Please don't be a dead viewer! Comment your thoughts and vote on each chapter. Constructive criticism is welcome, and feel free to point out any mistakes so I can fix them!

Liam and I spend the rest of the night curled on my bed, stealing kisses and looking through my sketchbook. We talked about our families and our lives before the Riders before I eventually fell asleep against his chest.

Neither of us having chore duty or classes that morning, we decided to skip breakfast and stay in my room until lunch, lazing about. Finally, Saoghal decided that she was going to scold me for being a 'lovestruck child and disregarding all of my duties' even when I told her I didn't have any duties until after lunch.

I get dressed in my regular clothing while Liam heads back to his room to change into fresh clothes as well. I meet him outside of his door, and we walk to lunch together. We make sure to untangle our hands before we step into the gathering hall, and I give him a smile and wave goodbye as I walk over to my squad.

No one had seen me walk in with Liam other than Rhiannon, and she moves over to me immediately when I sit down, whispering so as not to interrupt Ridoc's story. "I see there has been progress?" she wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I have to fight back my smile. "Considering you haven't been here all morning?"

"Congratulations on your signet, Sawyer," I say instead, and he gives me a smile that looks more like a grimace as he looks back at his fork.

Rhiannon groans loudly and nudges my shoulder. "C'mon, Ria!" she hisses.

I roll my eyes. "Fine," I mutter. She squeals excitedly. "It wasn't really anything, honestly. I kissed him and then he stayed the night and we talked a little." No, that wasn't right. "I mean, a lot. Oh, and he made me a little sculpture out of wood."

"Oh my gods, Ria!" Rhiannon grins at me broadly. "That is adorable. I was wondering where you were all morning." I smile as I reach over and grab a piece of turkey off of Violet's plate. She lets out a mild sound of protest, but I think it was more for Imogen's sake, considering the scary pink-haired second year sat across from my friend, demanding she eat something.

Rhiannon returns back to her seat, grinning at me like an idiot whenever she catches me looking over to where Liam sits with his squad. "I like flight classes better in the morning," Rhiannon says, inserting herself back into the conversation. "It's way worse when we've eaten breakfast and lunch."

"Agreed," Violet mumbles around a mouthful of turkey. She eyes Imogen as the woman stands up.

"Finish the turkey," the pink-haired rider orders as she and Quinn start to walk away. "I'll se you tonight."

"Is she any nicer when she's training you?" Rhiannon asks as we watch the pair of third-years walk away.

"No," Violet admits as she finishes her turkey, per Imogen's instructions. "But she's efficient. What's Professor Carr like?" She angles the last question toward's Sawyer

"Fucking terrifying," Sawyer mutters, and I see he had settled for eating the turkey with his fingers instead of risking getting stabbed in the mouth with his fork on accident. "I can't wait for the entire year to start wielding lessons so everyone can enjoy his particular brand of instruction."

They all stand up to put their trays onto the large stack, and I snatch two oranges off of Ridoc's plate, a muffin from Rhiannon's, and a few pieces of turkey from Sawyers, which I eat as we walk. Ridoc scoffs as he watches me shovel food into my mouth. "You should've been here for breakfast, instead of messing around with Liam all morning."

"Gods, does everyone know?" I groan as they all nod.

"The rest of us just aren't as nosy as Rhiannon over there." Violet grins as Rhiannon gives everyone a sheepish smile.

"I knew it would work!" I glance toward the direction of Jack Barlowe's voice where he drags a girl under his arm, grinning broadly.

"Isn't that Caroline Ashton?" Rhiannon asks.

"Yeah," Ridoc replies tersely. "She bonded Gleann this morning."

"Wasn't he already bonded?" We all watch as they disappear into the wing, Jack still holding Caroline under his arm.

"His rider died on our first flight," Violet informs us, and I frown.

"Really?" I ask. Violet nods. "Huh. Saoghal didn't tell me that."

"So I guess the unbonded still have that shot they're looking for," Rhiannon says under her breath.

"Yeah, they do," Sawyer mutters just as quietly.

. . .

Saoghal lands gracefully on the flight field, and I jump to the ground, ever so grateful to have solid ground under my feet. This time however, my stomach seems to hold the few contents I'd eaten for lunch fairly well, instead of writhing in protest and demanding I throw it all up.

"How will you ever be a rider if you are so unbalanced after flying?" Saoghal gripes. "It is leaving you open and vulnerable for attack for the moments after you dismount. You will be killed immediately on the battlefield if you keep this up."

"Did you not just hear me?" I snap. "My stomach is adjusting. This is only the third time I've flown before, you do remember. I hardly think that I can't adjust to it within two years."

"Never assume you have the time you are said to have," Saoghal warns, huffing out an annoyed breath. "It could be two years, it could be weeks. You never know."

"Yeah, whatever," I mutter. "You still won't tell me what's up with you and Tairn. You're obviously not mates, because, well, Sgaeyl. And you're obviously not friends." I study the two of them again. Tairn stands a few yards away, seeming to be monitoring a conversation between Dain and Violet. Or should I say argument? Dain looks incredibly angry. Probably still trying to get her to ditch her dragon and head to the Scribes.

