiled without restraint as he made his way over to her.

She couldn't hold back her own smile, though a trace of confusion flickered through her as she noticed the absurd amount of blood clinging to him.

But it wasn’t his—except for the blood on his face, which came from a vertical cut above his right eye. And Violet wasn’t surprised, because Liam was a fighting machine, and of course, someone had managed to injure him.

Even more so when she realized that both of the Tirvainne brothers now bore scars on their faces.

Violet still found it difficult to understand how those two functioned together. They were essentially opposites in a way that seemed almost impossible to work—but they did, according to Liam. And he wouldn’t have lied about that.

But Liam didn’t mention how he got his injury, and she didn’t press him—just as she didn’t want to talk about hers at that moment.

So she simply watched as the healer finished bandaging her wound, the pain still present but ignored to some extent. Then, she watched again when it was Liam’s turn to be treated.

She watched as he got stitches on his wound, his face so pale it looked like paper, yet still bravely composed as the healer worked.

That was when the section leader became visible—his imposing figure, all towering muscle, standing completely still right beside Liam’s tense body. And Violet couldn’t help but analyze him.

His gaze was fixed on her squadmate, brown eyes serious—but Violet swore she saw a glimmer of controlled concern in them as well.

He didn’t speak or look at Violet once as he observed the healer’s work, but his jaw tightened every time Liam flinched from the pain, his fists clenching at each sound the blond made. And Violet decided that was why he was here.

General Tavis had been Fen Riorson’s right hand. Violet remembered her father’s teachings from the years she still had him after the apostasy—it made sense that the son would follow in some way.

The thought should have unsettled her, children following in their parents’ footsteps, but in that moment, Violet didn’t care. Just as she hadn’t cared about Liam’s surname or his sigil on that first day.

It was the best decision she had made in the past three months. And Violet was willing to bet on that thought again.

Maybe the section leader was just making sure Liam was okay—for Xaden, who was the older brother and obviously cared more than he let on.

He had done enough to prepare Liam for everything that awaited him in this hellish place—Violet didn’t think he would change now.

Or maybe Liam had a place in his heart, too. It wasn’t impossible.

Violet watched as the wound was closed and the healer stepped away. Liam remained rigid and tense in place until the leader gripped his shoulder with firm gentleness.

Liam’s eyes opened, as if his brain had only just registered the absence of pain in the area. He blinked up at the man beside him.

Relief and a hint of grateful satisfaction crossed his face before Liam composed himself again and rose from the cot.

He understood his superior’s silent message within seconds. Violet met his gaze, relaxing her posture and nodding in quiet acceptance.

She saw the way he relaxed slightly in response and silently followed them to the entrance as they stepped back out into the bustling courtyard.

Tairn was stretched out at his full size, glaring at the dragon beside him with irritation—a massive dragon, as blue as Xaden’s Sgaeyl.

Violet blinked in shock at the sight. There weren’t supposed to be any blues bonding this year.

And then she realized—there weren’t supposed to be any blacks bonding this year either, yet she had.

Tairn and the blue dragon were clearly arguing, their growls rumbling across the field, making more than a few dragons shift uneasily away from them. And Violet felt more than a little confused as she advanced toward the pair.

Liam walked calmly beside her, completely unbothered by the irritated growls coming from the two dragons—not even by the fact that he was walking straight toward Tairn as he followed her.

Or… not, she realized suddenly.

He was heading for the blue dragon instead. And then it clicked—Liam was the cadet who had bonded with that dragon.

She shook her head, less surprised than she probably should have been. Of course Liam would bond with a dragon from the most ferocious species.

No matter how kind and gentle he was with them, Violet had seen him obliterate opponents with sheer force.

More than that, Violet had long since realized that not everyone got to see Liam’s playful, cheerful side. He was respectful and calm with everyone—but he only flashed his big, dimpled smile when he was with their squad. Only laughed until his stomach hurt at Ridoc’s antics.

Well, he was polite to most of Basgiath’s population—except for Dain Aetos, Violet corrected herself as her gaze scanned the courtyard for the squad leader.

Liam’s mood always seemed a little more sour when Dain was around, and she could have sworn she’d seen his eyes burn with silent fury in certain moments.

The Violet from three months ago would have defended Dain. She would have said that, despite being pompous and distant, Dain was a good person and that Liam had no right to hold anything against him.

The Violet from Threshing thought maybe Mairi was justified in his feelings—the way Dain had always seemed eager to diminish her, the way he acted to send her away despite how many times she refused.

Maybe Liam had his own reasons for disliking the man.

But she wasn’t about to fault him for it.

And Mairi wasn’t petty about his grudges—so there was probably something to that story.

She abandoned the thought as she positioned herself in front of Tairn and Andarna, all the cadets returning to their places with their dragons.

And then Codagh appeared—the largest dragon she had ever seen, even bigger than Tairn—and his reptilian eyes landed on her and her dragon.

Violet couldn’t imagine what was being said, but it was clearly not friendly. That much was obvious when Tairn planted his massive, clawed hand in front of her, his growls growing even more threatening.

But what truly surprised her was hearing an equally furious sound come from the blue dragon sitting beside them.

Liam was leaning on his left leg, looking uncomfortable and a few shades paler.

Codagh had killed his parents.

She remembered that, feeling a wave of nausea churn in her stomach. She could understand why he might reject the idea of standing face-to-face with the dragon.

His dragon, however, seemed nothing but confident and steadfast. His ocean-blue scales, tipped with sky blue, gleamed proudly in the sunlight, and he didn’t look away when the ancient black dragon’s gaze settled on him.

Instead, the blue dragon snapped his jaws, moving his daggered tail closer to his rider in an obvious display of defense.

The message was clear, even to her: “Don’t mess with what’s mine.”

Liam had bonded with the exact same type of dragon as his older brother, making him the second in their generation to bond with a blue.

Xaden should be proud, wherever the wing leader was at that moment.

Then, suddenly, Codagh let out a roar, spread his wings, and took off, flying away from Basgiath.

Behind him, dozens of dragons—the ones that had bonded this year and even some from older cadets—rose into the sky, following him.

A thunderous sound erupted from behind her, and a flash of blue entered her vision as Liam’s dragon also took off after the group.

The blond boy remained still, clearly waiting for her, but his gaze was fixed on his dragon, barely concealed shock on his face.

Violet felt confused, but before she could question it, Tairn spoke again.

“Stay with Deigh’s rider. He will keep you safe. And find the wing leader.” She had every intention of arguing, but a low growl stopped her. “That was not a request, Silver One.”

With that, he spread his massive wings and took off, chasing after the dragons.

Violet turned to Liam then.

He was obviously Deigh’s rider, though she hadn’t heard him say his dragon’s name before.

The boy recovered from whatever had shocked him earlier and grinned, showing all his teeth.

“Two dragons, huh?” he teased, though he only looked happy for her.

Violet smiled back.

“A blue, huh?” she shot back in the same playful tone.

Then, her amusement faded as she remembered Tairn’s order.

“Tairn says I should stay close to you and… find Xaden.”

Her tone must have revealed all of her dissatisfaction with that, because Liam’s expression softened slightly.

He obviously knew that while she wasn’t really concerned about dealing with him as Xaden’s brother, that sentiment did not extend to the wing leader himself.

“If it helps, Deigh told me the same thing,” Liam said. “And besides, as long as I’m around, my brother won’t be as inclined to pull any stunts.”

Liam looked around, clearly searching for the man in question, and his posture sagged with disappointment.

That already told Violet that whatever awaited them would not be good.

She hoped Liam could at least rein in the worst of his older brother’s recklessness.

Violet hoped she wasn’t walking straight into trouble as she followed Liam in the direction where he had clearly spotted the wing leader.

If only they had managed to get there.

Chapter Text

"You will meet people you won't like, people you think don't deserve the life they have, but Sloane, remember: what they are belongs only to them, and you must not let them change you.
Let’s be honest, your temperament is already hot enough without needing anything else.

That's just one more reason to love you."

Recovered letter from cadet Liam Mairi to Sloane Mairi.

-*-

Liam cursed under his breath, staring at where Dain Aetos was ridiculously close to Violet. At least he had the good sense to keep his hands off the girl, obviously due to Liam’s intense gaze fixed on both of them.

He should have seen this coming. It wasn’t cool, and it wasn’t anywhere near what Liam wanted to be doing at that very moment, but it was entirely predictable, and he should have realized it would happen.

Dain Aetos knew Liam didn’t like him and hated him with equal intensity, but that was good because it gave him even more reasons to stay away. Yet, the squad leader was still trapped in his stupid illusion that he could make up for what he had done to Violet.
 

He wouldn’t. It was one of the few things Liam was absolutely certain of at that moment, after so much had changed, because the idiot wasn’t even capable of realizing what he had done, much less stopping himself from doing it again.
 

But Liam wasn’t going to be the one to point it out. The sooner that friendship ended, the sooner he could get rid of Aetos—though Liam still hadn't decided whether that would be literal or figurative.
 

What mattered at that moment was that Violet seemed just as happy with the squad leader’s interruption as Liam was, which meant something because the alternative was talking to Xaden—the one person she supposedly hated the most.
 

It was a good thing, if he were honest. But feelings didn’t matter because, at the end of the day, they were still standing there while Dain put on his little scribe propaganda show as if Sorrengail hadn’t been clear about not going to the scribe quadrant.

And Violet was bonded now. What were they supposed to do with the black, sarcastic war dragon and the golden-feather-tailed one? Hide them?
 

Liam had the impression that neither of them would like the idea any more than he did when he considered it, and he certainly wouldn't be around if that idea ever reached Tairn’s ears. It was ridiculous.
 

His eyes involuntarily rolled so hard that his temple ached when Dain resumed his pathetic excuses.

“I just want to keep you safe, Vi. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Then why hadn’t Liam seen him move a muscle to train the girl on the mat when it became obvious she would get her ass kicked?
 

He hadn’t expected anything different from the rest of the squad and hadn’t been disappointed, but Aetos hadn’t even bothered to try to help his supposed best friend on a single day they were there.
 

Liam had to find a technique himself that suited her needs for her skills to start blossoming.

“It will be safer for you; you’re a scribe, Vi.”

Really? Was the girl who had passed every challenge of the quadrant a scribe? The girl who had bonded not one but two dragons a scribe?
 

She could be whatever she wanted, but nothing could deny that Violet was a rider.

“I’m trying to save you. I don’t want to bury a best friend.”

Only one of them would be burying a “best friend,” and that someone would be Violet if Dain didn’t shut his damn mouth in the next few seconds.
 

What gave him the right to belittle Violet so much? What gave him the right to decide her life for her and then villainize her for not agreeing with his hypocritical, twisted view?
 

What gave him the right to be so...

“Idiot.”

The familiar voice appeared suddenly, almost making Liam jump in place, which would have been strange because Violet hadn’t heard anyone call her friend an idiot. A truth, but still unwelcome. Liam had a slow moment as he processed what had just happened.
 

It had been Deigh, the dragon that had firmly blocked him since taking off for the meeting. Liam frowned, confused as to how he was hearing him again, until he realized that the shield keeping him blocked was in tatters.

“Like this,” Deigh mocked, sounding even more amused. Liam blinked again and cursed mentally because he should be able to do something other than stand frozen in perplexity.

Dain was talking about dragons now, something about no one ever bonding with two, and once again, Liam was rolling his eyes.

“She was the first, you hypocritical bastard. Deal with it,” he hissed in his mind. A sudden flash of amusement surfaced, followed by laughter that belonged to Deigh.

“You somehow infiltrated my shields,” Deigh agreed, a note of amusement in his tone before shifting to seriousness, his emotions passing through to Liam as if they were his own. “You were pushing your thoughts so furiously that you must have made it possible through the bond,” he explained.

Of course, it would be that idiot Aetos who would cause something like this without even realizing it. At least it was useful to have that knowledge.

“Enough of this idiot,” Liam decided, ignoring Deigh’s observation.

Dain rambled about how Andarna would be a better choice—did he want Violet to choose between the dragons?—and Liam simply couldn’t hold back.

“The dragons’ decision cannot be questioned. Tairn and Andarna chose Violet as their rider, and it is up to them and Violet to decide what to do,” Liam took a threatening step forward.

He appreciated how, for a moment, Aetos’ bravado wavered. He was still at least half a head taller than the squad leader in front of him, and that obviously intimidated him.

“They will make her choose, the command…” Dain insisted, regaining his courage.

“Humans don’t dictate rules to dragons. I’ve read the known bond codes, and nowhere is there a note that prevents two dragons from bonding with the same cadet. It simply has never happened before.” Liam shrugged. That wasn’t entirely a lie. There had been a moment during his stay in Tirvainne when his punishment for breaking a Lindell rule was having to read specific manuals for three whole hours.
 

That was just one of the books Liam read, and except for Professor Kaori’s dragon manuals, it was one of the only ones he still remembered to this day.

“You have no way…” Dain tried, and Liam smirked, tilting his head as he analyzed Aetos’ posture. He wanted to laugh hysterically when he realized the real purpose behind the discussion.

“No way of knowing? I know a lot about dragons. I read every manual about every existing dragon species in the libraries, Aetos, so I know what I’m talking about,” he warned with a sarcastic smile. Violet was silent, looking between them with indifferent judgment. “But you know what I know even more about? Reading people—not in the same way you do, of course, but still, I think your problem isn’t concern or some infraction, but something else. Want to take a guess?” he asked firmly.

Aetos stammered, looking absolutely shocked that Liam knew his signet, but he didn’t answer.

“Liam, please…” Violet pleaded, but he shook his head.

“No. I want this to be clear. The only thing motivating your words is your damn envy,” he said mercilessly.

Aetos’ face turned pale, then incriminatingly green. Liam’s smile widened.

“I would never…she’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t…” Aetos stammered pathetically.

Violet looked at him, disappointed, before shaking her head.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

But it did. She was just stubborn enough to ignore the truth.

"Vi, I…"

“It’s okay, Dain. I know you’re happy for me too.”

Liam resisted a smug grin before following Violet with long strides. Maybe he shouldn’t be so satisfied with something so small, but it didn’t matter.

It was always good to put the squad leader down in any way possible.In any sense, if he were honest, but it was still something that bordered on pettiness, and Liam thought he should be above that kind of thing.
 

Above that, there was something more important to resolve than Dain Aetos at that moment, and it would bring far more challenges than the previous conversation. He hoped that at least that part would be more controlled—unlikely, but he allowed himself some hope.

Xaden was still leaning against the same wall he had been when Liam spotted him after the dragons had left, his arms crossed in unresolved tension and his jaw tight with what Liam assumed was dissatisfaction. He watched them approach until Violet stopped two steps away, and Liam moved around his friend to lean against the wall at a ninety-degree angle to Xaden’s.

Behind Liam, the nearly vertical edge of the Gauntlet cliff rose toward the sky, casting its shadow over part of the flight field. Xaden, on the other hand, was leaning against a pillar similar to Basgiath’s walls, with the sun’s position causing a small ray of light to spread over his left shoulder.

For a second, no one said anything—Xaden and Violet just stared at each other with barely concealed tension, obviously unwilling to lose the silly staring contest they had somehow entered in the seconds they had been near each other.

Liam had forgotten how terrible those two could be, how they had driven him crazy with their games before they finally figured things out at the end of the year, only for everything to be undone at Resson. Once again, Liam found himself in a position where Violet thought Xaden hated her and wanted her dead, while Xaden was so deeply in denial that horses would be born multicolored before he accepted that he loved the Sorrengail.

Because that was what Xaden felt for the girl. Liam was deeply convinced that Xaden had loved her long before Liam had even gotten close to her as a bodyguard.

And Liam was stuck between them—how incredible was that?

So, even though he knew that interrupting the dispute unfolding in front of him might not be the most sensible thing for self-preservation, he still moved forward.

"Can we skip whatever dispute you two are having right now? We have far more important things to discuss." Liam crossed his arms, ignoring the loaded look from both of them, mocking how perfect they were for each other.

"Like what?" Violet turned her burning gaze to Xaden, who raised an eyebrow, stepping away from where he had been leaning. Violet stepped back even further, putting four steps between herself and Riorson.

"Is that how you address your wing leader?" he taunted, and Violet narrowed her eyes, hissing something under her breath.

"That’s how I address someone who isn’t worth my time," she snapped back, and Xaden’s lips curled into a sarcastic smile.

"As if you were worth my time, Sorrengail," he said as if he didn’t care, though his body language made it clear that he very much did.

"Oh, excuse me for interrupting your busy schedule of being a brooding asshole, Xaden," she said in a voice so sickeningly sweet it could only be fake, his name dripping from her lips with exaggerated sweetness.

Liam pressed his lips together, unsure if he should feel uncomfortable or absolutely impressed by their ability to insult each other without seeming to.

"Oh no, maybe I interrupted your schedule of being a demure and fragile girl," Xaden mocked. Violet bristled where she stood, and Liam swallowed back a laugh.

Fragile? Was that what Xaden took from weeks of successful challenges on the sparring mat? From Liam’s reports about her? From the fact that she had bonded with two dragons?

If so, he was going to be disillusioned very quickly—or was he just saying that to get under Violet’s skin?

She didn’t answer. Instead, she gave a cynical, mocking smile, unsheathed two daggers, and threw them at Xaden. The blades whistled past the sides of his face, alarmingly close to his ears, before embedding themselves in the stone behind him.

It was impressive that she had thrown them with such force that she managed to crack the stone. Liam was proud.

"You missed," Xaden noted, but not the fact that he hadn’t been stabbed. Did he really wish Violet had driven two daggers into his skull?

"Did I? Why don’t you find out if I missed?" That was a challenge none of them understood, though Violet seemed deeply pleased with herself, making Xaden clench his jaw.

He stepped back slowly until his back was against the wall again, and then the daggers scraped firmly against his ears, even closer than before.

Liam blinked, a bit surprised by the outcome, but Xaden just broke into a smile filled with amusement and then looked at Violet again with renewed interest.

"Fascinating. You seem so delicate and breakable," Xaden took a step forward, tilting his head closer to Violet. She didn’t move away, meeting his gaze with determined defiance. "But in truth, you’re a little violent thing, aren’t you?" he finished, looking more than just a little impressed.

Violet gave him her own smile before tilting her head.

"You have no idea how violent I can be," she assured him, and Xaden’s lips curled even higher.

Liam blinked, having a sudden realization at that last remark, the shock making him want to take a step back when he understood.

Were those two flirting? And with daggers?

What the hell was that?

Liam knew they both had a particular way of flirting with each other, but throwing daggers was, at best, a completely twisted form of flirting.

Were they really the duo that would become the strongest couple of their generation?

And to think that Liam was stuck with them for the rest of his life.

Xaden opened his mouth to say something else, but Liam had reached his limit.

"I'm going to have to repeat myself—we have other things to deal with right now. You can continue flirting later," he said, a little sharper than he intended, and then twin looks of surprise and then embarrassment infiltrated their expressions.

Of course, they had forgotten Liam was there.

"Right, well…" Xaden recovered first but still couldn't get back to his train of thought, so Liam did him the favor.

"About the bond between the dragons." He pressed his lips together, a bit disdainful—Liam could live without all that romantic drama.

"Bond?" Violet seemed momentarily confused before paling as she realized exactly what that meant. "Tairn and Sgaeyl…"

"Are mated," Xaden finally said, turning back to the problem that had brought them to this point.

"That makes you two connected, whether you like it or not," Liam said, tilting his head. He waited a few seconds to see Violet’s reaction, but aside from a slightly shocked gasp, she didn’t seem exactly surprised.

Maybe it wasn’t even about the bond itself but rather the idea of being tied to Xaden. In retrospect, if Liam were in her place, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled about that fact either.

He didn’t even feel that way at the moment, and he was Xaden’s brother.

But having your life tied to someone else's meant a lot—it meant a daily responsibility that could never be undone. None of them would ever be able to escape that part of their lives.

Escape the fact that not even that belonged to them. Liam pressed his lips together, dissatisfied, because that was literally the last thing, before Threshing, that he could claim as permanently his.

But it was too late to lament.

"Are you telling me that if I die, you die too?" she asked, crossing her arms, and Xaden twisted his lips, looking as thrilled about this topic as Liam.

"Exactly," he agreed reluctantly. After everything they had all done to keep what little control over their lives they could, having to give up another part to someone—especially someone they didn’t really know, as was Xaden’s case—wasn’t pleasant.

"I'm tied to you." Violet’s eyes burned with frustration, the same that was written all over Xaden’s face, though on a much larger scale. Violet didn’t have as much emotional control.

Liam wondered if any part of the frustration burning furiously in their emotions belonged to him—it made some sense, after all, they could talk to each other’s dragons, as Liam had experienced with Tairn.

It was a theory to be confirmed, and if it turned out to be true, Liam would urgently need to work on his mental shields to keep both of them far away from his mind and emotions.

"Oh, you are, and I’m not any happier about it than you are, Sorrengail," Xaden stepped forward, his shadows curling around Violet’s daggers and guiding them through the air toward her.

Not to her hands—they simply lifted and sheathed themselves in their holsters at her ribs.

Seriously? Liam rolled his eyes. Why were they continuing with this stupid flirting now?

"And if we’re going to do this, then some things are going to have to change." There it was—Xaden wasn’t going to give up the control he had without a fight, and that meant dictating what would happen from now on.

"What? No… fuck, you don’t—" Violet spat immediately, snapping back into her defensive stance as she practically fumed.

"I am doing it. Consider it an order from your Wingleader if that makes it easier for you, but you will follow the changes." Xaden raised an eyebrow sarcastically—he was obviously enjoying pointing out who had the power in this relationship. "For starters, your precious Dain Aetos—he doesn't come within a step of you. Understood?"

Was that jealousy?

"What is your problem with Dain?" Violet’s sharp gaze fell on him, and Liam shrugged, not feeling guilty in the slightest.

"This is none of your business, I’m not going to—" she started, but Xaden cut her off.

"I think we’ve already made it pretty damn clear that this is my business, Sorrengail." Xaden’s jaw clenched in accumulated tension. "If my life is part of this equation, then it’s my business, and I don’t care if you kick and scream—you are staying away from Dain Aetos." He took a threatening step forward.

Well, that was something. Liam wasn’t against that topic, but he still thought Riorson could have been a little less aggressive in his wording.

Violet gritted her teeth in fury, sending a look at Liam that basically demanded he support her. He raised his palms in surrender.

"Vi, I know you trust him, that you like him to some extent, but his signet is dangerous, and we can’t take any risks with him." Liam kept his tone calm—apparently, he would have to be the mediator in this.

Predictable, but still not satisfying.

"He wouldn’t—" she started to defend him, but Liam shot her an unhappy look.

"Wouldn’t he?" he countered. Liam remembered the look of total betrayal that had crossed Violet’s face when she made that particular discovery. "Vi, maybe he wouldn’t do it because of you, but he would for our sake." He gestured toward Xaden, who simply nodded at his words. Dain Aetos would probably do it, even if it was just to see Liam suffer after the last few months.

Violet looked at him, obviously searching for reasons to deny his accusation, but as Liam had predicted, she found none and had to concede that point.

"Whatever. I won’t let him touch me, but he’s my squad leader, and I’m not just going to run away if he wants to talk to me." That was all she agreed to give in on. Xaden huffed, obviously not satisfied, and Liam saw him open his mouth to argue, but there wasn’t time for that.

"Xaden, this is only going to work if everyone gives a little," he reminded him in a firm tone. Riorson looked at him seriously, and Liam raised an eyebrow at him until he finally nodded, shaking his head.

"Fine. But no touching," he reaffirmed. Violet pursed her lips but agreed. That counted as a victory.

"Or a tie," Liam thought wearily. Both had to concede something, so it was probably the latter.

"You’re going to train," Xaden demanded, and now there were two furious glares aimed at him.

Liam felt personally offended because he was the one who had taught Violet to fight decently so far, and they had made exceptional progress. She was even facing particularly strong opponents without needing poison and was doing particularly well in fights.

"I am training, you hypocritical bastard," Violet hissed furiously at him, more than a little irritated.

"Not enough, apparently. You’re obviously still not one of the best this year, and if you want to make sure you survive, then you’ll have to become one," Xaden crossed his arms. A half-truth, but Liam was more than willing to ensure that no one was stupid enough to try anything with her.

He was one of the best of the year.

"He’s right on this point, Xaden. She is training and progressing very well so far," Liam pointed out, giving Violet a small, proud smile. She relaxed her posture just enough to return a grateful look. "And although there are still things to be adjusted, I am more than capable of making sure no idiot actually tries anything stupid." He turned back to Riorson, determined to make his point.

Xaden stared at him in silence, obviously considering his words before scoffing and shaking his head.

"Fine. If you insist," he finally relented. That was definitely a victory.

"And will you stop being an arrogant idiot?" Violet bit back, giving Riorson a sharp smile, to which he frowned. "You’re not the only one dictating the changes, Wingleader. There are two people in this equation," she hissed. Liam frowned at that.

"Deal with your frustration. I don’t like that you’re a reckless hothead with an inflated sense of self-importance either, but that doesn’t seem like something you’d change, Violence," Xaden crossed his arms, looking more amused than annoyed.

"Flirting again," Liam sighed.

"My name is Violet," she growled, earning a sarcastic laugh from Riorson.

"Mine suits you better," he replied, and Liam felt a sense of déjà vu.

That interaction had definitely happened in front of him at some point before. And if not, he could absolutely imagine it happening.

"Fuck you, you can’t just come in and say things are going to change without accepting changes yourself, Riorson," Violet stepped forward, jabbing a finger against Xaden’s chest. He simply raised an eyebrow, tilting his head.

"I can, and I am. Your bond put us both in this situation," Xaden pointed out as if it were obvious. Liam blinked, having a realization.

"There are two people in this equation—" Whatever Violet was about to say never left her lips because Liam had reached his limit and interrupted.

"Three. There are three people in this equation," he said in a serious, though slightly exhausted, tone. It had been easy to forget all the trials of the day—from the injury to all this nonsense.

Liam was definitely reaching the limit of what his body could endure without collapsing. Between the blood loss and the emotional strain of the day, the only thing he wanted was a bed and sleep.

Twin looks of surprise turned to Liam at his words. Just as he suspected, neither of them had realized that Liam was also bound to them for the rest of his life, that his life was also tied to theirs.

"You…" Violet sighed, and Liam nodded tiredly, raising a hand to rub his temple, wincing as the motion pulled at the stitches of his wound, making it sting again.

"I am. Just as your lives are tied to each other, mine is tied to yours as well," he agreed, crossing his arms. "Deigh is Sgaeyl’s brother. They share a fraternal bond, which, according to Deigh, is similar to mating—except they don’t mate with each other." Liam informed them. Violet still looked shocked, while Xaden’s expression grew tighter before he cursed under his breath.

His head fell back as his expression showed a rare flash of exasperation.

"Fucking dragons," he cursed again. Liam mirrored the sentiment, feeling a deep sympathy for the exhaustion on Xaden’s face.

"I hope you’re done arguing. We’re coming back," Deigh’s voice sounded more than a little serious, and Liam felt a hint of concern.

"Has something changed?" Liam dared to ask, and Deigh let out a frustrated rumble.

" A little, but you shouldn’t worry about it for now," the dragon warned him.

Easy to say, but Liam instantly felt uneasy at the thought.

Although it was obvious that something could change, why in the hell did it have to happen now? And how would this impact everything?

Deigh sent him a wave of unimpressed reprimand, as if to remind him that he had just instructed him not to worry. Liam huffed at him before shaking his head.

"Return to your dragons. A decision has been made," Xaden reverted to his old mask of indifference, moving away from them and heading toward where Sgaeyl was landing.

Liam sighed and then placed a hand on Violet’s shoulder. She still looked more than a little irritated by Riorson’s antics. He shook his head, trying to tell her it wasn’t worth stressing over.

"Let’s go," he called, feeling exhausted—truly exhausted in every possible way, physically and mentally drained.

The day was almost over. Only the formation and the marking remained.

If only this day had been worth even half of what he had been put through.

-*-

Liam leaned against Deigh’s front left claw, once again painfully aware of all the prices he was paying now. His face throbbed in an irritating, painful rhythm as his wound decided to remind him of its existence.

The pain spread across the entire front of his skull like a sharp headache, probably caused by exhaustion.

"Or by stress," Deigh grumbled in his mind, his massive blue head turning toward him to align with his right eye, which gleamed with reprimand.

The dragon was probably right. The stress of dealing with Xaden and Violet’s strange mix of hatred and flirting, combined with the weight of the dragons’ new orders, could easily be making his pain worse.

It couldn’t be anything too serious. Tairn and Andarna seemed perfectly calm, though Liam would never dare assume anything about another rider’s dragon. Deigh, despite being a little tense, didn’t seem particularly worried.

He would have said something if it were truly a cause for concern. Liam was making a storm in a very shallow cup of water.

Melgreen stepped forward, his heavy, serious gaze falling on Violet from across the field. Liam’s body tingled as tension gripped him again.

He really didn’t like seeing that snake-like look in the man’s eyes when it was the same one Melgreen had given his mother before burning her.

"The dragons have made a decision," he announced loudly. Liam shifted his eyes to General Sorrengail, who looked particularly tense, as if she didn’t appreciate that her daughter had bonded with two dragons.

"What is with this woman?" Liam wondered, tilting his head. "Can she even feel emotions, or did she truly expect Violet to fail the threshing?" He narrowed his eyes because nothing that woman had done up to that moment made any sense.

"Will you stop getting distracted? You weren’t so easily sidetracked last time, and I’m not happy that’s changed now," Deigh growled in his mind, his nostrils flaring as a dark cloud of smoke puffed out.

Liam flinched at the wave of anger that came through their bond with the dragon. The smoke dissipated just in time for him to see the shocked expressions of the cadets around him.

"Since there has never been a similar case, the dragons have decided to allow Cadet Violet Sorrengail’s bond with both dragons, Tairn and—" The commander paused, and everyone watched as a page ran up to whisper the name to him. "Andarna," he continued. Liam felt another sharp pain in his temple, this time out of sheer anger. The man hadn’t even bothered to remember the name of a dragon.

"Silence," Deigh muttered, his tail slamming down in warning.

"However, such a bond has been permitted under one condition," Melgreen declared, his gaze fixed firmly on the girl, as if anyone could truly dictate what happened within a bond between a human and a dragon. "Cadet Sorrengail is strictly forbidden from accessing any power derived from the golden dragon. The use of such power in any situation is punishable by death."

The smile Melgreen displayed in front of everyone was sickeningly satisfied, and Liam felt his stomach churn.

"What the fuck?" Liam’s voice barely came out, even in the mental link with Deigh. The dragon let out a tired rumble.

"Calm yourself," Deigh repeated before his growl echoed across the field.

Dozens of dragons turned toward him, and Codagh, standing tall and proud, lifted his eyes, burning with fury.

Grumbles and muttered protests followed Deigh’s growl, as yet another wave of discussion about Violet’s fate erupted.

Then Melgreen looked displeased and huffed.

"Correcting: Cadet Sorrengail is not permitted to use the golden one’s power except in the case of— and only in the case of— a life-threatening situation," the general corrected, looking considerably more sour as he did so.

Much of Liam’s tension unraveled, but it didn’t disappear entirely. It coiled deep in his stomach like a constant taunt, reminding him once again how ridiculously little control he had.

Reminding him that Liam couldn’t protect everyone from everything.

"The girl is safe. Don’t take on guilt that isn’t yours, and you will learn that it can be very easy to keep something a secret when you try to, " Deigh informed him, his tone a little softer this time as he gave his advice.

Liam blinked, analyzing the words before nodding in agreement. The dragon was right that Violet wasn’t in immediate danger, though a sense of confusion settled over him at the second part of Deigh’s warning.

Liam never had time to question it, as General Sorrengail took a firm step forward and spoke with a composed, unwavering voice.

"Welcome to a family that knows no limits—no limits and no end." Her voice echoed, and a wave of excitement rippled through the field. "Riders, step forward!" she commanded.

For a few seconds, no one moved. Then, Liam squared his shoulders and, with a quick five-fingered gesture to Violet—who looked a little uncertain—he stepped forward, maintaining his balanced stance as he took five steps away from Deigh.

His eyes locked firmly with the general’s—hers, cold as ice, and his, crackling with the tension that coiled inside him.

Liam was the first to advance, the only one who didn’t hesitate to step forward while the other cadets glanced around in confusion. Violet was the second. Then, all of them moved.

Deigh’s wave of pride hit him with a light, calming touch, and Liam resisted the urge to smile.

"Dragons, the honor is ours as always," the general called. "Now we celebrate!"

The surge of heat and dull pain that climbed his spine was familiar enough that Liam didn’t even want to move. He couldn’t even convince himself to make a sound as Deigh’s relic burned its place into his back.

The first time he went through this had honestly been a horrible experience. His only memory of a relic was the one on his left arm, and Liam had still been a teenager back then—the pain was definitely more than he could handle at the time.

He remembered wanting to curl in on himself, a raw scream escaping his throat, his knees nearly buckling under the weight of both the emotional memories and the physical pain.

Liam had liked the relic after he saw it on his back, but the moment itself had been absolutely awful, and he never wanted to think about it again once it was over.

This time, Liam knew what to expect, and after experiencing far worse pain, the one that came with the relic felt almost like a tickle.

More than that, for one fleeting moment, Liam remembered what having a relic truly meant.

Having it meant belonging, in some way.

Deigh had chosen him and marked him as his own—a choice Liam could never deny after everything.

Codagh’s mark had been painful and disgusting, forced upon him in an imposition he had never wanted.

It latched onto him against his will, permanently branding his skin to mark him as an outcast, someone who belonged to nothing and no one.

But Deigh had marked him to be his, to belong to him—when all anyone else had ever seen in Liam was a foreign disgrace.

So he didn’t want to move.

Despite the pain, despite the surprised and uncomfortable murmurs around him, Liam was at peace.

The field was alive with celebrations as the markings were completed and the riders recovered.

"It is done," Deigh confirmed.

Liam turned to look at him with a smile. His back still burned like fire as he did so, but it didn’t matter.

"You should see," the dragon instructed.

Liam had an idea of what he would see as he unbuttoned the top of his uniform, exposing his back.

But he hadn’t expected what he saw when Deigh’s vision became visible to him. Of course, there was the massive form of the blue dragon, its wings spread over his shoulder blades, its enormous body flowing down his torso with its daggered tail curling just above the top of his pants.

Wrapped tightly around a smaller, red figure—a Red Daggertail—the species Deigh had belonged to in his former life and the one Liam had been his rider for. Though small and hidden enough not to be easily noticed, it was there.

"That was part of who you are. It is part of both of us. There is nothing more unshakable than a bond after death, Brave Heart," Deigh pointed out, allowing Liam to see through his own eyes again. Liam turned to face the blue dragon, shocked.

"Does that mean…?" he asked slowly, and Deigh let out a rumbling sound.

"That I am a part of you, regardless of which version is being spoken of. Just as you are a part of me," the dragon explained deliberately.

Around them, people were beginning to recover from the shock of the marking and started moving again.

His mind was too sluggish at that moment to fully grasp Deigh’s words, so while he was still struggling with them, Liam made his way over to Violet, smiling as he placed a hand on her shoulders.

Sorrengail looked at him, noting that he was still shirtless, and Liam chuckled, turning so she could see Deigh’s relic stretched across his back. Violet’s expression twisted in admiration, and one of her hands lifted as if she wanted to touch it, but she stopped herself before making contact.

"It’s beautiful, Liam," she whispered, and Liam laughed, nodding in agreement.

"I know. Look at yours," he encouraged, helping her out of her shirt, holding onto the fabric and armor for her while Violet examined her new relic through Tairn’s vision.

Her eyes were shimmering with emotion when she turned back to him, retrieving her clothes and putting them back on just in time to pull him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Welcome home, Vi," Liam murmured, because somehow, that deadly pile of rocks could be a home, in the most twisted way possible.

And it was a home to which the youngest Sorrengail, the cadet seen as the weakest in the quadrant, belonged.

Violet smiled as she pulled away just in time for more bodies to press around them.

Liam turned his head to see a head full of unruly brown curls and another with red hair.

It was his squad, with Ridoc and Sawyer draped over Liam’s shoulders in an almost suffocating grip, huge grins stretching across their faces as they radiated happiness.

Rhi, on the other hand, was clinging to Violet, who was returning her embrace with surprising strength. The two girls were laughing and grinning stupidly at each other.

"We did it, Vi!" Liam heard Rhiannon shout as she pulled away, only to reach for Liam in a hug.

Sawyer and Ridoc were still laughing and cheering as he pulled Matthias into his embrace.

"As it should be," Liam laughed, a grin so wide it was almost painful stretching across his face as Vi was hugged and squeezed by the other two boys.

"Mine is Feirge, Green Daggertail," Rhiannon said, pointing to a large green dragon standing a few rows to the left of Tairn. The dragon bobbed its head when it saw them looking, and Liam quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to provoke it.

"Aotrom, Brown Swordtail. He’s right there," Ridoc pointed to the medium-sized brown dragon that Liam had already recognized during the threshing, standing noticeably far from them.

Sawyer’s grin stretched even wider as he threw his arms around both Ridoc and Violet before exclaiming,

"Sliseag, Red Swordtail!" His voice came out breathless, as if he still couldn’t believe he had actually bonded—or as if his excitement wasn’t letting him breathe properly.

"Deigh," Liam said, nodding toward the massive Daggertail who was silently observing them all.

"Your allies are acceptable, but they remain ignorant," Deigh suddenly spoke, a low growl escaping him. "Fix that. We don’t have time to waste on half-truths and lies." The dragon ordered, and Liam huffed.

"It’s still early. Let them at least find some stability with their dragons first," he argued.

Deigh growled, clearly disagreeing, but chose not to push further.

