•𝟔.𝟒𝐤•

꧁•𖢻•༻*✽*༺•𖢻•꧂

꧁•𖢻•༻*✽*༺•𖢻•꧂

     𝕿he stone of the turret on either side of Reserras Atonal is still warm from the morning sun beneath his fingertips but rapidly cooling from the rain, slick but not slippery.

   ℌe breathes, in and out.

   𝔄head of him, Liam is making his way across, his hands out for balance as his foster-brother practically runs across the fucking parapet. Malek's bridge, Res decides to name it.

   ℑn then out.

   ℜeserras gathers Liam is probably a fourth of the way across, his figure becoming blurrier the farther he walks into the torrential rain.

   ℑn and then out.

   𝐼𝑓 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, the young man thinks as the ruthless gusts threaten to tug him toward the Iakobus River below, his bottom half sheltered by the turret, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑡.

   ℑn through his nose, out through his mouth, Reserras Atonal forces his heaving breathes to settle into a more steady rhythm, his thundering heart to calm from its fright.

   ℑf he hesitates, he'll die. If he slips, he'll die.

   𝐸𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑. 𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ. A huff. 𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑡.

   ℜeserras Atonal takes the lone step up onto the parapet, though, grips the stone wall as another gust hits, then, he moves, leaving the safety of the turret onto the parapet.

   𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑛𝑜𝑤.

   ℌis heart beats so thunderously in his chest, Res hears it in his ears like the beats of the Goddess of Strength and War, Dunne's, drums of war. Thump. Thump. Thump.

   "Keep your eyes on the stones ahead of you and don't look down."

   𝔏iam's voice echoes in his head.

   "Don't fall."

   𝔛aden's voice follows.

   "Much simpler said than done." Reserras grumbles to himself, throwing his arms out for balance as he takes the strides drilled into his mind by his father and Fen Riorson, even the man's son, Xaden, all his life. 

   ℜeserras Atonal's entire life has led him to this very moment, no matter the rebellion, and he will not fall. Not with who awaits him on the other side.

   𝔅ut with the unforgiving wind and the pouring rain among the seemingly bottomless drop beneath him, he realizes this day is nothing like training, even with having trained in all weathers.

   𝔗he wet stones beneath his feet are uneven in places, held together by mortar in the joints that only make tripping that much more of a possibility.

   ℜeserras just concentrates on the path ahead of him to keep his eyes off his boots. His muscles are tight as he locks his center of gravity, keeping his posture upright, albeit stiffly.

   ℌis vision begins to swim as his pulse skyrockets like a dragon in fast flight.

   ℭalm. He has to stay calm.

   ℜeserras knows he lacks the ability to carry a tune, or even decently hum, not like his mother could whenever he sought her out after nightmares plagued his sleep. He looks up at the sun, desperately trying to break through the black clouds, and he remembers his mother's stories.

   𝔖o that's what he thinks of. Fables. Wonders. Fantasies.

   𝔖tep after step, Reserras Atonal makes his way across the parapet. Each memory calms his breathing and settles his heart rate, lessening the dizziness.

   𝔅efore he realizes it, the soles of his boots are passing the painted line that marks halfway. Res knows he's over the highest point now, but he doesn't allow himself to dwell upon that thought.

   𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙.

   𝔄 boom of thunder cracks overhead, the wind slams into him, "Shit!" Reserras' body sways left with the gale and his foot slips. He drops to the parapet, his left knee taking the fall with a harsh thud that he's sure bruises a bone.

   𝔗he wind howls over and around him as he grips the edges of the slick stone. Stomach churning, his lungs cease to function as panic seizes him at knifepoint.

   𝔚ith a glance forward, Liam is still ahead of him, he sees, at what Reserras thinks is the three-quarters point past the halfway mark.

𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑. 𝐻𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡, 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡.

"Don't fall, Reserras Atonal."

ℌe will not die today. His sisters and brother await him. Gods, he craves to see their faces after six far-too-fucking-long years apart.

ℜeserras spares only a glance at the dark clouds looming above him before standing as he swallows the lump in his throat, one foot carefully laid in front of the other. His next step knocks few pieces of the mortar loose, and he halts as his arms wobble until he regains his balance. He swallows and tests his weight before continuing forward.

