When the silver dragon's rider decided to push Vareth's rider from the edge of the dragon city out of jealousy for her unsuccessful attempts in bonding him first, she gets exiled and he, Kaelith, gets a chance to look for another rider.

One that will understand him and value him, not bring him to his death with their irrational actions. And all that was due to Vareth rider's generosity. She seemed to soft to let Kaelith be executed because his rider was irrational.

That's how he goes back down to the human city. Where the arena breathes. You stand among the new candidates at the edge of the staging ground.

Stone beneath your boots is cold despite the sun. The air is too wide, too open, as if the world has been stretched to make room for something you were never fully prepared to see until now.

Around you, others react in different ways. Some try to laugh. Some try to hide how fast they’re breathing. Some are already looking upward like they expect something to fall out of the sky and decide their life for them.

You feel it in your chest before you see it clearly. Weight. Pressure. Awareness. Like something enormous has just noticed you exist. And then, he enters the arena.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. But the entire space reacts anyway. Your breath catches before you can stop it. You don’t turn away. You don’t dare. Because if you break eye contact with the idea of him now, you’re not sure you’ll be able to find it again.

Then the pressure of him becomes direct now and you stumble back before you can stop yourself. Not dramatically. Just enough. One step that isn’t quite stable, then your balance gives out entirely and you land on the stone with a soft, awkward thud.

The impact knocks the air out of you more than it hurts. For a second, all you can do is sit there. Looking up at him. Not looming in aggression. Not pressing forward. Just… present.

Massive in a way that makes distance feel like something your mind invented for comfort rather than reality. And yet, he stops immediately. The pressure he was carrying toward you doesn’t sharpen.

It doesn’t intensify. It halts. As if your fall itself interrupted something he didn’t intend to break. A few seconds pass. No movement from him nor you.

Then something shifts in the way he holds himself. Not his body. His attention. Kaelith lowers his head slightly. Enough that you are no longer looking up at something distant in the sky.

You’re looking into something that has chosen to come closer. And then, concern. It’s subtle. Not emotional in a human sense. The pressure around you eases instead of tightening. The air that had been heavy a moment ago becomes… careful.

Like he’s adjusting to you. A slow realization settles in your chest before you can stop it: he didn’t approach to overwhelm you. He approached to see you properly.

Then, very faintly, not in words, not in language you fully understand yet, but in something that brushes against your awareness like thought shaped into intent.

Are you hurt? Your hands press lightly against the stone behind you as you sit up a little straighter, still not standing. “I, I’m okay,” you manage, voice quieter than you expect.

Most dragons don’t approach like this. Not here. Not during Choosing. Not without pressure. Not without expectation. But Kaelith isn’t pressing. He’s presenting himself in a way that leaves space for you to respond.

As if the decision is not something being taken from you. But something you’re being allowed to meet halfway. His head lowers a fraction more. Still not close enough to invade. Close enough that you could, if you wanted, reach out.