"Well, now you don’t even need introductions. You bonded with the biggest badass here!" Ridoc exclaimed to Violet, who blushed, laughing in embarrassment as she smacked his arm when she managed to reach him.

"His perception is completely incorrect. Perhaps you should get rid of him and spare all of us from suffering through his terrible opinions," Deigh suggested, his grumpy tone making it clear that the dragon did not appreciate being considered lesser than the black dragon.

Tairn turned his massive head toward the blue dragon. If a dragon could look smug, then Tairn certainly did in that moment—arched brow and all.

"His perception seemed satisfactorily accurate, though I wouldn't want to agree with Smiley," Tairn’s voice was undeniably arrogant, and Liam sighed, unhappy to be stuck with both of them.

But then, his attention shifted back to his squad, his gaze scanning over them—until Liam suddenly froze, confused.

The rush of emotions had made him miss that detail, but now, seeing them with a clearer mind, Liam felt a creeping anxiety and worry as he turned to look around.

Where was Dylan? Could he be receiving treatment in the improvised infirmary? Had Liam simply lost sight of him in the crowd of dragons and riders?

His stomach twisted at the thought that Dylan might be seriously injured—or worse, dead.

"Look at the left wall, at the back of the field," Deigh instructed.

Liam turned, blinking to sharpen his vision.

It was the wall where the unbonded stood, all leaning against it, watching the celebrations ahead with expressions of anger, resentment, or envy. There were many of them, and Liam wondered whether there were fewer riders this year than in his last life—or if there had always been this many.

Last time, Liam hadn’t cared to look at them for more than a moment, just enough to make sure he wouldn’t be caught off guard by someone. But still, he didn’t remember there being this many.

Tynan was among them, Liam realized, feeling a hint of amusement at the fact.

But that amusement vanished instantly as his eyes widened, and his stomach dropped with crushing force.

"Liam, what is it?" Rhiannon’s confused voice sounded beside him, and he simply pointed in the direction he was looking.

A second passed, and then shocked gasps rose from the squad.

Liam didn’t need to look to know—they were all staring at the same thing.

At Dylan, standing shamefully against the wall just a few cadets away from Tynan, with an ugly wound stretching from his shoulder to his wrist.

Liam closed his eyes in defeat. There was nothing that could be done for him now.

Dylan was unbonded.

Chapter Text

"There is no bond rarer among dragons than the bond between siblings, with only two recorded in history, and the nature of this connection remains almost entirely unknown."
Excerpt from the Dragon Manual: Bonds and Connections by Colonel Kaori

-*-
Sgaeyl was furious, the kind of fury she had only felt on rare occasions. She needed every ounce of a self-control she didn’t possess over her temper to avoid incinerating someone just because she could.
 

She was furious that Andarna, the sneaky little feather-tail, had actually managed to enter the threshing valley with the blessing of the elders, for whatever reason, and that she had truly bonded with a human.
 

Andarna had put all other feather-tails at risk if the truth got out that she was a hatchling, that feather-tails were not peaceful dragons but babies.
 

And no one from the Empyrean seemed even vaguely concerned about this happening. Andarna just kept getting permission after permission to proceed with human dragon selection events.
 

But the feather-tail was surprisingly the smallest and apparently least dangerous of the surprises the culling had brought.
 

Sgaeyl never thought anyone could understand the level of her fury and frustration when Tairn's massive body—her mate who hadn’t told her he would take a rider—appeared flying over the field to land and let his rider dismount.
 

Her anger grew, this time mixed with the frustration of her own rider, because Tairn had bonded with the daughter of one of the greatest enemies of the rebellion.
 

Because he, the huge, merciless battle dragon, had bonded with that small, fragile thing. She had some spirit, of course, but that was hardly enough to make someone worthy.
 

The look she gave her mate had a cruel, furious edge that made the black dragon’s emotions hint at discomfort. Neither of them feared each other, but Tairn was smart enough to know this wasn’t something to be ignored.
 

Then it was thrown at them again, and her only comfort was that Tairn seemed as furious and surprised as she felt.
 

She had expected so much from that day. Even Tairn's appearance wasn’t as honestly shocking as seeing Deigh fly over the field and land.
 

The second to take a bond when he was obviously so against it, but Deigh was an even deeper surprise given his history.
 

Deigh had always been a mysterious dragon. From the moment he was just a hatchling newly emerged from the shell, he socialized only as necessary, and despite always appearing composed, he still had a tendency to feel furious.
 

Fighting also came naturally to him. Sgaeyl was an adolescent, nearly an adult, when Deigh emerged, yet he quickly surpassed her in battle.
 

That was when the elders realized Deigh would grow to become one of the greatest fighters in the valley, which only became more apparent as he grew fiercer over time.
 

What was almost a certainty for everyone in the valley proved absolutely true because Deigh and his new rider were formidable together.
 

Although Sgaeyl always felt something strange about the younger dragon’s bond, as if something was missing or rejecting the boy, it was a fact that they made a good pair.
 

Until the boy died in a Darkwalker attack on Summerton. It was a shock to everyone because never before had those creatures ventured so far west on the continent, and yet five of them reached the fortress and wreaked havoc.
 

Two dragons died, nine riders were lost, and one of them was her brother’s rider.
 

Sgaeyl remembered how close Deigh came to following his rider's path. It took both her and Tairn fully understanding their connection to Deigh to save him.
 

Since then, the bond they shared with Deigh was similar to the one they shared with each other. It was an anomaly, but no one noticed because they caused it.
 

There was no other dragon in the valley who shared a sibling bond, so what they said was accepted.
 Eighty years later, Deigh had remained firm in his decision not to bond again. Sgaeyl wasn’t sure if it was due to fear of losing another rider or just lingering grief from what happened so many years ago.
 

The elders tried everything. Danger was growing, and with an impending war, they wanted the best dragons and riders they could find on the front lines.
 

That was why they allowed her technically forbidden bond with her last rider's grandson. That was why, despite Tairn's recent loss, even more pressure was put on him to choose again.
 

And that was why Deigh was repeatedly required to participate in the cullings. He refused every time, with increasingly violent reactions.
 

War was inevitable at that point, and it was glaringly obvious that time was running out.
 

But Sgaeyl thought Tairn would be the only one persuaded to change his mind. His refusals were recent, and despite everything, the black dragon wasn’t completely insensitive to their precarious situation.
 

Yet there was Deigh, shining in all his blue glory, in the threshing field after choosing a rider. Why he changed his mind was a complete mystery, as the dragon certainly didn’t seem impressed or concerned by any of the reports about the Venin’s advance.
 

He didn’t change his mind for any of them, under any pressure or demand from the elders. And it didn’t get better when Codagh personally requested it—any sense of self-importance Codagh displayed did little more than enrage Deigh, making it even clearer that he wouldn’t bond when his response came as a violent bite to the black dragon’s neck.
 Yet Deigh chose a rider, and Sgaeyl was furious that once again she had been kept in the dark. It couldn’t have been a sudden decision; Deigh never made a choice without thinking it through.
 

Although she could find some solace in the fact that Deigh's new rider was a Marked One, which basically marked him as a potential ally in their fight, there was also the fact that he was the brother of her own rider.
 

It was, in a way, an obvious choice. Deigh had always been drawn to the falling stars of his years, and the boy was definitely the best of his year.
 But she still wished he had said something about his intention to bond. And Deigh didn’t seem even slightly unsettled by her fury; he just looked at her with unwavering golden eyes before focusing on his rider again.
 

Sgaeyl was furious, furious at anything that moved, furious at the two stupid dragons who couldn’t keep their stances, furious at the elders for allowing Andarna to bond.
 

And she was furious at her rider for continuing to harbor foolish feelings for Tairn’s human, the daughter of the woman who burned his father.

Furious that he was incapable of thinking rationally and kept getting lost in those feelings.
 

But the unspoken truth was that this would be Deigh’s last. The last was an even closer call than Tairn’s, and this time no bond could save Deigh's life if the link was broken.
 

Her brother didn’t even give her a word of explanation. He seemed resolute that he had changed his mind and that this was his choice, and that it wasn’t for them to question his actions.
 

It didn’t help that Deigh openly refused to talk about the past. So in the end, despite her feelings, both she and Tairn had to accept what happened.
 

Sgaeyl watched as Deigh moved away, his blue form cutting through the field like a living shadow, his new rider leaving with the rest of his squad. The boy was fearless, she admitted that, but he was also foolish. He had no idea of the depth of the abyss he walked over, nor the weight now resting on his fragile shoulders.

She averted her gaze, finding Tairn at the edge of the field, his amber eyes watching the scene with an intensity that betrayed his thoughts. He felt the same as she did, the tension vibrating on the thin line that connected them, restless and unsettling. Even so, Tairn maintained his cold composure, emotions hidden beneath layers of rigid control.  

The wind carried the scent of earth and freshly trampled grass, the threshing field still marked by the heavy steps of the dragons who had made their choices. The sound of human voices was already fading, taking with it the whispered promises of glory and power. But to Sgaeyl, it all felt like a farce. They were merely pieces moved by forces they did not understand, thrown onto the board of a war that spanned eras.  

She flexed her claws against the ground, feeling the earth yield beneath her weight. Her gaze cut across the valley, the distant peaks shrouded in thick mist, and the sky painted gold as the sun sank below the horizon. Nothing looked different, yet everything had changed.  

Because Deigh had chosen. He had broken eighty years of silence, of denial, to bond once more. And that could only mean one thing.  
The storm was closer than ever.  

“He will destroy us,” she murmured, her voice a soft growl.  

Tairn remained motionless, his eyes still fixed on the blue figure in the distance. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and emotionless. “Then we will fall with him.”  

There was nothing more to be said.  

They stood there, side by side, as shadows swallowed the valley and night wrapped the world in its cold mantle. The wind howled between the mountains, an ancient lament carrying the omen of the coming war.  

She knew this was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" – The trees swayed, the sound of the wind and leaves accompanying the calm voice of his father as he looked into the serene sky-blue eyes above his own.
 

What did he want? To be a knight? A healer? Did he even want to be anything specific?
 

He didn't know; the only thing he was sure of was that he wanted to be...
 

"Kind," he smiled.

-*-

"You can't hesitate, Liam," Xaden's frustrated growl exploded in his ears just as Liam felt the impact on his right side against the hard and worn-out mat that had been their training ground for the past few months.
 

He gasped as the blow knocked the wind out of his lungs, the pain on his side making him groan miserably, though it wasn't the pain that made him feel so close to his limit.
 

This was the tenth time Liam ended up in that position, although this time the position was particularly worse than the others.
 

"Up. We're going again," Xaden demanded, his jaw clenched and eyes hard with dissatisfaction, as if Liam hadn't been giving his all in the fights, as if he hadn't been less than a minute away from landing the decisive blow and maybe winning his first fight against the older man.
 

But what did it matter? Liam hadn't landed the blow, nor had he won. Instead, he was lying there pathetically on the mat.
 

It was because he hesitated, as Xaden had so kindly reminded him, because he looked at the older man and couldn't bring himself to land a blow that could hurt him.
 

Because he didn't want to hurt him.
 

Liam grumbled as he got back on his feet. Xaden stood with his arms crossed and a face more than a little furious.
 

"In a real fight, you can't hesitate, dammit. They'll kill you if you do," Xaden narrowed his eyes. Liam wanted to remind him that this wasn't a real fight and that Xaden wouldn't kill him, so it didn't matter now, but he bit his tongue because someday it would be.
 

"I don't like fighting. I don't want to hurt anyone," Liam panted, flinching at the renewed fury that flashed in Xaden's onyx eyes.
 

"But you will have to fight, Mairi. It doesn't matter what you want or don't want. If you want to survive, you'll have to fight every damn day," Xaden took a step forward, analyzing him in silence.
 

"I still don't have to hurt anyone," he insisted. Xaden sighed deeply in frustration before shaking his head, a little defeated.
 

"You do. If you don't, people will think you're weak and that they can get to you because of it," Xaden began. "They won't see you as someone kind, just a fool. There's no room for kindness in the quadrant of knights, so don't hesitate," Xaden's expression hardened again, and Liam felt the weight in his stomach grow heavier.
 

"But..."
 

"No, no buts, Liam. Things are what they are and won't change just because you don't like them. If you want to survive, you will fight, hurt, and if necessary, even kill to ensure your life," he hissed furiously. "You'll have to choose: your integrity or your life, and in there, Liam, between anything and yourself, choose yourself. Now, let's go again, and every time I see you hesitate on a blow, it'll be another fall on the mat."

-*-

The squad had gone out to celebrate their above-average success at Threshing. Five out of seven freshmen in their squad had bonded, and as far as they knew, theirs was the only one to achieve that; apparently, the average was three out of six.
 

Some squads didn't have any bonded cadets, and it was almost unanimously decided that they should celebrate the achievement with drinks.
 

Liam wasn't one of them. Threshing brought a bittersweet feeling to him because it meant his complete bond with Deigh once more, but it also created at least three new problems to solve.
 

The heaviest burden was Dylan's lack of a bond, which had always been a possibility since the boy didn't have the prominent skills the rest of them did, but Liam thought the dragons would see his resilience as a virtue.
 

Maybe they did, but it wasn't enough to convince them. What mattered was that Dylan was unbonded, and Liam fully intended to change that.
 

How, he had no idea.
 

So his plan for the night after Threshing was to lock himself in his new private room—a luxury after so long stuck with a hundred cadets—and consider options to fix Dylan's situation.
 

The boy hadn't approached the squad in the hours following the release of the new riders from the flight field. Whether it was out of shame or because he was busy, Liam couldn't say.
 

But in a way, it was better like that because none of them would know how to console the boy. None of them understood how he felt at that moment, so Liam thought it was better to let him process it in silence.
 

But his companions didn't allow him to do that, and once it was voted that they would celebrate at Chantarra, Liam was dragged along by the group.
 

So despite his worries, Liam still joined the squad at a corner table in the bar, with Ridoc loudly celebrating as he went to get the first round of beer for the group.
 

Liam had been to the bar only a few times, mainly because his old squad was never particularly friendly with him, so he never had companions motivating him to go out, and later because he had more worries than enjoying a drink.
 

He remembered the few times he went were with the second-years. Imogen and Quinn were the main ones, but Liam could recall at least two occasions when he, Bodhi, and Ciaran spent hours drinking and struggling with aim as they grew more intoxicated.
 

Chantarra was one of the few opportunities marked cadets had to enjoy themselves in groups. The fact that everyone there was drunk made it harder for anyone to notice more than two marked cadets together.
 

Then there was the fight, and afterward, the place was banned for cadets from the knights' quadrant, and Liam never went back.
 

This time, there was no fight, and no ban was enforced—a relief, to be honest, although Liam didn't think he had the mindset to casually visit the place anyway.
 

He wasn't in the mood that night, so even though he was there, Liam placed himself in the furthest corner of the table, his back guarded by the bar's wall as he quietly observed the excitement of the bar's visitors.
 

Liam felt like an intruder because he couldn't share even half of the joy that filled every inch of the bar's walls, much less that of his squad, who celebrated loudly when Ridoc passed around the massive beer mugs.
 

His hands wrapped around his mug, feeling the coldness seep into his skin. Somewhat mockingly, he realized the icy sensation was probably the closest thing in that bar to matching his mood.
 

Yet Liam still smiled and toasted with anyone who looked his way, determined not to let them see how low he felt, even though by now, they must have noticed he wasn't himself.
 

There was a stark difference between being a bit quieter and being as downcast as Liam was now.
 

It was a little pathetic; he should've known this could happen. But hope was a strange and almost useless thing because Liam dismissed it as quickly as it appeared.
 

Ridoc dragged Sawyer and Rhiannon to the dance floor, the three of them laughing loudly and moving their bodies in a weird dance that somehow matched the music's rhythm. Violet sat beside him, sipping her drink thoughtfully as she laughed and shook her head at the same scene he was watching.
 

But she made no move to leave him alone, nor did she seem as cheerful as the other three in front of him.

"Maybe I'm not the only one who can't ignore Dylan and his absence," Liam thought slowly, taking a sip of the cheap, bitter beer, his face scrunching up slightly.
 

He had forgotten the taste. Liam wondered if he could convince Xaden or Garrick to give him some of the Tyrrish beer they kept hidden away—he knew they did because he had spent more than one night in one of their rooms, drinking from those smuggled bottles.
 

Liam couldn't understand how he ever found it acceptable to consume that horrible beer, but then he shrugged because something was better than nothing.
 

That didn't stop his face from contorting in disgust at the taste on his tongue, nor did it stop him from lamenting the absence of the Tyrrish beer he was certain was in the third-years' cabinet.

The third sip made Liam give up. His mood was already sour enough for one day, and if he wanted anything now, it was something so sweet that it would make all of it disappear.
 

To hell with cavities and diseases caused by too much sugar.

"You don’t look happy."
 

The female voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Liam turned his head to look at Violet. Her amber eyes were watching him without judgment, though fixedly, and he just shrugged.
 

"Neither do you," he replied, and Sorrengail hummed in agreement, her fingers curling around her head as she took another long sip from her drink.

"A part of me feels like I should be happy right now," she confessed finally, shaking her head before letting out a humorless laugh.
 

"I never thought I'd bond with a dragon, let alone make it to Threshing, and now I'm bonded to two of them, one of which is a war legend." Violet scoffed, and Liam allowed a small, ironic smile to form on his lips.
 

Of course, it would be Violet who would mock the very thing that would make hundreds of cadets shine with satisfaction.

"But...?" he gently prompted, and Violet sighed tiredly.
 

"But I can't feel that way, not when my bond ties me to the person who probably wants to kill me the most." Liam blinked at Sorrengail's statement. Was that really what she took from her interaction with Xaden?
 

Maybe Liam had underestimated the limits of those two's selective blindness toward each other.

"Xaden doesn’t want to kill you, Vi. Trust me, if he did, you'd already be dead," Liam joked—or maybe not, because there was definitely truth in his words. Xaden wasn’t known for his brutality for nothing. "And even if I'm wrong, which I'm not, he couldn’t do it with the bond between Tairn and Sgaeyl. If you think about it, this actually makes you safer around him." Liam pointed out easily.

Violet stared at him in silence for a few moments before letting her posture relax. She trusted him.
 

Liam blinked, feeling a sudden flash of guilt and pain. Images of the Resson appeared in his mind, along with Violet's betrayal when they lied to her about the flyers.
 

About the Venin.

Are we friends, or am I just a duty to you?
 

Liam took another sip of beer to push down the wave of nausea rising in his throat. How could he have forgotten?
 

Violet trusted him. She did it twice and regretted it once. Liam lied to her both times. And he would continue to lie now, even though the thought made him feel sicker each time. He had to.

Liam couldn't tell her anything yet—not because of Xaden, not for some obscure reason, but simply because he couldn’t risk everyone's lives just because of his petty desire to be honest with her.
 

Violet could still end up allowing some fleeting touch from Dain. She probably hadn't realized that a mere second of contact was enough for all her memories to be invaded, and that boy would never hesitate to use anything against them.
 

That made his mood worsen even more, and the acidic taste in his mouth had nothing to do with the drink in his hand.

"And you?" Violet finally asked, seeming to have finished talking about herself—which was fair, and Liam wasn’t complaining, not if it spared him from dealing with any lingering guilt.
 

"Dylan," he admitted at last. There was no point in hiding it, after all, the boy was also Violet's squadmate, and she could be feeling the same way.

She definitely seemed to when she sighed so deeply it took all the air from her lungs, her fists tightening around her drink as she obviously considered her words.
 

"I know. He tried so hard; we all know that," Violet agreed with a nod and a soft sideways glance."But there was nothing any of us could've done to change that, Liam. Not even you," she warned as if she knew that was exactly what he was thinking. Maybe she did, or maybe Liam was just that obvious at this point.

Did they know each other well enough to read each other without words? Liam could do it, but it was because of his past life, where he definitely had the time to do so.
 

He knew what each of her smiles meant, knew the different ways she furrowed her brow and why, Liam even knew how she would behave with varying levels of joint pain.
 

But could Violet do that with him? Was it really worth knowing something like that?

"The dragons didn’t choose him for a reason," Liam cleared his throat, overcoming his thoughts. His voice was more bitter than he expected it to be."Maybe if I had paid attention to other aspects, not just physical ability, he could've impressed one of them," he commented, frowning at the possibilities.

If Liam had helped him study, helping Dylan stand out intellectually, maybe a green would have taken an interest. Or if he had encouraged him to be more energetic and quick-witted, then a red might have chosen him.
 

He could have emphasized the importance of being steadfast and determined—browns appreciated that.
 

But Liam would never regret not telling him to be more volatile just to try for an orange; he wouldn’t want Dylan to end up in Jack Balorwe's place with Baide.

"You couldn't have known that. Liam, you did everything for him, from saving his life on the parapet to training him until he could fight and then scale the gauntlet." Violet insisted, sounding determined to prove her point.
 

Liam shook his head, unconvinced. There had to be something he could do. He just couldn’t think of what that was yet.

But he recognized that it wasn't something he could convince Violet of, nor could he justify his impression that he could change anything. So, he ended up reluctantly nodding in agreement. 

Sorrengail didn't seem entirely satisfied with his not-very-convincing nod but seemed to decide to let it go and went back to watching the increasingly strange dance of the trio in front of them.

A foreign song was playing, its lively rhythm echoing off the walls and amplifying until it reached his ears. Liam's head throbbed in response, and he wondered again if it was worth staying at the bar.
 

But it was a squad celebration, and Liam might have been in a bad mood, but he could still celebrate with them.
 

Things were just taking a while to get better, but they would. Soon enough.

-*-

Things didn’t get better. Instead, when Liam finally got tired of pretending to have fun and said goodbye to his eager friends, he felt even worse than when he first walked into the bar that night.
 

His head throbbed with a punishing rhythm, making the task of looking at the path ahead a challenge. His vision was tired too, strained by the dimly lit environment, not to mention his stomach, which felt like a living beast inside him. That’s when Liam remembered he hadn’t eaten anything before drinking the bar’s beer.
 

He could expect a fierce hangover the next morning, but part of him considered that the discomfort he was feeling at that moment was the beginning of it. Basgiath was at least a ten-minute walk away, the steep terrain forcing him to lift his legs instead of dragging them to avoid tripping and falling. The effort made him feel like he was climbing a mountain hundreds of meters high and not just walking up a slightly inclined trail.
 

On top of that, Liam had only drunk a single glass of the bar’s bitter, low-quality beer—much less than he remembered having on some past adventures. It was hard to believe that would’ve been enough to make him feel any drunkenness, yet here he was.
 

His mood didn’t improve despite all this; instead, it sank even deeper, and that was essentially what convinced him to leave. No matter how hard he tried, Liam simply couldn’t get Dylan out of his head, even if he couldn’t think of how to help the boy. Liam tried, turning over every inch of his arsenal of knowledge about dragons, the fortress, and hierarchies, but nothing helped.
 

Dylan was unbonded. He’d have to wait until the following year to try again, like Sawyer once did, or he could risk killing one of this year’s bonded riders and hope their dragon chose him instead. But Liam knew Dylan well enough to know he wouldn’t take that risk. And if he did, they both knew he wouldn’t be able to deliver the final blow, and hesitation didn’t convince any dragon of one’s capability.
 

Liam would kill for him. If there was even the slightest chance that doing so would get Dylan bonded, Liam wouldn’t hesitate. But things didn’t work that way, and it would be a pointless death because it would be Dylan’s abilities under evaluation, not Liam’s.
 

And then he was back to square one, with no plan and the stupid feeling that the solution was shining in his face the whole time.
 

The climb ended while Liam was stewing over this fact, his steps leading him into the fortress, and he stared down the hallway that would take him to the first-year dorms. He should sleep. The next day, they’d have their first flying lesson, and the challenges would resume soon. Liam couldn’t afford to be tired during any of those activities. He needed to maintain his position as the top of his year if he wanted to keep the freedom privileges with Xaden for Violet.
 

Flirting or not, Liam knew it was still too early to push all that onto the girl, so he needed to keep himself in a position that would make all those cadets hesitate before messing with him and, by extension, his squad.
 

That meant he should go to his room and sleep. He should let his body, exhausted from all the threshing and then the bar, finally find some rest. He should let his tired mind rest, and then maybe by morning, he could think of something to do about Dylan.
 

Liam turned his back on the dorms and crossed the dark fortress. His room wasn’t where he needed to be right now—he felt that so deeply it was almost uncomfortable.
 

It wasn’t as if he’d be able to sleep anyway. Despite the pain and exhaustion, Liam felt as if everything was working three times harder than it should be, so he’d probably just end up tossing and turning in bed.
 

For a few seconds, he envied Deigh, whose feelings were so calm and light that they could only mean the dragon was asleep. Liam still didn’t know why the dragon didn’t bother to block him or why he could sense Deigh’s emotions without the dragon actively speaking to him, but that was something else to consider later.
 

The flight field was completely dark at that hour. There wasn’t a single light source to provide a view of the entire area, so all Liam could see was what the moonlight illuminated.
 

He stopped after a few steps into the field, not really knowing why he wanted to come there in the first place. Liam shook his head, groaning at the weight on his shoulders.
 

Maybe he should just try to sneak into the kitchens and grab something to eat. Drinking on an empty stomach was bad, but putting some food in afterward could probably make the worst of the effects go away.
 

But Liam also couldn’t just turn around and head back the way he came. His eyes kept scanning the dark area ahead, repeatedly trying to make his vision see something there, but there couldn’t be anything there.
 

Except there was. Liam’s attention was drawn when a huge dark mass moved, somehow distinguishing itself from the rest of the blackness surrounding the place. He couldn’t see much, just the silhouette moving closer and closer.
 

His stomach twisted in reluctance. Standing still there while an unknown figure approached him could only be counterproductive. Who knew what the shadow’s intentions were or how lethal it could be?
 

“You should not fear me,” a deep male voice sounded in his mind at the same time the first part of the figure became visible.
 

An enormous brown snout, accompanied by a pair of suspiciously familiar golden eyes.

A dragon, a particularly large brown one if Liam was judging correctly, who actually looked very familiar as he hesitantly looked at the pattern of spikes and the golden eyes.

Then Liam suddenly realized he shouldn’t be staring at the dragon and moved his eyes to the ground. A rumble followed the action as he saw the brown scales enter his peripheral vision.

They got closer and closer until the tip of the dragon's snout touched the center of Liam's chest. That’s when he realized why the dragon was so familiar—it was the brown one from the presentation.

The one who approached Liam after Andarna’s trill, the one who burned Pryor after his arrogant, shitty display.

“You perceive correctly, it is I,” the dragon confirmed, sounding suspiciously satisfied with Liam's quick understanding. Liam saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to look.

It was the dragon’s tail—a Morningstar tail—that had moved closer, cracking as it suddenly stopped before dropping placidly to the ground. The impact still sent a stunningly loud sound across the field, making Liam flinch slightly.

“Um... well, it’s really good to see you again,” Liam commented, a little hesitant. Was he really risking talking to a dragon that wasn’t his?

But if the dragon was bothered by that fact, it didn’t show any sign of it. Instead, it just let out an affirmative sound.

“You wander very late, and something troubles you,” the dragon observed, tilting his head to the side and blinking his golden eyes at him. It was almost comical, and Liam felt a small smile forming on his face despite everything.

“I couldn’t sleep. We were celebrating our bonds, but it was too much down there,” Liam saw no point in denying it. The dragon probably wouldn’t care whether he thought a party was cool or not.

“Does it trouble you that you cannot enjoy celebrations?” Or maybe he did care. Liam shrugged.

“Not really. Parties are fun, but I just can’t get in the mood, so they lose their charm,” he stated. The dragon pulled his head back, though it was still considerably closer than usual for an unbonded dragon.

“And yet, you are troubled,” the dragon pointed out again. Liam nodded.

His chest vibrated as the bond with Deigh came to life, and then he felt the dragon’s attention turn to him.

“I see you have discovered him,” Deigh’s voice was sleepy; he probably hadn’t fully woken up before deciding to communicate.

“Discovered who?” Liam was confused. Deigh let out a tired rumble in affirmation.

“Just wait. You’ll get there,” the dragon advised before going silent again, even though Liam knew he wasn’t asleep—just silent and distant.

“I am,” Liam decided to focus on the dragon in front of him at that moment. Deigh wouldn’t say anything if he hadn’t already, and apparently, he would find out soon. “It’s about my squadmate, Dylan. He’s unbonded,” Liam admitted, and the dragon narrowed his eyes at him.

“Do you question the dragons' decision not to deem him worthy of a bond? ” This was accompanied by a wave of hot air, and Liam quickly shook his head in denial.

That wasn’t it. The dragons had their reasons, and he would never have the audacity to say he thought they were outright wrong. But Dylan was his friend, and part of Liam would always think he deserved a chance.

It wasn’t rational or logical—feelings never were—but Liam wouldn’t say that out loud.

“There was a reason. I wouldn’t dare question it. But seeing him not succeed after the whole squad did still troubles me, ” Liam decided to leave it at that. There wasn’t much else to explain out loud.

There was a moment of consideration from the dragon before he let out a rumble, some spikes on his neck swaying thoughtfully.

A wave of calm recognition flooded Liam, not from his own feelings, and then he blinked in astonishment as he tried to figure out whose feelings those were.

Deigh was still silent, his consciousness distant from Liam’s, as were his emotions. Liam himself definitely wasn’t feeling that sentiment.

Then he realized they were the feelings of the dragon in front of him. He had felt them, and beyond that, he had spoken to the dragon.

“You have a kind soul, Liam Mairi. Sharp, yes, but still kind,” the dragon finally stated, his head swaying as he seemed more and more certain. “You are unafraid to do what is necessary and have no doubts about what you believe in. That is why I chose you,” the dragon announced confidently, his head rising several meters high as he sat right in front of Liam.

What the dragon wanted him to do was obvious, considering the fact that his left leg was slightly forward, a not-so-subtle hint of the dragon's demand.

But Liam was stuck in place.

Chose him? What did that mean?

Liam had bonded with Deigh, and it hadn’t even been a threshing choice like it was with Tairn, and yet the dragon chose him.

Then Deigh's words about having found him came back to his mind. The dragon knew about that.

Then he blinked, receiving an unimpressed look from the dragon, and Liam decided that the why and how it happened didn’t matter that much right now.

He had plenty of time to freak out and obsess over it when he was back in his room, lamenting his lack of ability to plan solutions and his talent for getting into trouble.

He took a step forward, strengthening his resolve and also convincing himself that he hadn’t misinterpreted the brown dragon’s intention, and then he ran, climbing up the dragon’s leg.

It was smaller than Deigh, although still big for a brown, so Liam didn’t have much trouble climbing over the dragon’s shoulder and weaving through the spiny back to the seat.

Liam momentarily observed the grip and the sharp spikes surrounding him. He knew the species had different types of spiny formations, but seeing it in practice was honestly thrilling.

Deigh, as a red, had large, straight, and smooth spikes despite being absolutely sharp. They were formed in such a way that anything that fell on his spiny formation would be stabbed by a series of spikes as thick as Liam’s trunk.

In this life, as a blue, Deigh’s spikes lost the robust shape and became slightly more twisted forms with barbs in sporadic places. The formation made it impossible for anyone to climb his body using the spikes as support, and even dodging them was difficult due to the long and random constitution of the spikes along his spine.

Meanwhile, the brown dragon’s spikes were smaller, almost the size of Liam's forearm, making them smaller than average. But each of those spikes had at least a hundred dotted along their length. Touching one of them would definitely send anyone to the infirmary with multiple punctures.

Liam wondered if he would ever get to discover what the spikes of the greens, oranges, and blacks were truly like. He knew each had its own style—the greens had serrated spikes that could cut through anything with a light impact, the oranges had thinner spikes but were so clustered that if one hit you, it would probably be along with four others.

The blacks were a mix of the blues and reds, long, arched spikes with surprising thickness clustered around the neck, shoulders, and withers.

Like Tairn's spikes, they made him look like he had an enormous, deadly mane.

His thoughts were ripped away when the dragon beneath him moved, rising from his sitting position to stand up. His wings spread out to the sides, obviously in preparation for flight.

Liam tightened his knees in place, gripping the handle with a firm hold. He could handle this like he had handled Deigh’s spins; he just needed to stay alert.

The brown wings unfolded to their full span all at once, sending a gust of wind that whipped Liam’s hair and made him shiver with cold.

He had forgotten that he was wearing formal clothes. His dress pants and sand-colored button-up shirt were good enough for a night at the bar, but definitely not for a flight on a dragon’s back.

But there wasn’t much to lament; they would only receive their flight leathers the next day, so whatever outfit he had chosen wouldn’t have been fully appropriate for flight.

And it wasn’t like Liam had been expecting to bond with a new dragon that night.

A second of pure anticipation followed the dragon’s wings opening before, with a single impulse, he launched into the sky, flapping his wings to gain altitude at a dizzying speed.

Liam forced his knees to press harder against his dragon’s scales, ignoring the burning in his limbs from the pressure against the dragon’s hard scales. He wasn’t going to slip even an inch from his position.

They reached the cloud line and then entered one, making Liam’s vision turn into a big white blur as humidity suddenly clung to him.

The dragon didn’t seem bothered; instead, he twirled in the air inside the massive cloud, braking and turning abruptly in different directions. Liam felt like he was on a cart that kept getting stuck repeatedly in succession. His body was thrown against the dragon’s body the first time, and afterward, he barely managed to prevent the impact.

The brown dragon folded one wing, causing him to turn sideways and drop a few meters. It was enough for them to leave the massive cloud, and Liam could see again, albeit precariously.

It didn’t improve much considering everything was darkness, but at least the sudden turns and brakes were over. Instead, the dragon glided high enough that Basgiath's tower was distant from them.

“You did well, enough to prove yourself worthy, firestorm,” the dragon declared, turning his neck just enough for Liam to see his left eye. “My name is Feallsanach, but I’ll allow you to call me Feal.” The dragon shook the spikes on his neck toward him, definitely proud.

Liam shook his head, looking around over Feal's shoulder. This wasn’t what he expected when he decided not to go to his room.

Was it even a decision? Liam remembered that there was something that told him he had to be somewhere else. It was an uncomfortable pull that let him know he wouldn’t be able to rest until he resolved whatever it was.

And Feal was in the flight field, waiting for something or someone, and as far as Liam knew, dragons didn’t waste time in a place unless there was something worth their while.

Was it really just a coincidence that they were both there? But Deigh seemed to know about Feal and supposedly knew about the bond if Liam interpreted his words correctly.

“I knew it. You were meant to find him and interact on your own, Brave Heart,” Deigh spoke again in his mind, his tone calm despite everything.

“But why now? If you chose me, for whatever reason, then shouldn’t this have happened at Threshing? ” Liam asked Feal. A rumble came in response, accompanied by a hint of bitterness in the dragon’s emotions.

“This bond is not something that can be announced, firestorm. The reasons for that I won’t share until necessary, but you need to know that you must not tell anyone that you’re bonded to a second dragon, much less that the dragon is me,” Feal informed him, and Liam’s stomach twisted at the thought.

What exactly was it about the bond between them that no one could know about?

“You shouldn’t worry unless you tell someone about it,” Feal seemed more than a little indifferent to the risk it could pose, and then Liam realized that the dragon wouldn’t be worried because if he were, he wouldn’t have created the bond.

“If you say so,” Liam felt like he should be more nervous about having yet another secret to keep, but he was already carrying so many, some even bigger and more threatening than the silent menace of his bond with Feal, that all he could feel about it right now was nothing but a worried acceptance.

It was done. The bond was made, and nothing but death could break it. Liam just needed to adapt.

Feal descended, landing with deceptive softness for his size and weight, shaking his head and folding his wings gracefully. Liam slipped down the dragon’s shoulder, landing back on the ground with ease.

Something inside him tightened again, something that had been there before but quiet enough for Liam not to notice often, and that happened more frequently when he had been grounded for too long.

Feal lowered his head again, aligning his eye with Liam, his gaze seeming to gleam with knowledge.

“You don’t know the consequences, but don’t let that affect your determination to keep the bond a secret. The consequences may not fall on you alone,” Feal warned him, though his tone was surprisingly gentle.

Liam still felt overwhelmed. He didn’t want to put anyone at risk. He also didn’t want to keep another potentially dangerous secret.

But what choice did he have? Liam sighed, closing his eyes.

It would be worth it when all of them were safe, and the Venin was nothing more than a story of the past.

“Alright,” Liam grumbled to the dragon. Satisfaction flashed momentarily through Feal’s emotions before he let out a rumble.

“Good, now five steps forward,” Feal instructed, shaking his head, and Liam sighed.

He knew what was coming, and he wasn’t disappointed because Liam had barely finished the fifth step before he was engulfed by the wave of heat that came with the marking.

Liam gasped as it made his back throb with burning pain, but it was once again familiar as the heat spread where Feal’s new relic settled over Deigh’s.

He shivered when the sensation ended, and another blast of freezing wind wrapped around Liam’s body. He hunched his shoulders, trying to warm himself with his own body heat.

“Go back to bed, and remember that sometimes problems solve themselves without you needing to get your own hands involved,” Feal advised him, releasing a small cloud of smoke before spreading his wings and taking off from the flight field without another thought.

Liam watched him fly away, trying to make sense of Feal’s words.

But then his eyes were growing heavy, and Liam remembered just how tired he was.

He could ponder the dragon’s words in the morning, along with all the other situations that needed to be considered and analyzed.

At that moment, Liam could only deal with one thing.

His bed.

Chapter Text

"The great navigators owe their reputation to storms and tempests."
Epicurus

-*-

Eleonor cried the day he told her he was going to Basgiath to join the Riders' Quadrant. It wasn’t just a few tears; it was a full sobbing breakdown, filled with pleas for Dylan to change his mind.

He didn’t. Everyone knew the Quadrant was the only way into the elite of the kingdom.

His parents thought he sought glory, that he wanted the renown that riding a dragon brings to anyone, but all Dylan truly wanted with his departure was to give his family a better life.