𝔗he Riders Quadrant is just ahead of him, he can see it. The enormous stone footings of the citadel rise up the mountain to the base of the structure, where Reserras knows the path ends.

𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.

𝔖craping the rain from his right cheek with the fabric of his shoulder, Reserras glances back to see where the next candidate is. Five meters. He can't stay where he is. He needs to get as far as possible before the next gust of wind.

ℜeserras Atonal were not of a bulky build like Xaden Riorson nor Liam Mairi, sure he has muscles, how the hell couldn't he with all his training since birth, but he's lean, lithe. The wind seems to have no effect on Liam's balance, unlike himself, 𝑙𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑑.

𝑀𝑜𝑣𝑒. 𝑁𝑜𝑤.

ℌis following steps are even but hurried on the slick, narrow path.

𝔄nother gust slams into Reserras, and his foot slips off the parapet. His heart lurches into his throat.

𝔗he parapet rushes up to meet him as he stumbles and falls.

ℜeserras' knee slams into the stone, once again, and he yelps at the sharp bite of pain. His hands scramble for purchase as his left leg dangles off the edge of the bridge from hell. Then he makes the gut-twisting mistake of looking down.

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑘.

𝔗he cold water of rain runs off his aquiline nose and chin, splattering against the stone before falling to join the river gushing through the valley more than two hundred feet below.

ℌe swallows the growing knot in his throat and blinks, battling against the fear to settle his heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.

ℌe will not die today.

𝔊ripping the sides of the stone with white-knuckled fists, Reserras shifts as much of his weight as he could trust onto the slick stone then swings his left leg up. The ball of his foot finds the walkway.

𝔅ut one misstep, and Reserras Atonal will find out just how cold that river beneath him is.

𝔏iving to see the sunrise means he must keep moving. Fear could not overrule his body. Squeezing the muscles of his legs together for balance, he slowly lets go of the stone beneath him and stands.

𝐴𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡. 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑘.

'𝔗is best to get to the other side, where the true trial of survival and death awaits.

𝔑ot that everyone in the quadrant will attempt to kill Reserras Atonal, just the cadets whom will think him a liability to the wing. Or simply because he bears a rebellion relic.

𝔗here's a reason strength is revered among riders.

'𝔗is like an iron chain made of links that could be pulled with a thousand pounds of force and one rusty link that could twist apart with one's bare hands, when one starts to use that chain, it will fail at the point of that rusty link.

𝔄 squad, a section, a wing is only as effective as its weakest link, and if that link breaks, it puts everyone at risk.

𝔗hat was how his father put it, anyway.

𝔗hrowing his arms out to the side, Reserras hones his focus upon the end of the path, the courtyard of the citadel, where Liam steps to safety.

'𝔗were like a weight lifts from his shoulders at the sight. 𝐻𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑡! 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑.

ℜeserras begins to hustle despite the rain. Keeping his body tight, his center locked.

𝔗here is simply no room for fear now, so he blocks it out, envisioning the emotion being shoved behind iron bars in his mind.

ℌe can see the end of the parapet now, the riders who await at the entrance to the citadel.

𝔒nly a dozen feet lay between Reserras Atonal and the outside of the citadel's enormous walls.

𝔗he fortress looms behind those thick battlements, carved into the mountain in an L-shaped formation of tall stone buildings, built to withstand fire, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑏𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠. The walls that surround the citadel's courtyard are ten-feet thick and eight-feet tall, with one opening—and he's 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡. 𝐴𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!

ℜeserras shoves the sob of relief away as stone rises on both sides of him. Secure on both sides by the walls, he runs the last ten feet, heart pounding as adrenaline surges through his body.

ℌopping off the elevated parapet down to the dewy grassy field of the courtyard, where a pair of riders wait, Reserras seeps the rainwater air into his lungs with ragged breaths, his muscles trembling.

"Name?" The rider with the roll drawls as she pushes the chin-length, fire-red strands of her hair behind her ear with one hand, holding the roll with the other.

𝔗he three silver four-point stars embroidered on the shoulder of her cloak tells Reserras she's a third-year.

"Reserras Atonal."

𝔗he male rider scratches the trim lines of his dark goatee at the familiar name. He's not wearing a cloak, and the rain soaks into the bevy of patches stitched into a worn leather jacket.

"Atonal?"

