The next contender stepped forward. A tall girl with silver braids and a calm face.
“The name is Mali Sol. This is Ari, my whisper in the wind.”
She pointed to a sleek, four-winged creature with wings so thin they shimmered like glass. The crowd leaned in.
Ari barely made a sound as he lifted off, his wings slicing through the air. He looped in slow spirals, releasing shimmering clouds that reflected the sun.
“Pulse!” Mali called out.
Ari pulsed once and the clouds exploded in a burst of color, painting the sky in streaks of blue and gold.
Loric gave a low whistle. “Not bad,” he muttered.
Laud crossed his arms, unimpressed.
Then came a boy no older than fourteen, face covered in freckles, eyes wild.
“I’m Julor! This is Spitfire!” he yelled, pointing at a small, twitchy wyvern wi