If he managed to graduate and serve Navarra as a rider, he would earn well. He could send money back home, allowing his aging parents to finally rest and stop working endlessly just to survive.

He could give his future wife a dignified life. Eleonor deserved nothing but the best, and Dylan felt his heart ache every time he had to give her less than that because he simply couldn’t afford better.

So, he didn’t change his mind despite the pleas, the begging, or the furious shouting that followed his decision.

It was his choice, and he wouldn’t waver, but that didn’t mean Dylan didn’t regret every tear that fell, every whispered worry from his mother about his possible death.

He had comforted Eleonor for hours as she lamented the brutal statistics of the Riders' Quadrant.

Dylan wasn’t blind. He knew each one of them, and to some extent, he even admitted that he should have prepared a little better. But after all, it was a military academy that trained dragon riders, and he bet that most of what he needed to know would be taught inside those walls.

His town was barely more than a large village, isolated from both the capital and Basgiath. The knowledge Dylan—or anyone, really—had about it was basic or rudimentary at best.

He knew there was an entrance test, that he would have to cross a narrow parapet to become a cadet, so Dylan practiced as much as he could on the worn beams of his village.

The fact that he barely managed to get across should have been a warning of the fate that awaited him on the real parapet. But Dylan had been much more hopeful back then, dismissing the signs because he assumed it couldn’t be that bad.

Climbing those stairs and leaving his family and Eleonor behind had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But he persevered because he would see them again in three years and would write every damned day as soon as he was allowed to.

Because he would survive the parapet.

Or so he thought.

His friendship with Rhiannon and Violet came easily. The girl with braided hair was as energetic as he felt, though noticeably less nervous. Violet, on the other hand, was more than a little resigned.

She didn’t look happy or remotely honored to have the chance to be part of the kingdom’s elite, to ride a dragon. Yet, she was still kind, even as she spoke of her mother, General Sorrengail.

Dylan couldn’t imagine what it was like to be the child of one of the most feared and renowned leaders in the country—an honor but also an unbearable responsibility. Suddenly, he was grateful to be the son of farmers.

His boots became more unstable with every step up the stairs. His parents had insisted he take the newer ones, knowing they would provide more comfort and protection against sharp stones.

But the soles were dangerously smooth, and Dylan found himself adjusting his steps to avoid losing control.

His backpack weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he desperately wanted to adjust it to relieve some of the pressure. He had packed everything that mattered, from extra clothes to small items that would keep his homesickness at bay.

Rhiannon and Violet were still talking when Dylan found himself mentioning his fiancée and his postponed proposal.

The first thing he would do when he got home, he promised himself.

Then there was Liam.

Dylan hadn’t really noticed the tall, sharp-eyed blond standing just behind Violet in the line. He was the kind of person Dylan would have taken two steps back from if he could, even though he didn’t seem hostile.

There was something about those broad shoulders, the strong arms, and the determined gaze that instantly told Dylan that was not someone to mess with.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when Liam suddenly called for his attention. When the blond barked an order for Dylan to give him his backpack, for a moment, Dylan couldn’t believe there was actually a cadet planning to steal from him in a place like that.

But Liam didn’t do that.

That was just Dylan’s anxious mind putting people into categories they didn’t belong in. Instead, Liam muttered something about the weight being too much, about how it would be fatal. Then he told Dylan to switch boots with him.

Dylan looked down at the other boy’s boots—no soft soles, no comfort. Instead, Liam wore tight riding boots made of rough leather. The soles were completely textured, and Dylan felt a sickening twist in his stomach when he realized the difference between his steps in Liam’s boots and the ones he had taken with his own.

That was what saved his life.

His backpack still weighed him down, and Dylan wobbled precariously across the entire length of the parapet, favoring Liam’s boots the whole way.
But he made it. He became a cadet.

Liam had helped him without even knowing him and continued to do so every chance he got—helping him train in areas Dylan should have already mastered but didn’t, helping him keep up with classes even though Liam had an undeniable disdain for Battle Brief, guiding him through the Gauntlet and teaching him everything about dragons.

The only reason Dylan even made it to Threshing was because Liam was willing to help him. And he never stopped.

A part of Dylan was deeply ashamed.

The fact that he was there had nothing to do with his own merit and everything to do with someone else’s generosity.

But another part of him was deeply grateful.

Without Liam, he wouldn’t have lasted a single day in that place. And Dylan would never forget that.
But regardless of why he made it to Threshing, the fact was that he was there. And Dylan was terrified.
That was the day that separated the elite from the weak.

And Dylan was weak.

As he moved away from the central clearing, his mind was consumed by how different he was from the rest of his squadron.

He didn’t have Sawyer’s experience from repeating a year in the Quadrant, or Ridoc’s fearless energy, always ready to face any challenge thrown at him.

He didn’t have Rhiannon’s adaptability—she was always ready to help anyone in need, even if they hadn’t asked for it. He didn’t have Violet’s sheer stubbornness or her intelligence, which had saved more than one cadet in the theoretical parts of Basgiath.

And Dylan was nothing like Liam Mairi.

The list of reasons why was far too long to recite in a single day, but it existed.

He felt nothing when he stepped onto the field.

None of the firm pulls that Rhiannon described, nor the strange sensation Ridoc claimed to have felt when passing near a group of browns.

So Dylan wandered aimlessly, with no real purpose other than finding a dragon that might accept him.
He wandered until a loud roar pulled his attention to the right. Determined, he followed the sound.

Not everyone had been chosen during the

presentation. He still had a chance to prove himself.
It was a brown dragon, its medium-sized body sprawled on a large hill in the middle of the field, its scorpion-like tail swaying menacingly behind it.

At the base of the hill, at least five cadets were already fighting, each trying to prove themselves worthy.

The rule was clear—only the strongest would have a chance.

Dylan clenched his fists. His heart pounded in his ears, his muscles tensed, his breath shallow.

He didn’t want to show fear.

But he knew he was no match for the others.

Still, he refused to back down.

Not after everything he had done to get there.

The brown dragon in front of him was imposing. Its scales had an almost metallic sheen under the afternoon sun, its intelligent eyes evaluating each cadet who dared to approach. Dylan swallowed hard. He could feel the presence of another cadet closing in from the side, their steps determined and impatient, but he refused to look away. This was his chance.

Then came the voice, low and laced with threat.

 “Step aside.”

Dylan turned just enough to see the other cadet beside him. He was taller, stronger, and carried an aura of confidence that Dylan knew he didn’t possess. He didn’t recognize the man, but a single glance was enough to tell him that this was someone accustomed to winning.

“No” he replied, trying to keep his voice firm.

He knew the challenge was inevitable, but he hadn’t expected it to come so quickly. The blow landed before he could prepare, a direct punch to the stomach that sent him staggering backward, his feet unsteady on the uneven ground.

Dylan tried to fight back, but the difference between them was clear. The other cadet moved with the precision of someone who had trained for this, while Dylan was still struggling to catch his breath. The second strike was a kick to his leg, nearly bringing him to his knees. He clenched his teeth and forced his body to react.

He couldn't lose.

He lunged forward, attempting to land a punch, but the other dodged easily, grabbing Dylan’s arm and twisting it with force. The pain was immediate, but what came next was worse. A blade slid across his arm, cutting from shoulder to wrist.

The hot blood ran down quickly, and Dylan felt the sting spread through his skin. The cut wasn’t deep enough to incapacitate him, but it was a warning.

"You don’t belong here" the cadet spat before releasing him.

Dylan stumbled back, pressing his left hand against the wound. The brown dragon roared beside them, but it was already clear which of the two he had chosen.

He lost.

The weight of defeat settled in immediately. The adrenaline still pulsed through him, but now it was accompanied by a wave of silent despair. He had failed.

The clearing was filled with other cadets, each fighting their own battles, and Dylan knew that no one would come to help him. There was no place for the weak here. He pressed his lips together, swallowing the bitter taste of loss, and stepped away.

His steps were heavy as he walked back to the flight field. Blood dripped slowly from his arm, marking the ground as he moved. His fingers trembled. His chest burned with frustration.

He hadn’t bonded.

And now, as he blended in among the other unbonded cadets, reality became unbearable.

Dylan saw Rhiannon first. Her smile was wide as she stepped away from her new dragon, her eyes shining with euphoria as the entire squadron gathered. Ridoc was laughing, excited, celebrating beside Sawyer. Violet was soon being embraced as she laughed, but he could see the relief in her posture when the black and gold dragons beside her dipped their heads slightly toward her.

Liam.

Dylan met his gaze for a brief moment. He was mounted atop a massive blue dragon, the weight of the creature’s presence almost as imposing as its rider’s own. Liam didn’t smile, didn’t celebrate like the others once his eyes found Dylan. But his gaze held something close to shock.

Dylan looked away.

He should be happy for the others. He knew that. But the pain in his chest grew with every passing second, crushing and suffocating.

He hadn’t bonded.

And now, all that was left was to deal with the weight of his own failure.

-*-

The night stretched over Basgiath like a cold, oppressive veil, and Dylan couldn’t sleep. The pain in his arm still throbbed, the cut from shoulder to wrist a constant reminder of his failure at Threshing. Each dull beat of his own heart felt like a silent sentence.

His squadron was celebrating. He knew that. He could picture Rhiannon laughing loudly, Ridoc speaking with excitement, Sawyer recounting every moment of Threshing as if it were already the stuff of legend. Liam and Violet would be there too, their powerful bonds sealing their places in the history of their generation.

And Dylan?

Dylan was alone.

The weight of his decision loomed over him like a shadow. He could try again next year, prepare better, come back stronger, faster, smarter. But now that he knew how things worked here, was it worth it? Did he really want to spend another year risking his life for a dream that might never be his?

Or maybe… maybe it would be easier to go home.

Face his parents with the heavy shame on his shoulders. Apologize to Eleonor and admit he wasn’t the man he had promised to be.

The thought sickened him.

Dylan rose from his bed, the tangled sheets around his body like shackles, forcing him to confront his own misery. But he didn’t want to stay still. He needed to move, needed to breathe something other than the suffocating sense of inadequacy that had consumed him since Threshing.

His feet carried him through the silent corridors, his steps echoing faintly against the stone floors.
Darkness hung over the stronghold like a thick shroud. Dylan wandered aimlessly through the cold halls, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his frustration. The distant echo of laughter and conversation vibrated in the air, a cruel reminder of what he had lost.

His fingers brushed against the bandaged fabric on his arm. The wound burned, but not as much as the emptiness inside him. Should he leave? Return home now that he knew what awaited him here? Maybe that was the right choice. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t like Liam, who rode a blue dragon as imposing as his own name. He wasn’t like Violet, who had bonded with one of the legendary black dragons.

He was just a failure.

His boots made soft sounds against the stone floor as he walked without direction. When he turned down one of the more isolated corridors, the muffled sound of voices interrupted his thoughts.

"…tomorrow morning, before training. When no one’s paying attention."

Dylan stopped, pressing himself against the wall. He held his breath, listening.

"Mairi and Sorrengail need to pay for taking the two best dragons. They think they’re untouchable".

"And no one will suspect a thing. Accidents on the flight field happen all the time."

Dylan’s stomach twisted. Was that what they were planning? An ambush for Liam and Violet?

He could just walk away. Pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

But the thought burned in his mind like embers. He had already failed once. He couldn’t fail again.
Dylan stepped away from the wall and moved forward.

"I heard everything."

The shadows shifted, revealing two unbonded cadets. One of them, a broad-shouldered young man, turned slowly. The other, lean with sharp eyes, smirked.

— Look at that. The failure decided to play hero.
Dylan didn’t reply. He kept his feet firmly planted and raised his fists.

The fight started quickly. The bigger one struck first, a direct punch that Dylan barely dodged. He twisted his body and countered with a blow to the stomach, but his opponent recovered fast.

The second unbonded cadet attacked from behind, yanking Dylan away. A knee struck his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. But he refused to fall.
He couldn’t lose again.

With a grunt, Dylan broke free from the hold and delivered a punch that landed squarely on his attacker’s face. The cadet staggered back, spitting blood. The larger one tried to take advantage of the distraction, but Dylan saw it coming. He ducked, avoiding a strike to the face, and kicked the enemy’s knee. The cadet roared in pain before collapsing to the side.

Dylan was breathing heavily, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

The two on the ground glared up at him, defeated.

"If you try anything against them" Dylan said, his voice rough and firm  "I’ll end you"

Neither of them responded. The first one shot him a look filled with rage, letting Dylan know this wasn’t over.

He hadn’t intended to take it this far, but those idiots had actually planned to kill two members of his squadron—one of whom was literally the reason he was still alive to tell the story.

The dagger struck the cadet square in the chest, leaving Dylan’s hand slightly off-center from his original aim. It should have been a clean, quick kill.
Instead, the cadet convulsed, coughing up blood, living for a full agonizing minute before going completely still.

The second unbonded cadet stared in horror at his former partner before slowly shifting his gaze back to Dylan.

Then he nodded, wordlessly conceding. Their plan was over.

Dylan turned to leave, pausing only to retrieve his dagger-

And then he saw the silhouette at the entrance of the corridor.

“Impressive.”The feminine voice cut through the silence, and Dylan froze before turning his head.

Milla Crockford was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed over her chest, watching the bodies on the ground with an unreadable expression.

“Didn’t expect that from you, Dylan.”

Dylan was still catching his breath.

“Are you… going to tell anyone?”

Milla raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think I care if two idiots got hurt trying to be morons?” She shrugged, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I was just curious to see how you’d handle it.”
Dylan frowned, trying to read her expression.

“And?”

Milla tilted her head slightly, as if weighing her response.

“I saw why you did it.” Her eyes glinted briefly in the darkness. “This stays between us.”

Dylan nodded slowly, not entirely sure why she was being so understanding.

But it didn’t matter.

He had won.

With one last glance at the fallen cadets, he straightened up, ignoring the pain that pulsed through every inch of his body, and walked back to his dormitory.

This time, as he lay down, he didn’t feel so empty.
He still wasn’t a rider.

But he wasn’t going to quit.

Chapter Text

"There is nothing more incredible than flying on your dragon. The feeling of freedom almost makes all the hell it took to get to that point worth it. The first flight training is designed to teach you how to hold on properly and get used to being dozens of meters in the air. There is nothing more beautiful than that, but make sure not to lean too far over your dragon’s shoulder—the fall is nowhere near as pleasant as the view."

Recovered letter from Cadet Liam Mairi to Sloane Mairi

-*-

Liam regretted going to Chantarra as soon as he opened his eyes with the first light of morning. He had forgotten to close the cheap curtains, which meant that the increasingly strong rays of the rising sun streamed into his window and hit Liam directly in the face.

That alone would have been enough to make him uncomfortable, even without the fact that his head felt like it was being hammered with a massive club every passing second.

He rolled over to escape the light, but it was essentially useless considering that he was already awake and the hangover’s pain probably wouldn’t let him fall back asleep anytime soon.

Once again, Liam lamented his inability to refuse things to his squadmates. It only ever brought him trouble, and Liam wasn’t even being specific about which trouble he was referring to.

Be it the hangover or the new secret bond Liam had somehow gained on such a miserable night.

It must have been just before five-thirty in the morning, a small improvement in his readjustment schedule to the normal routine instead of the scribes’ hours, but he still had at least half an hour before he was needed anywhere other than his bed and the dream world.

Not that it mattered to his terrible sleep or the stupid headache that seemed determined to make everything worse.

Maybe he could use his time to go to the infirmary and get a tincture for his headache—maybe even find out if there was something that could magically cure a hangover—then return to the dormitory in time to get ready and start the day properly instead of in this mess.

But Liam had no energy for that at the moment, even when the pain was so intense that it almost made his vision blur.

"Fucking drink, you weren’t even good," he cursed mentally, turning his face just enough to bury it into the pillow with force. It didn’t relieve any of his discomfort, but at least it stopped the annoying light from hitting his retinas.

"Go to your healers," Deigh’s sleepy voice ordered. Whether it was because the dragon could feel his pain or just wanted him to stop whining was hard to tell.

It didn’t matter, because Liam didn’t feel like he could move a single inch at that moment.

He should follow his dragon’s advice. He might even be able to get some tinctures for his squadmates, who had drunk considerably more than he had. But Liam couldn’t move more than a few centimeters.

His muscles suddenly ached when he tried to move them, and he groaned pathetically. Maybe it wasn’t just the alcohol that had caused this state—fatigue and discouragement weren’t the most common hangover symptoms.

At least, not for him. Liam was used to mood swings and particularly strong headaches following a night of drinking, but despite really feeling like this, he knew it wasn’t the whole picture.

Deigh grumbled in his mind, obviously following along, and then disappeared for a few moments.

"I have already contacted your family. They are on their way and will bring medicine," Deigh informed him, and Liam groaned, not entirely pleased with that.

He didn’t want to trouble anyone with his strange state, least of all the elders, who already had so much to deal with every day. Liam didn’t want to become a burden—not now, not ever.

"If they are bothered by coming to your aid, then they are not worthy of your affection," Feal’s voice rang out, inflexible, bordering on irritated, though the reason escaped Liam’s understanding.

He only grunted at the dragon, too exhausted to respond at that moment. It seemed like a great morning to deal with this kind of mood.

Liam closed his eyes, deciding it was worth trying to fall back asleep. His head throbbed, and his eyes felt like they were being forced shut by heavy lids. His legs were also uncomfortable, though he didn’t feel capable of moving them, so he didn’t try.

The knock on the door pulled him from his attempts at rest. Liam turned his head just enough to look at the door, lamenting the distance he would have to cross to answer it.

But it was open. Liam remembered coming in and heading straight to bed—a stupid choice, considering the number of unbonded around, but a blessing now.

"Come in," he rasped, his voice so thick it barely sounded like his own. His throat scratched and burned as he forced it to work despite its dryness.

The handle turned, and the door opened just a few centimeters before swinging fully to reveal Garrick. His brow was furrowed, and his gaze shone with both reprimand and concern.

The Tavis stepped into the room, closing the door and locking it—something Liam obviously should have done the night before but hadn’t—before moving closer.

"Why was your door open, Mairi?" Garrick asked seriously. Liam groaned, not happy about being scolded so early, least of all in this state.

So he didn’t answer. It wasn’t worth it, and arguments weren’t what he wanted.

Garrick huffed, moving to the bedside. Liam blinked up at him, listless, waiting to find out what remedy the squad leader had brought.

Blessedly, Garrick seemed to realize that Liam wasn’t physically or mentally in a state to engage in this conversation and let it go. Instead, he marched over to the tiny corner dresser, rummaging through Liam’s few belongings.

"What are you feeling?" he asked as he opened his own bag and pulled out some vials that looked downright awful—medicines never tasted good or looked appealing.

"Standard hangover—headache," Liam mumbled, blinking his eyes. "My muscles feel like jelly," he added in a lament when simply shifting his body into a position that would let him take the medicine was a tremendous challenge.

Garrick studied him for a moment before shaking his head, obviously realizing this was more than just a hangover.

"Really bad?" Garrick asked as he handed him a headache tonic.

Liam grunted an affirmative, his face twisting in distaste as he downed the brown liquid.

The bitter taste almost made him spit it back out, but Liam pressed his lips together and forced himself to swallow, even as it sent a shudder through his body.

He handed the empty vial back to Garrick, who hummed in satisfaction, a small smile curling his lips as he observed Liam’s grimace.

Liam shifted in bed, his blanket slipping lower on his body, making him feel surprisingly cold. Basgiath was always cold, but it was even worse this early in the morning.

The blanket was pulled up and tucked back around his shoulders. Liam sent Garrick a grateful look, sinking more comfortably against the mattress.

He blinked sluggishly, chasing any lingering threads of unconsciousness left in his body. The squad leader moved around the room for a few seconds, gathering some items that had been scattered the night before.

Liam had planned to clean up the room at night, but obviously, since his squad had gone out to celebrate their bonds, he hadn’t gotten around to it. That meant there were items spread all over—small sculptures, his few personal belongings, all resting on the windowsill.

Garrick placed them inside the small wardrobe, carefully folding the spare leathers into the drawer. The only set of formal clothes Liam owned was still on his body, since he hadn’t bothered changing the night before.

The sculptures were lined up on the dresser’s surface. Liam watched as Garrick grabbed his weapons belt, the rows of sheaths holding his blades shifting slightly with the movement. Then, the Tavis settled at the foot of the bed, his large frame somehow managing to fit without touching Liam, despite the small size of the mattress.

Liam turned his head to watch, blinking as he observed Garrick unsheathing the first blade and inspecting it.

"Do you want to tell the story of this hangover?" Garrick asked, and Liam grumbled, shrugging.

"The squad decided to go to Chantarra to celebrate our bonds," his voice was still hoarse. He probably needed water, but with the headache finally starting to subside, he was much more willing to deal with his dry throat.

"Well, that sounds like a great morale boost," Garrick said, obviously knowing it hadn’t been. Liam didn’t wake up feeling this uselessly awful unless the previous night had been a disaster.

"It wasn’t," Liam muttered, feeling utterly sour.

Chantarra is nice, I guess, but the beer wasn’t good, and I definitely wasn’t in the mood for a party. That was a bit bitter—his squad had managed to make the night more enjoyable than not, but Liam had been exhausted and emotionally wrecked because of Threshing and Dylan.

The Tavis hummed in acknowledgment, sheathing the first blade and picking up the second to examine.

“So why did you go?” Garrick asked again. Liam scoffed.

“My squad wanted to go, and I didn’t think of a good enough reason to refuse,” he stated indifferently. “I thought I could help,” he continued, knowing it had been a stupid assumption. He could have stayed back and maybe escaped the worst of this morning.

But the past was the past, and lamenting it wouldn’t change anything. Liam had decided to go, and considering the alternative wouldn’t undo it.

“Hm,” Garrick muttered, obviously aware of how flimsy that logic was, but the Tavis didn’t even bother to send him a reprimanding look.

The third blade was examined and then returned to its sheath, as were the fourth, fifth, and sixth. Liam averted his gaze, seeing no point in continuing to supervise Garrick’s work.

He needed to think about what he would do that day. Normally, considering his schedule only made him feel even more disheartened, but Liam didn’t have time to deal with his own pettiness.

Battle Brief was standard—he would just sit in his chair and pretend to pay attention to whatever was being said, or listen only to mentally mock the lies. Then came the rest of the classes, from history to physics. Liam didn’t think they were terrible, though he didn’t particularly enjoy them either.

And then there was flight class. Today would be the first day of training for first-year cadets on their dragons. Liam wasn’t worried about that at all.

He had flown on Deigh plenty of times and had held on through a damn fierce battle—he had no insecurity about his seat. But he also knew the day wouldn’t be particularly smooth. Like everything else, Liam was an exception, and more than one first-year cadet usually fell off their dragon during the first flight training.

His squad hadn’t been among them in Liam’s year—except for Violet, but Tairn had always caught her, and Liam didn’t see why it would be any different this time.

He wondered if, since Deigh was now connected to Tairn, and Liam was almost certain he could feel Violet’s emotions, he would end up experiencing the sensation of free-falling multiple times as she did.

Liam decided he would need to keep his shields firmly in place during practice.

"You should always keep them high," Deigh corrected, a bit brusquely. Liam blinked, slightly confused."You wouldn’t want the Wingleader and Tairn’s girl to discover your secret, so you must keep your shields up at all times, strong enough to prevent the Wingleader from breaking through them," he warned, and Liam’s stomach twisted.

He had forgotten about that—if the logic of emotions worked for him, then it would for Violet and Xaden as well. They could feel his emotions, too.

"Maybe even my thoughts, if they’re particularly strong," Liam thought, a little worried. If before keeping his shields up was necessary, now it was an absolute obligation.

He locked them into place without effort. Raising them wasn’t difficult anymore, though Liam still struggled to keep them strong for long periods without interruptions. That would have to change, and fast.

But that was also a problem for another time—one when Liam finally felt capable of assessing all the issues Threshing had brought. At that moment, he refocused on his original train of thought.

Dylan. Fuck. Liam’s headache fought valiantly against the medicine, trying to return.

A part of him was fully aware that there was little—if anything—that could be done for the boy. And repeating the year wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

But Dylan belonged to his group. Liam couldn’t imagine how strange and utterly terrifying it would be to be forcibly separated from the people he had spent the last three months with.

Liam would be devastated—not to mention terrified.

And that was the part that made him want to try harder, that screamed at him to find some kind of solution, to preserve his group and defend them with everything he had, even when Liam had so little power and control over his current situation.

It didn’t help that neither Deigh nor Feal had shattered his expectations or dismissed his foolish determination. In fact, both dragons seemed to know exactly what he needed to do to achieve that.

But they hadn’t said a word about their perspectives. Liam hadn’t asked, knowing it would offend them—he was supposed to be able to figure out his options on his own.

If only his mind wasn’t working so damn slowly, if only he could analyze more than a few things at a time.

Garrick stored the last dagger, and that was when Liam realized he had gotten lost in his thoughts. He turned toward the squad leader, watching as he quietly put away the weapon belt.

"Thanks," Liam muttered—just loud enough to be discernible, but not loud enough to sound normal. Garrick nodded in acknowledgment.

"Do you feel well enough to go to class?" he asked, as if Liam had a choice.

No one was excused from classes at Basgiath unless they were unconscious or nearly dead.

Liam was like this because of his own carelessness.

But he saw the way the Tavis's gaze gleamed with an offer— they would find a way, and Liam could spend the entire day in bed. How, he didn’t know, but it would happen. All Liam had to do was want it and accept. It was both an aid and a form of care.

Liam could barely function in this state, let alone fight and defend himself, so the day could be not just exhausting but also deadly. But he still couldn’t just lock himself in and forget about the rest. He needed to keep an eye on Violet. He needed to help Dylan. And the first flight training was today, so he couldn’t just pretend it didn’t exist.

“I’m fine,” Liam grumbled, battling against his own arms to lift his torso and sit up. His limbs resisted his efforts, and his stomach twisted as if it were the one lifting him.

Liam wasn’t exactly fine, but he would be, and time didn’t stop for anyone, no matter who they were.

Garrick stared at him with mild disdain. He obviously didn’t agree with Liam’s stance. Liam knew the older man just wanted to spare him from dealing with the mess he would create for himself by pushing too hard in this condition.

But Liam didn’t have time for that, nor did he want to be pitied. He had endured worse than a stupid body demanding the impossible.

He moved to the dresser, his steps a bit unsteady, and grabbed the first set of leathers he could reach, careful not to ruin Garrick’s effort in organizing them.

The squad leader watched him the entire way, his gaze intensifying each time Liam’s balance wavered. Even when Liam turned to face him, he didn’t look away. But the fight left him almost immediately, clearly recognizing that this was a battle he wouldn’t win.

“Fine, but don’t push yourself too hard, Mairi,” Garrick relented, crossing his arms, obviously unhappy.

Liam offered him a reassuring smile.

“I won’t. If things get too bad, Deigh will probably alert one of you again,” Liam tried, knowing that the assurance of being informed if something went wrong would help ease most of their concerns.

Things changed so quickly for all of them. People who had been perfectly fine died suddenly. Things were stable, and then they were lost.

The Tavis huffed, obviously recognizing the tactic, but he still smiled and nodded.

“The moment it gets bad, Mairi—not a second later,” he demanded, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I have to go. The leadership meeting is probably about to start, and Amber Mavis is a nightmare when someone is late.”

He waved in farewell, barely waiting for Liam’s own half-hearted gesture before leaving the room.

Liam smiled at his dismissive comment about Amber. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had heard something like that. Amber had died in the attack of the unbonded against Violet, and Liam had never had a reason to discuss her with the older cadets who had known her.

He hadn’t had time for anything, really.

But he would now.

-*-

Liam figured out what to do in the middle of lunch.

He had been sitting pathetically at the table with his squad, watching the shifts in the school’s social hierarchy.

It was more than a little satisfying to see Oren kicked out of his usual table, forced to settle for a much smaller one in the farthest corner of the hall.

But it wasn’t finding out which dragon he had bonded with that caught Liam’s attention—Violet had cursed furiously, muttering about how cowardly and stupid both Oren and his dragon were for hunting and trying to kill Andarna.

Deigh had told him which dragon it was.

Baide. Jack Fucking Barlowe’s dragon.

Shit.

Liam would have preferred that dragon not be anywhere near them. He would have preferred Baide to take his terrible taste in riders and disappear forever.

But in contrast, all Liam knew about the dragon was that he was wild and utterly cruel. It was obvious that his riders either already were or would become the same at some point after bonding.

However, Baide also had a very low hierarchical position. So, Oren had been cast out of most groups until he found one that would take him, ending up at a table so far in the corner that it was nearly swallowed by shadows.

His squad, on the other hand, maintained a table right in the center of the hall, fully illuminated and in an absolutely advantageous position near the breakfast line.

Between Tairn and Deigh, there wasn’t a single dragon that could challenge their position now—except for Sgaeyl, but Xaden always sat with the leadership, so it didn’t matter.

Liam thought it was excessive. Ridoc thought it was perfect.

He was already calling them “the kings of all this shit,” and Liam had wanted to push him down the stairs for laughing so hard. It had been way too early for his jokes—especially for his stupid humor.

His squad, however, didn’t seem bothered by his mood swings. They left him alone in his space, though Liam sometimes joined in on their discussions and jokes.

They talked about all sorts of things—how they had met their dragons.

Feirge had been in the eastern fields, and Rhiannon had known immediately that she was the one the moment she saw her. There hadn’t been a single sign of threat.

Aotrom had been in the center of the forest and had supposedly played a prank on Ridoc. Liam thought his squadmate had just been distracted and somehow lost sight of a massive dragon.

Sawyer’s story was a bit more thrilling. Apparently, he had stumbled upon Sliseag by chance. The red dragon had just burned a cadet he deemed unworthy, and when he lifted his head, there had been no time for the Henrick to break eye contact.

Sawyer had been certain he was going to die, but he had still risked stepping forward to Sliseag’s left. After that first eye contact, he had kept his gaze firmly on the ground.

Sliseag had huffed out a cloud of smoke but accepted him.

Violet also briefly shared her story—about Oren and Baide hunting Andarna, how she had faced them to defend the golden dragon, how Baide had tried to burn her, and how Tairn had swooped in to save the day at the last minute.

Liam had to suppress the surge of deep pride rising in his chest.

Violet was developing so well, reaching a whole new level of skill—it was honestly incredible to witness.

And like everyone else, Liam briefly mentioned the group of six cadets who had chased him and how he had handled them—though he left out his methods—before Deigh arrived and burned the last girl.

Jiah, unsurprisingly, was an unbonded, and one of those whose hatred for Liam burned even stronger.

When that topic ended, they talked about Battle Brief, then history, and finally, their excitement—or anxiety—about the flight training.

The first-year cadets’ first flight lesson.

Liam wasn’t worried about it at all. He was more than accustomed to flying, and there were no significant risks for him, but he acknowledged how dangerous the class could be for the other first-years.

He had lost count of how many of them had died because they couldn’t hold onto their seats.

In fact, it was an excellent day for the unbonded—with so many dragons losing their riders, they would be eager to bond.

Liam blinked, his eyes frozen on the piece of sour apple he held, intending to eat it.

He felt like he had just stumbled upon something important.

"You finally found it. Now develop it," Deigh grumbled in his mind, a wave of boredom hitting Liam as if the dragon was tired of waiting for his slow realization.

Liam blinked, forcing his brain to connect the information that would give him the answer.

He had been thinking about the flight lesson—about how it was routine for him but deadly for others.

That riders died in droves that day.

That unbonded dragons bonded in greater numbers that day.

Unbonded dragons bonded that day because many cadets fell from their dragons.

Maybe one of the dragons that lost a rider that day could end up bonding with Dylan.

But how could he be sure it would work?

Some dragons never bonded strongly with any of their riders. Glean, if Liam remembered correctly, was one of them, and the red scorpiontail had lost two first-year riders in flight lessons.

But Glean was also the only dragon Liam was absolutely certain would lose a rider. He simply couldn’t sentence Dylan to that risk.

Liam huffed in frustration, swallowing the sour apple from his tray.

The group was still chatting excitedly about their expectations for flight training.

"You won’t make progress if you rely on events happening the way you want," Feal’s voice was serious.

"You’ll have to get personally involved if you expect things to go your way," Feal pointed out.

Liam groaned quietly, drawing a concerned look from Sawyer.

His squad grew concerned when Liam dragged himself out of his room, still overcoming the worst of his discomfort. That was when he realized he had large dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked a few shades paler.

But he dismissed their concerns with determination, claiming it was just a side effect of the hangover. It helped that most of them had been far more drunk than he had, so no one remembered that Liam had only had a single mug of beer.

Yet, throughout the day, Liam caught them casting serious, worried glances his way. Like now, with Sawyer, and Liam huffed, offering a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine, I just found the sourest apple in the basket,” he joked. It wasn’t a lie, because it really should be criminal to serve such a horribly bitter fruit to starving cadets.

Even if Liam didn’t have much of an appetite—but no one needed to know that.

He turned back to his mental discussion. Liam knew Feal’s words were true. He knew nothing would change if there wasn’t a push to make it happen.

That wasn’t how it had worked on the parapet. Dylan still would have died if Liam hadn’t stepped in to prevent it. Violet still would have struggled in the fight, and the relationship between the Marked Ones and Sorrengail would still be based on contempt.

Instead, Liam had intervened, and now all of that had changed. The same logic applied to Dylan’s lack of a bond.

He couldn’t just sit back and pray that fate would take pity on him. And even if it did, the chance of failure was far too high.

There was only one shot—if Dylan risked bonding with a dragon that had absolutely nothing to do with his characteristics, he would end up as a pile of ashes.

Still, up to that point, Liam’s interventions had been peaceful, generally requiring little more than a subtle nudge on his part.

In other words, Liam hadn’t had to kill—or orchestrate the death of—anyone to make them happen.

What would he become if he crossed that line?

“A murderer,” Liam thought, a little nauseated, which made him shrink into himself.

People died every day at Basgiath. People killed people every day in the fortress, and some did it simply because they could—or for stupid reasons, like mockery.

Liam had never done that. He had never killed anyone who wasn’t a Venin or who hadn’t directly attacked him, forcing him to defend himself with lethal force.

None of that applied now. None of them were magic-draining monsters, and no attack had been made. Liam would simply be killing them in cold blood.

Could he really do that?

“You need allies, whether you like the means of obtaining them or not. You’ll get over it,” Deigh growled in his mind, a quick flash of the dragon’s memory reminding him of what was at stake.“It’s unfortunate that such means are necessary, but they are,” he continued mercilessly.

Liam closed his eyes, hating that there was partial truth to it, though he didn’t believe he would truly get over taking someone’s life anytime soon.

With a long exhale, Liam shut his eyes and nodded. He had to do this.

Liam looked around just in time to see that the others had already finished eating. Despite the leftovers still on his tray, Liam resigned himself to following them to the utensil return area.

He walked beside Rhiannon, who simply offered him a quiet smile and focused on the path ahead. They would soon be heading to the flight field for class with Kaori, so Liam needed to form a plan quickly.

The first step was to figure out which dragon species would be most compatible with Dylan.

Definitely not an orange or a green.

Despite the boy being positively intelligent in some situations, Liam couldn’t see how he would work with a green, and he didn’t even need to explain the oranges.

Browns were an option. They valued those with strong spirits, those who didn’t easily succumb to fear—like Ridoc, who had enough bravery to mock the situations that arose before him.

Maybe even Liam himself, considering he was also bonded to a brown, though he felt it was a different kind of bravery. One motivated by his numbness to loss—because Liam had already been through too much to fear many things now.

Dylan wasn’t a coward and had enough inner strength to make browns a possibility. But he had hesitated enough times to make Liam wary of that choice.

The boy avoided confrontation, and that simply wasn’t the nature of a brown, no matter how one looked at it.

Now, reds had energy and valued it in their riders. They sought those whose virtues burned brightly, who couldn’t be easily broken.

They sought resilience and determination, which, in most cases, meant their riders were also fierce and explosive warriors.

But not always. Some reds also valued cunning—cadets who recognized their battles and opponents and fought coldly for victory despite the obstacles.

Dylan wasn’t a great, ferocious warrior, but he was resilient. Liam would bet on that any day.

He hadn’t been through as much as Dylan, hadn’t been constantly beaten while refining his combat skills, repeatedly knocked down by the academy’s challenges.

If Dylan was anything, he was resilient. And more and more, the boy was becoming a warrior like the rest of them.

Soon, he would be as fierce as the rest of their squad. He just needed time—and a chance.

“So, a red,” Liam decided. It was probably the best bet, and it wasn’t as if he could ever pinpoint with certainty what a dragon might seek in a rider. But he resigned himself to what he knew.

Now, which red? There were at least two dozen of them bonded this year. Should he just pick one at random?

“If you want a dragon that values cunning over ferocity and isn’t fickle in its bonds, then you should go after Astar,” Feal told him. Liam had the impression that the dragon had just thumped his tail against the ground.

Astar. Well, that gave him a path to follow. And if Feal had suggested it, then it was a safer path as well.

“Alright, then let’s try with him,” Liam agreed, pressing his lips together.

He was really planning on making a dragon lose its rider.

“He bonded with a Fourth Wing girl. I’ll recognize him in your first class,” Deigh grumbled. He obviously wasn’t in the Vale anymore if his voice was this clear in Liam’s mind.

Class would start in just a few minutes, and Liam felt his stomach twist between anxiety and guilt.

“You won’t have to do anything, Firestorm. Just stay in your seat, and everything will be fine,” Feal tried to reassure him—as if that made it any better.

Liam shook his head. Guilt wouldn’t change what was about to happen, and by this point, it was obvious that it wouldn’t stop him from going through with it.

The squad descended the stairs and stepped onto the field, all of them sighing at the absolutely stunning sight of dozens of dragons lined up in quadrants, following squad formation.