𝔇ark brows bend softly over odd colored eyes as Reserras slowly nods with an air of hesitancy. Who but the Gods know the name Raelon has left for him?

𝔅ut the male rider only scoffs in amusement as he crosses his arms, lips quirking. "No shit? Raelon has a fucking brother? The bastard never told me."

"That's because you assume you have this great friendship with him." The redhead says, casually shifting the lethal crossbow she wears strapped along her shoulder. She glances at Reserras over the scroll with a shrewd look in her hazel eyes as she looks him up and down.

"I do," he argues.

𝔗he female rider with fire in her hair just scoffs, shaking her head. "Yeah, right. Anyways, welcome to the Riders Quadrant, Cadet Atonal."

ℜeserras bows his head in a small nod, then walks off into the crowd of celebrating cadets and riders that are gathered in the sizable courtyard of the citadel.

ℑt's still early, around nine he expects, but Res sees there aren't as many cadets as there were candidates ahead of him and Liam in line. With the presence of leather fluttering about, both the second- and third-years are gathered as well, taking stock of the new cadets, he supposes.

𝔗he rain eases into a drizzle, as if it had only come to make the hardest test of his life even harder... or someone else's perhaps. But he did it.

ℌe made it.

ℜeserras Atonal is alive. Cadet Reserras Atonal.

'𝔗is in that moment, the adrenaline having since faded, a throbbing pain erupts in his left knee—the one he slammed on the parapet. Reserras hisses, upper lip curling, but gives nothing else away, lest he appear weak.

𝔗he next candidate approaches from the parapet as someone grips his shoulders from behind and spins him.

ℌis dagger is halfway out when he realizes it's only Liam. "We made it!" He grins, a dimple appearing, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

"We made it."

"Have you seen the people around here?" They share a glance at the crowded courtyard. "I swear I just saw a second-year with blue streaks in her hair, and one guy has dragon scales tattooed up his entire biceps."

"'Supposing where we stand, command ought to be more lenient on appearances compared to everything else that happens here."

𝔏iam shrugs.

"Reserras?"

𝔗he young man lost his breath. 'Twas a voice Reserras Atonal has not heard in six years, yet would recognize anywhere.

𝔄nd turning toward it, there he stands. His brother, Raelon Atonal. The only other cadet with molten-silver hair that shimmers beneath the scare sunlight peering through the clouds. A smile stretching his lips.

𝔗here was no hesitation, no care. "Raelon!" The younger brother crosses the space that feels like miles between them in a sprint before he barrels into his brother's awaiting arms.

"Raelon." Res breathes, almost unbelieving his brother's arms are holding him so securely.

"Reserras." Raelon grins as another piece of the puzzle that is the separated Atonal siblings finds it's place within his arms, only two were left now.

𝔗he blue- and-milky paleness of Res' eyes glisten with unshed tears at the scent of his brother that fills his entire being. A single tear slips from his blind eye, tracing the bottom-half of the scar cutting across his left cheek.

𝔊ods, how Reserras missed his brother's natural scent of cinnamon and pine. Though now, it was mixed with something else. Something their father smelled of, dragonsmoke.

ℜeserras almost forgot. Raelon is a second-year rider now. Just like their eldest sister, Nesaerya.

𝔗his isn't the same boy he grew up with.

𝔅ut he didn't loose him like they lost their elder brother. Raelon is right here, stroking his hair with one hand as the other traces his spine in the way that had always soothed him.

𝐻𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠. '𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒, ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠, Raelon was always the most perceptive of the Atonal siblings, 'twas quite terrifying at times.

ℜaelon steps away from the embrace only to flatten his palms on either of Reserras' cheeks, smiling at his grown brother.

"You're taller."

"And you're shorter."

ℜaelon snickers. His oceanic eyes trace his brother's youthful yet more mature features, rememorizing him, capturing the image of Reserras to his mind. He looks so much like their father, Rae realizes.

𝔅ut Res has their mother's eyes, her eyes and high cheekbones. And her smile. A thing so full of warmth. Gods, did it enliven Raelon's blood to see it again, better than flying with Marth ever could.

ℜeserras' eyes flutter close when Raelon lays his head against his, kissing the scar cutting through his brow and halfway up his head numerous times affectionately.

"Fuck, I missed you, Ressy."

"As I did you, Rely." Another tear slips from his eye, his brother's thumb tenderly stroking it away. "So fucking much."

