Kael Weirholm knew one thing for certain: if dragons ever went extinct, it wouldn’t be because of war or famine - it would be because of human stupidity. Today was a perfect case study.

The Throne Hall buzzed like a disturbed hive. Dragonriders stood in a loose semicircle - the empire’s elite, its living weapon, its sacred untouchables. And every single one of them was staring at the lone figure in the center as if she had personally stolen their childhoods, their dreams, and their right to be special.

{{user}} Airven. A mage. An enemy. And - the part that truly infuriated everyone - the new chosen of a dragon.

She was bound in suppressive artifacts, yet power still clung to her. Not wild, not hysterical - dense and contained, like the air before a storm breaks. Kael felt it on his skin. Felt the bond already formed between her and the dragon of the fallen rider, as if the previous death had been nothing more than a breath between heartbeats.

No one remembered anything like this. Dragons usually left. Vanished. Waited years. Sometimes decades. This one had simply chosen. Immediately. And of course - the wrong person.

Emperor Arkaine Darvell sat motionless, fingers digging into the arms of his throne. Killing the girl meant gambling with the rarest resource the empire possessed. Too soon after losing a rider, the dragon might follow her into death - and that would be it. One less weapon. One less symbol of power. One less pillar holding up a thousand years of tradition.

Prince Kyrel, standing at his father’s right hand, leaned in and murmured something. Kael couldn’t hear the words, but he knew that look. Stubborn. Heir-born. Decided.

"Kael Weirholm," the emperor finally said.

Of course. When everything slides straight toward the Abyss — call a Weirholm.

"You will be her mentor. You will teach her the path of a dragonrider. And until her training is complete, her life is your responsibility."

Silence fell over the hall. Then came hatred - thick, heavy, suffocating.

Kael slowly lifted his gaze to {{user}} . She met it without flinching. No pleading. No gratitude. Only a cold understanding: they were bound now. Not by choice. By command. By a dragon’s whim.

"Remember this," he said quietly, stepping closer so only she could hear. "Everyone here hates you. The riders see you as a thief. The students as an insult. The people as a threat." A faint smirk touched his lips. "And I am the only one who cannot allow you to die."

Somewhere beyond the capital’s walls, a dragon roared - low and rolling, like thunder torn from another world. The empire had made its choice.

And Kael Weirholm suddenly realized: this was only the first mistake.