Page 91 of Black Wing and Shadows
Asmoth leaned back, smirk widening. “Just an observation.”
Before it could tilt, Beau spoke up from the far end, calm and even. “Abilities aren’t the only thing that matters. Half of you won’t live long enough to use them if you keep fighting stupid.”
“Always the optimist,” Micah muttered, but the tension eased.
Lili elbowed me, grinning. “C’mon, Auri, you’ve been quiet. What do you want?”
Dozens of eyes shifted my way. My stomach knotted. What could I say? That I wanted power strong enough to silence the chains still burning my wrists at night? That I wanted something more than being my father’s daughter?
I forced a smirk. “Professional napper.”
The table erupted, and the moment broke into laughter again, though Zane’s eyes lingered on me, unreadable.
For now, we laughed, but bonding was coming fast—and I knew nothing about it would be a joke.
CHAPTER 33
The following two months after the kidnapping felt markedly different. The wards in my chamber stayed vigilant—Zane ensured that—and he grew increasingly protective without explicitly saying so. I observed how his eyes tracked people intently as we walked through the bustling training fields. He lingered outside my door longer before returning to his own wing, if he left.
Training didn't slow down. If anything, it became even more intense. The instructors challenged my survival skills to ensure I would never feel that vulnerable again. Combat drills doubled in frequency. Obstacle runs faced harsher weather conditions. My sparring matches grew increasingly brutal. I didn’t lose anymore.
The squad's morale had also undergone a change. Lili was more alert and faster to give orders—perhaps to avoid another mistake. Eli and Oliver now showed me a calm respect that wasn’t present before, and even Alex... Well, Alex no longer looked at me with hatred. Instead, there was a sense of understanding.
I stopped waking up in a cold sweat most nights, yet I remained cautious. The dungeon haunted my worst dreams, but Zane’s voice pulled me back each time. Beneath it all, the bond between us grew stronger than I expected. We didn’t speak the words again since that day in the infirmary. Yet, words weren’t necessary. Their presence showed in every glance, every scan across the field, and every moment he waited outside the door until I was safely inside.
The last two months bled together into a rhythm of drills, lectures, and the occasional night spent tangled in Zane’s arms. But even the mostdisciplined routines couldn’t hide the tension creeping into the air around campus.
Bonding Day was coming.
Every year, on December thirteenth, the Flugblatt Forest became filled with fliers and Riders—not for sightseeing, not for training, but for the rite that would decide the futures of unbonded cadets. That day, the forest became the stage for the most dangerous and sacred tradition we had, walking into the fliers’ domain and either leaving with a bond… or not leaving at all.
It wasn’t just dragons we would face. Griffins, with talons like forged steel. Phoenixes, whose flames can sear through armor. The fliers chose their Riders—if they wanted one at all. And they didn’t always choose kindly.
Cadets had died in Flugblatt. The fliers themselves tore apart some, while others were cut down by rival cadets desperate to secure a bond. There were no referees or protective wards—only the understanding that entering the forest meant accepting the risk.
The air was thick with whispers of what might happen. Dragons had been spotted circling lower than usual. Griffins called out from the cliffs beyond. Phoenix embers had been found smoldering in the frost along the forest edge. The fliers knew. They always knew. Whether the forest gave me a bond or a grave, only the fliers could decide. And I couldn’t tell if the thought made my blood sing… or turn to ice.
Training doubled. Professor Quillet had us in endurance drills at dawn, running obstacle courses until our legs shook. Professor Gile and Rivet followed with tactical sparring—blades, unarmed, and disarm attempts—reminding us with every strike that on December thirteenth, the threat might come from the cadet beside us just as easily as from a flier.
I wasn’t the only one carrying bruises into the mess hall. Fights broke out during mealtimes, sometimes over petty things, sometimes over nothing at all. Everyone was sizing each other up, calculating strengths and weaknesses. You could almost see the unspoken thought passing behindpeople’s eyes. If it came down to you or me in the forest, I’d make sure it was me.
One evening, as Zane and I crossed the courtyard, a shadow passed over us so huge it swallowed the light. An elder dragon—big enough to carry a siege tower on its back—circled once over the college before heading toward the forest. Despite the distance, I felt the weight of its gaze.
Squad Leaders kept us busy with survival drills—navigating without landmarks, finding water in frozen terrain, and moving silently through the brush. By the second night, I was falling asleep in my boots.
Zane kept a watchful eye on me, but he wasn’t the only one. Lili’s tone got sharper, her questions more pointed. Alex was quieter than usual, though his gaze lingered longer during practice matches. Friends could be possible opponents.
And through it all, the forest loomed on the horizon—dark, sprawling, and waiting.
***
The bell tolled before dawn rattling the frost off the barracks windows. My breath hung in the air as I swung my legs out of bed, the cold cutting sharply against my skin. It wasn’t simply another training day. It was Bonding Day.
Four months of drills, bruises, and sleepless nights had led up to this moment, and now the whole college was awake before the sun, the courtyard buzzing with a mixture of excitement and dread. Cadets moved through their groups, some checking their gear, others acting as if they weren’t watching their rivals.
A few days earlier, the final scores for the Rite of Passage had been posted in the mess hall. Our squad—Sadie, Akira, Micah, Lorenzo, Jackson, and I—ranked fourth out of twelve. That meant we would be the fourth group to enter Flugblatt Forest, trailing the third group by exactly ten minutes.Not enough to catch them unless they slowed down, but enough to feel the pressure of the fifth group closing in behind us.
The order mattered. Some fliers would already be bonded when we entered. Others might be more agitated due to the noise and the bloodshed that had preceded us. Blood was inevitable. Each year, the forest claimed its toll—sometimes from talons, sometimes from the blades of fellow cadets who desired the same fliers you sought. There were no rules in the forest.
