Professor Hog took the dais silently. His tunic was charred and scarred, not embroidered. He didn’t walk like an academic. He strode like war.
"Before we give the names of the counselors for the first-years," he said, his voice cutting clean and dry, "I welcome the new Dragontail trainees. You were chosen for a reason. Not for heritage, not talent, but strength. And now, for the first time in this legion’s history, we recognize a Solenhart, the first heir in history called by the Siren to Dragontail."
Whispers flared, but Hog raised his hand and said, "Yes, it has implications, succession problems, but leave those to the court and the nobles. Dragontail does not inherit. We endure. And no one here will bow to the throne or grovel before legacy. I don’t want our legion to engage in political or drama that diverts our attention from war and battle."
Heat surged through my face. Not from magic, but from the dozens of eyes that found me. Fists slammed into chests. "Strength above fear!" They roared, the chant swelling until the walls trembled. It wasn't for me. It was never for me. But I felt it, like a tide that refused to drown me. I would rise in it. Or burn trying.
Shakari murmured, deadpan and irreverent, “Bring the drama to me.” Tran added with mock solemnity, “We offer certified emotional chaos.”
The corner of my mouth lifted to their comments. There was something about these twins that really warmed my heart.
Hog went on. "Anyhow, enough of this, let’s move straight to initiating our new Dragontail. Each first-year student has been assigned a mentor for a second year. They are not here to comfort you. They are here to remind you what survival looks like."
From the shadows stepped Lorik Draventh.
He didn’t emerge. He arrived like nightfall. Light clung to the edges of him, unwilling to surrender. His presence madethe silence louder. He looked like something the gods had once warned us about.
The Moonveil moved with spectral deliberateness, as though the laws of motion deferred to his presence. His dark honey hair was slightly tousled, yet impossibly intentional. His face was carved in defiance.
"Dragontail is not only a legion. It’s unity. A cohort," Lorik said. "You were chosen for your refusal to break. Our origins clash, our magic strains against each other. In here, we survive together."
His gaze swept across us. When it landed on me, something inside me stilled.
"Your sigils bind you," he continued. "Break that bond, kill a fellow Dragontail, and your magic turns to ash. There is no forgiveness.”
I brushed my mark, a faint green shimmer etched into my skin. At least, I reasoned, he couldn’t kill me. Not without obliterating himself in the process. But then I remembered his words in the library: There are worse things than dying.
"You will not prevail here through rhetorical acumen or bloodline prestige," Lorik continued. “Victory in Dragontail derives from the deliberate cultivation of existing arcane capacity. We do not teach you new magic as a primary function. You will learn to command what already resides within you. You are here because the Siren identified valiance, not compliance. Your training will interrogate that trait to its foundation."
A second voice intervened, clipped and crystalline.
"Rory Rey," announced the Moonveil female with intricately coiled braids threaded in silver. Her demeanor exuded clinical poise, and she was undeniablybeautiful. “Dragontail doesn’t promise growth. It guarantees confrontation. To wield magic here, you must be strong, not just in power, but in body and mind. You’ll train in martial arts five days a week at sunset, no magic allowed. My role isn’t to shield you from what this breaks down in you, it’s to make sure you survive it.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She kept them on Lorik, like she was searching for something he wouldn’t give her.
“They sure are sleeping together. Right?” Shakari whispered quickly.
I didn’t answer. But the ache beneath my ribs tightened.
For Sunheart heirs, love wasn’t a choice. It was an assignment. A tie between nobles, not hearts. I was promised and promises bound tighter than affection. But Rory and Lorik didn’t have to pretend. They could just choose. That made me jealous, in a way I didn’t want to name.
The last mentor stepped forward. Ugo Zeyu. Bigger than most doors. His skin bore lightning-shaped runes, glowing faintly as they spiraled down his chest and arms. His hair was tied back in a warrior's knot, black as night. His features were sharp, and his eyes bright gold. A Sunheart. He had stood beside Lorik when I first saw him in the courtyard.
"Your bodies and minds belong to Dragontail now. You will fight, bleed, and grow in the Halls of Mirrors every single day. That is where you will be broken and rebuilt. All the legion trains together regardless of your year,” he said, his voice a low thunder that rumbled through the atrium.
A few students shifted nervously. I felt it, too. The weight of it felt inevitable.
Ugo’s gaze swept over us like a slow blade. “What they’re saying is simple if you’re not strong enough, you won’t survive the Dragontail Trials coming mid-year. Twenty-four hours in the King Forest to prove your physical strength, magical ability, and valor. Three separate tests. Fail any one of them, and you’re out. Out of the legion. Out of the academy.”
That part lodged in my chest. I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I’d desired to be in Dragontail. I’d never trained for real combat, even if I believed I could be powerful.
Professor Hog’s voice cut in, low and uncompromising. “The Dragontail Trials are not a game, nor a rite of passage for the faint-hearted. They are combat in its truest form, steel, claw, and magic against the deadliest dragon illusion magic can conjure. People have bled on that ground, and more than a few never rose again. Every bruise you earn here, every spell you cast, every strike you take, treat them as steps toward survival. These classes are not drills. If you want to walk away whole, you will use every moment, every lesson, to sharpen your skill and your will until neither can break.”
Lorik’s mouth curved but not in kindness. “Don’t worry. You’ll still get your general first-year classes with Emberkeep and Auroric. But make no mistakes, your focus is combat and magic-wielding. You’re here to be warriors.”
I looked at him, my stomach tightening. Maybe he didn’t need to kill me. He could just wait for the Dragontail Trials to do it for him.
Professor Hog gave a final nod. “Well, that’s scary enough of the first-years. If you have questions, bring them to your mentors first. If they can’t resolve them, then come to me. That concludes your orientation. You’re dismissed. Report to your classes.”