It was the closest dragons would ever come to obeying human regulations.

Liam scanned the formation quickly. His squad’s position was the easiest to locate, with Tairn and Deigh being significantly larger than the dragons surrounding them.

The two dragons sat side by side at the front of the group, having effectively dethroned Cath from the leadership position.

Liam hadn’t expected either dragon to show deference to any other, but it was still amusing to watch Dain grumble and resign himself to sitting further back.

Deigh was already staring at him as he approached, barely acknowledging the squad’s words of encouragement. His massive blue head lowered until his eyes were aligned with Liam’s.

“The death of Astar’s rider won’t be on your hands, Brave Heart. But even if it were, that shouldn’t eat away at you,” Deigh huffed, a puff of smoke drifting in Liam’s direction.

Liam swallowed hard and nodded.

He took a deep breath, gathering the courage to move forward—or at least to suppress the worst of his hesitation. Then Liam turned his back to Deigh’s foreleg, waiting for class to begin.

Kaori was approaching, and it was clear he was about to start his speech before they began. He glanced around at the gathered cadets, who were murmuring excitedly about what awaited them, but the professor didn’t seem too inclined to call for their attention just yet.

Instead, Kaori made his way through the field until he stopped nearby, leaving a considerable and respectful distance so as not to irritate Deigh, who, if Liam was correct, was watching the professor attentively. Then, the professor nodded.

“Cadet Mairi, may I have a moment?” he asked calmly, and Liam nodded, already moving out of the space occupied by the massive blue body and stopping a few steps from the professor.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, tilting his head curiously. The professor gave a serious glance around before focusing on him again, and Liam blinked.

“Very well, I’m here to talk about your application for the assistant position,” the professor began, and Liam blinked again.

He had forgotten about that. Though he wanted the position no less, so much had happened in the past three days that it had disappeared among all his other thoughts.

“Your application still stands, correct?” the professor questioned, raising an eyebrow at him, and Liam quickly nodded to show his agreement.

“Of course, if you still need one,” Liam agreed eagerly.

Amusement rippled through the bond between him and his two dragons, but neither of them spoke.

“Great. I’d like to conduct a simple test to ensure the validity of the process, so we’ll hold it in the standard Dragonkind classroom in two days, right after lunch,” Kaori informed him seriously.

Liam nodded, focusing. It was best to reread the manuals to be sure, and it was a great excuse to strengthen his potential alliance with Jesinia.

“It will be simple, however, just to make sure you’re familiar with what’s required. The rest you’ll learn as you progress,” the professor explained.

A wave of nervousness settled over Liam again.

"Simple? But what exactly is required? Knowing everything about dragon species?" Liam wondered, and Deigh snorted behind him.

"No human knows everything about dragons, so it definitely won’t be that," the dragon mocked in his mind.

It was a fair point, but it didn’t calm him down at all.

"You’ll do well, Firestorm, as long as you control your emotional impulses and stay calm. That’s something you need to improve," Feal’s voice sounded critical, and Liam sighed, resisting the urge to shake his head. That would look strange.

“Of course, Professor, I’ll be there,” he promised, unable to hide the happy nervousness in his voice.

Kaori nodded in acknowledgment before returning to the center of the yard.

Liam took a few more seconds to calm the sea of anxiety and reluctant satisfaction before retreating to his dragon again.

He didn’t feel like he should be so pleased when he hadn’t even been accepted yet, but the chance meant a lot to him.

There hadn’t been much opportunity for anything else he had wished for before this—not to avoid coming to the quadrant, not to keep his parents from being lost, and certainly not to prevent death.

But he had taken advantage of the little things that had come his way, and now he had a chance with this test.

It was different when his success or failure had always been defined by people's opinions of him.

Liam knew they would inevitably reject him when that was the case—because of the relic, because of who his parents had been.

But a written test gave him a chance.

Because it depended on him—on how much Liam knew or was capable of.

So he could make it happen.

"You can, but you’ll have to focus on that at another time, Brave Heart. The dragon observer has already started his speech," Deigh alerted him, tilting his enormous head toward Kaori, who was projecting his voice to attract everyone’s attention.

“Welcome, Cadets, to your first flight class,” the professor greeted.A wave of responses swept through the quadrant, and Liam shook his head.“You must think that now that you’ve bonded with a dragon, things will get easier, right?” the professor asked.

Waves of affirmative responses rose. The excitement of the first-years was almost tangible—well, almost all of them. Liam rolled his eyes.

By now, people should have realized that nothing was easy in this place.

“Wrong.”Kaori gave the quadrant a sarcastic smile. The cheers stopped, and now everyone was looking at him in confusion.“Bonding with a dragon is just the first step. Now, you must learn to stay on them, and that, cadets, is not easy,” the professor said, almost amused—or at least Liam thought so, judging by his posture.

“We’ve already done that. In Threshing, we had to hold onto our dragons until the flight field,” a female voice came from somewhere to Liam’s left, but he didn’t try to locate it.

“You’re correct, Cadet Stanford. You held on for a few minutes until the field. But I’ve never seen a battle last mere seconds, so you need to be able to stay in place for hours—and do so even if you’re exhausted from a fight.”Kaori raised an eyebrow.“But there’s another reason you need to learn how to maintain your seat. Can anyone tell me what it is?” Kaori asked, looking around.

Liam gave it a few seconds to see if anyone would answer, then spoke up.

“Because standard flight is different from Threshing flight. In the latter, dragons do perform acrobatics, but generally, the movements are linear and at a constant speed, which makes it easier for cadets to stay on, even if inexperienced,” Liam explained, his body tingling as the gazes of several dozen cadets locked onto him.

Kaori looked at him with a half-smile and nodded, indicating for him to continue. Liam shrugged.

“Standard flights aren’t linear and aren’t performed at the same speed. There are sharp turns and sudden stops, making it harder to stay seated. So, to prevent falls and unnecessary losses, flight training simulates these scenarios,” he finished, then quickly added, “At least in the first year. Later, more complex maneuvers are introduced.”

The professor nodded in approval.

“Exactly. It seems at least one of you did their homework. Perfect, Cadet Mairi,” the professor praised briefly, and Liam felt his shoulders lift in pride.

He exchanged a glance with Violet, who was shaking her head in amusement, her lips forming a silent “know-it-all” that made Liam chuckle and shake his head.

“So, my role as your professor is to teach you how to maintain your seat on your dragons. But this won’t be easy or comfortable,” Kaori continued, scanning some of the faces in the crowd.“You’ll be tested, pushed to your limits—and then some. And after all of that, if you’re still in your seats on your dragons, then I’ll listen to any of you call this easy,” he concluded with a slightly sarcastic smile.

No one would, of course.

Liam remembered leaving his first flight training day—he hadn’t been able to walk normally for hours, and his legs had felt like they were seconds from melting beneath him.

The pain had been tremendous, and Liam had barely felt comfortable saying he had survived because he still felt the vertigo, as if he might fall at any moment.

Garrick had teased him for hours, making jokes and exaggerated imitations of his overly stiff and tense walk—until Xaden had cut in and reminded him how the Tavis had fared after his first flight training.

Apparently, Garrick hadn’t even been able to walk out of the field, and Xaden had had to carry him to bed, where he had remained motionless for the rest of the day.

Liam would have teased Garrick another time—maybe even imitated him mockingly, thoroughly entertained by the exchange of jabs that was clearly friendly—but Liam had been truly exhausted.

So he had just laughed and then bid them goodnight before heading to his room.

But this time wouldn’t be like that.

Liam was almost certain.

If not because of the pain, then at least because, this time, he was sure he would find the experience far more exciting than concerning, unlike the last time.

But this time wouldn’t be the same. Liam was almost certain. If not because of the pain, then at least because this time, he was sure he would find the experience far more exciting than concerning, unlike the last time.

"And what if we fall?"

A timid voice sounded just a few meters to his right, and Liam turned to look at the girl who had spoken.

He didn’t know her, but he recognized the position she was in.

Second squadron, tail section, Fourth Wing.

The girl stood in front of a massive Red Clubtail, apparently proud.

"Astar," Deigh informed him, seemingly satisfied that he had located his target.

Liam blinked at the red dragon before quickly looking away, not wanting to appear disrespectful.

At least, not more disrespectful than planning the death of his rider.

"If you fall, then we’ll wish your soul to Malek at roll call tomorrow morning, so don’t fall."

That was all the comfort Kaori offered before motioning to the dragons.

"Now mount up. We’ll follow a formation through the canyon, and your positions will be determined by your takeoff speed, starting now," Kaori suddenly announced.

Liam watched as everyone took a second to recover from the abruptness of his instruction.

He didn’t need that long.

Turning in place with nearly practiced grace, he shot up Deigh’s left foreleg, hoisting himself onto the dragon’s shoulder and settling into his seat.

But Deigh didn’t move.

Instead, he grumbled, shifting his limbs as he watched more and more cadets recover and begin to mount.

Feirge and Rhiannon were the first from their squadron to take off, followed by Tairn and Violet—though the green dragon lost to the black, letting him pass ahead in line.

Ridoc and Aotrom were next, then Sawyer and Sliseag.

But even after the last of them had taken off, Deigh remained completely still on the ground.

Liam could almost feel the eyes on him, shock and confusion being the most prevalent emotions.

He had been the first to mount—but he was still on the ground.

And Liam simply ignored them.

"We have to wait for him," was the only explanation that came from the dragon as his golden gaze locked onto the red body and the dark figure that had just settled into its seat.

Astar spread his wings, preparing to launch into the air—

And then Deigh shot forward.

The gap between the moment his wings extended and his ascent was practically nonexistent.

Liam felt the force of the action rip the air from his lungs, the sensation of his organs being left behind in the sudden motion—

But he held firm.

They gained altitude, stopping just behind an orange dragon from Third Wing and directly in front of Astar.

Liam swayed, trying to overcome the dizzying sensation that hit him.

It didn’t do much, but at least it dulled.

With all the dragons in the air, Kaori finally began the exercise, and the formation took shape.

Deigh was obviously frustrated, having to limit his speed because of the long line of dragons ahead of them.At the very front—unsurprisingly—was Tairn.

And something told Liam that Deigh desperately wanted to be in the black dragon’s position right now.

"I can take his place in another training session. Right now, we need to be here," Deigh grumbled despite his dissatisfaction.

Liam let it go.

The dragon knew what he was doing, despite how anxious it made Liam feel.

He really needed to work on his nerves about not knowing things.

Since when had he cared about not knowing everything?

Liam could recall plenty of times when remaining ignorant hadn’t made him feel like he was on the verge of having something horrible thrown at him.

"Response to trauma, Brave Heart," Deigh said softly, twisting his neck in a strange way to allow his head to face Liam."The Resson had more effects on you than you like to admit. But you will overcome this. For now, it’s okay to feel."The dragon soothed him with a soft huff before turning back toward the front as they soared over the cliffs and began preparing for the maneuvers.

It was a breathtaking sight.

From such heights, he could see for miles—whether it was the mountainous terrain or the farming plains surrounding Basgiath.

Liam took a second to admire the view—the grass gleaming under the sun, the stones taking on lighter hues under the stronger light.

It wasn’t as far as Liam could see with his enhanced vision in his past life but it was still reassuringly vast.Then Deigh folded his wings and they dropped toward the cliffside.

Liam nearly laughed at the rush of exhilaration that accompanied the vertigo-inducing descent.

He had forgotten how good it felt to fly.

As Deigh leveled out, maintaining his speed as they wove through the mountain terrain, Liam relaxed.The turns were still gentle—it was their first class, after all.

But by the end of the year, all who survived would be racing at breakneck speeds through the winding canyon a few kilometers west of Basgiath.

But that was for the future, and for now, Deigh’s tilt was so smooth that Liam absorbed the shift in his hips without having to move his torso.

To conserve energy—Liam had learned this trick from Soleil in his past life when he had nearly fainted from exhaustion after an especially intense flight training. He didn’t need impressive upper-body movements or extreme compensations for small turns at this speed—only when the curves became sharper and faster.

Liam figured he had exaggerated a bit with his positioning back then, a little too eager to prove himself and determined to adapt as quickly as possible so he could do more than just sit and watch the older ones fight the war outside.

But things had only improved after Liam accepted Soleil’s advice on positioning, and flying had become so much more enjoyable.

Not to mention, it had done wonders for his hip mobility—the girls he had taken to his room had definitely not complained about the extra flexibility.

The movements were familiar to him, and with all the knowledge he had, they did little to frighten or tense him. Instead, Liam rested his weight against his hips on Deigh’s spine and let his arms relax.

His shoulders were still kept slightly curved to offer less resistance to the wind, but overall, Liam was simply seated on Deigh’s back—unlike the other cadets, who were practically lying flat against their dragons, gripping onto them frantically to avoid falling.

Another curve passed. The next one would be the sharpest turn in the course, and if Liam was correct, it was the one that caused the most falls on the first day.

He wondered if Deigh’s plan involved that curve—if it involved any curve at all, really.

But the question resolved itself because when they reached the turn, Deigh moved his wings into a familiar position.

A stall.

Liam recognized it as he gripped onto the handle and pressed his knees against Deigh’s scales.

Deigh’s massive body veered toward the cliff’s edge, extending outward significantly before suddenly changing direction, cutting directly in front of Astar, who had been right behind them and now found himself in the way.

The red dragon had no choice but to lurch to the side in a sharp movement, then quickly reduce his speed.

It was an impressive maneuver—and it would have been successful if not for the fact that Liam saw a small figure tumbling off the dragon’s back, plummeting for meters before hitting the rocky ground below.

Liam felt bad for the girl.

She had seemed stable enough in her seat until now, and he truly regretted that a death had been necessary.

But he pushed that aside as Deigh grumbled and shook his head.

His growls were met with a roar from the red dragon, who then exited the formation and turned back toward the Vale.

"At least the bond was so new that there shouldn’t have been much pain," Liam tried to console himself, and Deigh let out a rumbling sound.

"There wasn’t. Most dragons don’t allow their bond to deepen significantly until at least six months after linking, so Astar didn’t feel any pain from the girl’s death—disappointment, of course, but not pain," Deigh informed him with a grunt."He also doesn’t blame me for my involvement. Astar sees her death as a lack of skill on her part," he finished.

Liam knew his dragon was trying, in some way, to ease his unease.

But it didn’t help because he knew there had been no lack of skill.

The girl was dead because Liam had wanted it to happen—because he needed a dragon to be free for bonding.

He closed his eyes, lowering his body until his forehead rested against Deigh’s scales, then let himself relax.

It was done.

Liam wouldn’t regret it now, and the least he could do was make it worth something.

If Dylan bonded, then everything would be fine.

He looked at the cliff one last time before whispering,

“I commend your soul to Malek.”

The chill hit him suddenly—a caress over his shoulders, as if something whispered approval into his ear.

The sensation faded before Liam could catalog it, and he let it go, slightly unsettled.

This had to work.

-*-

Liam leaned against the doorframe of the former first-year dormitories—the place where all the unbonded now slept.

He felt exhausted, and yet he still couldn’t sleep as he waited for Deigh to inform him whether the plan was unfolding as it should.

Things hadn’t been very eventful after the “accident” with Astar and his rider.

They had finished training and left the field, with all the other cadets dragging themselves away, looking utterly wrecked from the effort, while Liam amused himself with the groans and curses from his squad.

The group seemed furious that Liam—once again, in their words—seemed perfectly immune to anything difficult in this place.

And once again, Liam blamed it on the older cadets. That list was getting long.

So, he told them how to conserve energy during flight, described the simple technique of absorbing movements through the hips, and even explained which torso positions worked best to relieve tension and allow relaxation without sacrificing safety.

Violet had fallen ten times during training—something he had missed because he had been either too focused on his plan or dealing with the emotions that followed its success.

But she had been optimistic and listened carefully to his explanation.

Liam felt confident.

They needed more leg training, but at least she had fallen less than in any attempt Liam had witnessed in his past life without a saddle.

He had to observe whether, in this life, there would still be a need for one or if Violet would manage without it.

Just in case, he decided he would recreate a prototype.

It never hurt to be cautious.

After that, there wasn’t much else.

They went through dinner, where the squad seemed to return to normal, joking and teasing each other, and then everyone retired for the night.

Or at least pretended to—like Liam.

His plan wasn’t complete yet because Dylan still didn’t have a bond, so he had to take care of that next.

Deigh had been tasked with convincing Astar to look for a rider that night.

The dragon had apparently been inclined to do some self-promotion, and hopefully, that would make things easier.

Now, Liam was there, waiting for confirmation from his dragon that the red would be in the flight field so he could guide Dylan there to try for the bond.

There wasn’t much to do but wait in this case.

So, Liam had been standing there for at least twenty minutes, listening to the cadets settle into their bunks, resisting the temptation to return to his own dormitory and collapse into bed.

His eyes felt so heavy that Liam had to fight to keep them open.

Apparently, the terrible morning was still demanding its price.

And Liam should have learned his lesson and stopped pushing his body beyond its limits.

But this was important.

And Liam would sleep as soon as he was sure Dylan was safe.

He could deal with any lingering symptoms until morning, no matter how unpleasant they were.

And with the argument that was sure to come—suddenly, letting his brother and the rest of the group know about these episodes felt like a mistake.

It was just too late to take that mistake back.

His eyes closed, the sensation pleasant in every way except for the fact that it made him feel like he was about to fall asleep in the hallway.

That was not a good idea, especially considering his location.

"It’s a terrible idea," Deigh suddenly agreed in his mind, his voice appearing so abruptly that it nearly made Liam jump in place, his heart pounding in his chest.

It took him a moment to calm his reaction before shaking his head and trying to wake himself up as much as possible.

"Did you do it? Or am I standing here guarding for nothing?" he grumbled humorlessly, and Deigh growled in offense.

"Of course I did! Do you dare doubt my abilities?" Deigh roared, and Liam sighed, exhausted.

He didn’t have the energy to deal with an insulted dragon, so he threw his shields up.

Only to have another wave of fury poured onto him. Liam cursed, shaking his head.

He still hadn’t figured out why exactly he could bypass Deigh’s shields—like he had during Threshing—but he was not happy that the opposite was also true.

Liam hadn’t found a logical explanation for it yet, but for now, it was enough that he could block off the areas where his bond with Violet and Xaden resided.

By now, his shields were solid enough to withstand a full-scale mental invasion, and Liam was determined to get used to keeping them that way at all times.

Frustrated with his inability to block out his dragon and the complicated emotions that came with it, Liam settled for moving forward and stepping into the communal dormitory.

Everyone was asleep, and the room was silent and dark. Liam shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he passed the bunks, searching for Dylan’s.

The boy was in a bunk against the right-side wall, sleeping—but not deeply, given how his eyelids fluttered repeatedly.

Liam took a deep breath, then, after a final glance around, murmured,

“Dylan.”

He spoke softly as he leaned in to shake the boy’s shoulder.

Dylan startled awake, nearly jumping out of bed as he reached for the nearest weapon.

Liam immobilized his wrist before he could grab anything, but he didn’t release him until the boy had fully oriented himself.

“It’s okay. It’s me, Liam,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

Dylan looked at him, confused and surprised, glancing around before sitting up, calmer now.

Liam let go, stepping back a bit.

He scanned the room for any unbonded cadets waking up, but everyone still seemed lost in the haze of sleep.

“What are you doing here?” Dylan asked quietly, sounding confused.

Liam turned his attention back to him, exhaling.

“I’ll explain on the way. Come on, get up and put on your uniform,” he instructed.

Dylan looked at him like he was crazy but didn’t question him, getting out of bed and grabbing his bag to pull out his standard uniform.

Liam waited for him to change before nodding and leading him out of the hall, Dylan following closely behind.

He let them walk far enough away that it was impossible for anyone to overhear them before turning to face the other boy.

“What do you remember about reds, from Professor Kaori’s classes?” Liam prompted, tilting his head.

Dylan blinked, gathering his thoughts.

“That they’re the quickest to anger, that they’re fierce, and that they don’t like being stared at,” Dylan recited, rolling his eyes.

Well, that was a summary, but Liam wasn’t going to be too demanding.

“And about the approach?” Liam pressed as they exited the fortress and started toward the flight field.

“Don’t look them in the eyes, and approach from the left or the front,” Dylan responded promptly, and Liam nodded.

“Chin up—remember to keep your chin up. Shoulders straight, but eyes down,” Liam added, and Dylan nodded, though he still looked a little confused.

“Liam, what’s going on?” he asked again.

Liam sighed, tired, before shaking his head.

“A dragon lost its rider today during flight training. He’s willing to form a new bond tonight, and he’s in the flight field,” Liam explained in a low voice.

Dylan’s eyes widened in shock before he suddenly looked around, worried.

“But is that… allowed?” he asked quietly.

Liam scoffed and nodded.

“It is. That’s completely allowed,” Liam assured him as they passed through the passageway.

“Normally, when an unbonded cadet kills a newly bonded rider, there’s a chance the dragon might choose them instead. But, of course, there are also those who lose their riders in training and are still willing to bond,” he continued, and Dylan nodded hesitantly.

“And one of them is in the flight field?” Dylan asked, and Liam nodded.

“Deigh—my dragon—says he’ll stay there for a few more minutes before returning to the Vale, and I thought you might want to try,” Liam offered gently.

He wanted Dylan to be with them again.

But he realized he had forgotten one detail—what if Dylan didn’t want to try?

“If you want to, of course,” he added after that thought.

Dylan hesitated for a second before gathering his courage and nodding.

“I will,” he said determinedly.

Liam relaxed.

The girl’s death wouldn’t be in vain.

He gave Dylan a smile that was more reassuring than anything else.

“You know that just because he’s willing doesn’t mean a bond will happen, right?”

Liam still had to ask—nothing with dragons was guaranteed, and Dylan needed to understand that before stepping into the field.

“I know. But I want to try. If there’s still a chance, then I’ll go after it,” Dylan stated seriously.

Liam studied him for any lingering doubts.

To his relief, he found none.

“Alright, then just remember—eyes down, but keep a confident posture, and approach from the front,” Liam repeated for good measure.

The boy in front of him nodded and took his first step toward the field.

But Liam stopped him, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

“And remember, Dylan—don’t feel fear or hesitate. You have everything you need inside you. You just need to show it to him,” he assured, squeezing his companion’s shoulder firmly.

Dylan met his gaze, filled with emotions, before gathering even more courage and nodding.

“When we see each other again, we’ll both be riders,” Dylan stated softly, then stepped into the field.

Liam waited a moment, trying to calm his own emotions before following at a distance—far enough to avoid interfering in any way.

By the time he did, stopping at a point where he wouldn’t disturb anything, Dylan had already found the dragon.

Astar was stretched to his full size, his golden eyes analyzing Dylan intently.

The boy stood with real confidence in front of the dragon, his posture aligned with Liam’s instructions. Everything was filled with absolute determination.

Liam hadn’t realized how agonizing it was to watch a bonding from the outside—the inability to tell whether things were going well or not was eating away at him.

"He’s fine. Astar is evaluating him," Feal supplied, just as the red dragon let out a deep rumble, shaking his head as smoke billowed from his nostrils.

The next thing Liam saw was Dylan’s head snapping up to look at the dragon—shock, then joy washing over his expression.

Liam didn’t need anything else to confirm that it had worked.

Though it was made even clearer when he saw the boy run and climb up Astar’s leg to reach his back—it was a bit clumsy but still successful.

And then, the dragon took off.

Everything had worked.

Dylan was bonded.

The plan was a success.

His squad was together again.

Liam felt his legs weaken, muscle pain spreading through his limbs, signaling that he had pushed his body to its limits once again.

"Go back to bed. You need rest, Firestorm," Feal advised gently, and Liam really wished he could.

But he had to wait for Dylan—he could sleep after that.

So, even though Liam was on the verge of collapsing, he still waited until the Red Clubtail landed, until Dylan received his relic mark, and then accompanied him to the hall.

He would have to stay there until morning, when he could be transferred to the individual rooms, while quietly celebrating the boy’s achievement.

Only when Dylan was inside, relatively safe, did Liam allow himself to drag his feet toward his own room.

He sluggishly changed into something more suitable for sleeping, then threw himself onto the mattress.

He fell asleep within seconds, deciding that the day had been a success.

Chapter Text

"Riders are often labeled as lawless people with no ethical morals. This is due to the fact that, in the quadrant, killing people is a recurring occurrence. But this notion is absurd—riders follow one rule.
The rule of survival."

Excerpt recovered from the personal journal of General Augusto Melgreen (Unauthorized Edition)

-*-

The knock on the door woke Liam, though it did little to dispel the fog of sleep that seemed tangled in his mind. He groaned as he struggled to open his eyes.

They felt heavy, and Liam didn’t want to wake up so early. He still felt more than a little exhausted despite the night's rest. The Resson dreams hadn’t made for a pleasant sleep, but even the memories hadn't pulled him back to full consciousness as his body recovered from both the emotions and the physical fatigue.

Even the terrifying repetition of Soleil’s death and the destruction of the Venin hadn’t made him feel more than mildly terrified. Liam blamed the exhaustion, which dulled his emotions and the body's normal reactions, forcing him into rest.

Despite all that, he still felt drained. But, unlike his fears from the previous night, he didn’t seem to have woken up in the same state as the morning before.

He realized this from the way his limbs felt light against the mattress, from the way that, although tired, he didn’t feel the crushing weight of forced exhaustion. Liam was fine in that regard—it was just a lack of sleep.

A relief and a curse. At least his episodes had improved throughout the day.

Still, another knock sounded at his door, and Liam groaned as he rolled out of bed. The light in the room, despite the curtains, told him it was already late.

It had to be someone from his squadron coming to wake him after he’d overslept again. This was happening more and more frequently, much to Liam’s frustration.

He thought it was negligence—he should be able to wake himself up. Deigh said it was overload, that his body was simply rebelling against the continuous exhaustion Liam subjected himself to.

Whatever it was, it had to stop. That was the only thing Liam was sure of.

Frustrated, he put on his uniform, slinging his flight jacket over his shoulder as he approached the door.

It wasn’t his squadron. And Liam immediately assumed that he hadn’t overslept, despite the odd brightness. Instead, he found himself facing a nervous and unsettled Soleil, who kept glancing down the corridor repeatedly.

His exhaustion disappeared immediately. Something had gone wrong—or was about to—if the third-year was in such a state, and Liam wondered what the consequences might be.

It had to be something about the Marked Ones. Soleil wouldn’t be here, on the first-year floor, looking for him if it weren’t.

"What happened?" Liam asked seriously, knowing it was best not to waste time. He gestured for her to come inside, but Soleil shook her head frantically.

"Xaden wants you in his room. Now." Soleil murmured, barely above a whisper. Even in the empty corridor, it was better not to take risks.

Liam pressed his lips together before nodding and stepping out of his room, grabbing his weapons belt. He might not need it, but there was no way he was lowering his guard without knowing what was happening.

He locked his door, signaling Soleil to go ahead while he observed his squadmates' dorms. They were probably still asleep, which was for the best.

He should let them know that they probably wouldn’t see him until breakfast, but waking them up would only lead to questions.

"Deigh, can you inform Tairn?" he asked his dragon. His bond stirred as Deigh obviously woke up, and Liam felt a pang of guilt for disturbing him.

"Inform him about what?" Deigh’s voice was groggy in his mind, though a trace of irritation began to seep in.

"That the squad shouldn’t wait for me—I’ll join them at breakfast," Liam repeated slowly. "Something happened, and Xaden wants to see me." He added unnecessarily.

He and Soleil climbed the stairs to the third floor and Xaden’s room. The girl seemed more anxious with each passing second, which did nothing to ease Liam’s growing unease.

Deigh seemed to snap to full awareness then, his attention settling completely on Liam’s mind, and he almost felt a hint of suspicion in the dragon’s emotions.

Xaden’s door was still the last one in the corridor, though this time, light leaked through the crack beneath it. There were many footsteps inside, and something was being dragged.

If the noise didn’t stop soon, the other third-years in the area would wake up, and questions weren’t something they wanted to deal with.

Soleil knocked, using a familiar pattern—obviously a signal to let Xaden know it was an ally. Then, the door opened just enough to reveal a disheveled Garrick.

He had dark circles under his eyes, and his uniform—his flight suit—made Liam assume he had been out of Basgiath, or at least flying somewhere. He looked as concerned as Soleil, who only shook her head at the other third-year.

Garrick turned to Liam next, his brown eyes flickering with surprise before shifting to hesitation—until Soleil pushed him aside and hissed something at him.

Liam couldn’t hear exactly what they said, but there was something about Xaden giving an order and a quick don’t say anything.

He could only assume that whatever was inside that room was supposed to be a secret, and Liam was about to find out. Or not. Maybe the third-years were about to cover up whatever it was.

Garrick didn’t look happy, but he still nodded and stepped aside—albeit a bit stiffly—his eyes scanning the hallway before shutting the door quietly behind them.

It seemed everything had to be silent. Because despite the crowded room, not a single noise filled the space.

Liam scanned the group inside.

Xaden’s expression was tight, and he looked deeply unhappy. The Riorson was seated in his usual chair at the back of the room, shadows writhing around his shoulders.

He was flanked by Bodhi and Imogen, both wearing concerned expressions, though they tried to mask them when they saw Liam looking. Imogen did a better job than Bodhi, as was usually the case.

Then there were Garrick and Soleil, who had joined the older students around the table. Liam hesitated as he stepped closer.

What the hell is going on?

"You’d do well to look at what’s on the table." Deigh instructed, and Liam’s gaze shifted—his eyes widening as he found himself staring at an impressive set of fourteen alloy blades.

This was clearly a package for a delivery that was supposed to happen in the coming hours. Liam studied the details before blinking in confusion.

The function of the daggers was obvious. But why were they exposed on the table when they were literally something that could get them all in trouble?

"You wanted to see me?" Liam turned his eyes to Xaden, who nodded with a sigh and gestured to the daggers.

"Pick one, Mairi." Xaden invited. Liam blinked again at the lined-up blades. They were generally the same shape, the same dull gray color—unremarkable.

Anyone looking at them wouldn’t think much of them. Let alone that these were the weapons capable of killing the Venin.

Liam reached out, picking one from the center of the pile. He twirled the blade momentarily, testing the balance and form. Alloy daggers always had a little extra weight due to the added material, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it difficult to wield.

Hesitantly, he slid the dagger into one of the sheaths on his belt, relaxing slightly when Xaden nodded in approval before sighing and reaching to pack the remaining ones into a black bag.

Liam scanned the group again. They didn’t seem any calmer than before. His eyes settled on Xaden, growing more impatient.

"This is the shipment that was supposed to be delivered tonight." Xaden admitted, his tone reluctant, his expression far from pleased.

He raised an eyebrow, making it clear to Riorson that he had already noticed that—they could very well skip the formalities. Xaden huffed, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair.

“Bodhi and Imogen will make the delivery tonight, at home,” Xaden continued, ignoring Liam’s insinuation. That made him scoff, but it also made his stomach turn.

Home. Arentia. The place where they had all grown up, which had been destroyed five years ago and was now being slowly rebuilt by people fighting for the same cause as the Marked.

Liam knew that the older ones flew to the Riorson family stronghold at least a few times every month to meet with what Xaden called a council, but even in his past life, when he had been allowed to accompany those deliveries, Liam had never been anywhere near setting foot in that place.

He would give his life for a chance—just ten minutes of being allowed to see the place where he was born and raised again. Then, a wave of expectation hit him. Maybe there was a chance, after all. Why else would Xaden mention it to him now?

Xaden obviously noticed his newfound excitement, and his lips curled into a half-smile as he shook his head in denial.

“But there’s been a change of plans, and they are needed here.” His words were accompanied by a tremor, and Liam wasn’t the only one who noticed—he glanced briefly at the others.

Bodhi and Imogen paled slightly, while Soleil and Garrick shifted their eyes toward the pair, clearly trying to be reassuring.

“Alright, what the hell is going on here?” he asked Deigh, who let out a vague grunt.

“They would tell you if you needed to know,” the dragon informed him. Liam made an effort to send skepticism in response.

They definitely wouldn’t. Liam knew them well enough to be certain that as long as they could, they would keep the information to themselves, regardless of necessity.

“What’s happening?” he repeated, hoping that forcing the truth into the open would make Deigh give in and share the information.

“It’s classified, Firestorm. No first-year cadet is allowed to know about this practice,” Feal interjected, and Liam resisted the urge to scowl.

“No cadet was supposed to know about the Venin either, and yet here we are,” he reminded them. A tired rumble came from Deigh, followed by silence.

Liam was about to push his dragons again when Deigh let out a resigned huff and Feal grumbled.

“Alright, Firestorm, if you really want to know—but you cannot react to this information, and you must not let the older ones know that you know,” Feal muttered. Liam rolled his eyes and grunted in agreement.

“The reason why the riders of Glane and Cuir can’t be sent on missions is that they will be taken to an exclusive second-year course,” Deigh began slowly, hesitating as if searching for a gentler way to phrase what he was about to say.

“Humans call it RSC. It’s a survival course for riders. It’s meant to teach cadets how to survive if they are separated from their dragon and captured by the enemy,” Feal continued.

Liam blinked, hoping it looked like a normal reaction.

Captured? Survival? What the hell was this?

Liam knew—more or less—what happened to anyone captured by the enemy. At least, he knew what happened to those captured by Navarre; he had no idea about Poromiel.

But what happened to prisoners was...

“Torture,” Deigh confirmed softly. Liam’s stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat as nausea flooded his body.

“You’re telling me that all second-years are kidnapped and… tortured?” His voice came out shrill, even through the bond with his dragons. Liam couldn’t believe it.

Basgiath had always been a fortress of death, but this was an entirely different level.

Both dragons rumbled in affirmation, and horror seeped into Liam’s bones.

Only sheer willpower kept him from doubling over and letting the acid in his stomach spill from his lips.

He forced his mental shields to strengthen, grateful when he felt them cracking under the weight of his own emotions.

This couldn’t be real. It was a level of madness Liam hadn’t thought anyone could reach.

Torturing their own cadets was sick—and completely pointless.

Liam looked around at the faces in the room, at Bodhi and Imogen, who were about to go through this nightmare, and then at the third-years, who had already survived it.

All of them had been through that course. They had survived actual torture. Suddenly, all the talk about how horrible Basgiath was made total sense.

It wasn’t because of the deaths or the judgment of other cadets. It was because of the RSC.

Liam’s vision blurred for a moment from sheer panic—because he would have to go through it, too. His entire damn squadron would have to endure that twisted course.

And his sister, too. One day, if she made it to her second year.

And Liam couldn’t do anything to change it. No one could do anything to stop it.

“Brave Heart.” Deigh’s voice sounded a little muffled over his panicked thoughts, but he still heard it and fought to focus on what the dragon had to say. “Control your panic. They all went through it and are fine. The riders of Cuir and Glane will go through it this year. You will do it next year—and you will survive,” Deigh growled, concise, clearly wanting to hammer the point into Liam’s mind.

How could he be so sure? Liam wasn’t weak—none of them were—but damn it, torture was...

“You won’t be alone. You’ll have your squadron, and you’ll have us. And when you’re in there, you’ll realize that you have far more strength than you believe. That’s why I chose you as my rider,” Feal snarled, clearly furious that Liam dared to insult himself—and, by extension, Feal’s decision.

“Have faith in your family. None of you are easily broken. But you must trust them, and you must trust yourself.” Deigh’s voice softened before releasing a low rumble. “Now focus. The Wingleader is starting his speech again,” Deigh instructed.

Liam grunted, blinking rapidly as he tried to pull himself together.

"And the third-years are needed elsewhere at the moment, so I have no one else to send," Xaden sighed, recovering. Liam knew where they were going, but any excitement he might have felt about going home was destroyed by the reason he would be able to do so.

"So you're sending me?" He asked, keeping his tone steady. He tried to find some positive emotion to show after the confirmation.

Dylan's bond, all of them were together again, their squad was complete again. Liam clung to that thought fervently when he felt his spirits lift a little.

"Yes," Xaden sighed, sounding unhappy. "Even though we all think you should have at least a few more months of flight practice before joining the deliveries, I have no one else I can trust with this task among the older years, and no one more than you in the first year," Riorson said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk.

Liam blinked at him and forced himself to give a broad, teasing smile, the same one he would flash on any other occasion when he had beaten Xaden at something. The leader shot him a frustrated look, clearly aware of the game.

"Well, if you need me, Xaden, I'm your man," he joked, forcing the small spark of excitement to appear on his face. A small, breathy laugh escaped Garrick beside him, while Bodhi and Imogen gave him slight smiles. Soleil scoffed, though she seemed amused.

Xaden sneered, shaking his head as if exhausted.

"Why do I still keep clowns like you around?" Xaden asked, first looking at Garrick and then at Liam. Both gave him the same bright smile, and Riorson frowned, though he didn’t seem unhappy about it.

"You love us," Garrick supplied, blowing a mocking kiss toward Riorson, who flipped him off.

"Anyway, for lack of a better candidate, you're being assigned to this delivery, Mairi," Xaden continued, promptly ignoring Garrick's teasing. "But due to the short time we have, you'll be heading to a meeting point just past the Tyrrendor border. You'll deliver these daggers directly to our contact and then return. You need to be back before dawn," Xaden said seriously.

Great. He really knew how to kill anyone’s excitement.

Seriously? Not even a quick peek at Arentia?

His disappointment must have been obvious because Xaden shot him a sharp look, clearly reminding him that he was being given a chance to help, to get close to home.

Still, was it really so unprecedented that Liam wasn’t happy about getting so close yet still so far from home? He wasn’t the one making the rules, though, and a lot could go wrong if he decided to ignore Xaden’s orders and head to the capital of Tyrrendor just on a whim.

"Fine," Liam grumbled, making sure his dissatisfaction was evident in his tone.

Xaden stared at him a moment longer before nodding and sighing.