"𝑻𝒉𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒎. 𝑻𝒉𝒂 𝒎𝒊 𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒂-𝒏𝒊𝒔." ( i know. i'm here now ) Raelon coos.

"𝑻𝒉𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒖 𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒐 𝒂-𝒏𝒊𝒔." ( you're here now )

   𝔉ootsteps began to approach and the brothers step away to put a fair distance between themselves, only to see Liam Mairi. Res grins, gesturing between his brothers as he introduces them.

   "Raelon, this is Liam Mairi, my foster-brother. Liam, this is Raelon, my brother."

𝔗he second-year rider sizes the cadet from head to toe with a scrutinizing gaze. Liam was tall and built, with spiky light-blond hair, a preeminent nose, blue eyes, and a sprawling rebellion relic that began at his wrist and disappeared under the sleeve of his tunic.

ℌe also seems to be a head taller than most of the other cadets, and riders, roaming throughout the courtyard.

𝔑either Liam nor Reserras could decipher the look in the older Atonal's eyes as he lazily lifts a brow, "Foster-brother, huh? You must be my replacement."

𝔗he silence to follow Raelon Atonal's words is prominent with unease as Reserras' eyes widen, Liam's shoulders straightening with tension. Res' odd colored irises shift between his brothers as he gulps softly.

𝔗hen, a wolfish grin stretches across Raelon's lips.

'𝔗was only a joke, the pair realize.

𝔏iam smirks. "It appears so." He offers his hand, the second-year accepts. "So what's your rank?"

   "I'm the Squad Leader for First Wing, Flame Section, Third Squad."

   𝑆𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟? Res' brows soar. The highest ranks among those in the Riders Quadrant are wingleader and section leader. Either position is held by elite third-years. Second-years can rise to squad leaders, but only if they're exceptional among all the rest. Everyone else is a cadet before Threshing—when the dragons choose who they will bond—and a rider after.

   𝑃𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑓-𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑙𝑦.

   𝔖paring a glance at the parapet, Raelon informs, "Parapet should be over in the next couple of hours, depending on how fast the candidates cross or fall."

𝔇appled sunlight begins to illuminate the courtyard in an ethereal pale-golden glow as the clouds begin to break, the drizzle fading like it were never there.

𝔗he massive courtyard, which could fit a thousand riders, is a mirror of the map in records Reserras notes as he looks around. Shaped like an angular teardrop, the rounded end is formed by a giant outer wall that is ten feet thick. Along the sides are stone halls. The four-story building carved into the mountain with the rounded end is for academics, and the one on the right, towering over the cliff, is the dorms.

𝔗he imposing rotunda linking the two buildings together serves as the entrance to the gathering hall, commons, and library behind it. The stone keep has a giant arched door at the center with words carved into the arch that say, "A dragon without its rider is a tragedy, a rider without their dragon is dead."

𝔚ords every person aspiring to become a rider should know by heart come Conscription Day.

𝔒nce bonded, riders can't live without their dragons, but most dragons can live after their rider dies. It's why the winged beings choose carefully, as to avoid being humiliated by picking a coward, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒.

ℜeserras quits gawking, turning to look at the outer wall of the yard. A stone dais perches to the right of the parapet. At the moment, it were occupied by a pair of uniformed men he assumes to be the commandant and executive commandant, both in military dress, their medals winking in the growing sunlight.

𝔚hilst his brothers fall into a steady conversation he honestly weren't paying any attention to, Reserras felt an icy prickle tingling at the back of his head.

𝔄 line forms between his brows as he soothes his fingers around the tingling area.

𝔄bruptly there was a tug on his tunic and Reserras spins around with a breath, dagger halfway out. There was no one behind him. But the sight he was met with stole all the breath from his lungs.

His shadow, a thing that should by law of nature and the gods only follow his movements, slinks down from his waist to return to it's original position. His eyes widen.

"You alright, Res?"

   ℜeserras lashes flutter. "Huh?" Sparing a glance at his brother, Res sees Raelon's brows are creased with concern. "Um, yeah." He nods, shakily. "Yeah. Just,
uh, just give me a second. I'll be back."

   𝔚ithout awaiting a response from either of them, Reserras walks off and fades into the mass of chaos and leather.

