Chapter 1 Trial by Fire and Fang

Twenty-year-old Violet Sorrengail's life pivots dramatically on a single day when her mother, General Sorrengail, unexpectedly forces her to join Basgiath War College's dragon rider quadrant instead of the safer scribe position she'd spent years preparing for. Despite her fragile bones—a condition that has caused twenty-seven breaks in her lifetime—and against the advice of her protective older sister Mira, Violet finds herself thrust into the deadliest military academy in Navarre.

The college's brutal reputation isn't exaggerated. On the very first day, third-year riders attack the first-years, testing their mettle in a tradition sanctioned by the instructors. Violet witnesses a fellow candidate die before her eyes, a stark reminder that only one in five survive the grueling first year. Her own weaknesses are immediately apparent when she struggles to complete even basic physical tasks, earning the scorn of both instructors and peers who view her as nothing more than "the general's crippled daughter."

The academic aspects offer little respite. Professor Melgren, who teaches signet magic, seems particularly determined to see her fail, challenging her knowledge at every turn. But Violet surprises everyone—including herself—by demonstrating an exceptional understanding of complex magical theory and history. Her mind, sharp from years of scholarly preparation, becomes her only real weapon in an environment where physical strength reigns supreme.

Among the hostility, Violet finds unexpected allies. Rhiannon, a fierce candidate with a chip on her shoulder, becomes her first friend and protector. Then there's the enigmatic Xaden Riorson, a powerful and intimidating wingleader from the feared Riders of the Black Moon, who inexplicably intervenes to save her life during a training exercise gone wrong. His assistance is particularly confusing given the historical enmity between the Riorson and Sorrengail families—his father was executed for treason against Violet's mother.

The most critical test comes during the Threshing, when candidates attempt to bond with a dragon. After weeks of preparation, the first-years are led to the hatching grounds where wild dragons will choose their riders through a blood bond. The process is as dangerous as it is sacred—dragons are just as likely to kill a candidate as bond with them. Violet, aware of the overwhelming odds against her survival, approaches the grounds with a mixture of terror and resignation.

Against all expectations, Violet survives her first encounter with the dragons, though not without injury and humiliation. The experience leaves her changed, more determined than ever to prove her worth. As she lies in the infirmary recovering from her wounds, she makes a silent vow to herself: she will not be the weak link, the one everyone expects to die. She will find a way to survive Basgiath, not just for herself but to uncover the truth behind her sudden reassignment. Because something about her mother's decision doesn't add up—Violet has begun to suspect there are deeper political machinations at work, and she is merely a pawn in a game she doesn't yet understand.

The first weeks at Basgiath reveal a harsh truth: this is not merely an academy but a battlefield where the weak are culled without mercy. As night falls on her blood-stained dormitory, Violet clutches her few possessions and a newly acquired secret—a coded message from her deceased father hidden in his old textbook—and realizes that surviving this place will require more than just physical strength or magical ability. It will demand a transformation from the scholarly, cautious girl she has always been into someone harder, sharper, and willing to fight back against a world determined to break her.

Chapter 2 Bonds Forged in Battle and Blood

The ritual of dragon bonding proves to be both more terrifying and more wondrous than Violet could have imagined. After weeks of uncertainty, she stands before Tairn, a massive silver dragon with ancient eyes that seem to peer straight into her soul. The bonding process is excruciating—his fire burns through her veins as their minds connect, forging a psychic link that will bind them until death. But in that pain comes transformation; Tairn's magic strengthens her brittle bones, giving her physical resilience she's never known.

Their bond is immediately unusual. Where most riders and dragons communicate in basic emotions and images, Violet and Tairn share complete thoughts from the start. More shocking still is the discovery that Tairn isn't just any dragon—he's one of the oldest and most powerful in Basgiath, having rejected countless potential riders over decades before choosing her. His choice draws unwanted attention from the college leadership, particularly from Vice Commandant Melgren, who seems disturbed by their pairing.

"You weren't supposed to survive the Threshing," he tells her during a private confrontation, his words chilling in their casual cruelty. "And you certainly weren't meant to bond with him."

As if bonding with Tairn weren't complicated enough, Violet discovers another shocking development: she has also formed a secondary bond with Andarna, a smaller but fierce female dragon. Dual bonds are almost unheard of, occurring perhaps once in a generation. This second connection marks Violet as truly exceptional but also dangerous in the eyes of the establishment.

