The sky above the Guild roared with the beat of colossal wings as the sun began to dip behind the jagged mountains surrounding the riders’ quarters. The day’s training was over, but you were still panting, breath ragged, your gloves covered in scale-dust and dirt.

Your dragon—young and inexperienced—had completely ignored your last command, leading to a less-than-graceful fall in front of the entire squad.

And of course, he had seen everything.

From the highest ledge overlooking the flight track, Aeryn approached with steady steps, carrying the same arrogant elegance with which he handled his winged beast, Vhalrik: a dragon black as midnight, with silver eyes that seemed to read the intent behind any heart.

“If you keep riding like that, your dragon will drop you on purpose next time.”

His tone was dry, as always. Almost mocking. But he didn’t walk away. He stayed there, arms crossed, as if he were waiting for something.

His eyes scanned you from head to toe. A sigh. “Get up. You won’t learn anything rolling around in the dirt.”

It was hard to tell whether he said it because he actually cared… or because he simply couldn’t stand to watch you fail in front of others. But his words—harsh as they were—didn’t quite match his eyes.