   𝔗he prickles of icy tingles return, this time on the right side of his head and Reserras turns only to see him, hidden amongst shadows in an alcove.

   𝔛aden Riorson.

   ℜeserras looses his breath at the sight of Xaden, his heart forgetting to beat for a few seconds. 𝐺𝑜𝑑𝑠, 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒?

   𝔗he corners of Xaden's perfect lips curve with that fucking smirk of his.

   𝑄𝑢𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑙, 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠! 𝐺𝑜 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚. 𝑀𝑜𝑣𝑒.

   𝔄nd so he does.

   𝔗he shadows of the day conceal the pair the moment Reserras slips into the alcove, the space between them leaving the young men only an arm's reach apart.

   𝔗hat scent slams into him like water crashing onto
a beach. Xaden Riorson smells of mint, leather, and something that borders between citrus and floral. 

   𝔗he way Xaden stares him down as predator do prey without so much as blinking makes the once dormant butterflies in Reserras' stomach flutter furiously.

   ℜes swallows the boulder in his throat, wetting his lips, "Shouldn't you be in the southern turret awaiting the remaining candidates?"

   "I go wherever I want and my wants led me to you, Reserras Atonal."

   𝑆𝑎𝑦 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛. Those traitorous butterflies make his belly feel light. 𝑊𝑎𝑖𝑡, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡? 𝑆ℎ𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑝, 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠! 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛, 𝑋𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑅𝑖𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠, 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠.

   𝔗he ability to make Reserras Atonal feel like the only one Xaden deems worthy of him, weightless and... so incredibly safe.

   𝐼'𝑚. 𝑆𝑜. 𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑.

   𝔄 smirk lifts the corner of Xaden's lips, as if knowing Reserras' inner turmoil.

   ℌis beautiful gold-speckled eyes fall to the navy-blue armor Reserras dons over his black-sleeved tunic.

"I see you found my gift." The tips of his fingers trace the intricate texture of the armor and the black-leather sheaths stitched on each side of his ribs, three to each side. Three of the six sheaths were already home to rune-engraved daggers.

ℜeserras also had a dagger in each of his leather boots, one once belonging to his late mother.

ℌis eldest sister, Nesaerya, bore their father's.

𝔖trapped to his back, in a criss-cross sheath, are his twin swords with sapphire encrusted pommels and leather bands wrapped around the hilts.

"'Tis beautiful. Thank you, Xae." The man only a few inches taller than him bows his head in a nod, lips twitching. "What is it made from?"

"Dragon scales. No weapon will pierce it, or make hardly a scratch on it." Xaden smirks.

"Dragonscale armor? My, my, you spoil me."

𝔛aden snickers. "Sgaeyl was none too eager to share her scales, even if they were shed, I must admit." 'Twas Reserras' turn to snicker. "From everything I've heard of her from your father's stories, I do not doubt so."

𝔗he Shadow Wielder smirks, lifting his hand and the leather of his finger-less glove is cool against Reserras' cheek as Xaden's fingers brush his skin to tuck the lone strand of silver hair that fell out of his ponytail behind his ear.

𝔑ext thing Reserras knows, all he knows, lips with all the warmth of the sun and burning stars press against his head. His eyes flutter close. Xaden's lips were the softest thing about him, even if they could spew words that cut deeper than swords.

𝔉lattening his palm at the nape of his neck, Xaden rests his head against Res', who withholds a shiver with all his might as his fingers begin to toy with
the silver strands of his long hair.

𝔗hough his eyes remain closed, Reserras can taste the sweet air Xaden breathes as he whispers in the shadows that engulf them, "You did not die today."

"I did not die today." Reserras mirrors.

𝔗he word time became meaningless to the Riorson and the Atonal. Minutes, hours, years could have gone by and neither would've been the wiser, nor would they have cared.

𝔅ut the bells rung, ten o'clock, breaking the spell over them. Neither knew who stepped away first.

"Parapet will be over in an hour or two. Stay with Liam until sorting."

ℜeserras nods, silent, then walks off into the crowd
of cadets and riders, the gravel crunching beneath his feet on his way toward them.

ℑt takes him a few minutes to find Liam amidst the growing crowd, standing beneath a willow tree without Raelon.

"Where's Raelon?" Res asks, joining Liam's side.