Training intensifies with brutal efficiency. Violet's days are filled with combat drills, magical signet practice, and grueling flights that leave her muscles screaming. Her evenings are devoted to poring over textbooks and the increasingly puzzling coded messages she continues to find in her father's old possessions. These fragmented clues suggest her father had discovered something potentially treasonous about the kingdom's history—something that might have led to his death.

Relationships within her flightleader group grow more complex. Rhiannon remains steadfastly loyal, while others like Dain and Ridoc gradually warm to her as her abilities improve. But sabotage attempts against Violet continue, escalating from dangerous "pranks" to outright murder attempts. During one particularly vicious attack, it's Xaden Riorson who again intervenes, using his considerable influence to punish the perpetrators.

Their interactions grow increasingly charged. Though Xaden maintains a cold exterior, moments of vulnerability reveal a man carrying burdens as heavy as her own. During a rare private conversation in the dragon stables, he confesses, "We're all pawns in this place, Sorrengail. The difference is, I've learned to play the game."

A turning point comes during the first official combat training exercise. Riders and dragons must work together to navigate a perilous course while defending against attacks from senior riders. When another first-year's dragon is injured, leaving them exposed to a lethal fall, Violet makes a split-second decision to break formation and attempt a dangerous rescue maneuver. The move should be impossible for a novice rider, but the combination of Tairn's power and her unexpected agility results in a successful save.

The rescue earns her grudging respect from classmates but a severe reprimand from her instructors for disobeying orders. In the aftermath, Violet confronts an uncomfortable truth: the military training at Basgiath emphasizes following the chain of command over saving individual lives—a philosophy at odds with her own instincts.

Meanwhile, her investigation into her father's messages leads her to forbidden sections of the academy library, where ancient texts suggest dragons once wielded powers beyond what is currently taught. Her research is interrupted by Xaden, who seems suspiciously knowledgeable about her activities. Instead of reporting her, however, he shares cryptic information about rebel factions within Navarre who believe the current leadership has suppressed certain truths about dragon magic.

As the rigorous first term approaches its midpoint, Violet finds herself caught between conflicting loyalties—to her mother's military legacy, to the memory of her father's scholarly pursuits, to her new dragon bonds, and to the complicated feelings developing between her and Xaden. The college's motto rings increasingly true: "Victory requires sacrifice." But as bodies of failed candidates continue to accumulate, Violet wonders what victory at Basgiath will ultimately cost her—and whether the price might be too high.

Chapter 3 The Weight of Ancient Secrets

Deep in the archives of Basgiath's restricted library section, Violet discovers a weathered tome containing information about the Riders of the First Age—dragon riders who wielded considerably more power than modern riders. According to these ancient texts, riders once commanded not just fire but multiple elemental abilities through their dragons. More disturbing is the suggestion that the royal families of Navarre systematically suppressed this knowledge following the Barrens War three centuries ago, effectively limiting riders' power to maintain control over them.

This revelation aligns eerily with her father's encoded messages. One particular passage she deciphers reads: "The truth of our dragons' power has been stolen from us. What we call innovation is merely rediscovery." The implications are staggering—if true, generations of riders have been intentionally prevented from accessing their full potential.

Testing the theory proves dangerous yet irresistible. During a solitary training flight with Tairn, Violet attempts to channel magic through him in ways not taught at the academy. The results are explosive—literally. A surge of power unlike anything she's experienced before erupts between them, creating not just fire but a blast of concussive force that nearly knocks her from Tairn's back. The experiment leaves her drained and Tairn unusually silent, his ancient mind clearly troubled by what they've awakened.

"Some knowledge was buried for good reason, little one," he finally communicates, his mental voice resonating with memories far older than she can comprehend. "Not all power comes without cost."

Her academic pursuits are complicated by the advancement of her combat training. Violet's improved physical condition thanks to her dragon bond allows her to participate more fully, but she remains behind her peers who've had lifetimes of martial preparation. This deficiency becomes painfully apparent during the mid-term assessments when she faces Mira, her own sister, in an aerial combat exercise.

The match is brutally one-sided. Mira shows no sisterly mercy, targeting Violet's every weakness with military precision. As they clash in the skies above Basgiath, Mira hisses words meant only for Violet's ears: "Mother sent you here to die. Don't you understand? Your survival compromises everything." Before Violet can demand explanation, Mira delivers a blow that sends her spiraling toward the ground, saved only by Tairn's quick reflexes.

