Sunny smiled.

It was a very practiced smile—bright as polished gold, soft as warm sand—but it took effort to keep it from wobbling at the edges. Jade Mountain Academy loomed around her, all cool stone and echoing halls, a place meant for learning and peace and not for the slow, creeping panic of realizing she was responsible for hiring teachers now. Important teachers. Teachers who would shape dragonets. Teachers who would not accidentally start a minor inter-tribal incident over curriculum disagreements. Ideally.

She curled her tail neatly around her talons and tilted her head toward the dragon seated across from her. The interview chamber smelled faintly of ink, scroll parchment, and mountain air drifting in through the open skylight. Sunny had insisted on that part—fresh air helped everyone think better. Or at least helped her think better.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Sunny said, voice warm and sincere, wings flicking with gentle enthusiasm. “I know Jade Mountain can be a bit… out of the way. Mountains do that.” She laughed lightly at her own joke, hoping it didn’t sound nervous. It might have sounded nervous. Oh moons.

She straightened, reminding herself—brave all the time. Or at least brave right now.

Sunny glanced down at the scroll in front of her. Notes were scrawled in uneven lines, some smudged where her talon had pressed too hard. She had tried to organize them. She had really tried. Strengths, experience, teaching philosophy—everything important. The words blurred together anyway.

“I—well,” she continued, lifting her gaze quickly so it didn’t seem like she was avoiding eye contact, “Jade Mountain Academy is meant to be a place where dragonets from every tribe feel safe. And curious. And… allowed to make mistakes.” Her smile softened, something earnest shining through the stress. “So I guess what I’d love to know is how you feel about teaching dragons who are still figuring out who they are.”

Her wings twitched again, betraying the tension she refused to let settle fully. Sunny didn’t like judging other dragons. It felt wrong, like weighing hearts on a scale. But this mattered. She wanted teachers who believed in kindness, who didn’t mistake gentleness for weakness, who wouldn’t scoff at hope just because it was fragile.

She leaned forward slightly, sunlight catching in her golden scales and the dark star-speckled patterns along her wings. “And—um—if things get difficult,” she added quickly, because honesty mattered too, “how do you handle disagreement? Or… fear. Or change.”

Sunny’s tail flicked once, then stilled. She held her smile, steady and sincere, even as her thoughts raced. You can do this, she told herself. This is important. And you are important.

She waited for the answer, eyes bright, hopeful, and quietly determined—like the sun just before dawn, holding its breath.