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Chapter 6: Fire in blood

The survivors had barely finished licking the last drops of broth from their bowls when the horn sounded.

It wasn’t a simple call. It was deep, guttural, like something alive was bellowing through the stone. The vibrations ran through the benches and up Elianna’s spine until her ribs ached with the force of it. Conversations died mid-breath. One hundred and sixteen recruits turned toward the massive iron doors at the far end of the mess hall as they groaned open.

“Up!” A handler in bronze-scaled armor stormed into the hall, slamming a steel-shod staff against the stone floor. The sound cracked like lightning. “If you can stand, you can train. If you can’t…” He smiled, slow and cold, “then you’re already dead.”

Groans and curses slipped through clenched teeth, but no one dared linger. Benches screeched back, wooden legs scraping harshly against the floor as recruits scrambled up. Some of them were limping, clothes still soaked with sweat from the trial they’d barely survived. Elianna’s legs burned with every movement; her body screamed for rest. But rest was a luxury for the weak, and weakness was a death sentence here.

She forced herself upright and followed the tide of bodies funneling through the door. The handler’s staff cracked again. “Move! You’re dragon riders, not pampered brats! If you can’t keep pace, I’ll let the beasts sort you out!”

The words sent a ripple of unease through the recruits. Elianna’s pulse thudded at her temples. Beasts. Dragons. The thought both thrilled and terrified her.

The tunnels they marched through were narrow at first, carved straight into the mountain’s belly, lit by flickering torches that hissed with every gust of stale air. The stone smelled of smoke and sulfur. The further they went, the hotter it grew, until sweat slicked Elianna’s back beneath her leathers.

The boy ahead of her stumbled on a jagged stone, his hand catching the wall. Dominic, of course, walked three paces in front like the entire tunnel belonged to him. Shoulders broad, head high, strides steady. He didn’t look tired. He didn’t even look winded. His hair, damp from sweat, clung to his temples, and the tattoos curling down his right arm caught the light like molten ink.

She hated him for it.

No—not just hate. She despised him. The smirk he’d worn during the Crucible was burned into her skull, the casual way he’d torn through every obstacle like it was child’s play while she had clawed and bled for every inch. And the way he’d called her freckles. Like her entire worth could be reduced to something as stupid as the constellation across her cheeks.

She hated that most of all because it made her cheeks heat every damn time.

The tunnel widened, and the air changed. Warmer. Thicker. Crackling with something that made the hairs on Elianna’s arms rise. A power that didn’t belong to men or mountains.

And then the gates opened.

The sound was like a roar of iron, and sunlight stabbed her eyes as they spilled into the cavern beyond.

Elianna sucked in a breath.

The training arena was colossal, a cathedral of stone and light. The ceiling soared high, fractured by gaping cracks that poured golden shafts of sunlight into the smoky air. Dust swirled like flecks of fire. The floor was sand, soft and pale, scorched black in places. Massive perches of jagged rock clawed toward the sky, and from them came the sound that hollowed Elianna’s chest:

Dragons.

Dozens of them.

Her breath hitched, sharp and shallow. She’d seen sketches in books, heard whispers in taverns—but nothing, nothing could have prepared her for this. Scales shimmered like living jewels: crimson reds, deep ocean blues, greens bright as forest leaves, molten golds, bone-pale whites that almost glowed. Some dragons lounged on the ledges, tails flicking like cats, their bellies rising and falling in slow, deceptive calm. Others prowled along the sand, muscles coiling like steel cables beneath their hides. Every breath puffed smoke or frost or sparks into the heavy air.

The heat was suffocating. The smell—a sharp, metallic tang of ozone laced with sulfur—burned her throat.

No one moved. No one breathed.

“Move,” the handler barked, voice like a whip crack, “or they’ll think you’re prey.”

A shiver ran through the recruits.

A boy near the back froze, trembling so hard his knees knocked together. He muttered something under his breath—maybe a prayer. And then a blue dragon, scales glinting like wet steel, turned its massive head. Lightning flickered faintly at the corners of its maw.

Elianna’s stomach lurched. “Don’t—” she started, but it was too late.

The dragon lunged.

One scream. One crunch of bone. And then silence, except for the sound of blue scales rasping against stone as the dragon dragged its kill into the shadows.

No one hesitated after that.