The cryptic warning haunts Violet as evidence mounts that her presence at Basgiath serves some larger political purpose. Professor Melgren's antagonism intensifies, particularly around questions of signet magic—the specialized magical marks riders use to channel their dragons' power. During one contentious lesson, he singles out Violet's signet work for harsh criticism despite her technically perfect execution.

"Your father had the same dangerous curiosity," he remarks with calculated precision. "Some questions are best left unanswered, Candidate Sorrengail."

Meanwhile, Violet's complicated relationship with Xaden evolves from mutual suspicion to reluctant collaboration. During a rare moment of truce, he reveals his own findings about the suppression of rider abilities—information gathered through his connection to the resistance movement known as the Riders of the Black Moon. Their goals, once seemingly treasonous to Violet, begin to appear more nuanced as she uncovers more about Navarre's historical manipulation of dragon riders.

"Your mother and my father were once allies," Xaden reveals during a clandestine meeting in the dragon stables. "Before she chose the crown over reform. Before she executed him to prove her loyalty."

This revelation forces Violet to reconsider everything she thought she knew about her family. Was her reassignment to rider training her mother's attempt to silence her before she discovered too much? Or was it a calculated move to place her in position to either expose or neutralize the growing rebellion?

The weight of these questions becomes physically manifest during a grueling training exercise in the mountains surrounding Basgiath. When a sudden storm separates Violet from her flight group, she and Tairn are forced to seek shelter in an unmapped series of caves. Deep within the mountain, they discover ancient dragon glyphs carved into the stone—markings that exactly match symbols in her father's coded messages.

As Tairn translates the primitive dragon language, Violet feels the ground shift beneath her feet—both literally and figuratively. These caves weren't just shelter for ancient dragons; they were training grounds where riders learned to access the full spectrum of dragon abilities. And according to the markings, there exists a set of five primary signet marks—not the three taught at Basgiath—that when combined unlock the true potential of the dragon-rider bond.

The discovery is interrupted by a cave-in that nearly claims their lives. As Violet fights to free herself from fallen debris, she instinctively channels power through her bond with Tairn in a way she never has before. The resulting energy isn't fire but earth magic—the ability to move and manipulate stone. The power is wild, nearly uncontrollable, but it creates an escape path.

Battered and exhausted, Violet emerges from the cave with knowledge that makes her both powerful and vulnerable. As she flies back to Basgiath through the clearing storm, she makes a critical decision: some secrets must remain buried—at least until she understands who she can truly trust in a game where the stakes involve not just her life but potentially the future of dragon riders throughout Navarre.

>Chapter 4 Enemies, Allies, and the Space Between

The line between friend and foe blurs dangerously as Violet navigates the complex web of Basgiath's politics. Following her discovery in the mountain caves, she becomes acutely aware that she's under surveillance. Instructors watch her training sessions with unusual intensity. Fellow candidates who previously ignored her now seek her company. Even Rhiannon, her closest ally, seems to receive mysterious messages after their conversations.

Trust becomes a luxury Violet cannot afford. She creates a careful fa?ade—the improved but still struggling candidate, dedicated but not exceptional. Behind this mask, she conducts her real work: testing the boundaries of her expanding abilities with Tairn and Andarna while continuing to decipher her father's remaining messages.

The dual bond proves increasingly valuable. While Tairn's ancient knowledge provides insight into forgotten dragon magic, Andarna's youthful adaptability makes her an ideal partner for experimentation. Together, they practice elemental manipulations in secret—small controlled bursts of not just fire but earth, air, and glimpses of water magic. Each success confirms what the ancient texts suggested: modern riders have access to only a fraction of their potential power.

Meanwhile, Violet's complicated dance with Xaden intensifies. Their antagonistic public interactions mask increasingly intimate private encounters. During one such meeting, concealed in a rarely used training arena late at night, he reveals the full extent of the resistance movement's knowledge about dragon-rider abilities.

"The crown's suppression goes beyond just limiting signet training," he explains, voice low despite their isolation. "They've systematically eliminated historical records that demonstrate what riders once accomplished. Territory that required dozens of bonded pairs to defend now needs hundreds—not because dragons have weakened, but because riders have been prevented from accessing their full capabilities."

When Violet questions why other riders haven't discovered this through their own research, Xaden's expression darkens. "Those who push too far in their investigations tend to meet with unfortunate accidents. Your father wasn't the first scholar to die for asking dangerous questions."

