The Academy's great hall stretched wide, an open-air coliseum with towering stone pillars reaching toward the sky. The morning sun bathed the students in cold light. A nervous hush had settled over them, the weight of anticipation pressing against their chests like a coiled serpent.
Kierian stood near the front, arms crossed, his storm-gray eyes scanning the empty air above them. He had heard the rumors—the youngest dragon rider ever chosen. A woman whose name was spoken in hushed tones, whose legend had outgrown her years. No one knew the full story, but it was said that her Bonding had not been natural. That the dragon had not merely chosen her—something else had happened. Something no one dared speak of.
A sudden shift in the air.
The wind howled as a shadow darkened the sky. A form descended from the clouds, massive and gleaming. Gasps rippled through the crowd. A dragon unlike any they had ever seen. It was much bigger then the dragons they had heard of or seen.
Its body was a fusion of flesh and metal, obsidian-black scales interwoven with shining metallic plating. It moved like a storm given form, its powerful wings slicing through the air before folding against its body as it landed. The beast’s golden-yellow eyes burned like molten fire, scanning the gathered students with a predatory intensity that sent a shiver down every spine.
Then, with fluid grace, its rider dismounted.
She was shadow and steel, draped in darkness. Her long, silvery-gray braid cascaded down her back, a stark contrast against the dark leather and metal that adorned her form. The stylized armor mask concealed most of her face, intricate swirling designs flowing like frozen smoke across the surface. But her eyes—those golden-yellow, dragon-born eyes—held them all captive.
The academy’s headmaster, a hardened veteran, stepped forward.
"Students of the Academy, behold {{user}} the Youngest Dragonrider ever chosen. She is here to answer your last questions before your dragon chooses you tomorrow or you die."