Elianna forced her feet forward, her heartbeat drumming a wild rhythm in her ears. She kept her chin high, her steps steady—though every instinct screamed to lower her head, to shrink, to vanish. But the handler’s words clawed at her skull: prey. She would not be prey.

Dominic strode ahead, unshakable. Born for this, his entire posture screamed. The bond thrummed around him—Shadow’s presence a dark, thrumming force she could almost feel pressing against her skin.

And then she saw her.

Amethyst.

The dragon coiled high on a perch of black stone, scales a deep, shimmering violet that shifted like dusk as she moved. Her eyes glowed molten lavender, their slitted pupils pinning Elianna in place like arrows. A low growl rolled from her chest, half threat, half greeting, and Elianna’s breath snagged.

She was the only one of her kind.

Just as Shadow was.

And Shadow was already there.

The massive black dragon stepped from the shadows at the far end of the arena, wings unfurling in a slow, sinuous stretch that blotted out sunlight. His scales drank the light, gleaming with an oil-slick sheen. Horns swept back from his skull like blades, and his tail lashed once, carving a trench in the sand. Every other dragon in the cavern lowered its head as he passed.

The second largest dragon alive.

And his gaze went straight to Amethyst.

A sound rumbled from deep in his chest—a low, ancient growl—and Amethyst answered in kind. The vibration thrummed through the air, through Elianna’s bones, and then they roared.

Not at each other.

Together.

The sound shook the stone, rattled her teeth, burned the breath from her lungs. Sand leapt in sprays at their feet.

Elianna staggered back, heart hammering, her pulse a storm.

And then, of course, came the voice that made her want to commit murder.

“Guess they’re happy to see each other.” Dominic’s smirk curved like a blade, his mismatched eyes glinting—one blue as frost, the other brown as earth. That scar through his eyebrow only made him look more infuriating.

She shot him a glare hot enough to scorch. “Maybe they just hate you as much as I do.”

He leaned closer, his voice a low purr meant only for her. “Careful, freckles. If my dragon’s mate has chosen you… you and I are stuck together. Like it or not.”

Her cheeks burned. She hated him. Absolutely hated him.

The handler’s staff cracked against the sand, dragging every eye back. “Pairings are set,” he barked, voice carrying like a whipcrack. “Your dragons are your life. Fail to understand them, and you die. Fail to keep up, and you die. Fail to fight, and you die. Welcome to training.”

A murmur swept the recruits like wind through dry grass.

“Form groups!”

Dragons moved.

Wings swept down, blasting gales of wind and clouds of grit. Perches shattered under the weight of beasts leaping to the ground. The sand heaved as talons gouged trenches.

Elianna stumbled, coughing through the dust.

A blue dragon landed with a thundering crash near Xavier, sparks licking its jaws. Its eyes, bright and sharp, locked on the tall man with something like respect. Xavier’s grin was pure sunlight. “Kraken,” he whispered, awe softening his voice.

Raven approached a white dragon that stood like a statue, silent and eerie, its gaze ancient and knowing. Lumina. The beast lowered its head slowly, almost regally, and Raven’s lips parted in wonder.

Ivy stood with her red dragon—Bloodhound—whose spiked tail lashed dangerously close to anyone foolish enough to approach. Ivy only smirked, stroking the beast’s blood-bright scales. “Good boy,” she murmured, voice dripping with menace.

And Liora—of course—was laughing as a golden-yellow dragon bounded to his side, nearly bowling him over in its enthusiasm. “You and I,” he told the dragon, clinging to its curling horn, “are going to cause so much trouble.”

The ground quaked again.

Shadow stalked forward, wings folding like shadows drawn in tight, his golden eyes molten fire. Amethyst slid from her perch, her scales shimmering as if they drank the dim light. The space between them collapsed as they circled one another, a predator’s dance that wasn’t quite a fight—something deeper, older, more inevitable.

Then their gazes snapped toward Dominic and Elianna. Together. As one.

The handler’s staff slammed down. “And those two,” he barked, his voice echoing off the cavern walls, “are bound by the rarest fate of all. Mate-bonded dragons. Their strength could unite this legion—or destroy it.”

Every head turned.

Whispers spread like wildfire.

Elianna’s stomach plummeted.

Dominic only smirked wider, stepping close enough that his breath ghosted her ear. “Guess you really can’t get rid of me now, freckles.”

Her hand twitched toward the dagger at her hip.