Saoghal lets out a hiss that I would say sounded simply irritated, but with an underlying emotion that I can't quite put my finger on. Tairn's huge head suddenly swings our way, his yellow gaze narrowed on Saoghal for a moment before he inclines his head just barely. Confirmation.

And then Saoghal opens the bond between us wider than I thought it could ever go. It's as if she ripped a door straight off its hinges, and took some of the wall with it too. Images flood my head, and I'm swept into the past.

A huge black dragon stands over a huge egg nestled against the back of a cave, watching it with an intense gaze. Cracks spider web over the surface of the egg, sending hairline fissures all over its smooth dark surface.

After a moment of waiting with baited breath, the egg cracks open down the middle. But out comes not one, but two little dragonets.

The black dragoness stares at the two for a moment as they wriggle against eachother. One is gold, small feathers lining its tail, as usual. But the other....

White scales almost glow in the dark. There are no feathers on her tail, like there's supposed to be, but a deadly sharp dagger tail. When the dragoness looks closer at the gold dragonet, she can see small scratches and pinpricks littering his scales, sending beads of red blood rippling over his scales. The white dragonet is untouched.

She hurriedly moves the golden dragonet away from the strange white one, leaving her whining pitifully for the warmth that her brother had provided until then. "Murtcuidaem," she speaks down their mate bond, before calling for Codagh. "Codagh. The egg has hatched."

"What is it?" Murtcuideam asks, worry filling his voice. "Is there something wrong, Fuil?"

"It was as the Empyrean suspected," Fiaclanfuil murmurs. "But one of them is...not right."

"Bring them both before the Empyrean," Codagh orders, and Fuil nods as if the great black dragon can see her. "They are already gathered."

Fuil carefully picks up the white dragonet, careful to keep her dagger tail away from the larger, golden dragonet. She makes her way to where the Empyrean is gathered, and sets the two down in front of the dragons clustered in front of her.

Gasps ripple through the Empyrean as the white dragonet clambers wobbly to her feet, pouncing on a stray patch of grass that waves in the breeze. Murtcuideam comes to stand beside his mate, his dark orange wings rippling as he brushes them against Fiaclanfuil's. "I want it gone," she says, her voice strong. "It is an abomination. You can see, it is not normal. It already has its tail and its scale color, if that can even count as a scale color, and it seems to have been piercing her brother with it while in the egg. It is dangerous."

The Empyrean nods, only a few of them pausing to consider the small dragonet in front of them. Murtcuideam give his mate a pleading look. "Please, do not do this, Fuil," he begs. "She is only a dragonet. If she is banished, she will surely die."

"Then it shall die," Fuil sneers at her mate. "You can see it doesn't belong here, with us. You have always been too soft. It is some...mutation, Cuideam. It will most likely die anyway."

. . .

Murtcuideam stands at the entrance of a large cave, the white dragonet clutched in his talons. He murmurs to her as he walks, reassuring her, his voice filled with regret. "You will live," he says quietly. "Saoghaleile. My other world. You will live." And then he releases the dragonet into the tunnel leading down into the earth, watching with tearful yellow eyes as he watches his daughter scramble unknowingly, playfully into the dark.

I come out of the memory with a gasp, before looking up at my dragon. Saoghal stares down at me coldly. "You know what you wish."

"You're...siblings?" I glance between the two, remembering how they had come from the same egg. "Twins?"

"If that's what you wish to call it," Saoghal scoffs. "Clearly, I survived. When the Empyrean realized I was there all along, they banished my father for not doing a good enough job. Who knows where he is now. They forbid me from bonding in case I got my rider killed because of my mutation. And I complied, for a time. But then, nearly fifty years ago now, I—"

"Make it stop!" A scream interrupts Saoghal, coming from a first-year man. I don't have time to be disappointed, considering I was about to learn what happened 'last time', because Saoghal is already giving me a commmand.

"Think of something not important, yes? A book, a pencil, fabric," she says urgently. I frown. "Do it now, if you wish to keep your secrets to yourself." She gives me a withering look. "It's not just your secrets you hold now, either, child."

I comply, noting the gravity of her words as the man continues screaming. I think of my sketchbook, imagining sketching a new drawing of Saoghal on the pages.

"Jeremiah!" someone shouts, stepping forward as if in an attempt to help him.

"You! You think I've lost it!" Jeremiah points wildly at a third year, and his voice takes on a double quality, as if he were two people speaking at once. "How does he know? He shouldn't know!" Jeremiah spins again, this time staring at a second-year. "And you! What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he screaming?" His gaze shifts and he stares straight at Dain. "Is Violet going to hate me forever? Why can't she see that I just want to keep her alive? How is he...he's reading my thoughts!" My eyes widen and my hand clamps over my mouth.

Jeremiah pleads for anyone, anything to help him make the thoughts stop, before spinning around to point to Garrick. "And you! Damn it to hell, he'll know about—" But shadows are wrapping around his mouth before he can say any more, and an aging man with stark white hair shoves past cadets as they watch the scene with mounting horror.

"He's an inntinnsic!" The shout comes from somewhere to my left, and there's nothing I can do as Jeremiah turns wide, fear-filled eyes toward the professor.

And the man grabs the cadet's head in both of his hands and jerks to the side, the sound of the young man's neck cracking echoing through the deathly quiet courtyard.