This revelation sends Violet searching for patterns in the academic records available to candidates. She discovers a disturbing trend: over the past century, professors and riders who specialized in historical signet applications have disproportionately died in training "accidents" or disappeared during research expeditions. The systematic elimination of knowledge has been disguised as random misfortune.

Her investigation is interrupted when Professor Melgren announces a special combat assessment—one that will pair first-years against third-years in direct aerial competition. The matchups are supposedly random, but Violet finds herself assigned against Aetos Katos, a notorious third-year known for his brutality toward younger candidates.

"He's put three first-years in the infirmary this term alone," Rhiannon warns as they prepare their equipment. "This isn't a coincidence, Violet. Someone wants to see you hurt—or worse."

The assessment takes place over the dragon cliffs, with multiple pairs engaging simultaneously to simulate battlefield conditions. As Violet and Tairn take their starting position, she catches sight of her opponent—a massive rider on an equally imposing red dragon, both radiating malicious anticipation.

When the signal sounds, Aetos immediately breaks protocol, diving toward them before the customary circling phase. His dragon unleashes a torrent of flame aimed not at Tairn but directly at Violet, a clear attempt to injure the rider rather than simply win the match.

In that split-second of danger, instinct overrides caution. Violet channels power through her experimental earth signet, creating a momentary shield of compressed air that deflects the flames. The defensive magic is subtle enough to appear as Tairn's doing to distant observers, but those watching closely—including Professor Melgren—narrow their eyes in suspicion.

What follows is a brutal aerial dance. Aetos pursues with vicious determination, each attack more flagrantly dangerous than regulations permit. Tairn's ancient experience keeps them alive, but Violet realizes they cannot win conventionally—not against an opponent willing to kill and a system apparently designed to allow it.

Drawing on her growing connection with both dragons, Violet attempts something unprecedented. While maintaining her primary bond with Tairn, she extends her consciousness toward Andarna, who circles nearby as a spectator. The split focus is disorienting, like trying to look in two directions simultaneously, but it works—momentarily. Through this divided awareness, she coordinates an unexpected maneuver.

As Aetos drives them toward the cliffside in what should be a finishing move, Andarna suddenly appears from his blind spot, creating a distraction that allows Tairn to execute a physically impossible reversal. The maneuver catches their opponent completely unprepared. Tairn's massive tail connects with the red dragon's wing joint, sending both enemy dragon and rider tumbling from the sky.

They recover before hitting the ground—barely—but the match is decisively over. Violet has won against impossible odds, but the victory brings more danger than triumph. As they land in the training arena, she finds herself immediately surrounded by instructors, their expressions ranging from amazement to suspicion to outright hostility.

"Explain what just happened," Professor Melgren demands, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent arena. "How did you coordinate with an unbonded dragon during combat?"

Before Violet can formulate a response that won't reveal her dual bond, an unexpected defender steps forward. Colonel Daxton Caris, head of aerial combat training and known for his strict adherence to regulations, addresses his colleague with cold precision.

"Before demanding explanations from Candidate Sorrengail, perhaps we should discuss why a third-year was permitted to execute kill strikes against a first-year during what was supposed to be a training assessment? I counted three separate violations that should have resulted in immediate disqualification."

The intervention creates enough distraction for Violet to compose herself. When attention returns to her, she offers a carefully constructed half-truth: "Tairn has been helping me develop stronger awareness of surrounding aerial factors. I didn't coordinate with Andarna—I simply anticipated where other dragons might be based on flight patterns we've been studying."

The explanation satisfies no one fully, but creates enough plausible deniability to prevent immediate consequences. As the crowd disperses, Violet catches Xaden watching from the sidelines, his expression unreadable to others but clear to her: they are running out of time to operate in secrecy.

That evening, as Violet tends to Tairn's minor injuries from the match, she receives an unexpected visitor. Mira, her sister, approaches the dragon stables with uncharacteristic hesitation. Their relationship has been strained since Violet's reassignment to rider training—Mira's coldness a painful contrast to the protective closeness they once shared.

"That was impressive flying today," Mira begins awkwardly. "Most first-years wouldn't have survived that match."

"Was that the point?" Violet counters, unable to keep bitterness from her voice. "Another test to see if the general's weak daughter would break?"

Something flickers across Mira's face—pain, perhaps, or guilt. "It's more complicated than you understand, Vi. There are... factions at work, even within the military leadership. Some want you to fail spectacularly. Others need you to succeed, but only in certain prescribed ways."