"You can go. I'll meet you before you leave tonight," Xaden instructed, gesturing toward the door. Liam stepped back, glancing once more at the group before nodding and looking away.

Would there ever be a day when he didn't uncover some deeply terrible secret about this place?

-*-

Liam had made a stupid decision—one that most people he knew would fiercely reprimand him for even considering, let alone actually carrying out.

But he had no regrets, nor did he fear the possible consequences if he failed. He didn’t intend to fail anyway, nor did he plan on getting caught.

All day, he had tried to forget what he had learned about the RSC. A bit pathetically, he even regretted convincing his dragons to tell him about it.

But even with Basgiath’s overwhelming course load, an elated squad celebrating Dylan’s new bond, and his unofficial return to being the boy’s trainer, it wasn’t enough to push away the horror of that knowledge.

So Liam had plenty of time to think—about that and the fact that Bodhi and Imogen were apparently going through it that night—and he decided he couldn’t just sit back and let it happen.

He had to do something to try and help.

Deigh kept reminding him that it was a standard second-year lesson and would happen one way or another. Feal was a bit more skeptical and stated plainly that Liam couldn't always be there and that frustrating the instructors would only make things worse.

His dragons obviously didn’t understand. And they were probably right. But Liam couldn’t just close his eyes and accept that any of his friends were being subjected to torture.

He had limited time before he had to fly to Tyrrendor for the delivery. Xaden wanted to meet him at the flight field as soon as curfew hit, and if he was late, he’d be in trouble with Riorson.

And there would be questions. Those were what he wanted to avoid the most right now.

So overall, Liam put together a quick plan that, hopefully—though he wasn’t very hopeful—would end with both Bodhi and Imogen avoiding the torture.

It was an almost foolish plan, one that could go terribly wrong and be potentially fatal if Liam was anything less than perfect at what he was doing. But he didn’t care.

He spent the remaining time before breakfast visiting the archives and talking to Jesinia about a little bit of everything. Though he tried to steer the conversation toward books about medicinal items—or not.

It wasn’t an unusual inquiry, nor were those scrolls forbidden, just rarely sought after. Soon, Liam had copies of every document listing the herbs, fruits, and roots that Basgiath had in its stores.

Those that could be consumed, those that aided healing in ointments or infusions, and finally, those that were poisonous.
 

Liam appreciated all the teachings—he intended to search for some medicinal herbs to try making ointments for his squad, but he focused particularly on the poisons.
 

That was why he came in the first place—to find the location and description of poisons.
 

A quick flip through the pages led him straight to a superficial knowledge of names.
 

Fonilee berries, Leighorrel mushrooms, Zihna root, Tarsilla leaves, Carmine tree bark, Walwyn fruit peels, Ardyce powder.
 

The latter could be combined with ground Lillybelle to be even more effective.

Liam knew what he was looking for—he needed to cause enough chaos for the upperclassmen to be forgotten during the course. The poisons he read about there didn’t cause nearly as much as he needed.

Nausea, imbalance, disorientation—all of these could be useful in a hand-to-hand challenge, but they were symptoms that would pass too quickly to ensure functionality.

Then there was Arinmint, the mint species used in teas for sleep and healing when drunk with milk, but if Liam combined it with a little Tarsilla bush bark, he could create a poison strong enough to cause panic.

It was risky—this wasn’t a poison whose effects would pass. Instead, if the healers didn’t identify it in time, someone would die in less than an hour.

Arinmint also wasn’t native to Basgiath—it flourished in northern Tyrrendor, and its export was banned throughout Navarre. But if the parchment could be trusted, there was a small stock of it somewhere in the infirmary, a stock that would take a slight hit that afternoon.

Getting the Tarsilla bark would be easier—he could probably obtain some during lunch. Getting the Arinmint would be trickier—Liam would simply have to be creative.

Once he had all the ingredients in hand, he would begin his plan.

-*-

His plan to acquire the Arinmint was in full swing. He hesitated to follow through because it seemed a little too obvious, but since no better idea came up, Liam had to resign himself to it.

Getting the bark was as easy as he expected—no one found it strange when he said he needed to do something and left the fortress for a few minutes.
So that left the second item on the list, and Liam intended to get it before flight training.

It was simple—he called Sawyer to fight, breaking his pattern of sparring with Violet and Dylan with a simple phrase: that varying opponents was always important.
Liam gestured for Violet not to stop, indicating Dylan on the bench with a quick nod, and despite their scoffs, soon they were on the mat.

Sawyer had a fighting style completely different from Liam’s—different from what he had taught Violet and Dylan—and he wasn’t lying when he said variety was always good.
But it was also convenient—Liam knew every move Violet would make, regardless of the technique she chose, and Dylan hadn’t evolved enough to make his style unpredictable. What he planned required someone who could hit him with anything.
Even if it was just a graze.

He let the fight play out, allowing their stances to settle and the initial exploratory strikes to emerge. Sawyer liked to assess his opponent before truly engaging, analyzing their stance and attacks.

Normally, Liam would pressure the boy out of his comfort zone, forcing him to work with quick, momentary analyses, but this time, he wasn’t interested in winning.
If his plan worked, they wouldn’t even finish the match.
Sawyer seemed convinced by what he saw, by his analysis and attack plan, because he then stepped in to truly start a fight, despite the experimental blows they had exchanged before.

Ridoc and Rhiannon stood by their mat, watching the fight intently—Liam wasn’t really paying attention, but he was sure Violet and Dylan wouldn’t take long to stop and watch.
Liam dodged Sawyer’s left strike, slipping under his arm and slamming his elbow into his unprotected ribs—a warning, because it was a particularly dangerous mistake. Blades between the ribs could pierce the lung, which was concerning.
Sawyer pressed his lips together but corrected his posture to fix the opening, and Liam nodded.
He let a few more blows land—a right hook deflected by his forearm, kicks he dodged and used to unbalance Sawyer.
Then he decided it was enough—Sawyer pushed his strike back, a left punch to his abdomen, before spinning and lunging with his left hand toward Liam’s shoulder.

It would have been easy to dodge—he could have simply rolled his shoulders away—but he let himself get hit while tensing his shoulder into a dangerous position. It was necessary.

Liam tensed a few muscles and kept his mouth shut as he braced for the pain he knew was coming.
Sawyer’s hit connected with his shoulder with frightening force—Henrick wasn’t particularly weak in his strikes and obviously hadn’t held back on this one—but normally, it would only cause mild discomfort.

The position Liam had forced his shoulder into before the hit was the real culprit because when Sawyer struck, the impact forced the joint beyond what it could withstand.
The crack of the bone popping out of place echoed loudly in the great hall—it was only Liam’s self-control that kept the sounds of pain trapped behind his lips.
Sawyer froze, eyes wide as he stared at where his strike had landed on Liam—he obviously hadn’t expected to land the blow, much less that it would dislocate his shoulder.
Liam shifted his gaze to see—anyone could tell it was out of place by how his uniform stretched and pulled tightly over the deformed area.
It was what he had hoped for—it was what he wanted when he took the hit—a plausible reason to go to the infirmary and, hopefully, require some Arinmint leaves.
Still, Liam felt bad for using Sawyer to get it, even more so when the boy’s expression twisted with guilt.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t think…” Sawyer stammered, worried, and Liam twisted his expression into what should have been a reassuring smile—not that he was forcing his expression at all.

It had been years since the last time he had dislocated any part of his body, and it was easy to forget how much that shit hurt. Still, it was his plan that had caused it, so Liam couldn’t exactly blame Sawyer for it.

“It’s okay.” He assured, stepping back while slowly feeling around, ignoring the pain as best as he could, just to make sure it really was just a dislocation. — It’s just dislocated. — He guaranteed, aware of the many eyes on him, each one more shocked than the other.

Including the deeply irritated gaze of Imogen. Liam tried to keep his shiver imperceptible because this wasn’t in his plans, and if Cardullo decided to accompany him to the infirmary, everything would become three times harder.

“As it should,” Deigh grumbled in his mind, his voice impatient and frustrated because Liam had refused to listen to him earlier when both he and Feal had disapproved of his plan.

Whether it was because of the injury itself or the later risks of poisoning, neither of them had been inclined to elaborate on their disapproval.

Liam hadn’t listened to them that morning and wasn’t listening now. His plan would be harder to execute but not impossible, and he wasn’t going to back down.

Feal growled in his mind, obviously unhappy with Liam’s stubbornness. Liam slammed his shields down on the bond between them, genuinely satisfied that he could at least block one of his dragons.

He wasn’t as lucky with Deigh, and soon enough, waves of reprimand came from his dragon.

Liam ignored them.

“You should go to the infirmary.” Violet said to his right, and Liam turned to look at her, a little surprised. He had been too caught up in his bonds to notice Sorrengail moving closer.

She was staring at his shoulder intently, obviously the most experienced on the subject. Liam winced in sympathy at the thought that she went through this with an alarming frequency.

“I will.” He sighed, trying to sound reluctant. “But you guys don’t have to stop because of me. I should be back before flight class.” Liam murmured, receiving unhappy looks from the others.

“You should take some time. Even if Nolan heals you, this is still going to hurt like hell.” Violet grumbled, and Liam shrugged, hissing when the motion made his shoulder throb even more.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a dislocated shoulder.” He murmured, shaking his head.

“Do you want one of us to go with you?” Rhiannon looked ready to follow him, but Liam shook his head, knowing full well he already had a non-optional companion.

“Relax, I already have company.” He teased, quickly indicating where Imogen was standing, clearly waiting for him. Cardullo didn’t even try to hide her intentions, merely narrowing her eyes when she saw them looking. “Though I’d choose you any day, Rhi.” Liam laughed—it wasn’t a lie.

His squad let him go. Liam paused for a moment to remind Sawyer that it had been an accident and not his fault, and then he walked toward the door, feeling a bit dejected.

He expected an angry speech from Imogen—the girl looked more than a little furious as she walked beside him—but she remained silent as they left the quadrant and headed for the healers.

Liam didn’t feel like he should hope, but hope had never been something voluntary. So when he was finally there, about to be treated, he really thought he might escape whatever was on Imogen’s mind.

How stupid of him to think that. Liam should have known better.

“When are you going to tell me what you’re up to?” Imogen was direct, turning her furious gaze to Liam while he only blinked, absolutely shocked.

“What?” He stammered, turning his head to look at her, only to be met with an unimpressed stare. She actually seemed a bit offended, as if she couldn’t believe he thought she was stupid.

“You’re up to something, Mairi. I want to know what it is.” Imogen huffed in frustration, and Liam shrugged, trying to look innocent. It was a difficult question to answer because he was always planning something, sometimes even when he didn’t mean to.

“I’m planning to fix this shoulder before flight training. I don’t want to be late.” Liam kept his tone steady; seeming too brief or too indifferent would be strange to Imogen, so it was better to act like it was just another ordinary thing.

Imogen’s green eyes narrowed.

“Do you really think you can fool me with that nonsense, Mairi?”  Liam shrugged—or tried to before remembering that one of his shoulders wasn’t exactly functional at the moment. He grimaced as the pain reminded him of his own plan.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Cardullo. I’m just trying to get to the infirmary before you decide I can fix this myself.”

“Uh-huh.” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, arms crossed in a posture of pure stubbornness. “You don’t have that “I know what I’m doing, but I shouldn’t” look for nothing.”

Liam sighed, knowing he wouldn’t escape this conversation. Deigh grumbled in satisfaction in the back of his mind, and Liam had to make an effort to ignore his dragon’s silent taunt.

“I can’t just… do nothing, Imogen. You know what’s happening tonight.” She was silent for a moment, her eyes widening in shock before she quickly schooled her expression back into its usual indifference.

“You mean the course.”

“I mean the torture.”

Imogen exhaled heavily.

“And you think you can do something about it?”

Liam didn’t hesitate.

“I have to do something”

“And what was your brilliant plan? Tell me, please, because I can’t wait to hear what stupidity you were about to commit.” Liam shot her an annoyed look but still muttered

“Something that would cause enough chaos to delay the course.”

“Delay it.” Imogen repeated, as if trying to savor the stupidity of the word.

“Yes. If the instructors have to deal with another problem, they won’t be able to take them.” She shook her head, incredulous.

“Do you really think delaying it will change anything? This won’t stop the course from happening, Liam. It’ll only make it so Bodhi and I go through it later, maybe with even more pissed-off instructors for having to reschedule.”

Liam opened his mouth, then closed it because he knew she was right. No matter how much he hated this reality, no matter that every fiber of his being screamed against the idea of letting this happen—he couldn’t change Basgiath alone.

Imogen sighed.

“Look, I know you care. And I appreciate it. But you can’t save everyone, Mairi.”

“I can try.”

“And get yourself killed in the process.”Liam gritted his teeth, frustration rising in his chest.

“Then what do you want me to do? Just stand by?”

“I want you to live.” She held his gaze, serious. “I want you to stop thinking you have to carry everything on your shoulders. If there’s one thing this damn place hasn’t taught us, it’s how to accept help.”

Liam exhaled slowly.

“That sounds like a pretty speech for someone who’s about to go through it and can’t do anything.” Imogen smirked.

“Not nothing. I can make sure that when the time comes, I make the instructors regret it.” Liam huffed a laugh—because of course, Imogen would do exactly that.

“You promise?”

 “With all my vengeful soul” He nodded, still reluctant but accepting that this time, he had to let it go. Imogen had won—and Liam hated admitting that she was right.

They reached the infirmary, and Liam paused for a second before stepping inside.

“Aren’t you coming in to make sure I don’t try to escape through the window?” Imogen smiled, an expression full of amusement and exasperation.

“I don’t need to. If you tried, Deigh would know and rat you out to Xaden before you even hit the ground.” Liam huffed. Deigh would. And if not him, then Feal, regardless of his secret.

“That damn dragon can’t keep a secret.”

“And can you make good decisions?” Liam narrowed his eyes, but Imogen just turned to leave, throwing her final words over her shoulder: “Try not to break anything before your mission, Mairi. Someone has to make it back in one piece tonight.”

And then she was gone, leaving Liam standing there, still feeling the weight of everything he wanted to change—but this time, accepting that maybe he didn’t have to carry it alone.

Chapter Text

“One day, Sloane, probably when we’re both graduated and with our dragons, we’ll fly together to Arentia. Even if it’s just for a few minutes, just to see the place we came from once more.
We’re going home, that’s a promise.”

Letter recovered from the Fallen Liam Mairi to Sloane Mairi.

-*-

The night in Basgiath was dark at that hour, late enough that the moon had hidden behind the mountain range behind the fortress, which made the corridors nearly impassable due to the darkness.

But it also made that hour the best possible moment for someone to sneak through the hallways out of Basgiath, and for a dragon to take off into the night without being noticed.
 

Liam found it surprisingly easy to navigate Basgiath at that time. It hadn’t been like that the last time before his vision signet had manifested and allowed him to actually see in the dark, but this time he didn’t feel so out of place in Basgiath’s darkness.
 

It was more like discomfort at not being able to see anything ahead, but not bad as he made his way through the corridors out of the main fortress to meet Xaden.
 

Riorson was in a bad mood, irritated in Liam’s opinion, ever since Imogen had decided it was a good idea to open her mouth about the aborted plan to him. Liam had flat-out refused to even consider giving the older boy an explanation.
 

He didn’t regret trying—or at least planning it—and Xaden should’ve known something like that could happen if he found out. Liam was also a bit annoyed that they let him find out on his own, but that was a topic for another discussion.
 

Still, he begrudgingly admitted that he had figured it out that morning because of how strange they were acting, and that Deigh had been the one to confirm his suspicions.
 

It was somewhat gratifying to feel Deigh’s disgust over it—Sgaeyl would probably have gone off on him for giving in to his curiosity—and Liam felt petty because at least now they were both miserable.
 

Even so, Xaden’s bad mood was something Liam didn’t want to deal with that night, so he still said he wouldn’t try again anytime soon. Whether anyone believed him wasn’t his problem.
 

Hopefully, Liam would be gone before Xaden had a chance to start a lecture. He didn’t want one that night when his frustrations were running too high and would only cause more trouble.
 

The courtyard was even darker than it had been the night Liam met Feal there, making everything black and empty in his eyes. But Liam didn’t exactly need to see when Deigh pulled him toward him.
 

Toward him and a furious-looking Xaden.
 

Liam smirked, stopping a step away from the older rider and crossing his arms over his chest, in no mood to argue whatever fury Xaden had over his improvised plan. A muscle twitched momentarily in Xaden’s jaw before he visibly resigned himself to moving forward.
 

“Remember your instructions, Liam. Fly to the meeting point, deliver the daggers to the contact, and then return. You’re not authorized to get involved in any fights or confrontations during this mission,” Riorson reiterated. It was the same speech Liam had heard during the day, and now he was confident he could recite it without hesitation.
 

“I know, I’ve heard this already,” Liam rolled his eyes, arms still crossed. Xaden, however, looked anything but amused as he detached a bag from his hip and held it out to him.
 

“We’re being very serious, Liam. I want you back here before dawn, and in one piece,” Xaden again gave him a sharp look. Liam huffed but nodded, more to get rid of the judgment than for any other reason.
 

“Alright, I get it,” he gave in. It’s not like Liam actually wanted to fight in the middle of the night. Even with his extended vision in the past life, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable thing to do. “I’ll deliver it and come back without any detours,” he promised, and then Xaden relaxed, nodded, and finally handed him the bag with the daggers.
 

“Good. You should go now if you want to be back before dawn,” he instructed seriously, and Liam nodded, walking past him with a reassuring smile.
 

“I’ll be back before you can even blink,” he joked, stepping into the courtyard. At that hour, there were few guards around, and even those were far enough apart not to worry him about being seen.
 

Deigh was a dark blur hard to discern in the pitch-black night, and if it weren’t for the fact he was flicking his tail, Liam wouldn’t have spotted him. He hurried, climbing up to the shoulder of the blue dragon, genuinely eager to leave.
 

“We have a long four-hour flight ahead, Brave Heart. You should work on your nerves,” the dragon advised a bit grumpily as he spread his wings and beat them to take off away from Basgiath.
 

“It’s not exactly something I can control,” he defended himself anyway, wrapping his fingers around the spikes at the base of Deigh’s neck to hold on better. Still, he tried to find a more comfortable position for the long flight.
 

Flying at night was nice, but also strange because there was no visibility of his surroundings. Even now, early in the night, the only thing Liam could see with relative clarity was the blue scales of Deigh since they were close, and the shadows that were the trees below.
 

Even so, he liked the feeling, as if it were just him and his dragon, as if there were no problems to solve. Deigh wasn’t exactly against flying at night but preferred Liam not to bother him for it unless it was really necessary.
 

Time also seemed to pass faster, Liam concluded, probably because there was no reference point to guide them, because suddenly Deigh was descending and landing in a clearing. Liam hadn’t even realized they had crossed the wall, although, of course, he couldn’t see much and didn’t have his signet activated.
 

He dismounted, though he stayed near Deigh’s left front leg, since no one had arrived yet.
 

Liam leaned back, relaxing his muscles. His eyes were heavy, and he saw no problem in resting them for a few minutes.
 

Liam was asleep in less than a minute.

-*-

Liam was awakened by the wave of furious emotions coming from Deigh. They were still working on keeping their emotions to their own sides of the bond that couldn’t be blocked, but so far they had only managed to contain the milder feelings, although it was obvious that Liam was more prone to relaxing his emotional control.

But Deigh didn’t seem interested in keeping his emotions to himself at that moment, so the wave of rage from the dragon coursed through Liam’s body and pushed him back into consciousness.

He blinked, his eyes protesting against opening, and Liam felt like he would just pass out again almost immediately after waking up, but then a growl became audible to him, and Liam surrendered, letting go of sleep and sitting up on Deigh’s paw.

Liam did so just in time to see a medium-sized orange dragon descend a few meters away from the blue dragon and land with a decidedly respectful amount of space as it settled.

Deigh above him rumbled another growl, shaking his head, his huge head swinging with exposed teeth directly above Liam, and the thudding noise told him the dragon had also struck his daggered tail.

Liam analyzed the dragon in front of him—definitely not one he had ever seen in his past life—and Liam refrained from staring too much. Even if he didn’t think any dragon would be brave enough to threaten him under Deigh’s watch, his dragon had always been protective, and Liam didn’t think that had changed after everything they’d been through together.

But Deigh didn’t like the dragon, for some reason, and Liam didn’t try to interfere this time after the last major discovery he had ended up tearing out of him.

Liam resigned himself to getting up from where he was and climbing down to the ground, lightly patting to ensure the pouch with his daggers hadn’t fallen off at some point during the trip.

“Keep your temper in check,” Deigh suddenly warned. Liam frowned, confused by his dragon’s sudden opinion even though he hadn’t turned to look at him. “Remember he is our ally, and so is your brother,” the dragon continued. This time, Liam couldn’t help it and lifted a suspicious gaze at Deigh.

“I thought we were meeting for tea with the Venin,” he mocked, narrowing his eyes. Deigh let out a grunt. “Now enlighten me—why are you reminding me of such an obvious concept?” he said, hearing the sound of soles hitting the ground, indicating that the rider of the orange dragon had dismounted, and Liam turned to face him.

And then he perfectly understood why Deigh had said that. The fury that burned through Liam’s feelings was so intense it made him feel like he was about to combust, the heat surging through him, his muscles tensing and his stomach twisting in response to the sudden emotion.

Liam gasped, feeling his body start to tingle with increasing intensity. He couldn’t look away, feeling as though his focus was locked on the newcomer’s face with searing rage.

"You" It came from his lips like a wild hiss, his voice a few tones deeper and rougher with emotion as Liam struggled to stay still and not run toward that infuriatingly intact and alive face.

The same round face and brown eyes he had grown used to seeing in Violet, only considerably older and more masculine, the intelligent eyes carrying the same spark.

It made Liam want to strangle him, made him want to close the distance between them and ruin that flawless face. The feeling intensified as he was unable to look away.

Brennan Sorrengail was alive, alive and perfectly fine without a single scratch after all of that, after their parents were killed in a petty act of revenge for their deaths.

How dare he look so composed and self-assured after all that? Liam wanted to punch the smug air out of him with such brutality that he’d feel even a fraction of what Liam had felt all those years.

“Control yourself.” Deigh’s voice sounded reprimanding in his mind, but Liam didn’t even register it as his line of vision narrowed to the now-resigned and frustrated face of the Sorrengail.

Who gave him the damn right to be frustrated with him? How did he have the nerve to act like Liam was the one in the wrong?

After all those damn years, Brennan really thought he could blame Liam after being the reason their house burned to the ground? After their parents fought and died because of General Sorrengail in his name?

Did Brennan have any right to be the only angry one after pretending to be dead for years? After making everyone who loved him believe he was gone?

Liam knew his breathing was completely off, and he also felt himself trembling, the fury consuming his emotions until it was the only thing he could feel.

The first step was instinctive, even when Deigh’s voice rose again trying to contain the wave of violence surging in his plans, but Liam didn’t listen.

Brennan backed away the more Liam advanced, his dragon growling in threat and growing more furious, but he didn’t flinch when another roar erupted—this time from Deigh—silencing the orange one.

Sorrengail retreated to the left—that was a mistake because Liam lunged that way and delivered a right hook that hit Brennan in the lower jaw. The force of the punch made his injured shoulder scream in pain, the sensation spreading through his scapula and part of his neck, only fueling his rage.

Liam threw himself against Brennan’s body again, knocking both of them to the ground. He didn’t hesitate with the blind rage that filled him.

The first punch hit Brennan on the jaw, the second on the cheek. After that, Liam lost track of where the punches landed, only registering the blood flying from the wounds his fists opened on the previously untouched face of the Sorrengail.

It filled him with a dizzying wave of satisfaction. It was so unfair that Brennan had caused so much and still remained unscathed and unmarked.

“Brave Heart, that is enough.” Deigh’s thunderous voice infiltrated his mind like a storm. Liam tensed his muscles, refusing to be thrown back when Brennan’s trembling hands tried to push him off.

After that barrage of punches, Liam would be surprised if Brennan had the physical strength to shove him back. He hissed, digging his knees harder into the ground to anchor himself.

Brennan’s brown eyes were barely visible now, almost entirely swollen shut from the new bruises covering his face, but they still stared straight at Liam.

The anger flared again, and Liam clenched his fist, truly tempted to ignore his dragon’s call.

“He will die if you keep hitting him. Control your temper, this is not honorable.” Feal’s voice cut through his mind, sharp despite being a little muffled due to the distance.

Liam narrowed his eyes. Maybe he didn’t care. At that point, did one more life taken really matter?

And maybe he didn’t care about taking the life of the idiot who had cost him so much, who caused so much suffering to Violet.

Brennan Sorrengail was dead to the world—Liam would just make that shit real.

“Let him go. The Wingleader sent him here to complete a mission. You are being undisciplined and irrational,” Deigh growled in his mind. Liam turned his head to look at the blue dragon.

Deigh stared at him with golden eyes, and despite his emotions, his blue body was firmly stationed between him and the furious orange dragon that belonged to Brennan. Liam clenched his jaw stubbornly before growling and getting off Sorrengail’s body.

He reluctantly returned to Deigh’s side, who released a furious growl and a blast of steaming air, while the orange dragon circled around the blue one and approached his own rider, raising furious eyes at Liam.

Liam refused to look away. He wouldn’t apologize for giving Brennan what he deserved, and Sorrengail was alive, so what was that dragon complaining about?

He could have done worse, and he didn’t.

It hurt more to know he probably would have forgiven him in the last life—would have looked at the boy and convinced his pain to recede because it wasn’t worth blaming someone for their parents’ mistakes. It hurt to know a part of him had just done that even now after all Liam had endured this time.

But those weren’t General Sorrengail’s actions—no, Liam looked at Brennan Sorrengail and all he could see were his actions.

He was the one who decided to fake his death for everyone, and because of that, General Sorrengail burned Arentia for revenge. Brennan hid like a coward all those years, and then their parents died.

Now he was here, and because of that, Liam would have to lie again. He would have to face Violet and pretend he didn’t know her stupid brother was alive.

So the worst of the emotional reaction faded, and Deigh’s words registered in his mind, and then his stomach dropped with betrayal.

Xaden knew. He had always known who the contact was that would meet them. Xaden knew that Brennan Sorrengail was alive—and worse, he let him live, let him join the rebellion.

The feeling of betrayal and rage rose again, burning through his body and almost making Liam physically recoil.

How dare Xaden do that? Let Brennan live hidden without paying for anything he caused?

Xaden let that idiot live… live in their house after it was burned for his own shitty whim?

And on top of that, he lied about it for years to all of them—or maybe not all, but he lied to him.

“There were no lies. The Wingleader never announced Marbh’s rider was dead,” Feal spoke, and Liam hissed a mocking laugh, feeling another flame ignite inside him.

“He omitted it. For years he knew and never considered telling the truth. Lying isn’t just saying the opposite of the truth—not saying it is just as bad,” he retorted to his dragon, the bitter taste filling his mouth as more of the heartbreak stuck in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

Liam hated the tears that welled up in his eyes, hated how the feeling of betrayal climbed up his spine and then wrapped itself in his chest.

So he shoved it back behind the rage—not the same kind that had hit him when he saw Brennan for the first time, but still strong enough to make him dizzy.

Liam yanked the pouch of daggers from his waist, approaching the Sorrengail again. The orange dragon, Marbh, growled and snarled as he did so. Liam just shot him a furious look before throwing the black pouch at Sorrengail’s body.

The projectile hit Brennan in the stomach, making him groan and twist momentarily, his body finally turning enough so their eyes could meet again.

"This is what you came for" He said reluctantly, deciding he had other things to deal with at that moment than the Sorrengail. "And next time, you better not think you can parade around like you’re one of us. You’re not and never will be, no matter what lies Xaden or anyone told you. If not, I might not be so friendly" Liam spat, turning, going back to Deigh, and then climbing back to his seat.

Deigh turned his neck to align his right eye with Liam’s and seemed ready to give him a furious lecture about his behavior, but then resigned himself to a puff of smoke as he opened his wings and took flight.

The cold wind was enough to cool the heat of the anger, but not the feeling itself as Liam leaned forward until his forehead rested against the hard, hard-to-see scales.

Liam didn’t allow it either, deciding that anger was easier to deal with than what was behind it—he didn’t know where he’d end up if he started exploring that, and that scared him now.

So even as the feeling began to cool during the nearly three-hour flight from the meeting point to Basgiath, Liam forced himself to remember what Xaden had omitted from him, and then the feeling was back.

It was almost morning when Deigh landed and Liam dismounted running. He barely gave his dragon a second look as he entered the fortress under his watchful eye.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret later, Brave Heart. Remember where you come from,” Deigh obviously tired of the silence, his growl audible to Liam from the other side of the field before he took off again toward the valley.

Easy for him to say—Liam felt like he wasn’t the Liam who had come back in time anymore. Maybe it was already too late to keep holding on to him.

It was too late for a lot of things now.

-*-

Liam knew he shouldn't have rushed to Xaden's room after arriving; the best thing to do was give it time for tempers to cool down because, that way, all he’d get was another fight.
 

But logic didn’t win over the furious feeling in his chest, so despite that, Liam was still pounding on Xaden’s door after practically flying through the dark corridors of Basgiath without much care.

It was still too early for anyone to be awake to see him passing through anyway, and Liam didn’t feel like things would end well for anyone who got in his way.
 

The door opened to reveal Xaden, looking exhausted and more than a little rumpled, like he hadn’t slept a single minute the night before.

That image would usually make Liam reconsider unloading another tirade of fury on him, especially since it was rare for Xaden to let anyone see him like that—Riorson was strict about maintaining his stoic, strong façade, even around those closest to him.
 

Even now, with all the emotional chaos twisting inside him, Liam still hesitated for a second, thinking about postponing that conversation—or argument—for later.

But he threw that thought out the window when he remembered Brennan Sorrengail’s face staring at him with silent judgment. Xaden brought this on himself by hiding that arrogant bastard.
 

Liam wasn’t going to protect him from it.

So even though Xaden’s initial expression wasn’t threatening, now he definitely didn’t look pleased, because Riorson sighed and pulled him into the room.

Garrick was still there—or maybe he never left, Liam didn’t know and didn’t care—looking at him with tired concern.

Garrick knew, Liam concluded, and that only made the rage burn hotter. They all had to know, didn’t they? They made so many deliveries until that point, so it was obvious everyone knew.
 

And none of them told him, they were all fine with hiding that that damn boy was alive.

Liam felt his muscles tremble again from the betrayal curling tighter in his body. He turned his back to Garrick, deciding that if the guy wanted to finish the night without another physical fight, then he’d better stop looking at him.

Xaden had already closed the door and sat in his usual chair near the bed, his gaze still intense on Liam as he waited for him to speak.
 

What did Riorson expect from him? Liam had no idea, but he knew what he was going to get.

“How dare you?” came out as an offended hiss as Liam stepped forward, fully armored in his posture. Xaden closed his eyes momentarily, looking even more exhausted.

“Liam…” He started with a reproving tone, and Liam could swear his vision turned red with anger as he clicked his teeth together in fury.

“Don’t start with that shit, you’re not going to tell me what I should say to you and your hypocritical ass,” he cursed violently, his arms moving in a wild, purposeless gesture just because he couldn’t contain them.

“Liam, calm down…” That came from Garrick. He had stood up and was closer to Liam’s left flank than not—he could turn and punch him from that position.
 

He should do it, just for the audacity of asking something like that, for acting like Liam was the only insane one for reacting this way.

Then Garrick backed off with his hands raised in surrender, and Liam hissed to Deigh, who had clearly alerted Garrick’s dragon of the imminent attack.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me what to do.” He turned to Garrick, narrowing his eyes at the third-year who raised his hands again in surrender. Liam turned back to Xaden. “How dare you let that little shit live? Let him live in Aretia?” he demanded, furious.

It wasn’t fair. Brennan Sorrengail didn’t deserve that. Why was he allowed to have something good while the rest of them, who were just kids during the rebellion, lived in this hell because of that bastard’s idiot mother?

“A lot has happened in the last five years. Brennan Sorrengail has proven his loyalty time and again during that time and…” Xaden said, his voice too composed and even—like a rehearsed speech.

“You’d be smarter to shut up, Wingleader,” Deigh’s monotone voice struck like lightning in Liam’s mind. That’s when he realized his shields were a bit open, but Liam didn’t finish closing them.

“You have objections?” Xaden’s frustrated voice replied—not out loud. Liam was staring at Riorson firmly and hadn’t seen his lips move.

“Shut up and face the consequences of your actions. You’re foolish and stupid to think my rider shouldn’t feel what he’s feeling now, and you’ll deal with it properly, or I’ll stop caring about your bond with Sgaeyl,” Deigh growled, his tone reaching a more fiery level of fury. Liam shook his head, the moment nearly imperceptible, before pushing that aside and reinforcing his shields.

“He could’ve spent every damn day of his stupid life proving loyalty. That doesn’t change shit for me,” he said, slamming his hand on the table with an audible thud, watching as Xaden focused again on what he was saying out loud instead of the dragons’ voices. “It shouldn’t change anything for any of you,” Liam spat furiously. Why was he the only one feeling like this? Why did everyone else just accept Brennan being alive like it meant nothing?

“The council deemed him trustworthy…” Xaden tried.

“The council can go fuck itself,” he hissed, then his gaze flared with even more uncontrollable rage. “You can go fuck yourself. How dare you allow this?” Liam spat, and Xaden narrowed his eyes at him.

“Watch your tone. This was just a delivery, and you have no idea what…” Xaden leaned forward, looking more dangerous by the second, and Liam didn’t care one bit.

“No idea because you didn’t tell me. You were all too happy pretending you knew nothing about Brennan,” he growled. It shouldn’t have been a surprise—Liam always knew Xaden had a habit of withholding information.

 It just didn’t matter before, didn’t matter at all in his previous life—but it mattered now.

A noise of exhaustion came from behind him, and then Garrick inserted himself into the conversation again.

“Liam, please be reasonable. We couldn’t say anything until we were sure you had the means to protect yourself,” he tried—it was a logical fact, but it didn’t make anything easier to swallow.

“Knowing—you think my problem is not knowing?” He turned to Garrick, enraged. “My problem is that that idiot is living in our home after destroying it, after spending years hiding like a fucking coward while I—while all of us—lived this hell,” Liam pointed out, more than a little frustrated to be the only one remembering that.

The last few months—and the previous year Liam had lived and then died in that damned quadrant—flashed through his mind and did nothing to lessen his fury about the issue.

“Brennan Sorrengail didn’t cause the destruction of Aretia—the general did,” Xaden reminded him, as if he had forgotten, and Liam scoffed.

“She did it as revenge for him, while that filthy rat hid like a coward in safety and our parents fought to save his ass,” Liam sneered with a dismissive gesture. “And then he kept doing that all these years—when our parents died, when we were sent here, when there’s a damn war going on out there—he’s still sitting there being a fucking coward, and you let him,” he threw out, openly ignoring the imminent explosion signs in Riorson. Liam was too angry to care, too hurt to consider softening his attack to make Xaden more comfortable.

“There was nothing that could be done. The rebellion failed, and that’s why our parents died. All of us are doing what we can to help with the Venin, and Brennan Sorrengail is doing everything he can to help,” Xaden insisted, shadows writhing threateningly under the table, but they didn’t even make Liam blink—good luck scaring someone who’s stared death in the face.

He stared into Xaden’s increasingly furious dark eyes and then realized this wasn’t going anywhere. Riorson was too deep in his conviction, just like Liam was, so they would dance around each other without a verdict. And Liam was tired, with a long day ahead—so he decided Xaden wasn’t worth the effort.
 

Not until Riorson realized how stupid it was to place trust in someone like Brennan. Liam still tried to make him see—Riorson was his brother, and he wasn’t blind to that.

“He switched sides once—what stops him from doing it again?” Liam lowered his tone, though he didn’t seem any less firm in his stance, shoulders tense and jaw clenched.

“He switched sides when he discovered the truth about the Venin. He changed to defend what was right and won’t go back to defending a corrupt kingdom like Navarre,” Xaden crossed his arms. Liam blinked at the older man and then shook his head, a little offended.

“When did you become so blind, Xaden? That man—that coward—turned his back on his own family, on his own blood, without a second thought,” Liam reminded him, insulted. He couldn’t imagine abandoning Sloane, leaving her to live in a kingdom he knew to be corrupt and treacherous without any warning or means of protection.

“The general doesn’t deserve anything from anyone,” Xaden insisted, and Garrick grumbled behind him, obviously agreeing.

“I’m talking about the sisters—did Brennan think of either of them before pretending to be dead all those years and leaving them to fend for themselves here? He abandoned them for his ideals without leaving anything to warn or protect them,” Liam said, frowning. “He let them mourn him, let them think he was dead without giving them a single chance to understand what was going on. If they didn’t matter to him, then what makes you think there’s anything in Aretia that will make him stay loyal?” he asked, frustrated.

“Enough. Brennan Sorrengail is on our side, and you will accept that,” Xaden obviously didn’t have a good enough answer for that, which already made it a half-win for Liam.
 

One he appreciated in that moment—the rage eased a bit then, and Liam decided that was enough for one day. The hurt, however, didn’t react as well, and when Liam forced himself to agree reluctantly, jaw and posture tense, it only made the feeling sink in deeper—suffocating.

But Liam shouldn’t have been so surprised—Xaden was always bad at seeing the most painful truths because they escaped his control. He would learn someday that there were things that couldn’t be controlled, and trying only caused more destruction.
 

He knew that well—after all, he’d lived through something similar.

Liam scoffed quietly, walking to the door in frustrated silence, then opened it, ready to return to his room and enjoy what was left of the night to rest.
 

He stopped on the threshold, still far enough inside the room that his words wouldn’t carry past the sound shield, turning his face to look at Xaden with his right eye—his gaze full of exhaustion and disappointment.