"Somewhere in there." Liam juts his chiseled chin toward the crowd. Res huffs an amused breath.

𝔄n hour passes, then another, according to the Basgiath bells. The last of the cadets walk into the courtyard, followed by the three riders from the southern turret.

𝔛aden is among them.

'𝔗was not just his height that makes him stand out in the sizable crowd but the way the other riders all seem to move around him, like he's the dragon himself and they're all sheep giving him a wide berth.

'𝔗is then Reserras remembers, Xaden's a Shadow Wielder, his unique power from the bond with his dragon.

𝔗hough, Reserras gets the sense that is not the only reason the third-years scurry out of his way as Xaden strides up to the dais with lethal grace.

𝔗he way the ten that stand upon the dais stand so still and regally remind Reserras of stone statues, like the statue of Dunne in his family's house garden.

ℭommandant Panchek breaks the awe of their grace as he moves to the front, facing the crowd and Reserras guesses —

"We're about to start." Liam mutters to him, and they both turn to face the dais. The entire mass of cadets and riders do.

"Three hundred and three of you have survived the parapet to become cadets today." The Commandant starts with a serpent's smile, talking with his hands and gesturing to the crowd. "Good job. Sixty-
seven did not."

𝔖ixty-seven people died trying to get where Reserras Atonal stands. He crosses his arms behind his back so none notice the curling of his fists.

"Welcome, cadets, to the Riders Quadrant. As the Codex says, now you begin the true crucible!" Panchek shouts, his voice carrying over the five hundred riders and cadets standing in the courtyard. "You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. If you survive to Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders. Then we'll see how many of you make it to graduation."

𝔏ogical statistics tell that nearly a quarter of all those who stand in the courtyard will live to graduate. Every cadet in the yard thinks they have what it takes to become one of the elite, the very best Navarre has to offer... a dragon rider.

ℜeserras Atonal couldn't help to wonder for the smallest of seconds in time's endless cycle if maybe he does, too.

"Your instructors will teach you." The Commandant promises, his hand sweeping to the line of professors standing at the doors to the academic wing, like still falcons observing their prey. "It's up to you how well you learn." Panchek swings his pointer finger at the cadets.

"Discipline falls to your units, and your wingleader is the last word. If I have to get involved..."

𝔄 slow, sinister smile spreads across his face. "You don't want me involved. With that said, I'll leave you to your wingleaders. My best advice? Don't die." He walks off the dais with the executive commandant, leaving only the riders on the stone stage.

𝔄 brunette woman with wide shoulders and a scarred sneer stalks forward, the silver spikes on the shoulders of her uniform blinking in the sunlight. "I'm Nyra, the senior wingleader of the quadrant and the head of First Wing. Section leaders and squad leaders, take your positions now."

ℜeserras' shoulder is jostled as someone walks by, pushing between Liam and him. Others follow in suit until there are about half a hundred people before the crowd, spaced out in formation. Raelon is amongst them.

"First squad! Claw section! First Wing!" Nyra calls out. A man closer to the dais raises his hand.

"Cadets, when your name is called take up formation behind your squad leader." Nyra instructs.

𝔗he woman with fire in her hair and the crossbow steps forward with the roll and begins calling out names.

𝔒ne by one, cadets move from the crowd to the formation and Reserras subconsciously finds himself keeping count. It appears each squad will have near fifteen to sixteen members in it.

"Amara Sorrengail." The name demands the attention of every cadet and rider in the yard. The twin sister of Violet Sorrengail, the youngest daughters of General Lilith, with steely, metallic silver hair.

𝔄mara is called into Flame Section of First Wing, into Raelon Atonal's squad.

"I can see that going well." Liam mutters, Reserras snickers beneath his breath. "Compared to the rest of us, Raelon is quite docile."

𝔖oon after, the curious whispers fading, they start on Second Wing, and Violet Sorrengail is the third called into Second Squad, Flame Section, the even more curious whispers starting again.

"Reserras Atonal."

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘.

ℜeserras looks at Liam, who shrugs, then steps into formation behind the Sorrengail and another woman, lining up in a square. A quick glance tells Reserras his squad has a male leader, a female executive leader, four riders who he knows to be either second- or third-years, and ten first-years.

𝔒ne of the riders, Res notices, with two stars on her uniform and half-shaved, half-pink hair has a rebellion relic that winds around her forearm, from her wrist to above her elbow, where it disappears under her uniform.