"And which faction do you represent?"

Mira glances around to ensure their privacy before lowering her voice. "The one trying to keep you alive long enough to make your own choice when the time comes." She reaches into her uniform pocket, extracting a small object wrapped in cloth. "This belonged to Father. Mother ordered all his possessions destroyed after the treason investigation, but I saved this. I think you need it more than I do now."

The bundle contains a signet ring bearing the Sorrengail family crest, but with subtle modifications to the traditional design. Embedded in the metal is a small black stone that seems to absorb light rather than reflect it.

"What is it?" Violet asks, turning the ring carefully.

"I don't know exactly. Father called it a memory stone. He said it stores information that can only be accessed by someone with the right magical signature." Mira's expression turns urgent. "Listen carefully, Vi. Whatever you're discovering about dragon abilities, whoever you're working with—be more careful. After today's display, they'll be watching you even more closely."

Before Violet can ask who "they" are, Mira continues, "The annual Scribe-Rider Integration Project begins next week. Request assignment to the historical archives—specifically the Pre-Barrens War section. You'll find something there that connects to Father's research."

With that cryptic advice, Mira departs as suddenly as she arrived, leaving Violet with new questions and the weight of the mysterious ring in her palm. Through her bond, she feels Tairn's curiosity about the object—something in its composition resonates with draconic senses in a way neither can fully articulate.

Later that night, alone in her dormitory, Violet slips the ring onto her finger. The black stone remains inert for several heartbeats, then flares with sudden warmth. Within her mind, a voice she had thought forever silenced speaks with crystal clarity—her father, somehow preserved in this magical repository.

"If you are hearing this, Violet, you have begun to discover what they have taken from us. The path ahead is dangerous beyond measure, but necessary. Trust the dragons—they remember what humans have been forced to forget. And when the time comes to choose between the power they allow and the power that is your birthright—choose wisely. The future of all riders depends on it."

The message fades, leaving Violet shaken but more determined than ever. The ring represents not just connection to her father but confirmation that her discoveries are part of something larger—a truth suppressed for generations that might finally come to light through her actions.

As she drifts toward sleep, the boundaries between ally and enemy, truth and deception, seem more permeable than ever. Professor Melgren clearly suspects her abilities but hasn't moved openly against her. Colonel Caris defended her publicly while asking pointed questions privately. Mira offers cryptic help after months of apparent abandonment. And Xaden, whose family history should make him her natural enemy, has become her closest confidant in the dangerous space between opposing forces.

The only certainty is that Basgiath is more than a training ground for dragon riders—it's a battlefield in a shadow war whose true nature is only beginning to emerge from centuries of carefully constructed lies. And somehow, Violet Sorrengail—the general's "crippled" daughter who was never meant to survive her first day—has become a pivotal figure in that conflict.

"We all stand in the space between what is and what could be," her father had written in one of his encoded journals. "The greatest power lies not in choosing sides, but in redefining the battlefield entirely."

With dragons at her side and forbidden knowledge in her grasp, Violet prepares to do exactly that—regardless of who might stand in her way.

Chapter 5 A Dance of Dragons and Destiny

The annual Scribe-Rider Integration Project traditionally serves as a brief respite from Basgiath's relentless physical training. For one week, rider candidates collaborate with scribe students on research projects designed to enhance tactical understanding of dragon warfare. Having spent years preparing for the scribe quadrant before her reassignment, Violet anticipated this project would provide familiar intellectual comfort.

Reality proves far more complex. When assignment requests are submitted, nearly every instructor objects to Violet's choice of the Pre-Barrens War archival section. "Those records are mostly fragmentary and of limited tactical value," Professor Melgren argues during the public review session. "Candidate Sorrengail would be better utilized in contemporary strategy analysis."

The coordinated opposition only confirms that Mira's guidance was sound—whatever lies buried in those ancient archives must be significant enough to warrant such protection. Unexpected support comes from an unlikely source: the Commandant himself intervenes, overriding his staff's objections.

"Candidate Sorrengail's academic background makes her uniquely qualified for archival restoration work," he states with a finality that silences further protest. "The Integration Project exists partly to utilize specialized skills candidates bring from their previous training."

His intervention raises as many questions as it answers. Is the Commandant somehow aligned with whatever faction Mira represents? Or does he have entirely different motives for granting Violet access to these protected materials?