“If you want it to be this way, Xaden, then it’s your choice—but when everything starts falling apart because of him, remember that the only one you’ll have to blame will be yourself,” he sentenced in a flat tone. Liam then turned forward and left the room, heading down the corridor toward the stairs.

The door slamming was the last thing he heard before leaving the third floor.
 

Liam couldn’t help but think it wasn’t the only thing that had been shut between them—but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
 

Their brotherhood had already been broken since Liam came back in time—broken for the same reason it was crumbling now.
 

Xaden was a liar, and Liam was done covering for him.
 

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Chapter Text

"Sometimes the greatest tests come from within you, and usually the hardest ones are those you want to pass. If you're nervous, remember—you have everything you need inside you, you just need to show it."

Recovered letter from Liam Mairi to Sloane Mairi

-*-

Liam should have predicted how exhausted he would feel that day. After an especially large number of hours fully awake and only a few hours of rest, Liam felt as if he could fall asleep against anything or anyone.

Unfortunately for him, when Liam finally returned to his room after the argument with Xaden, the last thing he managed to do was sleep. The pain still boiled far too strongly to blend with sleep, so all Liam could do once inside was toss and turn mercilessly on the mattress and watch the sun rise.

Inevitably, Liam resigned himself to move on with the lingering pain and exhaustion weighing down his every movement.

Liam wasn’t used to feeling as tired as he did now. Rare were the times his eyes ached with each blink and his eyelids felt too heavy to lift, or when even moving his legs to walk was a bigger challenge than he could handle.

He’d have to deal with it. There was no time to waste because once again, they were close to the challenges—the weeks of rest before the Gauntlet, the Presentation, and then the Gauntlet again, just like the ones before it, were coming to an end. That also meant the trials would resume.

Liam knew that meant intensifying his combat training with Dylan. The boy was improving every day, and now Liam was confident he could face some cadets without getting too badly beaten along the way. Violet was also becoming a potential threat.

She still couldn’t land a hit on Liam, and her technique was clearly below his, but she had beaten Ridoc easily in a sparring match a few days ago and gave Rhiannon a good amount of trouble afterward. So Liam considered her ready for what was to come.

But Dylan was a problem for later—or another day—because now Liam had something else to deal with. Something that came in the form of a test with Professor Kaori. With the chaos of the last few days, Liam had almost completely forgotten about his agreement with the professor and his candidacy to become a teaching assistant.

It wasn’t until Deigh grumbled that he’d be late for the test if he kept stalling during lunch that Liam realized he had forgotten and was now about to face a test on dragons without having reviewed any of the material he’d planned to.

Frustrated and nervous, he said goodbye to his squad while trying to bring every scrap of knowledge back to the forefront of his mind. He barely heard the enthusiastic encouragements from Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Dylan, or the calm reassurance from Violet and Sawyer.

So Liam made his way to the Dragonkind classroom, his nerves shelved to the back of his mind as he pushed through knights and some unbonded students, appearing perfectly composed.

He also needed to improve his ability to hide his emotions, but for now, Liam looked steady enough to fool anyone who didn’t know him well.

That would have to be enough for now. It wasn’t the worst thing he had to deal with, and Liam needed to stop stacking more things to do in such a short time.

Professor Kaori was already in the Dragonkind classroom when Liam arrived. He wasn’t the only one present, though—Liam found himself looking at Dain, who, judging by his posture, looked absolutely miserable to be there.

The older rider honestly looked terrible: pale skin, deep bags under his eyes, like he had been haunted in his sleep and kept constantly awake.

Liam might have felt sympathy for him if it were anyone else, but since it was Dain, all Liam could muster was disgust at having to share a classroom with him.

“What is he doing here?” Liam meant to ask only himself, but when he heard Feal’s rumble in his mind, it was clear the question had been thrown across the bond.

“Your interests are not yours to question, Firestorm. Proceed with your test and remember to honor us with your performance,” the brown dragon grumbled. Liam shook his head, diverting his attention from Dain Aetos, who was sitting in one of the front seats.

Instead, he looked at Kaori, who was organizing a stack of papers on the desk before him—two worryingly large stacks that made Liam, for the first time, hesitate about continuing with his plan.

Was all of that for him? Liam had expected a written test; after all, that’s what the professor said when he gave him the schedule. But two massive stacks? Was that really necessary?

Liam intensely wished he was better at hiding his emotions, but he was sure a bit of his horror showed on his face because when the professor looked up at him, the first thing he did was chuckle and shake his head.

"Not all of this is for you, Cadet Mairi. Please, take a seat," the professor said with amusement, pointing to a seat—uncomfortably close to Dain for Liam’s taste, but with a small eye roll, he resigned himself to it.

After scanning his shields thoroughly, not wanting to be caught off guard, Liam felt slightly better when he noticed Aetos wasn’t any more comfortable with their closeness.

Then he rolled his eyes at himself. This was getting ridiculous and childish. They weren’t five-year-olds throwing tantrums over assigned seats. Liam could easily ignore him—as long as Dain didn’t move toward him or act particularly stupid.

A wave of measured approval came from Deigh as Liam settled properly in the chair.

"Finally you realized. Now stop this shameful circus," Deigh growled.

Liam didn’t answer—he didn’t need to and didn’t want to—as he silently watched the professor finish organizing the papers, then stretch.

"The test lasts two hours," he announced aloud, walking over with a stack of papers in Liam’s direction and setting them on his desk. "That applies to both of you. Once time’s up, I’ll collect the tests, whether you’re finished or not, so I suggest you make sure every answer is on paper before the time limit."

Kaori spoke clearly. Liam nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Professor Kaori," Dain said out loud, his voice raspier than Liam had ever heard it. It sounded like he hadn’t drunk much water recently if his voice was that strained.

"Very well. Cadet Mairi, your test is simple. I want you to describe and characterize each known dragon species with as much detail as possible—habits, species traits, anything you can remember," the professor explained calmly. Liam felt the knot in his stomach dissolve as soon as he heard his challenge.

He could do that. The manuals were clear enough in his memory to give him confidence, and with two hours, Liam was sure he could compile a satisfying arsenal of data for each dragon species.

Even now, as Liam began to think, a particularly large list of information was already leaping to the front of his mind.

"Yes, sir, Professor Kaori," Liam said, grabbing his quill and pulling the first sheet forward to start writing. The professor nodded, seemingly satisfied, and moved on to Dain Aetos’ desk.

Liam wrote the name of the first dragon species at the top of the page. He decided to start with the blacks, just as Kaori reached the other rider’s desk and crossed his arms.

"Colonel Aetos informed me of your failure to attend the history exam three days ago and how that is absolutely unacceptable. That’s why you’re here to take the test," the professor said in a monotone, as if he didn’t want to be doing it. Maybe he really didn’t, but he had no choice. "I suggest you hurry. Professor Bins wasn’t in a good mood when he wrote this test, and you only have two hours. The colonel was also very strict about the difficulty of the exam."

Kaori returned to his desk, dropping three sheets on Aetos’ table.

Judging by Dain’s expression, the test was just as hard as the professor had made it seem. Liam felt a little bad for the man before shrugging and focusing on his own test.

He quickly listed the more general traits—black scales, thick and twisted spikes, their intelligence, the type of cadets they preferred: cunning and fierce. He mentioned the current known bonded dragons—Tairn and Codagh—and noted their known nesting areas: originally from the mountains above Riorson Fortress. They preferred sheep but would eat anything.

Dain had missed a history test. Liam didn’t know why—though considering what he knew of second-year curriculum, it might’ve been related to the RSC—but wasn’t that a reason to excuse him? Or at least have all the others who missed it take the test at the same time?

Why had Dain become an exception?

He moved on to the next species, jotting things down quickly.

Blue dragons ranged in tones from sapphire to navy. They were known for their formidable size.

They were the most relentless, especially the Blue Daggertail, the rarest of the blues, whose knife-shaped spikes on the tip of the tail could disembowel an enemy with one strike. It was advised to never approach a blue dragon—better to run.

All known blue dragons had an intimidating reputation. A handful remained in active service, mostly stationed along the Esben Mountains in the east, where fighting was most intense.

Their nesting areas were originally near the Poromian city of Cordyn. Their diet varied between goats and cattle, though some were recorded to prefer fish, which their morphology allowed them to catch mid-flight by dipping only their heads into the water without losing stability.

Their spikes were twisted with barbs scattered along their length, the arrangement of their spinal spikes random.

They descended from the honorable Gormfaileas lineage.

But Professor Kaori had said that Colonel Aetos insisted the professor be very strict with the test and was also the one to report his son’s absence, stressing how unacceptable it was. Was that just resentment over the second-year curriculum?

Or did the colonel simply not care if his son was tortured—as long as he didn’t skip exams?

As for red dragons, Liam decided to emphasize that they could present various red tones, including strawberry.

You were advised never to look anything red in the eyes.

Red Scorpion Tails, specifically, had the quickest tempers. If you offended them, you died. All Red Swordtails were nasty when angered.

They preferred to be approached from the left and the front, if possible. They were known to be the most violent dragon color of all.

Auxiliary nesting sites were along the limestone cliffs beside the Dunness River. They preferred cattle and goats over fish and sheep.

Their massive wingspans allowed them to dive and rise with an impressive number of prey in their claws. Their spikes were long and thick, sharp all the way through, and concentrated mainly along their back and shoulders.

"You could add that their feeding habits tend to be diurnal," Deigh grumbled, sounding proud. Liam blinked and tilted his head. 

"Wasn't that a rule for all dragons?" He ask in the bond

“Actually, no. Orange dragons are more active at night when it comes to feeding, blues prefer to eat at the end of the day, and browns at the beginning—unless there's an external need,” Feal said, bored.

Liam blinked, a little shocked, before starting to jot down what his dragons had shared.

He wondered if it was a bit like cheating to add details coming from his bond and then shrugged. It wasn’t his fault that his dragons had decided to be helpful with information.

Liam also wouldn’t deny himself the chance to write relevant information if he was able to do so.

If that were the case, then Colonel Aetos was, frankly, a shitty father in Liam’s opinion. He couldn’t imagine either of his own parents making his time at Basgiath harder than it already was just out of personal whim.

But then Liam considered that his parents were actually good parents. Maybe Dain’s family wasn’t as great as it seemed. Just like it had been with Violet—a cruel mother and a stupid, reckless brother.

A bit of guilt stirred in Liam’s stomach, because he had an idea of how bad it was to live with a family that didn’t support him, although he knew that in the case of people like him, lack of support was the best-case scenario.

Green dragons are known for their sharp intellect and rational demeanor, which make them perfect siege weapons, especially in the case of scorpion-tails.

To approach a green dragon, lower your gaze in supplication and wait for their approval. It’s advised to never retreat from a green.

They are descendants of the honorable Uaineloidsig line, who offered their ancestors’ incubation fields in the Steelridge Range for the good of the dragon race—in what is now the Basgiath War College. The Cruaidhuaine line has an especially stable connection with magic, believed to be the result of their more reasonable and defensive nature.

Maybe Liam had also exaggerated a bit in some of his biases after all. He might be right to resent Dain for literally sending all of them to die in Resson, but that didn’t necessarily mean the boy’s life was easy.

Was it possible, perhaps, that Dain hadn’t actually meant to cause what happened in Resson? Was he really considering the idea that the boy wasn’t to blame for all of it?

Liam knew that Dain had taken Violet’s memories, knew that he had opened his mouth to someone and that it had led to them being sent to Athebyne.

But who could guarantee what the boy had seen in Sorrengail’s memories? The order of where they were sent had never come from Dain, so there were other interferences along the way that contributed to the disaster it became.

Maybe Dain could be useful if he were on their side and not the boy everyone had to second-guess before trusting even a little. His signet was only dangerous because it could be used against them.

Liam wrote the names of the brown dragons as he considered this silently.

Browns are known for their loyalty. They also dislike cowards or people who tremble in the face of challenges. Their rider choices tend to favor those with inner bravery and boldness, though some prefer those with raw ferocity.

Their spines are short but lined with barbs across the length of their bodies.

Their feeding habits range from fish to livestock, and they attack in quick strikes, catching three to six individuals at once. They prefer feeding early in the day, except in cases of external interference.

No one knows which lineage the browns descend from, and their nesting grounds are unknown.

But how could Liam somehow get Dain to join their side without necessarily telling him anything? He wouldn’t risk it—he hadn’t even done that with Violet yet, despite being sure she’d be on their side if she knew.

Beyond that, could Liam truly ignore what had happened in his own past to give Dain a chance?

But they needed it—if not for Dain’s signet, then for the security of not having to worry about someone taking their memories against their will. That would allow him, Xaden, Garrick, Imogen, Bodhi, and the marked in general to move with a little more confidence and safety.

If that was the case, despite his still simmering anger toward the older ones and their lies, Liam could learn to like Dain Aetos.

Orange dragons come in many shades, from apricot to carrot.

Known as the most unpredictable dragons, they always represent a risk.

It’s believed that the Northern Esbens were the orange dragon incubation sites before unification, although, true to their unpredictable nature, they often choose new valleys within the same range.

They are descendants of the Fhaicorain line.

They mostly eat deer and are particularly good at hunting them due to their considerably narrower wingspans, which allow for dives between the dense canopies in the vegetation around the Valley.

Their spines are thin but numerous, spread across the dorsal region, withers, and hindquarters, clustered closely together—making the backs of this species a sort of "mattress" of spines.

Maybe not like, Liam admitted reluctantly. He probably would never be able to force himself to like Dain, and maybe he would never fully get over the past.

He’d felt petty about it ever since he returned and didn’t see how everything could suddenly change.

But Liam could learn to tolerate him for the greater good, to archive his negative feelings about the older cadet deep enough in his mind to categorize him as an ally, not an enemy.

Liam nodded to himself as he finished his four pages of description with a few characteristics of feather-tails—though there were only a few, since not much was known about them.

They didn’t bond—until Andarna. They were known to be peaceful, and their sizes were considerably smaller than the other dragons.

No one had really seen one until Andarna appeared at presentation and bonded with Violet, and Liam wasn’t there to speculate on the reason.

So he reviewed his writing, going over some details and adding a few things he’d forgotten during his first draft, then leaned back in his chair, leaving a few minutes to ensure that was all he would include in the test.

Then Liam nodded to Professor Kaori to indicate he had finished. The man nodded, stood from his desk, and approached to collect the answer sheets.

Liam watched, a bit nervous, as the professor reviewed his dissertation—his expression neutral and focused on what was written, although Liam identified a few moments when a brief flash of surprise crossed his face.

Kaori read the four pages in thoughtful silence before looking up at Liam, who felt increasingly nervous. It seemed to amuse his dragons, judging by the feelings bleeding through the bond.

The professor still paused in silence for a second before relaxing his expression and nodding slightly.

“Congratulations, Cadet Mairi. This looks good enough, and I have to acknowledge that you’ve read the manuals—and remember them, which is probably the most important part,” Kaori said aloud. Liam blinked in absolute shock.

Did that mean…? Liam wasn’t hallucinating or projecting what he wanted to hear, was he?

“You’re not delusional, stop that,” Deigh grumbled, though he only sounded amused and not truly annoyed.

“I’ll handle all the bureaucratic parts, but you’re approved and can be considered my assistant starting today,” Kaori said—the words sinking into Liam’s silence and slowly pushing the disbelief aside to make room for deep satisfaction. “There are many generals and colonels to notify and details to finalize, but for now I expect to see you tomorrow at lunchtime on the flight field. Tell your dragon, because you’ve got a series of maneuvers to learn before you’re considered fit to act as an assistant,” Kaori explained.

Liam nodded frantically, too emotional to find his own voice.

Deigh was probably already well aware of the appointment, obviously hearing what Liam heard through their direct link.

The emotion subsided momentarily as he regained his composure.

“Thank you, Professor Kaori. I’ll meet you there,” he said proudly. The feeling flared briefly through the bond from his dragons, and then the man dismissed him.

“Go ahead. You still have some time before class starts,” the professor said. Liam thanked him quietly as he stood and passed by Dain.

The boy was writing something about the Tirrish rebellion, his pen dangling loosely over a line while he looked completely lost trying to recall some piece of information.

Liam glanced at the line, his eyes immediately drawn to where his own last name was mentioned. It was about his father—he knew by the title and surname, though Dain hadn’t written the first name.

That’s when he realized Dain had no idea what his father’s name was. The anger churned in his stomach a bit before Liam took a deep breath and reminded himself of his conclusions.

Screw Xaden—if he didn’t love his brother, for all his selflessness and foolishness at times, Liam would never put himself in this situation.

“Isaac, his name was Isaac,” he muttered quietly as he passed Dain. The man looked up, surprised, and then flinched—clearly realizing what Liam was referring to.

But Aetos didn’t question it, simply writing the name before the surname on the sheet. Liam shrugged and made his way to the exit.

He felt Dain’s eyes on his back but didn’t turn to look at him. Liam didn’t need to.

Instead, a slightly mocking smile formed on his lips as he thought of a way to get to Dain.

Liam knew exactly what—or rather, who—he could turn to help him to reach the squad leader, and Dain might not like the outcome.

He wouldn’t want to be Dain Aetos in the near future.

Chapter Text

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have mom with us again—the free afternoons we spent in the fields, the picnics, the river, the laughter. The love.
I miss her. And dad. Just like I miss you.
I love you, sister. Promise me that when we meet again, you’ll still love me too.”
Letter recovered from cadet Liam Mairi to Sloane Mairi.

-*-

The temperatures were starting to drop—not yet as cold as they would be by late November or December, but still cold enough to make Liam shiver in his flight jacket and pull it tighter against his body in a desperate attempt to warm himself.

There was no snow yet, probably the only reason Liam was still at the flight field with Deigh perched behind him as they waited for Kaori to show up. Though Liam hoped the snow would come sometime that month since his breath was already condensing visibly in front of his face.

Or maybe it was because of what day it was. Basgiath had woken up under heavy clouds, thick and angry, with strong winds unusual for this time of year. Liam wondered if a certain general’s mood might have something to do with that.

This would be his first training session as Kaori’s assistant. Liam understood enough to know that his role would be more theoretical than practical, since he was still in training himself. Even so, from what Deigh had shared, he was about to learn some basic maneuvers taught to second- and third-year riders.

Maneuvers that Deigh had agreed he was capable of performing when Smachd asked for the professor’s evaluation. Nothing more than a few mid-air movements and a flight through the wind tunnels east of Basgiath.

Liam recognized all the maneuvers and was genuinely excited to execute them—more excited than he’d been in months, except perhaps for the rush of endorphins that came with the gauntlet.

All that was left was for Kaori to show up. Liam might have arrived a little earlier than he should after practically inhaling his lunch in his eagerness, but at this point, the scheduled time had already passed.

His squad—at least, what he considered his squad—had celebrated his appointment as assistant with their usual chaotic enthusiasm. At some point, they all ended up heading down to Chantarra to continue the celebration later that night.

None of them cared that it was the middle of the week; they partied loudly with drinks flowing freely. Despite his previous misgivings about the place, Liam had a great time—laughing at Ridoc’s antics, joining in the rowdy fun, and reveling in the success of passing his test. He also wanted to forget that Xaden had sent Soleil and Garrick to try to fix the disaster he’d made.

It went about as well as expected—in other words, Liam walked away from the two older cadets even angrier than he’d been before.

The night passed like that. Liam only dragged himself back to the dorm when it was late, half-hauling a completely wasted Ridoc with Sawyer, who was also drunk but still balanced enough to help.

Rhiannon, Violet, and Dylan had left earlier, all of them with far lower alcohol tolerance than the rest. Liam probably should have gone with them, but he’d been having too much fun to care.

The morning after had been brutal—thanks to the hangover and the sheer exhaustion he’d ignored the night before—but Liam pushed through with the help of a hangover remedy and sheer willpower.

He made the mistake of calculating how long he’d been awake by now. It had been almost 52 hours since he last managed to sleep—and even that had only been about five hours thanks to the post-threshing celebration.

That was starting to become worrying. There were biological limits to how long a person could stay awake before things started to fail. Liam knew better than to test those limits.

But some things were out of his control. He could sleep later today. For now, there were things that needed to be done.

"I didn’t choose you for your lack of self-care. Stop testing your limits," Feal grumbled in his mind, sounding thoroughly annoyed. Liam rolled his eyes, though Deigh growled in agreement.

"You’re not becoming more useful or helpful by pushing yourself to your limit," Deigh grumbled in response to Liam’s silent gesture. Liam didn’t know how dragons could sense his physical actions, but his best guess was that they could read the intention behind them. "You can’t fight or defend yourself if you’re too exhausted to stand. That’s a threat to your survival," Deigh continued, turning his head to glare down at Liam from above.

Liam crossed his arms. He knew when he was wrong, but there was nothing he could do to change it now. His dragons would just have to deal with it.

"I’ll sleep when I’m able to," he decided firmly. Things were the way they were, and lamenting it wouldn’t change anything.

Twin growls of irritation echoed through his bonds, but any response was cut short when Deigh suddenly whipped his head eastward, toward the valley.

His body tensed deeply behind Liam before a growl of pure frustration rumbled out of him, loud enough for everyone in the flight field to hear.

Confused, Liam searched for the source of the dragon’s reaction. He blinked, forcing his tired eyes to focus in the direction Deigh was looking.

He didn’t expect to see a massive, familiar blue body approaching the flight field.

It was Sgaeyl. Liam could recognize her at any moment in his life. Her form grew larger with each meter as she flew closer until she landed a few meters away from Deigh.

Her head shook in response to Deigh’s growl directed at her as she snapped her jaws. They were obviously arguing until, finally, Deigh released a wave of black smoke and, with one last irritated grunt, retreated into silence.

Liam blinked at the dragon’s presence in the field. What was she doing here? Maybe Xaden was being sent to a fortress... but just him?

"You’re not going to like this. Remember your responsibility," Deigh said, his tone dripping with disgust. Liam intended to ask what he meant, but there wasn’t time.

Footsteps echoed in his hearing, and Liam turned to face them. He expected to see only Professor Kaori approaching, but instead, the man was flanked by none other than Xaden.

Now, Liam might have been exhausted, but he wasn’t stupid. The moment his eyes registered how the pair had shown up, he knew exactly what was about to happen.

For some reason—whatever cursed reason—Xaden was part of this training session, and that was enough for Liam’s mood to plummet straight into the ground and rot into sheer disgust.

Liam was almost sure his glare could burn where it was locked onto Xaden, as if he could make him disappear just by sheer will.

How dare he show up with that arrogant “I-don’t-care” posture as if nothing had happened? How did Xaden dare do so many things in general? Liam didn’t think he could feel more frustrated than before, but apparently, he could surprise himself.

The truth was, Liam didn’t even want to be in the same space as Xaden, not any time soon. He didn’t want to think about his brother and the chaos he had created until absolutely necessary.

Xaden was something he had shoved into the furthest corner of his mind—a wound he couldn’t even think of beginning to heal. Instead, he left it there to fester, ignored, along with every damn feeling tied to it. For a few precious hours, Liam had managed to pretend that the people he once loved hadn’t lied to him.

That his brother hadn’t betrayed him. That he had valued Liam’s opinion when, inevitably, they disagreed.

But Xaden hadn’t even listened. He had dismissed him—pushed him aside, using his position as leader of the revolution to suffocate Liam’s voice and opinion.

Liam thought he had a brother. Instead, he had a leader. And that hurt more than anything else.

And now here he was—parading alongside the professor as if he owned the truth. And the worst part? Liam would have to accept it in silence, no matter how much it made him want to scream.

The bitterness nearly choked him. Why couldn’t Xaden just leave him alone?

Wasn’t it enough already with the two attempts through Garrick and Soleil? Both had tried to appease his anger with firm speeches about how “Xaden knew what he was doing” and how Liam just needed to trust him.

But trusting Xaden? That was something Liam wasn’t willing to do anytime soon.

When they came, Liam had been furious—because once again, Xaden was being a coward who preferred to dump his emotional problems onto others rather than handle them himself. Liam had thought he wanted Riorson to at least make the effort to come to him, to show that he cared, to earn forgiveness.

But now? Now he wished Xaden would just disappear. That he could shove whatever feelings he had into the same place where he’d shoved his damn common sense. Liam wanted nothing from him. Not for a long while.

Still, what choice did he have?

"It’s just two hours," Liam consoled himself bitterly, turning his eyes to the professor, who seemed perfectly oblivious—or at least pretending to be—to the tension crackling between him and Xaden. "I’ve been through worse than this. Stop making problems where there aren’t any," he told himself.

A growl rumbled through his bond with Deigh.

"Respect your feelings, Brave Heart. We don’t judge you for them, and neither should you. How you stand in front of them is what truly matters," Deigh advised, shaking his massive blue head, his golden eyes glaring at Xaden with mocking intensity.

"Failing to defend your stance is far more disgraceful than feeling anything. Hold your head high, Firestorm," Feal agreed, pride flaring briefly through the bond.

Professor Kaori stopped a few steps away—further than usual, because Deigh had growled at them, warning that they were already too close. More because of Xaden than the professor, but Liam wouldn’t say that out loud.

Sgaeyl grumbled at Deigh, who simply snapped his jaws at her, shaking his head again.

“Good afternoon, Cadet Mairi. As I mentioned yesterday, today’s program involves a few maneuvers commonly taught to second- and third-years, so you can assist me as my aide,” the professor announced in a firm tone. Liam chose to focus on him instead of Xaden. “Today’s training will be simple. We’ll work on movement across the back of your dragon mid-flight and transitioning between dragons. This is where Wing Leader Riorson comes in. Unfortunately, few dragons are willing to get close enough to Deigh to allow this maneuver, so your leader volunteered, given the bond between your dragons,” Kaori explained.

Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. This meant Liam was probably doomed to put up with Xaden and his lying ass in every training session that needed an extra dragon.

"Think you could convince Tairn to do it instead?" Liam asked Deigh, voice laced with acid. Deigh grunted.

"I could... but running from your challenges doesn’t sound like you," Deigh grumbled. Liam nearly rolled his eyes.

"You really want to compare yourself to him? You’re only in this situation because he ran from his," Feal snapped suddenly through the bond, and Liam blinked. That was an undeniable fact.

Frustrated and thoroughly dissatisfied, Liam had no choice but to leave it alone and move on.

“Now, would you like to recite the basics of moving across a dragon’s back?” Kaori asked, watching him closely. Liam nodded.

“Steady footing, shoulders inward to reduce wind resistance, knees slightly bent to match the movement of the skin during wingbeats, match the dragon’s rhythm,” Liam recited firmly. Kaori nodded, clearly satisfied.

“Perfect. That’s the theory. In practice, you’ll need to watch the spines—you wouldn’t want to rip a limb passing too close to one—but they can also help if you lose balance,” Kaori explained. Liam nodded in acknowledgment. “Good. Mount up. We’ll do a simple circuit around the eastern mountain. Smachd will fly right behind Deigh, and I want you to walk back toward your dragon’s tail and then return to your seat before we complete the circuit. If you succeed, we’ll move to the next phase. Riorson, you may follow but keep your distance and do not intervene,” Kaori instructed.

Both Liam and Xaden nodded. Liam turned, running up Deigh’s leg with furious determination.

His dragon spread his wings, launching into the sky with a powerful set of wingbeats. Smachd was the second to take off, and Liam watched Xaden following at a slower pace, clearly unconcerned since he wouldn’t be needed immediately.

They flew over the field, the icy wind helping to scatter the worst of Liam’s emotions. He even started to feel warm standing there in the field, so he forced himself to focus on the task ahead.

Liam remembered standing on Deigh’s back for a few minutes in his last life—mostly during the Resson—but it had only been a few steps out of the seat before returning.

But if he managed then, he could do it now. He just needed to focus.

Deigh glided smoothly as they began the wide loop around the mountain, his growl letting Liam know the exercise had already started. Liam glanced experimentally toward the tip of Deigh’s tail, which felt miles away from him, and then further back where Smachd was soaring smoothly.

He didn’t give himself a single extra second to reconsider. Liam had been through far worse, and his end wasn’t about to come from some stupid fall. He swung his knees out of the saddle, stabilizing the soles of his boots against Deigh’s scales, then pushed himself up to stand.

He kept his body tense enough to weigh against the wind while forcing his ankles and knees to absorb the subtle shifts of Deigh’s moving scales beneath him.

It was considerably less stable than Liam remembered, but not nearly unstable enough to make him feel unsafe as he took his first steps along Deigh’s spine.

It was like walking a ledge—only the ground wasn’t exactly solid or stationary. Liam kept his gaze locked on the spines, carefully maneuvering around the razor-sharp tips.

His steps grew more confident as he moved past the wings and along the hindquarters until he stood near the base of Deigh’s tail. Liam stopped there, letting his body naturally follow the subtle movements of his dragon, and curiously looked toward the stretched-out tail.

"Did he mean to go up to here... or all the way to the tip?" he asked Deigh, uncertain. The dragon growled in his mind, tilting his head to glance back at him—but offered no verbal answer, instead flicking the daggered tip of his tail in an encouraging gesture.

They were still only halfway around the mountain, so Liam had time to reach the tip and return... but could he really manage it?

He took the first step, feeling how the muscle beneath shifted with the wind. It was considerably less firm and stable than the spine—the skin flexed more easily, and the wind occasionally rocked the entire section from side to side.

The second step was as hesitant as the first. He drew in a deep breath, forcing his joints to stay loose rather than locking up. The third step brought a bit more confidence.

Deigh’s tail swayed. Liam forced himself not to stiffen, even though his stomach twisted with nerves. He let his body move with the sway until it stabilized again, then kept going.

He didn’t look anywhere but straight ahead until he found himself staring at the familiar dagger-shaped tip that marked the end of his path. Then he lifted his gaze.

He was only a few meters from Smachd’s snout—far too close to avoid looking into the dragon’s massive golden eyes. But the dragon didn’t even grumble in response. Liam glanced briefly toward the red dragon’s saddle, but Kaori wasn’t visible from his angle. Liam simply shrugged and carefully turned around.

The walk back felt smoother. He wasn’t nearly as tense as before, and his steps quickly found a rhythm. Soon, he was back in his seat, settling down several meters before they completed the circuit.

Then Smachd pulled out of his position behind Deigh, soaring a few meters higher, growling something down to Deigh, who shook his head.

"Your professor says your performance was sufficient to pass. There are some posture details to fix, but overall, he’s satisfied with your movement for a first attempt. He also says we’ll proceed to the second exercise," Deigh relayed as he gained altitude.

That meant Sgaeyl. And by extension, Xaden. Liam turned his head just in time to see Xaden’s massive blue dragon align her wing with Deigh’s, the edge of Deigh’s wing hanging just a few centimeters above Sgaeyl’s.

"You’ll walk along the bone of my wing, slide over the tip as it curves, and then jump onto Sgaeyl’s wing bone. For your first try, I’ll keep my wing higher than usual to make the landing easier," Deigh instructed. Liam looked at the path he’d have to take, nodded, and stepped out of the saddle again.

"And Sgaeyl’s really fine with me walking on her back?" he asked, tilting his head, though he was already moving toward Deigh’s wing joint. The dragon growled.

"Ask her yourself," he rumbled. Liam blinked, tilting his head in deep confusion before something clicked.

The fact that he could feel Xaden’s and Violet’s emotions... Tairn speaking to him during the Threshing... the supposed conversation between Deigh and Xaden after the delivery... All of that happened because the dragons were connected, which by extension connected their riders.

That meant Liam could speak to Sgaeyl. Could he do the same with Xaden and Violet? A theory for later.

He focused, hesitantly reaching toward the part of the bond he mentally labeled as “Xaden.” His mental barriers were solidly in place, and Liam hated that he had to lower them even briefly.

It was easy to distinguish which part of that source belonged to Sgaeyl and which was Xaden’s. Liam focused solely on the dragon—he had no intention of poking Xaden in any way.

"You’re really fine with me walking on your back?" he asked slowly, trying to direct the question to just the part of the bond linked to Sgaeyl.

A deep rumble answered—not Deigh’s, not Feal’s.

"I’ll tolerate you long enough for you to learn. I’d rather not see you cost my rider his life by failing this maneuver," Sgaeyl replied, voice laced with acid. Her massive head tilted slightly, golden eyes pinning him in unrelenting judgment.

"Thank you," Liam answered, quickly shutting the bond again and focusing on the task ahead. Even if he privately thought Xaden would probably cost himself his life for entirely different reasons, that wasn’t his place to argue with the dragon.

It was similar to walking Deigh’s spine, except this time on the wing’s edge—with wind scraping against his right side and under his body where Deigh’s wing sliced the air.

The walk became less stable as he neared the wingtip. There was no bone there—just skin and a bit of remaining muscle—meaning the area was soft and wobbled the moment he placed weight on it.

Liam felt his body tense as he slipped several centimeters downward when the tip curved with his first step. Several seconds passed as he calculated his next moves.

But it was what he had to do. Deigh had instructed it, and Deigh didn’t give orders lightly. So he continued forward. His body slid suddenly as the wingtip gave way fully, forming a ramp far too steep to maintain his footing.

And then Liam jumped. His balance wavered slightly as he landed on the wing bone of Sgaeyl.

The moment his feet hit solid structure, everything stabilized. Liam strode forward quickly until he was on Sgaeyl’s back rather than perched precariously on the wingtip.

He ended up just behind where Xaden sat—watching him.

Liam thought the look in Xaden’s eyes might be pride.

The feeling twisted uncomfortably in Liam’s stomach—because on some level, that meant something. But it wasn’t something Liam wanted right now.

"I’m heading back," he informed Deigh, pivoting on his heels and making his way back toward Sgaeyl’s wing. Deigh growled, lowering his own wing beneath hers to assist this time.

"Your training is nearly over, Firestorm. Keep your mind clear," Feal advised quietly. Liam was trying. He really was. But the truth was, it was a guilty relief to realize he was actually looking forward to landing—just to get away from the wing leader’s presence.

He could only hope his future lessons weren’t doomed to always end with this gnawing, restless feeling of dissatisfaction.

Liam slid back down onto his own dragon, then stretched his stride until he was back in his seat, eyes following Smachd as the red dragon hovered a few meters above them.

"That’s it. We’re returning," Deigh announced, immediately turning his body with one final rumble toward Smachd. He completely ignored Sgaeyl, spinning his daggered tail and deliberately letting it scrape just barely along her right side before pulling away.

Liam didn’t dismount right away after Deigh landed—feeling a bit ridiculous for it. He didn’t want to act like some sulking child, nor did he want to make things harder for himself.

The truth was... Liam had no idea what he wanted.

Did it even matter anymore?

He finally climbed down Deigh’s shoulder, hitting the ground with a solid enough thump to be audible, but not harmful. He then watched as the massive red dragon of the professor landed beside Sgaeyl.

“That was excellent, Cadet Mairi. A few technical details to work on, of course, but honestly outstanding for a first time,” Kaori said, sounding more enthusiastic than Liam had ever heard him. “I want you to practice the slide more. Tomorrow, we’ll repeat the maneuver, and I expect to see smoother transitions between the wings. Then, we’ll move to something more advanced.”

Liam nodded, rolling his shoulders.

“Yes, professor,” he answered confidently. He was fairly sure the “more advanced” transition meant literally jumping from one dragon to another.

“Excellent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to teach the second-year class,” Kaori explained. Liam nodded, watching him walk away.

"The Wing Leader is approaching," Deigh warned. Liam felt his shoulders tense as he turned to look.

Sure enough, Xaden was striding toward him—always confident, always too confident, in Liam’s opinion. And it was becoming more and more frustrating.

Because how could Xaden possibly believe he knew how Liam felt? And worse, how could he believe he had the right to ignore it?

Liam wondered if it would be too childish to just turn around and walk away. Probably, yes—but the decision was taken from him anyway.

“You did well up there,” Xaden started, his voice steady and slow, but also warm—already a sign that Riorson was trying to show more of his feelings.

A rare occurrence. Liam stared at him with unimpressed eyes, hoping the look would make Riorson give up on the attempt.

“You seem surprised. Maybe you thought you were the only one who deserved to know things, Xaden,” Liam bit back bitterly. Xaden sighed, shaking his head.

“I don’t. And I don’t think you shouldn’t know the truth. But Aisereigh wasn’t my secret to tell,” Xaden said slowly. Liam didn’t want to hear that—because it didn’t change anything for him. It didn’t change the fact that Brennan was alive. It didn’t change that he faked his death. It didn’t change that, once again, Liam had been made an unwilling liar.

Knowing didn’t change any of that. Xaden would never understand that this wasn’t the problem. But still, Liam let him talk—because there had to be something that explained the stupid decision to keep him alive. Liam didn’t know if it would make him feel any better.

Probably not. But he would listen and find out.

“It was your mother who found him. He was weak, almost dead, among the wreckage of a village—with nothing but a dying dragon by his side and his weapons strapped to his body. Colonel Mairi found him and brought him back without knowing he was Brennan Sorrengail,” Xaden said slowly, his onyx eyes searching Liam’s face, likely hoping for a reaction. Liam gave him nothing. “He was healed and recovered in Aretia thanks to my father’s generosity. And when he woke up and learned the truth... he wanted to fight for our battle. My father refused and ordered him to stay hidden in Aretia when the final fight began. He was abandoned by Navarre. Left to die.” Xaden finished.

Of course it was his mother who saved Brennan’s life. Of course it was Fen who stopped him from fighting for Aretia. But did any of that make things better?

Brennan chose to stay quiet after that—to close his eyes while they suffered, while the sisters suffered. Liam didn’t care about the details. He didn’t care about whatever Brennan thought was his redemption.

His mother saved Brennan’s life, and Brennan still had the nerve to look at Liam as if he were the only one in the wrong.

“Navarre abandoned everyone,” Liam said, exhausted, staring at Xaden as the weight of the past sleepless hours crushed his shoulders. “Every single one of us. Every damn person in this kingdom. That doesn’t make him special.”

Liam crossed his arms, watching Xaden, daring him to argue. Riorson clenched his jaw in frustration.

There was something Xaden wanted to say. Liam saw the hidden frustration behind his eyes—something rare. Something... that made a pathetic flicker of hope twist in Liam’s chest. He didn’t even know what he was hoping for.

Maybe... maybe that his brother would trust him. Maybe that Xaden would admit Liam had been right all along.

But then the moment passed. Xaden only sighed in frustration and shook his head.

Liam felt his face twist in disgust, like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him.

“I can’t tell you why my father allowed him to stay, Liam. I don’t know. But he’s proven to be on our side, and he’s been an extremely important advisor for our survival here,” Xaden continued.

Liam shook his head, disappointed, folding his arms again.

“But I need you to trust me. I know what I’m doing,” Xaden said.

And just like that, Liam was furious again.

He turned, staring at Xaden—not with the furious rage he wanted, but with the suffocating heartbreak that had drowned him the night he discovered Brennan was alive.

The wave of hurt hit so hard that it made his eyes sting. His stomach churned as, for the first time... the rage slipped away.

Liam tried—he really tried—to claw his way back to the old fury. It was so much easier to handle than this pathetic ache tightening his chest.

It was the same ache that had twisted inside him when he watched Deigh die. When he realized his life was about to end, and no one could do anything about it.

It was like a dam. He had chosen not to feel anything bad—because after a life where every choice was ripped from him, it felt fair, it felt right, that at least in death, he could choose what he felt.

So Liam died with a smile. He died satisfied, knowing he’d saved Violet’s life, knowing he’d kept the promise he made to Xaden to protect her. He chose to be happy with what little he had in those final moments.

But had he really chosen it?

Feelings don’t care about will or logic. They exist. They show up whether you want them or not.

Liam may have shoved them behind that stupid dam he built just to pretend he was fine—because he couldn’t have survived if he carried the full weight of everything.

So he buried them. Refused to feel them. Made them disappear.

Except now... that dam was cracking. Years of resentment, of hurt, of disappointment were leaking out in bigger and bigger doses.

And it had never felt stronger than now—standing here, looking at Xaden, at his bullshit hypocrisy, while he had the nerve to ask Liam to trust him.

It wasn’t rage that rose when Liam stared at him. Not anymore. He wasn’t sure he could even feel that if he tried. What surged was the suffocating, pulsing throb of sheer resentment.

It climbed his throat and turned the laugh that burst from his lips into something broken and hysterical.

Liam didn’t even know what he was laughing at. Was it the hypocrisy? The absurdity? Or was it just so unbelievably hilarious that Xaden still thought he was worthy of anything from him?

“Trust you?” Liam asked, his voice still tinged with laughter—but there was nothing humorous in his tone. Only disbelief. “Trust you? I trusted you, Xaden. And you lied to me. For years. You would’ve kept lying for... gods know how much longer. So tell me, why the hell should I trust you?”

His vision blurred with unshed tears. Liam did his best to swallow them back as he glared at Xaden.

Silence fell between them.

Liam knew. He knew Xaden didn’t have a good enough answer. Because Riorson almost never did.

“Go on then. Tell me why I should trust you, Xaden. How could I?” Liam’s voice broke, sharp with pain. “How could I when you’re not even capable of trusting me in return?”

Xaden blinked at him, shaking his head in denial.

“I do trust—” Xaden started.

Liam scoffed, jabbing a finger toward his face—toward the lying face Liam didn’t want to see, not even if it were painted in gold.

“No, you didn’t. You don’t, Xaden. Because if you did—you would’ve told me about Brennan. You would’ve trusted me to keep your damn secret. You would’ve talked to me about who I’d find there. But you didn’t. You lied. You lied because you don’t trust me.” Liam spat the words like acid, his voice shaking under the weight of the truth.

“And you’ll lie again. For the same damn reason. You could be lying to me right now while asking me to trust you. So why should I believe a damn word you say about him, Xaden?” Liam’s voice rose, cutting through the air.

He didn’t dare look around to see if their dragons were still nearby. And he sure as hell didn’t want to touch their bonds right now.

Liam didn’t even know what he wanted. Maybe to disappear—so he wouldn’t have to feel like this. Maybe... just to surrender to the helplessness of not being able to change a damn thing about what Xaden thought.

He couldn’t do either. Liam was just... so tired.

“I don’t—” Xaden tried again. But Liam saw it. He saw the truth in his face. He saw the guilt piling up, barely hidden beneath Xaden’s firm mask.

Xaden wasn’t the only one who could read the emotions buried under the surface, even when they were hard to admit.

“You’re not lying?” Liam said, his voice quieter but no less suffocating with emotion. “Then fine. Look at me—really look me in the eyes—and tell me there’s nothing else. Nothing else about you that you haven’t told me.”

He crossed his arms, standing there, waiting. Expectant.

He already knew what would happen. Liam knew—because he knew his brother. He could always tell when a lie was coming.

“I...” Xaden tried. But his voice died. Like it had been crushed inside his chest.

And Liam felt himself collapse internally. Crumbling in disappointment.

He knew it. But damn... he’d hoped. He wanted so badly to be wrong.

He wasn’t. And it hurt more than Brennan ever did.

Because even now, even after asking Liam to trust him... Xaden still wasn’t willing to give the same trust in return.

Liam took a step back, swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat, and nodded bitterly.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he said, utterly disappointed. Then turned, walking toward the fortress.

It was then he registered the sound of wingbeats fading into the distance.

The dragons had been there the whole time—watching and listening to every word of the argument.

"You spoke well, Brave Heart. Your feelings are valid. But you spoke to the Wingleader with the determination I would expect from my rider," Deigh informed him, his voice softer than usual.

"I’m tired of being suffocated by this every time Xaden shows up. It’s neither worthy nor useful," Liam shot back. A deep rumble reverberated through the bond, followed by a comforting pulse from Feal.

"Your feelings are valid. Regretting feeling them is not. When we chose to bond with you, we expected you to fight through them—just as Deigh did long before I arrived. Our choice isn’t unworthy because you feel human emotions, Firestorm. You make it worthy by your fight and by your ideals," Feal echoed through the bond, his voice firm, resonating deeply into Liam’s mind and making him shudder.

"I was your choice... Deigh, I think I have an idea why you chose me at some point along the way. But what I don’t understand... why would you choose me, Feal? A boy who died, who came back, who fights every day against being what he once was—and who rejects who he is now," Liam asked, exhausted.

He didn’t expect an answer. He knew dragons well enough to expect that the response would likely be something along the lines of “My reasons are mine, and you’ll know them when the time is right.”

But Liam needed to ask. How different could things have been... if he had asked more questions sooner? If the biggest question—whether Xaden truly trusted him—had ever been answered.

Feal rumbled thoughtfully through the bond, as if weighing the question and whether it was the right time to share his reasons.

"I see who you are, Liam Mairi—and what you are not. A boy who loves and protects those who are worthy. Someone who refuses to turn a blind eye to what is wrong, and who isn’t afraid to face whatever rises in his mind. That certainty strengthened my choice, but it’s not what motivated it," Feal began, his tone steady as though carefully choosing each word.

"I chose you for your fight. Because you are different from the others. Because you are many things. Because you are whoever you choose to be, whenever you choose to be it. And that... that, Firestorm, is what I am as well," the dragon shared, his voice softer—almost reverent.

Liam blinked, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t expected an answer—let alone one like that.

He had assumed the dragons’ reasons were tied to battle ferocity, physical skill, strategy. A common mistake, probably.

He hadn’t imagined that a dragon might choose someone because they saw a piece of themselves reflected in a human. He hadn’t thought... that was even possible.

Then a warm wave rushed over his body—one Liam recognized from past experience and that would have left him confused in another moment, had it not been for the familiar pulse of magic settling over him.

It didn’t surprise him when the magic brought calm, a sense of safety that wrapped around him like a blanket, soothing his frayed nerves.

There were many things having a magic source could give you. Power, of course. Cool abilities. But Liam was particularly fond of the part of magic that brought him comfort.

Although... why would his dragons offer him that now?

"Things will come in their time. You are ready—as you were in your past life. Trust our judgment," Deigh said seriously before letting out a deep rumble and stepping away. "Go rest, Brave Heart. I don’t want to see you getting yourself in trouble for your stubborn refusal to respect the amount of rest your body requires," the dragon grumbled, clearly irritated.

Liam wanted to laugh—but the sound died in his throat, smothered and crushed by the heavy lump left behind from his argument with Xaden. Instead, he just huffed and dragged his feet forward.

He would rest later. A full night’s sleep to restore his strength. And by tomorrow, he’d be good as new.

If only... if only he’d actually made it back to his room that night.

Chapter Text

“Be careful with the unbonded — you never know who you can trust. Assuming could cost you your life; they’ll attack from any direction, at any opportunity.”
Letter sent from the XO of Flame Section, Fourth Wing, Xaden Riorson, to Liam Mairi from an unknown source.

-*-

In his former life, Liam had been a dragon rider, but even though he was one again, it still felt surreal to think about it — and he was truly proud of it, although he didn’t like to brag to anyone.

Being chosen by a dragon — especially one as powerful as Deigh — left a warm feeling in Liam’s chest, and he was definitely feeling prouder than usual. But being chosen by two of them made him feel more than just happy — nervous about the risks, but still happy.

He also felt guilty because Liam knew that three other marked cadets hadn’t been as lucky. Before the threshing, before Deigh first chose him, he had been nervous about what would happen if he wasn’t chosen — and unfortunately for those boys, something that hadn’t happened last time was happening now.

Command couldn’t rule out the possibility of them repeating next year without making their discontent too obvious, but Liam didn’t quite understand why they were so afraid of what the public might think — most of them already hated him and would probably pay to see him burn regardless of the reason.

What mattered was that they had another chance — and with it, a few more months to train before trying again.

Xaden, during Liam’s first year there, had managed to pause his schedule long enough to tell him to be careful with the unbonded. It had been a well-known possibility before, and now again thanks to Deigh — they’d do anything not to wait another whole year to bond a dragon.

Some would do it just for the chance to bond with the second largest dragon of the year — the fourth largest on the continent. Deigh was as big and as tempting a target as Tairn, and unfortunately, that didn’t make things any easier for Liam.

The first six months were crucial for the bond to solidify, and if the rider died before that, the dragon could choose another cadet from that year to bond with. Everyone knew that — except those too ignorant to care.

That’s how Liam got Dylan to bond, after all. That’s how the new rider of Glean — the second since Threshing — managed to create a bond.

So the reality was frustrating but entirely predictable, and it wasn’t like Liam would let his guard down around those idiots when most of them never even bothered to hide their hatred for people like him. It wasn’t at all unlikely that they’d come after him with the excuse that scum didn’t deserve to be a rider.

Especially not with his dragon.

One of his former squadmates, Tynan, had been particularly unpleasant and was among the unbonded this year — maybe even in his last life, too — so Liam didn’t doubt some of them would come after him to try to bond with Deigh after his death.

Or Feal — though that wasn’t a known factor.

It wasn’t when he found out about that possibility, nor when they came after him, but Liam hadn’t trained for so long just to let idiots like them take him down that easily.

He had far more important things to deal with than beating up cadets who couldn’t convince dragons to bond with them. That didn’t stop any of them from trying — and Liam truly didn’t hold back in frustrating them.

Deigh and Feal had just channeled a few hours ago. The constant pressure from the dual magic source was still something Liam was learning to manage in his body. That afternoon, following flight training and his argument with Xaden, he dedicated himself to channeling magic for simple tasks — the kind he had done in his previous life.

Lighting small balls of light, pulling objects into his hand, activating magical pens — these were some of the things Liam managed with relative ease, and having that control helped him feel more at peace about keeping it a secret.

Liam had no interest whatsoever in attending Carr’s classes right now — he wouldn’t leave his squad anytime soon, and being away all morning was far from ideal for him.

So no one knew that his dragons — his dragons, though to everyone else, it was just one — hadn’t channeled yet.

That afternoon, Liam returned to thinking about a problem that had completely slipped his mind.

The unbonded.

So far, none of them had caused trouble — whether it was because they were too afraid to attack someone close to Liam or just waiting for the right moment was hard to tell. After all, they weren’t known for giving up easily.

But Liam had observed enough to know there weren’t many eyes tracking Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, or Dylan — likely because their dragons held lower hierarchies in the Empyrean.

Violet had always been a walking target, and Tairn didn’t exactly help her popularity — but luckily, a single glare from Liam in the direction of a potential attacker was often enough to deter them.

But Liam knew what it felt like to be attacked — it had happened at least three times in his first life, and he could remember each of them vividly.

The first time was a group of three. Liam refrained from commenting on how cowardly it was — three against one. To their surprise — which really shouldn’t have been a surprise, since he was the top of his year — Liam won the fight with nothing more than a few superficial cuts, while his attackers spent the night in the infirmary.

The second was in the bathroom — just two this time. Much to Liam’s eternal irritation, he had to face them naked and unarmed. But being in the shower with the wet floor surprisingly worked in his favor — one of the attackers slipped.

A stupid move that allowed Liam to grab the dagger the boy had dropped. Even so, it was a tough fight that cost him a deep gash near his ribs that required stitches. The two idiot cadets didn’t share his luck — they died before Liam even took a step toward the exit.

The third was the last time anyone dared attack him. It was after he’d met Violet, when he was already acting as her bodyguard — although Liam never let her know about the attack.

Not even Xaden — that was a secret Liam took to his grave.

It was late at night, past curfew, after Liam had walked Violet back to her warded room. He knew he should’ve gone to bed, but sleep didn’t come.

Deigh had channeled that day, and the strange magic rush kept him wide awake, so he wandered the halls.

It was pure bad luck that he came across a group of unbonded — a group whispering far too openly about their plan to attack Violet that very night.

It was an easy decision — if a bit stupid — when he stepped into their path and firmly stated that none of them would get near the girl.

That was why Liam was there, after all — to protect Violet, to ensure that the unbonded’s attack on her room would never happen again. That’s what he promised his brother he’d do. Liam didn’t feel an ounce of fear as he faced four cadets in the hallway.

He won — with a long cut to his leg but still victorious. The unbonded weren’t so lucky, losing two of their members to death.

One of the survivors had a gash deep enough to rob him of movement in one leg, and had to be dragged away by his partner — whose left arm had been pierced straight through and now lay cradled against his chest.

Liam remembered going to Quinn that night. The reason was clear: Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen would tell Xaden immediately, but Quinn — Imogen’s best friend — was trustworthy and didn’t have enough contact with Xaden to say anything.

The next day, Liam went back to following Violet as if nothing had happened — pretending he didn’t feel pain in his leg, not even seeming to limp.

No one but Quinn ever knew. Liam never told.

But in this life, Liam thought he was handling the unbonded problem well — none had tried to kill him yet, and he was still firmly bonded to his dragons.

Liam was very used to the unbonded of Navarre — just being able to keep going was enough to calm ninety percent of his nerves.

That day shouldn’t have been any different, though Liam had gone nearly three days without a full night’s sleep. His mind was crowded with problems, and his attention was steadily deteriorating due to sleep deprivation. Still, he didn’t think anything would happen that he couldn’t handle.

He followed his schedule. Dinner repetition was something he thought he’d hate far more than he did — but having something immutable helped keep him calm. So he kept quiet and composed through the whole meal, unless someone in his squad had something important to share.

Usually, after dinner, Liam would go shower in the communal bathroom before it got crowded and impossible to navigate, then head to his new individual room to enjoy a few minutes alone — away from the responsibilities he had with Dylan and the squad.

The private dorm was a blessing after three months of being forced to share with three hundred others. That day, he planned to stick to the first part of his routine — to shower before the stalls filled up, to take some time to think about his disastrous relationship with Xaden.

But things didn’t go as they should have because Liam ran into Elywi, who was one of the three Marked that were unbonded. The girl looked a few shades paler, horror mixed with resolute courage flickering in her eyes as she looked at him. Liam suppressed the sense of foreboding—this couldn’t be good.

It was a feeling that had started showing up recently, but it was stronger now and, to his discomfort, came directly from the girl’s strange behavior.

They were trained to distrust strange things. Liam had learned to fear strange things: the Resson was strange, the arrival of the gryphons was strange, the battle in the trading city was strange—nothing had ended well.

And Elywi was definitely acting strange, and that set off a red flag in Liam’s tired mind.

But then Liam pushed that aside. He had grown up for five years hearing that the Marked protected their own and that none of them would ever attack each other because of their shared past. Elywi was one of them, so Liam wasn’t in danger. Maybe someone was after her. Liam lifted his eyes, scanning the hallway for possible threats.

It was empty. That didn’t help with his sense of dread.

He couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with the girl, though he could feel the attention of his dragons falling on him as soon as they sensed his discomfort.

He turned his confused eyes to the girl, who had stepped a few inches to the side. Liam felt his body tense in response to her strange behavior.

“She’s a threat—end her now,” Deigh growled in his mind, the dragon’s unusual agitation flooding his body and making him even more uncomfortable with the situation.

He was already going—he just needed to make sure everything was alright with the girl. After all, strange or not, she was one of them.

"Are you okay, Elywi?" Liam asked, keeping his tone light and relaxed despite what he was feeling.

"I will be," she said—it sounded like a promise more to herself than to him. Liam looked around, nervous, not quite understanding what was happening.

He was exhausted. Liam just wanted to get to his bed as soon as possible to recover his strength.

But his moment of distraction came at a high cost when, suddenly, a sharp pain pierced his left side. Liam, surprised and in pain, stumbled back a step, looking toward the direction the blow had come from.

It was Elywi. The girl was staring at him with a pale but determined face, holding a bloodied dagger.

The dagger she had plunged into him.

Liam gasped both from the shock and the pain. Deigh was roaring his fury in his mind as he suddenly found himself under attack by an unbonded—again. The first time in this life, and Liam hadn’t even sensed it. Feal was quieter, his rage burning so intensely it made Liam dizzy and disoriented, which didn’t help him focus his lethargic mind in a battle with an unbonded.

One who was supposed to be on their side. One Liam would never suspect because she was supposed to be one of the loyal ones.

But Elywi had stabbed him. She wanted him dead to try to bond with Deigh.

Not Feal—because Elywi didn’t know about him. But it was still a possibility in the end.

Adrenaline surged through his system as he staggered, hurrying to draw his own weapon. Marked or not, Liam wouldn’t die here—and Elywi had made it very clear where her loyalty stood.

He grabbed the hilt of his first dagger, but he never managed to unsheathe it. The girl, taking advantage of his physical and emotional imbalance, leapt over him, driving her blade in a cut that was meant for his throat—if he hadn’t jerked out of reach.

His side hurt more, and his balance broke from the full impact of her smaller body, sending them both to the ground. His muscles locked momentarily and then trembled from accumulated fatigue. In the next second, Elywi’s weight was too much for his wavering, exhausted body to hold. Liam only had time to grab the girl’s hand before she tried to stab him in the throat again.

Elywi wasn’t as strong as he was, but she had the advantage of position and the ability to use more muscles than just her arms and part of her shoulder, unlike him.

“Kill her now,” Deigh roared, and Liam gasped out, trying to strangle the bond’s pressure while forcing the girl off balance to reverse their positions.

He couldn’t. His body pulsed, his strength fading, allowing the blade to inch closer to his throat. His eyes were heavy. His muscles felt like lead as inertia shifted from mere physical exhaustion to include the bleeding wound.

Liam cursed, forcing his muscles to work despite it. He pushed the blade back—maybe he could twist her wrist if he could move his hand just a bit higher—but in his weakened and blood-loss state, Liam didn’t want to risk it. Still, if he did nothing, he’d be dead.

Horror and panic filled Liam’s body as he realized he could die here—after everything, after having died once already and been brought back by divine intervention. Liam had let it reach this point where someone might take that from him.

He was the one who had defeated six Cadets in threshing. Who had passed the trials with excellence thanks to his experience from a past life. The boy who survived the Resson with only a cut to the head—and only fell because that damn wyvern shredded his dragon.

And now Liam was seconds away from having his throat slit by one of the last people he’d expect.

He had been so stupid. Liam knew he couldn’t trust anyone who wasn’t a direct ally. But why would he suspect someone who went through the same as him? Someone who knew Navarra was against them and that they had to support each other?

The feelings from his dragons were getting stronger inside him. His mental shields were in tatters under the pressure, and Liam had neither the strength nor the will to rebuild them.

Because under normal conditions, Liam probably could have shoved the girl off, blood loss or not. But Liam had long passed the point of handling a fight if it came with the added weakness of a wound.

His stupid stubbornness—he should have listened to his dragons and gone to rest. But he didn’t. And now his muscles were heavier and heavier with fatigue. His thinking too slow to realize what Elywi would do. He couldn’t align his thoughts enough through the haze of exhaustion to figure out how to escape the situation he’d created.

“Sorry.” The apology came out as a plea. Liam looked at her like she was insane—whether for saying that while still trying to kill him or for having the nerve to do it in the first place was hard to say. Elywi looked almost desperate as she glanced from him, to the mark on her arm, to the dagger in her hand. “But I need to bond. They’ll kill me if I have to wait a year, and I deserve to live.”

That was Liam’s breaking point. Deserve more? How dare she say something like that when Liam had worked relentlessly for five damn years? When he had spent all that time longing for and waiting for the moment he’d receive his sister?

When Liam had died for Violet? When he had given up everything for others? When he decided to come back despite it all because he wanted to return to his family?

Didn’t he deserve to reunite with the last family he had left? Didn’t he deserve a dragon? Didn’t he deserve the damned right to live, when it was all he ever fought hardest to protect?

Who did this girl think she was? Liam had earned every single thing he conquered, and she wouldn’t be the one to make him think otherwise.

His body burned, fury rising so hot that even with blood loss and chronic exhaustion, he still shoved the dagger back until it nearly touched Elywi’s throat.

Liam could see nothing but the traitor’s face, who dared to believe she was worthy of something. His stomach clenched in fury. His body was on fire, sensations warping as everything seemed to darken—then suddenly brighten.

“You don’t deserve a dragon,” he growled, squeezing his fingers until they met on the other side of her wrist. Elywi screamed from the pain of her limb being slowly crushed in his grip.

Liam felt like his body was separating. He was there—but also not. His vision split, letting him see the girl on top of him and from the side.

Elywi looked so small and so weak. She didn’t deserve it.

She didn’t deserve a dragon.

She didn’t deserve anything.

She didn’t deserve his mercy.

Liam wanted her away from him.

Liam wanted her to pay for her disloyalty.

Liam knew what he had to do. Deigh was still roaring his mantra. Feal was chanting the same words as a second, permissive voice, their fury mixing with his own and forming something too strong to push back.

Kill her, kill her, kill her, kill her.

Liam wasn’t a killer of allies—but Elywi... what was she? She stabbed him. She was going to kill him.

Kill her.

Kill her.

He wasn’t himself. Liam was underneath Elywi—but he was also there, watching from afar.

His vision was spectral—inhuman, not alive, just present and part of him the same way Liam was part of it.

Liam was something else and himself at once—there weren’t two, just one in two.

And they wanted the same thing.

KILL HER.

Then suddenly there was blood spilling down Liam’s face—and brown eyes full of shock staring at him as Elywi slowly turned her terrified head toward what had attacked her. It wasn’t someone. It was something—something that shouldn’t be capable of physical strikes and yet was, burrowing behind her neck and slashing a clean cut from one side to the other.

Like Xaden’s shadows—something that shouldn’t be physical but became so under Riorson’s command—but this wasn’t dark and definitely wasn’t made of shadows. It glowed, not the same color as the lamps above them but with the same intensity. It had no fixed color, just something physical and in the shape of a dagger.

Elywi’s strength vanished, and Liam shoved her off, pushing the dagger away from him, trying to rein in the emotional disaster. Deigh’s and Feal’s fury still pounded against him like waves crashing against a wall, threatening to drag him back into that half-feral state.

Beyond the dragons’ emotions, Liam wasn’t a stranger to feeling overwhelmed by them—he’d been through it enough in his past life with Deigh to recognize it—but he’d never faced a situation where the dragons’ feelings took over him like this.

Liam couldn’t raise his mental barriers. His mind was getting more and more muddled, and he remembered he had a gash in his abdomen that was still gushing blood. The blood loss was probably reaching a concerning level, and there was no one around—taking a shortcut hadn’t been his best idea.

He turned, using the last of his strength to lift his body, his hand seeking the wound to stem the bleeding as much as possible. The pain nearly knocked him back to the ground if not for threads of the same luminous material that attacked Elywi curling around his legs and hips, offering at least a little more support.

They supported him firmly but didn’t squeeze his limbs too tightly, only enough to keep him standing securely.

“What is this?” He was so confused, feeling as if a resolution should be right in front of him, but he simply couldn’t reach it or had no means of doing so.

“This is you, Brave Heart.” Deigh’s voice sent a wave of relief through him—he was still alive, he was still bonded to the dragon, and Elywi hadn’t gotten what she wanted. Liam suddenly felt exhausted, his eyes grew heavy, and he felt on the verge of blacking out right then and there. “You are, but if you keep dripping like this, it won’t be for long. Go to your healers.” Deigh’s order barely registered in his brain, but eventually, Liam nodded, looking one last time at Elywi, who was now choking on her own blood since there was no longer any object made of that unknown substance lodged in her throat.

“help please” She looked terrified, so much younger than she really was, and Liam couldn’t stop himself from hesitating.

Marked helped each other, they didn’t abandon their wounded—but Elywi was here because she had tried to kill him. She hadn’t just betrayed the group; she hadn’t hesitated to attempt to kill one of them. Did she really deserve for him to try to help her?

Liam took a step away before stopping. He knew the older ones wouldn’t hesitate; he knew they would all tell him to just let her die. Liam wanted her dead just seconds ago, but that had been the desperation for his own life mixed with his dragon’s rage.

He wasn’t a killer of allies, even if they were traitors. Elywi might not survive even if Liam did try to help her. But Liam couldn’t just close his eyes and let her suffocate on the floor of some random hallway.

Liam needed to get to the infirmary before he passed out.

He turned around and approached Elywi, who was deathly pale, staring at the ceiling in terror. Her eyes shifted to him when he came into view.

Deigh’s disgust exploded again, but Liam ignored it, fighting for control of his own mind while failing to isolate the dragon from it. Feal, however, seemed a little proud—if Liam had enough energy left to interpret feelings correctly—though he also carried some obvious reservations, his focus pressing against Liam’s semi-functional mind.

He decided that if he was going to do this, it would be on his terms. So he yanked the daggers from Elywi’s body before hoisting her over his shoulder.

Liam gasped, trying to somehow make the same threads that were wrapped around his legs extend to Elywi’s body.

He couldn’t. Instead, the material merely glowed momentarily on his leg before fading again, remaining wrapped around only him. Liam gave up as quickly as he had tried, throwing Elywi’s body over his shoulder as best he could.

Liam had to get to the infirmary. There was so much blood soaked into his clothes and pooled on the floor that he was willing to bet he was close to passing out—or worse, dying—because of the bleeding.

A wave of furious indignation washed over him at the thought. He couldn’t die here, especially not because of a traitorous Marked like Elywi. His limbs were growing heavier, and Liam could no longer lift his legs, resigning himself to dragging them forward.

He groaned when he suddenly stumbled, his body crashing to the ground and pulling Elywi down with him as the motion completely robbed him of balance. He looked up, his vision darkening at the edges, and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He seemed to be slowing down, and Liam decided that couldn’t be a good sign, considering everything that was happening to him in that exact moment.

The truth was that he wasn’t going to make it to the infirmary—not with the exhaustion, not with the weakness, not even with the damn mental confusion that made it hard to even recognize the end of the hallway.

“I’m not going to make it,” he realized, frozen with horror at the thought. They were still so far from the infirmary, and Liam didn’t think he could walk much farther.

“Keep moving. I’ll call the Wingleader,” Deigh said in his mind, sending a wave of warm encouragement. It wasn’t common, but Liam didn’t plan to question the dragon.

Lifting his body was a challenge—his abdomen burned with pain, and he felt so dizzy that he might fall again at any second. But with a curse, he focused once more. The threads had disappeared somewhere far from him and were clearly out of reach, so he resigned himself to hauling Elywi onto his back and dragging his legs toward the infirmary.

Xaden would be informed. He would find him and help him. Liam just had to hold on a little longer and everything would be okay. His vision darkened further as he staggered another step, barely avoiding falling again. He could no longer see the walls, his sight limited to a narrow strip at the center.

His brother might be an idiot, but he wouldn’t abandon him when he needed him… or would he?

Xaden had to come. Liam was mad at him—they had fought—but they were brothers. That had to mean something.

Liam would go to Xaden if the older one needed him—angry, sad, betrayed, or any other awful feeling in existence—if Xaden called, Liam would find a way to go to him.

“He’s already on his way,” Deigh said with urgency in his tone. Liam wished that relieved him completely, but Xaden wasn’t there yet.

It was a relief to know Xaden was coming. That had to be enough.

Breathing also became difficult as he struggled to move his chest, the motion pulling at the area where the dagger had pierced him. He could only hope no vital organ had been hit.

Liam swayed, blinking hard to try to bring himself some clarity, but it was truly useless—doing so didn’t make his vision clearer at all.

He groaned, feeling his consciousness slip away little by little. He noticed, somewhat sluggishly, the sound of rushed footsteps approaching, his body suddenly going limp and his awareness fading enough that he couldn’t grasp the meaning of the footsteps.

He collapsed, Elywi falling beside him, frighteningly still, and Liam murmured at the impact and the frustration of it all. All he managed to do was roll onto his back, staring at the ceiling with what remained of his discernible vision.

Liam didn’t want to die like this—not when he had come so far, and because of his own carelessness. He wanted to see his sister again. He wanted to help Xaden with… well, whatever needed doing.

He didn’t want to fail the mission the gods had given him. But he was failing, and Liam could almost feel Malek’s cold presence again. The god of death had given him a second chance—how furious would he be to see Liam come back only to fail?

He didn’t want to die at all—not again—and yet, there he was, sprawled on the ground, feeling like it could happen any moment now.

Then someone dropped to the floor beside him, a familiar brown-skinned face surrounded by dark curls and onyx-gold eyes filled with what could only be panic and maybe even fear.

Liam suddenly remembered that his death would cost Xaden his life. He’d be feeling more guilty and panicked if he could, but everything was shutting down too fast.

“You need to choose to live, if I…” Liam murmured to Deigh without even finishing the sentence, his voice too weak even in his own mind. The dragon sent him a wave of cold fury.

“You will live,” Deigh growled. Feal didn’t respond, though his emotions echoed the message.

“Damn Malek” The curse rang in Liam’s ears, having come from Xaden, the third-year quickly pulling Liam into his arms.

“It was a stab wound. He’s lost a lot of blood and needs to get to the infirmary now if he wants any chance” Another voice. Was that Garrick? Liam couldn’t tell clearly through the thickening fog.

“Elywi?” A tense second passed before a defeated sigh followed.

“It’s too late for her. You have to go or it’ll be too late for both of them” A female voice said—probably Imogen. Liam had his eyes closed, feeling like a puppet unable to move.

“Xaden” His voice came out cracked and rough, the effort making everything hurt even more.

“I’m here, brother. I’ve got you, and we’re going to the infirmary. Hang on” Xaden was moving then, obviously shaken out of whatever thoughts had held him before once the reality struck again.

Liam was trying, but everything felt so difficult and far away. Xaden wouldn’t be mad if he rested just a little, right? He needed the energy right now.

Everything went black in the next second.

-*-

Xaden POV

Xaden was no stranger to the feeling of helplessness. He had been in that godforsaken place, forgotten by all gods except Malek, for two whole years—and now again for at least three more months—so he knew very well that there were things no one could prevent, no matter how hard they tried.

The first of these was that the marked ones would go through that place whether they wanted to or not, whether they were ready or not, so he couldn’t stop it—and Xaden didn’t try. He focused his energy on giving them a better chance however he could.

The second was that even if they made it through the first challenges and reached Threshing, there was still no guarantee a dragon would bond with them. Even though it was proven that some dragons were willing to bond with people like them, that didn’t mean they’d choose a rider—or accept one of them.

And the third, which applied especially to first-years, was that even if they did all that and were chosen, they’d still be in danger from the unbonded. Xaden could understand not wanting to repeat the year, but he’d rather not have to deal with cadets trying to kill those on his side—or at least those from Tyrrendor.

Everyone knew that. Their dragons warned them of possible attacks as soon as Threshing ended. Since then, only two had been attacked, as far as they knew, and they had come out perfectly fine.

Surprisingly, Liam wasn’t anyone’s main target, though Xaden had expected otherwise due to the bond with Deigh—definitely one of the most powerful dragons on the continent. But Liam was almost officially recognized as the strongest cadet of the year—the second strongest in the fortress, in Xaden’s opinion, though there was still much Liam needed to learn before it became official.

Xaden was proud of him—proud of how he had overcome everything thrown his way, of his achievement in becoming a rider, for breaking the gauntlet record, for his willingness to help everyone without complaint, for his huge heart that still shone even when he was as furious with Xaden as he was now. Proud of his accomplishment in being selected as a teaching assistant alongside Kaori.

Those were the things that reminded Xaden that Liam was the best of them—except for bragging, because the boy had done all that and none of them ever heard him celebrate beyond a few success cheers.

Xaden knew Liam’s fighting style—especially since he was the one who had taught him to fight in Tirvainne—so he wasn’t surprised that few could keep up with the younger man’s skill.

But that confidence made him make a mistake. He trusted too much that Liam could handle the unbonded, and didn’t consider the opposite possibility.

That day had been one of the worst Xaden had had all year. To start, Bodhi and Imogen had been released from the RSC that morning, and seeing his cousin and Imogen so injured did little to make it a happy day for him.

They had all been through it—but that didn’t mean Xaden liked having to sit and watch it happen. He had prepared them as best he could to survive the course, but it never felt like enough.

After that, he spent the morning dealing with Sgaeyl’s bad mood—apparently, Deigh was just as unhappy as Liam was about Brennan Sorrengail’s life.

The past two days had made him seriously question whether keeping that man alive—and in Arentia—was worth it. Xaden didn’t exactly like Brennan, but he saw how useful the man could be to them.

He had proven his loyalty—Brennan had helped them on many occasions and so far had been the only one on the council who supported Xaden’s decision to end the deal with Cat.

But Xaden should’ve known Liam wouldn’t feel the same. He should’ve expected Mairi’s reaction to Brennan being alive would be more negative than positive given the context—but he had let himself believe.

Because Liam was friendly. He was a cautious kid, yes, and very smart—but he tended to keep diplomatic relations far more often than the rest of them. And the fact that he had befriended Violet Sorrengail so quickly made Xaden think maybe the same would apply to Brennan.

It was stupid of him to think that—Xaden admitted that—because Brennan had been almost directly involved in their parents’ deaths.

Xaden should’ve told Liam who he was going to meet. But he didn’t, and the bomb blew up in his face.

The argument that followed Liam’s return drained him more than he expected. He wanted to explain how he knew Brennan could be trusted—Xaden really wanted to do that—but he couldn’t, because he couldn’t reveal his second signet.

For starters, it could put his life—and by extension Liam’s—at risk. And second, because he couldn’t risk telling Liam and watching what little trust remained disappear.

What would his brother think of him if he knew what his signet was? What Xaden was to have such a signet?

Xaden knew Liam despised Dain because of his ability to see memories—and while he shared that distaste, the boy was not trustworthy in any way. It also made Xaden realize Liam might extend that hatred to him—because Xaden could do almost the same thing.

And then Liam looked at him with stormy blue eyes—not filled with rage or fury, but with disappointment and veiled betrayal—and Xaden wondered if that wasn’t exactly what he had accomplished.

Xaden didn’t want to hurt Liam. He truly didn’t. Mairi was, along with Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen, one of the people he’d never want to harm.

But he didn’t know how to fix what he’d done. He couldn’t go back in time to tell Liam Brennan was alive before that delivery. He couldn’t tell him the truth about his signet. He couldn’t undo the chaos that argument had caused.

That’s why he made another blunder. Sending Garrick and Soleil wasn’t his brightest idea either, but Xaden thought that maybe not seeing him would make it easier for Liam to handle the situation.

He was wrong. Liam was even angrier when the pair showed up instead of Xaden, so in the end, Riorson accepted he’d have to go in person and try to make things better—or at least not worse.

Professor Kaori’s invitation was the perfect opportunity. He hadn’t known Liam had been selected as a teaching assistant—didn’t even know he had applied—but that didn’t matter. Xaden was suspiciously proud of Liam’s achievement, and a chance was a chance, regardless of the reason.

Liam was annoyed by his presence, just as Xaden expected. Deigh growled at Sgaeyl—a furious rejection, Xaden knew. But eventually, Liam moved on and started the training.

And Liam did just as well as Xaden expected—walking across Deigh’s back and wings like he’d done it every day since birth. He executed maneuvers that second-years struggled with, with near-rehearsed mastery.

Then they landed, and Professor Kaori stepped away to teach his next class, leaving a firm compliment for Liam’s performance—and then Xaden tried.

And he did try—Xaden truly tried to be honest about what he thought of Brennan and how little control he had over it. But it didn’t help at all.

Because Liam knew him. Xaden cursed how well his brother really knew him. And it didn’t take long before Xaden made yet another blunder that caused everything to explode for good.

Asking Liam to trust him obviously wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done—nor the kindest, considering where Liam’s trust had led him.

That argument. The revelation about Brennan. The lies. Trusting Xaden didn’t seem like something Liam would want to do.

And even though it hurt, Xaden understood. He still didn’t like it.

Then Liam threw the truth at him—that Xaden hadn’t told him the truth, that there were secrets Xaden could reveal but didn’t. And he couldn’t lie about that.

Not to Liam. Not to the familiar desperation of the Mairi still giving him a chance even when he knew the truth.

