Page 112 of The Last Dragon
“Nida doesn’t have it,” Eryca says, tugging on her leather collar.
“She’s a first-year,” Sam comments. “First-years haven’t done anything that shows they’ve questioned the general’s authority.”
Alex jumps back, frowning as he tries to see his own neck but can’t. Frustrated, he leans toward Ilian, who simply shakes his head.
“The fuck—” Alex mutters under his breath.
“Raumen had one too,” Sam says, voice laced with sorrow.
The mess hall.
Now I remember. Sam asked me how my three weeks of rest were. He must’ve already figured out something was wrong.
“He’s been playing with our minds,” I grunt, looking around, my head aching.What is it that I don’t remember?“Erasing everything that gives us any type of emotional distress or something that could bring doubt to the Corps. Because then you’re least in control and heneedsyou to master your emotions… damn it. Every soldier goes through Disciplinary,” I say slowly, thinking out loud, trying to fit the puzzle, “To make them—”
“Tools,” Ilian murmurs.
A soldier is a tool, not a sentimental being.
“The hell do we do now? If we say or do anything, it’s either gonna get us killed or our minds get wiped again—completely,” Eryca says.
I still don’t fully understand. Even if Disciplinary is meant to mold soldiers into tools, it doesn’t explain the dragons. I stepcloser to the table, scanning the notes with a sinking fear—this might be a day we forget.Soldiers. Dragons. Dragons. Soldiers.
If we are soldiers, carved into the ultimate tool. What exactly are we carved for? Is it the dragons? Or is it something else?
Female Redsnout. Male Redsnout. Stonetail.
How many of them are there?
“Zel,” Sam whispers, a small tear falling across his cheek. “What do we do?”
All of us went through it. All of us have forgotten something that made us who we are. No. Not forgotten. It waserased. Purposely. If our memories get affected again, we won’t remember a crucial detail that is not only important to us, but humanity as well. That there’stwoRedsnouts. And there could be more. Way more. My unit shouldn’t have to go through this. Not anymore. If there’s anyone who has to face this, it should be me. I have to protect them. If I get killed, if I disappear, I know that they’re smart enough not to say a word or do anything to attract attention. They would live. They would get to survive.
“The general,” I say, eyes snapping to Nida again. Her gaze begs me not to move a muscle. But I know what I have to do. I shake my head, refusing her plea, before taking a few more steps toward the door. “I have to know.”
She doesn’t try to stop me, instead she sighs. This can get me killed. But at least it’ll just be me. Not them.
“Whatever you do,” I say, reaching for the handle. “Don’t sayanything.” Everyone gulps, silently agreeing. Even Alex doesn’t throw a comment. I take a look at them one more time. And then at Nida. Whatever happens, I hope she’s the one thing I won’t ever forget.
I fling the door open. I’m met with a dimly lit hall, and I stride toward the general’s quarters.
CHAPTER 38
My rapid footsteps echo through the hall as I stride toward the common area where most of the superiors reside. The corridor stretches on, ending at the general’s quarters shut door. I know Berim stands guard on the other side of the door like the lapdog he is, and I don’t even consider knocking to give him a warning I'm coming in. I halt, staring at the faded carvings on the wooden door—marks where cadets’ bloodied hands once pressed against it. I take a deep breath, trying to steady the anger surging through me, but it only burns hotter.
I can’t wait any longer.
My hand grips the handle, and I fling the door open, forcing my way inside. A loud thud from the corner of the room rings in my ears. As the lieutenants Abern and Akylas unsheath their daggers, one of them bumps the table, shattering an empty liquor glass. They take up defensive positions but I pay noattention to their presence. Berim sits across from the General, tossing his long hair over his shoulder.
The general lounges in his chair with a glass of the same liquor as everyone else. My intrusion doesn’t faze him, like he was expecting me.
He takes a sip, savoring the taste, and slowly places the glass on the corner of the table.
“Kazelius,” he says with a smile that fades in the blink of an eye.“A pleasant surprise, I might add.”
I take confident steps deeper into the room. Berim and Akylas are ready to engage, but a single raise of the general’s hand halts them in place. My blood boils, but I have to stay calm,somewhatcalm. I focus on not trying to shove the lieutenant’s dagger into his throat.
“How many are there?” I ask, my jaw clenched,throbbing.