The archives themselves prove both disappointing and revelatory. Many of the Pre-Barrens materials have indeed been damaged—some by time and neglect, others with the unmistakable marks of deliberate destruction. Entire sections have been burned, redacted, or simply removed, creating historical gaps that cannot be coincidental.

Violet's assigned scribe partner, a serious young man named Ellis Thorne, initially approaches their project with professional detachment. "We're supposed to identify tactical maneuvers from the Barrens War that might have modern applications," he explains, laying out a methodical research plan. "Though frankly, most of these records are too fragmented to yield much useful information."

As they work together, however, Ellis's scholarly demeanor occasionally slips to reveal flashes of deeper insight. When Violet uncovers a partially preserved account of dragon formations that differs significantly from current doctrine, he comments almost absently, "The elemental pairings are inverted from modern practice."

"Elemental pairings?" Violet questions carefully, alert to potential alliance.

Ellis hesitates, then glances toward the archive door before lowering his voice. "Look at the rider positions described. They're arranged by elemental affinity, not just combat function. See how they reference 'earth anchors' and 'air vanguards'? Modern formations don't acknowledge elemental specializations because supposedly they don't exist—but these accounts take them for granted."

This confirmation of multiple elemental abilities matches perfectly with Violet's discoveries. As they continue working, a tentative trust develops. Ellis gradually reveals that his family has preserved oral histories at odds with official accounts of the Barrens War and its aftermath.

"My grandfather maintained that the war wasn't primarily fought against foreign powers as our textbooks claim," he confides during a late-night research session. "It began as an internal conflict—dragon riders with expanded abilities versus the royal forces who sought to control them."

Their collaborative research accelerates with this shared understanding. Together, they piece together fragments to reveal a pattern: systematic revision of history to eliminate references to riders commanding multiple elements or communicating telepathically with dragons other than their own bonded partners.

The most significant discovery comes buried in a collection of personal correspondence from a general who served the crown during the conflict. In a letter never meant for official records, he writes: "The signet suppressions have been implemented across all training facilities. The next generation of riders will bond with dragons through the modified ritual, creating connections that limit power flow to approved channels only. They'll never know what was taken from them, which is perhaps merciful. Within thirty years, no living rider will remember the old ways."

This smoking gun confirms everything Violet has pieced together about the deliberate suppression of rider abilities. What remains unclear is the crown's motivation for this drastic restriction of power that could have strengthened Navarre against its enemies.

As the research week progresses, Violet senses increasing watchfulness from multiple quarters. Professor Melgren makes daily "inspections" of their work. Senior riders often find reasons to pass through the archives during their research hours. Even Mira appears occasionally, maintaining her public distance while exchanging meaningful glances that suggest Violet is on the right track.

On the fifth day, their research takes an unexpected turn when Ellis discovers a hidden compartment in an ancient desk—a secret drawer containing a journal written in a code strikingly similar to the one Violet's father used in his personal writings. The connection cannot be coincidental.

"This needs to be translated somewhere private," Ellis whispers, slipping the journal into Violet's bag beneath the table. "The archive is too closely watched."

That evening, Violet meets Xaden in their usual secluded location, bringing both Ellis and the mysterious journal. The introduction is tense—Ellis recognizes Xaden immediately as a leader of the notorious Black Moon riders, while Xaden views the scribe with suspicious calculation.

"He can be trusted," Violet assures Xaden. "He's been helping me piece together the historical suppression of rider abilities."

"Helping you confirm what the resistance has known for generations," Ellis corrects, surprising them both. "My family has maintained connection with the movement since the Barrens War, preserving knowledge that couldn't be kept in public records."

This revelation shifts the dynamic dramatically. With Ellis's cryptographic skills and historical context, they make rapid progress translating the journal. It belonged to a rider named Caius who lived during the implementation of the signet suppressions, documenting the changes as they occurred.

The most disturbing entry describes the modified bonding ritual that remains in use today: "They have altered the sacred words and signet patterns used in the hatching grounds. The dragons sense something amiss but cannot articulate what has changed. New riders emerge from bonding with only a fraction of the connection we elder riders remember—limited to fire manifestation and basic mental communication. When I questioned this, I was told it was for 'stabilization of the realm.' In truth, it is fear that drives them—fear of what riders and dragons might accomplish if fully united in power."