Xaden felt the truth bubbling on his tongue—and swallowed it. Because he couldn’t say it and take that risk.

The silent disappointment—heavier even than before—kept Xaden frozen long after Liam turned and left the flight field. Long after Deigh flew toward the valley, a final furious growl marking the rider’s departure.

After that, Xaden decided he would give Liam time—because he clearly didn’t want him around anytime soon. Maybe not ever, unless Xaden could tell him the whole truth.

Because Liam was wrong—he did trust him. He would entrust his life to Mairi’s care without thinking twice.

Wasn’t that what he did every day? With that stupid bond between Deigh, Sgaeyl, and Tairn, their lives were always in each other’s hands.

But while the idea of having his life linked to Violet Sorrengail’s filled him with chills and disgust, the same idea with Liam brought calm. He knew he could trust Liam to handle it, and he wouldn't doubt it anytime soon.

Even so, he would let Liam have the distance he wanted. So Xaden went on with his day’s activities.

The third-year flight training was as exciting as always—meaning basically not at all—because they had been repeating the same maneuver all week since some idiots still couldn’t get it right.

The leadership meetings that followed only soured his mood more, and Xaden really wished he could just demolish the damned college to the ground once and for all.

But he survived. And it was nearly bedtime, and only the promise of a warm bed soon kept him climbing the stairs toward the third-year dormitory.

He probably wouldn’t be able to rest, though. After all, a group was already following him—Garrick and Imogen whispering and arguing, and Bodhi just quietly watching the way ahead.

The late hour made it safer to gather everyone—most people were in the dining hall or asleep, and the corridors were empty.

Xaden chose to stay calm because it was supposed to be a quick conversation—and then he could rest. That’s not exactly what happened.

“You have to go back. Deigh’s rider was attacked—he’s injured and won’t make it to the infirmary in time to heal.” Sgaeyl’s voice rang like thunder in his mind, almost making him jump before his stomach dropped in terror.

The panic hitting him didn’t seem to be his own—it came from the bond, not from Sgaeyl, though she also sounded tense. Probably from Deigh. But it didn’t matter, because Xaden echoed the feeling moments later.

He stopped, making Garrick—distracted—bump into him. Tavis staggered back, shooting him a shocked look.

“Where is he?” he asked, panic rising as tendrils of fear wrapped around him.

“In the bathroom corridor, first floor,” Sgaeyl answered after a few seconds. And Xaden bolted, flying down the stairs—he had almost reached the third-year floor.

Rushed footsteps sounded behind him suddenly, and he decided the group had followed after recovering from the shock.

“What the fuck is going on, Xaden? Why are you running?” Garrick lengthened his stride until he was running beside him.

“Liam was attacked—he’s injured on the first floor and won’t make it to the infirmary in time,” he said through clenched teeth, jumping the last steps before sprinting through the corridors, not caring when he crashed into someone along the way. Curses and surprised exclamations filled his ears—but none of it mattered to him.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was more afraid of—whether it was losing Liam, what that would mean for him, or the idea of possibly surviving and living with the guilt that the last thing he had done with his brother was fight and hurt him.

Xaden skidded around the corner into the bathroom hallway, then came to a sudden stop, his stomach twisting in horror at the sight before him. It could have easily been a scene from a horror story—blood splattered across the walls several feet ahead, a pool of blood so large it would soak through any fabric in seconds.

A trail of smeared, red-stained footprints led from that spot, clearly where Liam had dragged himself in an attempt to reach the infirmary.

But it was the sight closer to him that made Xaden freeze. It was Liam lying on the floor, so pale he looked like a ghost, with none of the usual golden tone to his skin. His eyes were open, but glazed over, staring blankly at the ceiling.

There was more blood beneath him—less than the other pool, but still alarmingly large. Just a meter away, another body lay motionless. Xaden only needed a few seconds to recognize Elywi, a marked one who had failed to bond with a dragon that year.

Xaden wasn’t surprised by that. The girl had very little spirit to attract a dragon—too fearful and cowardly, traits that had made her unbonded.

There was blood beneath her as well, though in neither case could he immediately determine where the wounds were. The sound of footsteps, followed by heavy breathing, reached his ears—and then came violent curses as everyone caught sight of what had happened.

Xaden snapped out of his daze, rushing to Liam’s side. Empty eyes met his, and for a terrifying moment, he feared he was too late. Panic clawed even deeper into his chest at the thought.

He had arrived too late to save comrades before—many times, in fact—and the guilt still haunted him. But he didn’t want to believe this was another one of those times. Xaden thought he would know if Liam were dead; he’d hear Deigh’s mourning cry, maybe even feel it begin to pull him under too.

But then a touch to Liam’s neck told him there was still a pulse—worryingly slow, but there. Fighting to keep calm, needing a clear head to be effective, he pulled Liam’s limp body into his arms, lifting him and preparing to carry him to the infirmary.

Garrick approached, feeling quickly before cursing and shaking his head.

“It’s a stab wound. He’s already lost a lot of blood and needs to get to the infirmary now if he wants a chance” he declared at last, stepping aside. Xaden took a step forward, ready to run the rest of the way—but his eyes fell on Elywi’s completely still form.

“Elywi?” He had to know. The longer he avoided it, the worse it would be. Imogen knelt beside the girl, a soft gasp escaping her as she gently touched her neck, though she already seemed to know the answer.

“It’s too late for her. You need to go now or it’ll be too late for both” she said, releasing her hand from the marked girl’s throat as her head rolled limply to the side.

There was a huge gash in the center of her neck. Xaden hadn’t seen the whole thing, but it looked like the blow had gone clean through from one side to the other.

“Xaden” the murmur snapped him out of his horrified stare at Elywi’s fatal wound. He looked at the boy blinking sluggishly with blue eyes, still barely conscious in his arms.

“I’m here, brother. I’ve got you, and we’re going to the infirmary. Just hold on” Xaden said as he bolted down the hallway. Liam lost consciousness at some point, likely from the blood loss.

Xaden couldn’t remember ever reaching the infirmary so fast in an emergency. One moment he was far away, and the next he was crashing through the entrance, not caring about the noise the door made as it slammed open.

The healers gave him annoyed looks until they saw the injured person in his arms. Then one of them, an elderly man, came over and performed a quick assessment.

That place was actually one of the only spaces where they weren’t so harshly judged. The healers took their oaths seriously, and at least there they weren’t denied treatment because of a mark on their arm.

But that only went so far, and they all knew that the marked would always get the roughest treatments compared to other cadets.

“Put him on the cot. Trinity, go get Nolon” the man said to an apprentice who ran off while Xaden laid Liam’s limp body on the cot and stepped back to make room. “Do you have any idea what happened?” the healer asked, pulling Liam’s clothes aside to expose the wound. Xaden shook his head.

“He was attacked, but I don’t know how or by who. I found him like this,” Xaden answered. But he would find out. Even if he had to burn that entire school to the ground, he would find whoever had done this to Liam.

He just needed certainty first—to hear and see that Liam would be alright. Then he could begin tearing the fortress down around whoever was responsible.

The man grunted in acknowledgment, grabbing some cloths and pressing them to the wound to try to stop the bleeding.

The girl returned a few minutes later, followed by the man Xaden recognized as the chief healer. Nolon was a rider who possessed healing powers, which was why he’d been assigned there. After all, they didn’t want avoidable deaths.

The man approached the cot, his lips tightening slightly at the deep wound before rolling his shoulders and raising his hands over the cut.

Xaden lost track of time while he waited, until the healer finally stepped back and said that was all he could do, and now Liam needed rest. He had to recover all the blood he’d lost.

But he’d be okay. Xaden reminded himself of that as he sat beside Liam’s cot, ready to keep watch through the night. Nolon had said there was no longer any risk of death.

The panic ebbed as that reality hit him. And even though Xaden still felt the aftermath of it in his body, at least now he could relax a bit in the chair, instead of sitting rigid in anxious tension.

The weight of the day crashed down on Xaden—but at least, in the end, it had turned out alright.

He could make things right with Liam later. For now, he was content with what he had—having him alive was infinitely better than not.

He’d find out what had happened soon enough. For now, it was enough that part of the problem had been solved.

-*-

Liam’s Pov 

The sensation of pain was not unfamiliar to him—Liam had been hurt many times in his life since arriving at the Riders Quadrant for the first time—but the pain he felt now was probably one of the worst.

The location of the injury meant that every time he breathed, there was more pain to deal with, and Liam felt as though he would be unable to move for a long time.

It was an injury Liam, unfortunately, was very familiar with thanks to Jack Barlowe and his sudden strike during the war games—one that had earned Liam two days in the infirmary, thirteen stitches, a round of healing with the healer Nolon, and his first real near-death experience.

Well, at least the first that had truly come close to costing him his life.

So Liam recognized the sensation of pain while breathing, the discomfort that made it hard to take a deep breath, and the tingling sensation that ran through the area with stitches—even if they had already been healed.

That didn’t surprise him. The origin of the injury was a bit hazier in his mind, which was frustratingly blank as his body slowly came back online.

His body felt heavy as he tested it slowly, as if it weighed several more kilos than it actually did, and when it moved, it did so sluggishly and with a slight tremble at every centimeter of motion.

There was also a mild nausea taking over his senses, accompanied by dizziness even though Liam was lying down and, in general, unconscious. His head was definitely spinning—he felt it in the way the vertigo made his stomach churn.

Liam wished he could go back to sleep. Regardless of what time it was or what injury he’d sustained, he was certain it was too soon to be awake again.

Especially if he felt this lethargic.

But then voices—which had been there from the beginning, though Liam hadn’t been able to process them—caught his attention, and he focused on identifying who and where they came from.

There were several of them—six, if Liam was right—four men and two women, and they were all familiar, although his mind didn’t offer up their names when he searched for them.

They were discussing something—two serious voices, three calmer ones, and one playful voice. Something about him, apparently. Liam heard his name repeated often enough that the subject of the discussion was obviously himself.

Then his eyes opened, a reflexive but not-so-welcome reaction to being called. His eyelids lifted to expose his eyes to the light.

The sudden brightness made him close them again immediately, the burning pain a familiar experience from exposing his retinas to a brightness they weren’t prepared for, and a discomforted grunt escaped his lips.

The discussion ceased, the voices fell silent, leaving only ambient noise: footsteps pacing back and forth, someone humming a silly, meaningless tune, his own breathing. Liam felt that if he tried hard enough, he might even hear the group’s stare boring into him.

So he tried again, opening his eyes more slowly this time to adjust to the room’s lighting. It still bothered him, but at least it was tolerable as the impersonal gray ceiling came into focus.

Liam blinked, trying to identify where he was. It could’ve been his own room, but Liam remembered that his bed was close enough to the window that he could see it without turning his head—and there was no window in his field of vision. It didn’t look like a hallway either, since it wasn’t narrow.

His hands moved, dragging fabric and making the material rustle. He was in a bed—or at least a cot—probably the latter, since as bad as the dorm beds were, they weren’t this hard.

So Liam was in the infirmary. That made sense, after all. He could still vividly feel the wound on his side. He blinked again, trying to fully wake up—then there was a face in his field of vision.

Braids over shoulders, expressive and worried brown eyes, warm brown skin.

It was Rhiannon. Liam blinked at her, trying to connect the dots as to why she was there—or even why he was.

The girl examined him for a second before offering a smile full of relief and stepping back far enough for Liam to see her clearly, uninjured—which was a relief.

"I'm glad you're awake. You really gave us a scare, you know?" Rhiannon said softly. Liam was grateful—his mind was still taking too long to process stimuli.

He felt like he could sleep for an entire week straight and still feel just as exhausted as he did now.

As if he had time for that anyway.

"What happened?" he asked, frowning, struggling against his muscles to push himself up. His abdomen flared with pain, groaning against the fresh tension, and Liam lost his breath as the pressure on the wound made him gasp. Then hands were gently pushing him back down.

"Don’t strain yourself—it was a pretty nasty cut." The female voice—Violet’s, apparently, the one that had been serious before—was considerably softer now that her focus was on him and not the earlier discussion.

How bad could a cut be, really? But he relented, because it hurt more than Liam was willing to face without a valid reason.

His squad was calm enough for there to be no immediate danger, and Liam trusted their judgment.

He still glanced around to see who else was in the room. Ridoc stood against the far-left wall with his usual easy smile slightly dimmed, though he clearly looked concerned. Sawyer stood uncomfortably at the foot of Liam’s cot with a fidgety Dylan beside him—both of them looking absolutely tense as they glanced from him to Violet, then to Rhiannon, who flanked his cot on either side—then finally to a silent and tense Xaden, who leaned against the curtain rail, arms crossed and expression stormy.

Liam blinked at his brother, frowning, though not entirely displeased by his presence there. His squad seemed to feel the opposite—except for Rhiannon and Ridoc, of course—and Liam remembered that, aside from himself and Violet, none of them had spent much time around Xaden.

To most of them, Riorson was the cold, calculating Wingleader presented to the quadrant—a distant, never-seen brother of Liam.

Violet clearly didn’t care. She had that strange relationship with his brother that wasn’t hatred or flirtation, but Dylan and Sawyer clearly seemed very uncomfortable with Xaden’s tense posture.

It was concern—Liam could see that clearly—but no one else knew that.

Then Xaden met his eyes, and whatever he saw in them made him relax—just a little, but enough. Riorson was the one who spoke next.

"It was an attack by the Unbonded. You were stabbed in the left side. I found you in the hallway by the bathroom after Deigh alerted Sgaeyl," he said, his voice with far less command than usual—his brother’s voice, not the Wingleader’s.

And of course, once Xaden said it—once the scene was set—the memories returned in an avalanche.

Elywi. Her strange behavior. The way he let his guard down and failed to notice what was about to happen because of fatigue. The blow. The struggle he nearly lost—until the fury of his dragons overtook him, merging with his own. The strange sensation of seeing both from the outside and from within. That dagger made of unfamiliar material—and then the threads.

His trembling walk down the hallway, dragging Elywi’s dying body. The collapse. The weakness. Then the flash of Xaden’s terrified face, the run—and then nothing, when he passed out.

It all hit him like a boulder—a massive, heavy, shameful rock that sank into his stomach like an anchor.

Stupid. He had been absolutely stupid not to pay proper attention to someone who wasn’t directly his ally—for letting Elywi strike him, for trusting something as abstract as loyalty to a purpose, to a shared past.

"It was definitely stupid, but trust wasn't the only thing to blame for what happened." Feal’s voice was serious, almost judgmental when it echoed through their bond, though somehow miraculously steady. "You ignored your exhausted body. You ignored our warnings. You caused this yourself with your stubbornness, and now you'll suffer the consequences." Feal said firmly before vanishing from the bond. Deigh remained in an odd silence.

Which was something—since the dragon couldn’t block him out. Deigh was definitely determined to keep everything about himself on his side of the bond.

“Shit,” he muttered. Liam didn’t really know what to say—what to tell, or what not to even dream of sharing with the others. The threads of energy definitely belonged in the last category, because Liam wanted to figure out what they were before telling anyone they existed.

Were they from a signet? But their dragons hadn’t channeled long enough for a signet to form—so if it wasn’t that, then where had it come from? Why did it help Liam?

It had existed—after all, Liam was alive and Elywi was dead. The strike had landed, it had been held back by something, but no matter how hard Liam tried, he couldn’t identify what it was.

Shame also made him consider saying nothing about his lapse. Liam was supposed to be the most vigilant among them. He had more experience than the others, and it was up to him to recognize attack patterns, identify threats, and stop them.

Liam had failed at that. He knew it. But admitting it out loud was something he wasn’t ready for yet.

In short, Liam didn’t know what to say next because there was nothing else to say beyond those two things, so he simply resigned himself to wait until someone asked a question.

Of course it was Xaden. The nervous energy had returned to his posture as he stared at Liam with determination.

“Now’s the time you explain what happened, don’t you think?” As Liam knew his brother, Xaden didn’t mean to sound like a jerk—he was genuinely concerned, and the question probably came from his desire to hunt down the culprits.

That was why Liam opened his mouth to explain—because there was no one to chase. The one responsible was already dead. But his squad didn’t know Xaden, and his tone was clearly interpreted as hostile.

Violet turned, her eyes locking with Xaden’s with such fury they could have melted him. Her body stretched to its fullest height, barely reaching his shoulders. Xaden stared back with what could only be frustration. Liam knew Xaden had no idea what had upset the girl—he would never realize it, because, after all, Xaden was a relatively practical man.

He preferred to solve problems quickly and without fuss. He could deal with collateral damage later.

“He was just attacked. You know your brother, and you don’t even have the decency to look remotely concerned?” she fumed, stepping closer to Xaden, who stared silently. Whether it was from confusion or he was simply distracted by something in Violet, it was hard to tell. “Is it frustrating for you not to have control of the situation, Wing Leader? Having to wait for other people’s timing must be awful for you.” She said it with a mocking smile, and Xaden’s face twisted in disgust, his eyes narrowing as shadows hissed around his ankles.

“Coming from someone like you, who has no control or power to brag about, I couldn’t care less what you think, Sorrengail—or what any of you think,” Xaden said, his wing-leader cadence sharp and threatening, sounding even tenser now. Liam glanced around at the others.

Ridoc, for the first time, was serious, his lips pressed together as he stared at Xaden. Rhiannon looked deeply irritated, shaking her head and muttering something briefly about brothers. Sawyer, predictably neutral, was still visibly tense like he could jump into a fight at any second. Dylan stood with his arms crossed, his shoulders tight and his expression as angry as Violet’s, who huffed with rage.

Now Liam should step in and calm things down. He didn’t know where all the fury from his squad was coming from, but it wasn’t good that it was being directed at Xaden. His brother could be a bit more lenient with them because of how much they meant to Liam, but there was a limit. If Xaden felt even slightly attacked, things would spiral quickly.

But he still felt too tired to step in for now—and Liam couldn’t always be the mediator.

“An attack happened, and the wielders might still be out there. They’ll strike again. They’ll injure or kill more cadets—they might bond, or they might not, which makes the wing weaker. They could come back and try again—and succeed. Waiting one more second to find them is stupid and counterproductive,” Xaden snapped, his eyes flaring as shadows twisted again at his feet.

“Counterproductive? You’re acting like this was a failed transaction, Riorson, like Liam’s life was a prize you wouldn’t mind losing if it meant not weakening the wing,” said Rhiannon, very seriously. She was still planted next to Liam, though her posture was defensive. She didn’t flinch under Xaden’s inevitable glare, which was full of a mix of anger and confusion—though Liam figured the others dismissed the latter emotion entirely.

“The wound makes him weaker,” Xaden muttered through clenched teeth. It was true—Liam wouldn’t be able to fight like he normally would with the injury, but it wasn’t that bad.

“He’s the strongest cadet of our year. Any idiot dumb enough to challenge him won’t win, and he will recover,” Violet jumped back in, though she’d backed away slightly because of the rebellious shadows.

“The strongest cadet of your year is right there, in that bed, after nearly dying from an attack that almost defeated him—and almost took my life and yours with it,” Xaden growled, rage nearly radiating off of him. Liam blinked.

So that was the issue—the bond between the dragons. The cost of one of them dying. Liam’s stomach churned with panic at the thought.

He hadn’t remembered that detail when the knife was about to hit his throat. Liam had remembered his own reasons for not wanting to die—but not what it would have cost all of them.

Liam understood the feeling. He understood where Xaden was coming from from the very beginning—but once again, he was the only one.

“So that’s your problem, isn’t it, Wingleader? You’re pissed because you almost died, and now you want revenge?” That came—surprisingly—from Dylan. Liam looked at him in surprise before smiling faintly because he knew the boy had spirit; it had just been buried.

Xaden didn’t find it so amusing. His gaze fixed on Dylan until the boy wilted slightly and backed off, clearly unsettled by the intensity of Xaden’s wrath.

“Your logic is flawed. Strength doesn’t make anyone invincible. And Liam is still right there—injured and unable to fight. People will know. The cadets will gossip, and then he’ll become an even bigger target, no matter how strong he’s known to be,” Xaden took a step forward, his broad frame making him look even more threatening. Then his gaze swept over all of us.

“And you too. Or do you think you weren’t attacked by your own wielders? They left you alone because he was too strong to challenge. Without his protection, you’re like raw meat being dangled in front of starving wolves,” Xaden said in a low tone. He knew what they meant to Liam—Riorson was trying.

Xaden was just... terrible at it—at showing vulnerability, at expressing affection.

Liam felt petty. He wanted to let Xaden flounder a bit more, even though he could’ve ended it with a few simple sentences.

But Liam was tired, and his brother had come to help him—not just to save his own skin. Because Liam knew him. And when Xaden cared, it wasn’t fleeting. His brother wouldn’t be here in person if he didn’t care. He wouldn’t have looked so panicked when he found him in the hallway.

Liam hadn’t forgiven him, but he was tired of fighting. Xaden could still fight to fix their brotherhood, even if Liam had to save him from the trap he’d stepped into with this overly protective squad.

“And you would know, wouldn’t you? Bearer of shadows, wing leader—you’d be the first to know that even the strongest can fall, right?” Violet spat, her arms crossed in self-defense like she was about to physically fight Xaden. Liam would love to see that fight—just not when it looked like it might end in death.

“What you clearly don’t know is how to be a brother—at least not a decent one,” Rhiannon added coldly. Liam shook his head, deciding that was enough, and pushed himself upright.

The movement tugged at the wounded area, sending a sharp spike of pain through his body, but Liam shook his head and kept going, even though his muscles trembled and were hard to use due to fatigue and the injury.

Then there were threads of shadow wrapping around him, helping him up gently. The kindness of the gesture contrasted with Xaden’s threatening, furious stance—he was surrounded by hissing shadows.

Of course. Liam expected nothing less.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, intending to stand.

“I’m fine,” he said in a hoarse voice, cutting off whatever Violet had been about to say to Xaden. Everyone turned to him, the tension lessening slightly at his still-calm demeanor.

He shook his head at Violet, then at the others before focusing his attention on Xaden and softening his expression.

“I’m okay, brother,” he said, because that was all Xaden needed to disarm the verbal strike on the tip of his tongue. His squad looked a little lost and even more so when the tension melted from Xaden’s stance and the leader nodded.

“Good,” Xaden said with dry sarcasm, and Liam smiled, faintly amused.

“You need to work on how you express concern, brother. They thought you didn’t care,” Liam pointed out gently. Xaden frowned at him, then looked at the still-tense squad and seemed even more confused.

“I’m here. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have wasted time coming to see you,” Xaden said at last, frowning in frustration, and Liam nodded.

“I know that. But you don’t need to worry about anyone coming after me again—the one who attacked me is already dead,” Liam said emotionlessly, though remembering Elywi’s face made him seethe with rage.

Xaden stared at him in silence, clearly waiting for him to continue the story. Liam couldn’t speak—he drew in a deep breath.

“Everything will be fine. I’m not going to… This won’t happen again. None of you need to worry,” Liam decided to leave it at that, letting his eyes pass over everyone in the squad.

Xaden narrowed his eyes at him, clearly sensing that there was more to the story.

Liam didn’t want to say it aloud. He really didn’t—because it meant admitting he’d been careless. It meant saying something about their group. And Liam didn’t want to reveal details about the Marked without Xaden knowing and approving.

Even if it hurt not to share things with his squad, Xaden was responsible for all the Marked, and it needed to be discussed with him first.

“Talk to him,” Deigh said, his voice dangerously neutral. “Stop being selective with your knowledge of the bond. Don’t insult us,” the dragon said before disappearing again.

Liam blinked, then focused. Of course, he had theorized that he might be able to speak with Xaden and Violet mentally thanks to his ability to talk to dragons. Slowly, he searched his mind for the space that should belong to Xaden.

He was familiar with mental spaces. Liam used to struggle to stay connected to them when things got intense, but this time he didn’t feel that way—and when he reached for it, it was easy to find.

In his former life, his mental space was his mother’s solarium, a spacious and well-decorated room with an open ceiling where the bond with Deigh remained, and his dragon was represented by the very sun that illuminated the place.

This time, his mental landscape was the room where he woke up after death and where he met Amari—the same furniture, the same bed, and the same window that filled the space from one corner to the other, except there was no landscape on the other side, only a large blue wall, almost translucent but never enough to allow a clear view beyond.

That was obviously where Deigh’s bond was, and in the right corner at the door where Liam followed Amari to go to the throne room, the brown glow leaking through the cracks let him know it was Feal’s bond.

Then, at the back of the place, there was a four-sided window, which Liam didn’t remember seeing in the afterlife—a black one, a very dark blue one, a gray one with golden streaks, and a silver one like a lightning bolt.

It was easy to tell who each belonged to. Liam hesitated before approaching and gently touching the gray and gold window that belonged to Xaden.

A second passed, then the gray started to slowly spread until it covered the entire quadrilateral window and opened at his push. Liam blinked, absolutely shocked at what he was seeing inside his own mind.

That must have been what happened when he tried to talk to Sgaeyl earlier—Liam hadn’t been paying attention to his mental landscape to notice how it worked.

It was dazzling, but Liam focused on what he had come to try.

He concentrated on what was real, keeping one foot firmly in the room, then he tested.

“Xaden?” he murmured, not audibly, not out loud since there was no movement of his mouth, but Xaden still lifted his head toward him, momentarily surprised before narrowing his eyes.

“I hear you,” the words came along with a feeling of confusion, then understanding “The bond, of course, the fact that Deigh and Sgaeyl are linked means we are too,” Xaden concluded. Liam let out a soft noise of agreement.

It was now then, away from the squad’s ears, that Liam still hesitated a little before sighing.

“It was Elywi,” he said to Xaden, his voice somewhat bitter even through the bond. Then came a feeling of confusion, followed by calculated surprise from Riorson—so he was angry.

“She attacked you?” he asked, his voice sounding a little dangerous, reverberating in Liam’s mind. Liam nodded in affirmation, content with a hum of agreement.

“She did. I found her in the hallway going to the bathroom, and she looked strange and scared, so I stopped to help. It was weird; she was acting strange, but I thought someone was after her—it wasn’t.” Liam definitely sounded bitter saying this. “She waited until I looked away and then stabbed me in the back. The dagger sank into my side before I could react, and she knocked me down. Things get hazier after that—Deigh was very angry, and I lost control over the shields. I only remember her lying wounded, then walking down the hallway,” Liam recounted. It was a lie, but not entirely—his memories were hazy, but not enough to stop him from remembering.

But the threads remained silent; he couldn’t explain them, and now it didn’t matter so much.

Xaden snorted—a noise mixed with disdain and frustration—before slowly agreeing.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can find out even if she’s already dead. If one did this, others might try the same and have more luck,” Xaden said slowly, then his gaze fell on Violet. “She doesn’t know the details of the bond, so it stays that way.” It wasn’t an order; surprisingly, it was a request.

Liam narrowed his eyes, but there wasn’t much he could do against that. He still hadn’t finished his plan to turn Dain Aetos into an ally, so until then, things would have to stay as they were.

“Just for now, Xaden. I won’t tell anything yet, but there’s a limit,” Liam said seriously. “I’m tired of lies, tired of half-truths. Either you trust me or you don’t. I’m telling you she’s trustworthy—they all are.” He really wanted to cross his arms, but that would be too incriminating.

“I heard you the first times you told me that. I’m trying—give me a few more weeks, and then… then I’ll tell you something or let you find out yourself,” Xaden said reluctantly. It seemed to cost him something to admit something like that, and that was what eased some of Liam’s anger.

That’s what made him nod, made him accept to wait a little longer because this time there was a deadline.

“How many weeks?” he demanded, and Xaden blinked at him, a little frustrated.

“Four. Give me a month to find out what can be said without putting everyone at risk, after the meeting with Tecarus in Cordyn,” Xaden said tiredly.

“You’re going to Cordyn? In the middle of the school year?” Liam asked, surprised, and Xaden gave him an unimpressed look.

“We are, and you will too. The news that Deigh linked reached Tecarus’s ears, and he insists your rider be present at the next meeting. He’s a pompous little shit, and denying that to him will only delay negotiations, especially after I broke the engagement with Cat” Xaden sounded deeply displeased with that idea.

No more than Liam—the idea of staying more than a few seconds in the presence of Poromiel royalty was never pleasant. With Cat present, Liam really wanted to skip the event.

“Thanks for that,” he muttered to Deigh, who snorted. “When?” he asked Xaden again.

“The meeting will happen in three weeks. We’ll leave at sunset on the second-to-last day of October and fly to be in Cordyn at dawn. The meeting will be in the afternoon, and a ceremony will be at night. We’ll leave again at midnight to be in Basgiath before sunrise, and if all goes well, no one will notice our absence,” Xaden explained. Liam snorted, wanting to roll his eyes but holding back.

He only sent an affirmative noise through the bond before blocking the connection between them and returning to paying attention to the discussion out loud.

“You better not try to escape. You have a long recovery ahead, and don’t think you’ll get away from us so easily” That came from a serious Rhiannon. It was so strange to continue a discussion as if there hadn’t been a completely different one going on at the same time.

Liam moved his eyes to her hesitantly, only to see his entire squad staring at him with varying levels of amusement. He had a terrible realization.

“Say hello to your fully Irondastic special care team” Ridoc said, exploding with laughter. Liam shot a look of help at Xaden, but he only had his lips pressed into an ironic smile.

Where had Liam gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

"Tecarus is a greedy man, Sloane. If you ever meet him one day, know this: he doesn’t like to be contradicted, and even less to be denied what he believes to be his right. He’s an idiot."
Recovered letter from the fallen Liam Mairi to Sloane Mairi

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Deigh was already an experienced dragon, not so much because of his past life—though most of his combat skills came from it—but because he had been alive for nearly ninety years, and that brought with it a set of experiences most young dragons could only dream of.

Since he was a hatchling, Deigh had known he didn’t fit within the expected mold of baby dragons. He was a warrior forged in fire and the blood of his enemies, rooted in war longer than his new body had even existed as an egg.

Stopping the fight was not something he was interested in, so he battled and brawled with the valley’s hatchlings, defeating all of them within minutes and then deciding he needed more opponents.

It was the first disagreement Deigh had with dragon customs. Hatchlings didn’t fight, didn’t growl, bite, or try to attack anything that moved. They were born and lived peacefully until they reached the next stage.

As a hatchling, Deigh challenged an older plume to a duel and won. When he became a plume, he faced a particularly grumpy adolescent and emerged victorious with nothing more than a bite on his flank.

When he was an adolescent… well, Deigh hadn’t earned his reputation for ferocity without reason. And he hadn’t become one of the strongest dragons in the valley for nothing either.

The only ones who never judged him for his tendencies were Sgaeyl and Tairn, mainly because they were just as unruly as Deigh had always been.

The second thing that set Deigh apart from other hatchlings at the time was the clarity of his convictions—about the Venin, about the future, and about his own role in it all.

He had no doubt he would one day battle those creatures of darkness. No doubt about what to do with them. And he knew he would never bond with a rider who didn’t share his mindset.

Jurdan did, of course. The boy knew very little about the darkwalkers because he hadn’t come from an important lineage, but once Deigh chose him and their bond strengthened enough, he never hid the truth from him.

Not fully fixed in place, their bond was formed of shallow magic entwined with hot fire to keep it stable, born directly from Deigh’s sheer will to forge the connection.

He shouldn’t have— the goddess of humans had been specific: his life was a gift granted by Malek’s goodwill thanks to Liam’s sacrifice.

Not that the boy had realized the price he paid when accepting the mission. He hadn’t understood what he gave up when he agreed to go back in time and start over. Deigh was proud of him for that, even if the human didn’t know what he had done.

Because in the end, he would’ve done it even if he had known.

And that meant the only bond he would ever be able to form properly and deeply was with the rider who had died with him—and that would not change.

In short, Deigh wasn’t good at following orders or rules, so he bonded with Jurdan anyway. But it was difficult, because just as the goddess had said, the bond couldn’t take root properly.

The magic Jurdan could draw from their bond was unstable and often brittle. His emotions tended to be isolated, and there were days when Jurdan’s signet simply couldn’t be accessed.

He had been a water wielder, but never became notable because his bond was… well, wrong.

Even so, the boy stood up for what was right. Maybe not as vocally as Deigh would have liked, but enough to earn his approval.

Then, five years later, Jurdan died, and Deigh nearly followed. His bond, forced into existence by his stubborn and irrepressible magic, almost dragged him to death with it.

He had no idea what had happened in the world of the living while he was away, because he had actually died momentarily and had to endure a full lecture from the humans’ platinum goddess about it. What he did know was that when he returned, he was in the valley, connected to Tairn and Sgaeyl, who had recently mated.

That was the next thing that made Deigh different from the rest—a connection that shouldn’t exist—so he decided to distance himself from all of it. Because he would have to wait. Because Deigh would not go through another wrong bond again.

Because it wasn’t just his life on the line anymore.

So the years passed. He watched eggs hatch, babies grow, adolescents become adults, choose a side in the conflict, and then go to war.

Some came back. Others didn’t.

At some point, Deigh stopped caring about the young ones. Most of his nestmates were already dead by then, or patrolling the borders with their bonded riders.

The first hatchling to catch his attention in many years was a pathetically small and timid one from a clutch born two years after the birth of the rider he was waiting for.

Thoirt—that was his name—was a shy little thing, but clever, never missing a chance to pounce when he could.

He used to follow Deigh in search of food the few times the blue dragon ventured into the woods beside the hatchling plains, and Deigh often let him have one or two of the goats he caught.

A peculiar taste of his—or maybe not so peculiar, since Deigh had always preferred goats to sheep. He detested the way wool got stuck in his teeth even after burning it.

When Thoirt became a plume and not a baby anymore, almost two years later, Deigh took him on a journey to Liam’s hometown. Because Deigh wanted a look, and also to encourage the hatchling’s flying.

Deigh ended up having to carry him halfway there, but they made it, settling in the forest around the province leader’s fortress.

Deigh laid down for a nap while Thoirt excitedly explored the nearby woods. He woke up when he heard Thoirt’s cry of pain—and then human laughter—coming from behind some giant bushes nearby.

The little plume had been caught in a rope trap, and with no experience, didn’t know how to free himself. Around him were humans with stones in hand, ready to throw them at the helpless hatchling.

Deigh lifted his head, ready to put his massive snout between the humans and his charge, ready to burn them, when a scream of pure fury erupted from behind the group, and suddenly a small figure with golden-blond hair, stormy blue eyes, and a determined expression ran into the clearing.

It was Liam—the boy Deigh had come to find—a little Liam of four years, half the size of the bullies in front of him, but with twice the courage and bravery.

He watched without moving, not making a sound, as Liam openly challenged them, yelling at them for being cowards and attacking a trapped creature unable to defend itself.

Deigh was reminded just how courageous his rider could be at times—and how incredibly foolish and stubborn that made him—watching as Liam faced the three bullies without backing down an inch.

It was a hard fight. Deigh nearly growled every time the smaller boy was knocked down or hurt by the group. But in the end, as he’d suspected, Liam won the fight, and the three boys ran off.

Not before Liam shouted at them about how cowardly they were, saying he never wanted to see them taking advantage of a vulnerable creature again. Then he turned to Thoirt, offering a smile that was part apologetic, part reassuring, as he slowly approached to undo the ropes.

The hatchling squealed when the ropes came loose, then bolted to hide under Deigh’s larger body. Liam simply picked up the trap and prepared to leave.

He had injuries all over—scratches on his arms and legs, both knees bleeding, and a cut dripping blood from his left cheek. But he didn’t seem bothered by any of it.

Then Deigh moved his snout into view. The boy froze—not in fear, but in surprise—blinking wide deer-like blue eyes at him. That’s when Deigh realized this wasn’t quite yet the Liam who would one day belong to him—still innocent, still untouched by war or the sacrifices life would demand of them.

And that’s when Deigh decided he would not be the one to change that. Liam deserved to live his life happily for as long as he could, deserved to be just a human hatchling for all the time he was allowed.

That didn’t stop him from speaking to the boy, though.

“You’re very far from home, brave hatchling,” Deigh remembered saying—much more gently than he ever spoke to any other living creature—but he made an exception, because that one belonged to him. “Where are your parents?” The question flowed easily from him.

“In a boring meeting. I wanted to go to the river,” the little hatchling who would become his fierce rider didn’t seem worried that he was talking to a dragon—something that essentially broke the most important rule for riders.

Never speak to a dragon that isn’t yours. But Deigh was Liam’s, and Liam belonged to Deigh—just not yet.

“Then I heard those idiots and followed the sound here.” The little human said with a petulant pout before softening and tilting his head. “Do you know if he’s okay?” he asked, worried, and Deigh let out a low rumble.

He remembered nudging Thoirt, encouraging him forward because it was all right—and suddenly the little plume returned to the clearing, and Liam’s eyes lit up with awe.

“Go back to your parents, brave hatchling,” Deigh instructed gently, shaking his head as Thoirt let out a trill beneath him, clearly more relaxed now that Deigh had approved of the blond boy’s presence. “They must be worried.”

Liam stared at him with two curious orbs, then smiled and nodded, turning halfway and waving goodbye. He and Thoirt watched him walk to the forest’s edge before he stopped and turned to look back with soft, inquisitive eyes.

“I’m going to see you again, aren’t I?” Liam asked with childlike curiosity, and Deigh blinked slowly at him before letting out a confirming trill.

“Someday, brave hatchling. Now go,” he instructed, and Liam laughed, nodded, and ran off with one last wave.

Deigh had to endure Thoirt teasing him about it the entire way back, but thankfully the hatchling agreed not to tell anyone that Deigh had spoken to the boy.

And neither he nor Thoirt ever forgot what Liam had done that night.

It was good to remember—the stubbornness, the loyalty, the principles, the determination that seemed so deeply tied to Liam they felt like part of his skin. But also to remember how those same traits led him to ignore himself, to constantly put himself at risk, to minimize his own wounds and feelings because he believed something else mattered more.