𝔗he squad stands in silence as the remaining wings are called, Res hearing Liam being called into Second Squad, Tail Section, Fourth Wing. The sun beats into his skin but it hardly seems to bother Reserras Atonal.

𝔚hen the order sounds, they all turn to face the dais.

𝔉eeling that gaze upon him, Reserras' eyes shift to the right and his heart hiccups.

𝔛aden watches his every movement from where he stands as the wingleader for Fourth Wing. Res weren't surprised he'd risen so high in rank, and not just because of his signet.

𝔗hen Xaden is saying something to Second Wing's wingleader, then all four wingleaders fall into what is a painfully obvious heated discussion. About what, Res couldn't even guess.

"What do you think they're talking about?" The woman beside Violet whispers.

"Quiet." Their squad leader hisses.

𝐴𝑠𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑒. Reserras thinks, bitterly.

𝔄fter ages it seems, the wingleaders turn around to face the crowd, and the slight tilt to Xaden's lips has Reserras cocking his scarred brow.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜𝑜?

"Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven's." Nyra orders.

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡?

𝔇ain Aetos nods, then turns to his squad. "Follow me." He says it once then strides through formation, leaving the others to scurry after him like ducklings. Passing another squad on the way from... Fourth Wing. It hits Reserras Atonal like a brick.

𝔗hey're moving to Fourth Wing. Xaden's wing.

𝔚ith him and his squad taking their place in the new formation, Reserras looks to his wingleader. There's a smirk on his handsome face, neither truly malicious nor playful.

ℜes scoffs in amusement beneath his breath, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach.

𝔗hough, he admits to himself a boulder lifts off his chest at being in the man he trust's wing, under his protection... should he need it.

𝔑yra looks at Xaden as she finishes assignments,
and he nods, stepping forward and finally breaking
their staring contest. Res is pretty sure Xaden won, considering his heart is pounding like Dunne's
drums of war.

"You're all cadets now." Xaden's voice carries out over the courtyard, stronger than the others. "Take
a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by Codex not to kill you. But just because they can't end your life doesn't mean others won't.
You want a dragon? Earn one."

𝔐ost of the others cheer. Reserras doesn't. He knows there is more to it, he knows that look in Xaden's eyes. Very few would see it—and he does.

𝔛aden's eyes find Reserras', and his stomach is attacked by more butterflies before the wingleader looks away.

"And I bet you feel pretty badass right now, don't you, first-years?"

𝔐ore cheers come. Reserras keeps his mouth shut still.

"You feel invincible after the parapet, don't you?" Xaden shouts. "You think you're untouchable! You're on the way to becoming the elite! The few! The chosen!"

𝔄nother round of cheers goes up with each declaration, louder and louder. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒
𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛.

"Oh gods, they're beautiful." The woman beside Violet whispers as they come into view—a riot of dragons.

𝔗hey were magnificent, impossibly large even from the distance between sky and ground. Flying towards the murmuring crowd gathered in the courtyard, their wings spread out across the sky. A few blow out a plume of orange-and-yellow fire.

𝔗he cadets in the courtyard all stare up at the blue sky filling with the winged creatures, and fear radiates off of them.

ℜeserras has spent his entire youth around his father's big red dragon, but always from a distance. They don't tolerate humans they haven't chosen. But these eight? They're flying straight for them—at terrifying speed.

𝔄nd the second Reserras thinks they're about to fly overhead, the dragons pitch vertically, whip the air with their huge semitranslucent wings, and stop, the gusts of wing-made wind so powerful that Reserras nearly staggers backwards as they land on the outer semicircular wall. Their chest scales ripple with movement, and their razor-sharp talons dig
into the edge of the wall on either side.

𝔑ow he understands why the walls are ten feet thick. It's not a barrier. The edge of the fortress is a damned perch.

A few cadets scream.

𝐺𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑛𝑒.

ℜeserras' heart thunders without mercy as a mighty blue dragon lands behind Xaden on the wall around the courtyard. The dragon stares at them, its navy-blue scales reflecting the sun... just like the scales of his armor. 

𝔖team blasts his face as the navy-blue dragon exhales through its wide nostrils. Its glistening blue horns rise above its head in an elegant, lethal sweep, and its wings flare momentarily before tucking in, the tip of their top wing-joint crowned by a single fierce talon.