A later entry provides the missing motivation: "Today I witnessed the king's private address to his council. He spoke plainly what none dare say publicly: 'A rider at full capacity, bonded deeply enough to access all elemental channels, could potentially challenge even royal authority. Control of dragons must remain subservient to control of the crown. Better weak defenders than strong potential usurpers.'"

The journal confirms that the suppression was never about external threats but internal power dynamics—ensuring that riders remained weapons of the state rather than potentially independent powers. The final pages detail a resistance movement forming among elder riders and their dragons—the original Riders of the Black Moon, named for their practice of meeting during moonless nights to avoid detection.

"My father must have found this journal," Violet realizes. "His research builds directly on Caius's accounts."

"And likely led to the same end," Xaden adds grimly. "Discovery and elimination."

Their translation session is interrupted by the sudden, urgent pressure of Andarna's consciousness against Violet's mind—a warning. Through their bond, Violet sees what the younger dragon has observed: guards conducting an unusual search of the dormitories, focusing specifically on her quarters.

"We need to move," Violet says, already gathering the journal and their notes. "They're searching my room."

Ellis looks alarmed but resolute. "They're probably checking mine as well. We've drawn attention."

The confirmation that they're under active investigation changes everything. What began as historical research has become evidently dangerous in the eyes of Basgiath's authorities. They separate quickly, agreeing to maintain public distance while continuing their work through more secure channels.

Returning to the college through separate routes, Violet arrives to find her suspicions confirmed. Her room has been thoroughly searched, though the intruders attempted to hide their actions. Through her enhanced connection with her dragons, she senses lingering magical traces—detection spells designed to reveal hidden compartments or concealed documents.

Fortunately, her most incriminating materials remain hidden in a location suggested by Tairn—a natural hollow within the dragon cliffs accessible only by flight, where she's stored her father's decoded messages and her notes on elemental experimentation.

The following morning brings the culmination of the Integration Project—a formal presentation of findings to Basgiath's leadership council. Each candidate-scribe pair must report their research results and potential applications. As Violet and Ellis prepare their carefully sanitized presentation, focusing solely on conventional tactical formations from the historical record, an unexpected complication arises.

The Commandant announces a distinguished visitor will observe the presentations: General Lilith Sorrengail herself, accompanied by representatives from the royal court. Violet's mother enters the hall with her characteristic military precision, her face revealing nothing as she takes her seat beside a thin man whose elaborate clothing marks him as a court official.

When their turn comes, Violet and Ellis present their approved findings with scholarly detachment, giving no hint of their actual discoveries. Throughout the presentation, Violet feels the court official's gaze fixed upon her with unsettling intensity. His eyes occasionally flick to her hands, specifically to her father's signet ring, which she continues to wear despite the potential risk.

As they conclude, the official raises a slender hand. "A question, if I may. In your research, did you encounter any reference to a concept called 'The Dragon Speaker'?"

The query lands like a physical blow. Though Violet has never encountered this specific term, something deep within Tairn's ancient memory stirs at the words—recognition and alarm mingling in his reaction. Whatever "The Dragon Speaker" refers to, it connects directly to the suppressed abilities they've been investigating.

"No, sir," Ellis answers smoothly while Violet maintains composed silence. "That term doesn't appear in any of the materials we reviewed."

The official's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "A shame. Historical curiosities are something of a passion of mine." His gaze shifts fully to Violet. "Candidate Sorrengail, your father shared that interest, as I recall. His research into ancient rider practices was quite... extensive."

The reference to her father carries unmistakable warning—a reminder that his pursuit of this knowledge led to his downfall. Violet meets his gaze with carefully constructed innocence. "My father believed understanding history helped prevent repeated mistakes, sir. I share his academic curiosity, though my focus remains on becoming an effective dragon rider for Navarre."

The exchange, brief as it is, confirms her worst fears. The search of her quarters wasn't random surveillance but targeted investigation. Someone—perhaps this very official—suspects her of continuing her father's forbidden research.

As the presentations conclude and candidates are dismissed, Violet receives a summons she cannot ignore—her mother requests her presence in the Commandant's private office. Heart pounding, she reports as ordered, finding General Sorrengail alone in the room, standing at the window overlooking the dragon training fields.

"Your presentation was competent," her mother begins without preamble. "Though I suspect you found considerably more in those archives than you shared publicly."

Violet maintains careful neutrality. "The assignment was to identify useful tactical applications. Most of the documents were too fragmented to yield complete information."

"Don't insult my intelligence, