Page 106 of Black Wing and Shadows
It was why most of the other branches came to the outdoor stadium to watch everything unfold. Like when the first-year Drusearons put on a flight show, the different branches came to watch in awe. Despite the existing conflict among branches, it was set aside when we united to celebrate an important milestone for everyone.
I felt her pain and fear through the bond, along with a flicker of anger, but she had built up all the mental blocks she could so she could focus on her task at hand—securing her dragon.
After what felt like an eternity, I felt her getting closer and closer. I looked up at the sky, watching for any movement. Up ahead, I saw a silver dragon performing acrobatics in the sky, which made my stomach lurch. She descended into the field, and my eyes immediately locked onto Auri. I could see the blood pooled on her tunic, her walk being slightly off. Every few steps, she would grab at her side. I pushed hard through the mental bond, and I felt her letting me in.
Auri’s voice hummed faintly through our bond, her words steady though I could taste the edge of pain behind them.“Yes… It’s merely a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”
She lied like she breathed—smooth, practiced—but I’d been linked to her long enough to know when her body screamed despite her mouth not moving. The stab wound in her side throbbed through the edges of her thoughts like an ember. Every step she took toward the dais made my chest burn with the need to go to her, to push through the crowds and throw the bastard who hurt her off the field. But I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
Instead, I stood in the stands, my hand gripping the stone rail until my knuckles ached, watching her every move. When she reached the dais, her name spilled from her lips with pride—Auriella Reyna Blackcreek. Gods, I swore the entire world stopped to listen when she spoke her name. And then her dragon’s name.
Esme. Not simply Esme—Esmeraladathoradae, Daughter of Kimraventhrosa and Korvanleglunga.
My jaw clenched as the pieces clicked into place, long before Auri’s shock betrayed her expression. Kimraventhrosa—her father’s dragon. It was no surprise the silver had chosen her, or why she fought so fiercely for Auri, testing and claiming her with eerie certainty. I almost laughed. Fate had embedded itself so deeply within her that she could never free herself, no matter how much she might want to.
She staggered back from the dais like the words themselves had weight, Esme’s steam curling in the air. I could feel her thoughts spilling wild, frantic, disbelief pounding through her skull like a war drum. I wanted to reach for her, pull her into me, shield her mind the way I could protect her body—but she slammed her mental walls up, shutting me out.
That cut deeper than any blade could.
I forced myself to stay still as she crossed the flight field, Esme’s silver gleam parting the crowd like water. Fliers rumbled and shifted, their Riders falling into line. The air thrummed with nerves, with anticipation, with the sharp edge of fear no one wanted to name.
As soon as she exited the stadium, I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. Rules be damned. My boots hit the ground hard as I crossed the flight field, shoving past cadets who had the sense to get out of my way. She sat there withOphelia, trying to downplay the wound while blood still stained her side.
“You shouldn’t be on the field,”she scolded me through the bond.
And? I didn’t bother to hide the steel in my answer. I really didn’t care.
I stood there through every stitch, every hiss of her breath, my arms crossed, but my body leaning closer to her like I could keep her in place with sheer will. Overprotective? Maybe. Mother hen? She joked about it, teasing. But I saw Ophelia’s smirk too, saw the way she knew I wasn’t moving until Auri was back on her feet.
Esme’s name rolled from Auri’s lips—Esme, the silver—and I swore something in me unclenched. Her laughter, her pride, the way she said ‘spicy’ with that spark in her eye… It was worth every risk, every scar. I had to let her go again, back into the lines of Riders and fliers waiting for the ceremony.
From the stands, I could see everything—the sweep of the amphitheater, the cadence of boots, the nervous flick of wings and feathers, the shimmer of scales catching the light. But my eyes never left her. Never could. The bells tolled again, long and heavy, echoing off stone and soul alike. The last of the cadets filtered in, and the weight of it settled on us all.
That was when he stepped forward—General Blackcreek. Her father.
Despite the distance, his presence pressed like a hand on my throat, his voice cutting through the air sharp as steel. I saw Auri straighten beneath his gaze, felt her thoughts shutter tighter behind her walls. He spoke of reckoning, of worth, of death without mercy. Every word was iron. Every syllable meant to break the weak.
Major General Kamban thundered his piece, raw and brutal, hammering down truth like stone breaking bone. His words had none of Blackcreek’s precision, but all of his weight. Together, they carved the field into silence.
Sixty-six left.
My gaze dropped back to Auri, standing proud beneath Esme’s silver shadow, blood still damp on her tunic, but her chin high. She wasn’t simplystanding in the reckoning. She was defying it. And gods help anyone who tried to take her down again.
The silence stretched, heavy as stone, until the bell tolled again.
The air cracked open.
From the ledge above, the elder fliers lifted their heads towards the skies. Their cries shook the bones of the stadium—dragons roaring deep and resonant, phoenixes shrieking in blazing arcs, griffins letting loose sharp, tearing cries. The sound rolled through me, a living storm. Every Rider stiffened beneath it, including the veterans in the stands. Esme stood confident and poised. Auri stood like iron beneath her, her chin high though her hands trembled at her sides.
The Sorcerers entered the field in their plum robes, carrying the brands. Three designs, each seared into glowing iron: a dragon, an eagle head, a flaming bird for phoenixes. They lined the dais, waiting for the signal.
When the bell tolled again, every Rider bared their chest, tunics pulled aside. Fliers lowered their shoulders, flesh exposed. The brands pressed down all at once.
Over a hundred screams filled the air—fliers bellowing, Riders gasping, the sound of flesh searing drowned by the surge of magic that followed. The field lit up. The moment the brands pressed, the entire field erupted. Riders cried out, fliers bellowed in unison. Magic rolled off the ground in a wave, a crackle in the air so sharp it raised the hairs on my arms.
I watched her, my eyes locked onto her. Everything unfolding.
Auri faltered forward slightly, her hand gripping her chest where the iron hit. She tilted her head back, jaw clenched and held back her cry. Gods, she was stubborn and strong, but there was something more. The nearby Riders looked at her—initially at their own chests, then at hers.