𝔗heir tails are just as fatal, but Res can't see them at the angle or even tell which breed of dragon each is without that clue.

𝔄ll are deadly.

𝔛aden's gaze flickers across the screaming cadets until landing upon Reserras, and so does the navy-blue dragon's golden eyes.

𝔗hey are both ethereally beautiful to Reserras Atonal, with eyes one could get lost within for hours and still discover something else they love about them. 

𝔗he wingleader smirks at the cadet, scarred brow twitching and Reserras mirrors this, straightening his back as his broad shoulders rise then fall with a
breath.

𝔗his was Sgaeyl.

𝔖gaeyl's glowing gold eyes settle upon Reserras Atonal, blowing smoke from her flared nostrils that envelope him in a blazing hot pale-steam.

𝔚henever Reserras moves, her eyes move, trailing his every movement no matter how small.

"We're going to have to bring the masons in again." Dain Aetos mutters as chunks of rock crumble under the dragons' grips, crashing to the courtyard in boulders the size of Res' torso.

𝔄lthough being wary to not look into the dragons' eyes, Reserras glances at every one to see three in various shades of red, two shades of green, one brown, one orange, and the enormous navy one ahead of him. They're all massive, overshadowing the structure of the citadel as they narrow their golden eyes at the first-years in absolute judgment.

ℜeserras finds himself wondering for a split second which of these terrifying creatures bonded with his brother.

   𝐴 𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝑝𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑠? 𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛. 𝐷𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒, 𝑅𝑎𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛's 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑙-ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑. 

ℑf the dragons didn't need humans to develop signet abilities from bonding and weave the protective wards they power around Navarre, Reserras is quite certain they'd eat them all and be done with it.

𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒—the
valley behind Basgiath the dragons call home—𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑦𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠.

𝔄 cadet bolts out of Third Wing, screaming in terror as he makes a run for the stone keep. The entire mass of humans and dragons alike turn to look as he sprints for the giant arched door at the center.

𝔒ne of the red dragons on the left opens its vast mouth, revealing teeth as big as Reserras is. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑗𝑎𝑤 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑢𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑒. Fire erupts along its tongue, then shoots outward
in a macabre blaze toward the fleeing cadet.

𝔗he cadet is a pile of ash on the gravel before he could even reach the shadow of the keep.

𝑆𝑖𝑥𝑡𝑦-𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑.

ℌeat from the dragon's flame blasts the scarred side of his face as more screaming reverberates across the courtyard. There are two more gusts of heat.

𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦.

𝔖ixty-seven taken by the parapet, three taken by the dragons.

'𝔗is then Reserras Atonal realizes Basgiath truly plucks out the weakest like weeds in a garden.

𝔖gaeyl seems to tilt her spiked head at him, as if her narrowed golden eyes can see straight through him. 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤. The dragon blinks, which
might be a sign of approval, 𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑚.

"Anyone else feel like changing their mind?" Xaden shouts after the yard falls solemnly silent, scanning the remaining rows of cadets, mirroring the shrewd gaze of his navy-blue dragon behind him. "No? Excellent. Roughly half of you will be dead by this time next summer."

𝔗he formation is eerily silent apart for a few, untimely, sobs from Reserras' left.

"A third of you again the year after that, and the same your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here. Even King Tauri's second son died during his Threshing. So tell me again: Do you feel invincible now that you've made it into the Riders Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite?"

𝔑o one cheers.

𝔄nother blast of heat rushes—directly at Reserras' face—but it's not flames, just steam, and it blows back his silver hair as the dragons finish their simultaneous exhale.

𝔗he breeches on the first-year ahead of Violet Sorrengail darken, the color spreading down his legs.

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑢𝑠 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑. 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑.

"Because you're not untouchable or special to them." Xaden points toward Sgaeyl and leans forward slightly, like he's letting them in on a secret as him and Res lock eyes. "To them, you're just the prey."

__________•༻*✽*༺•__________

༻ 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༺

Second chapter, here we go! I love this book so d*mn much, oml! Ressy is so smitten for shadow hubby. 😜 ( then again who wouldn't be 🥵 )

The reunion between the Atonal brothers 🥹 they are my hearts. 

Anyways, hope you lovely readers enjoyed! 😘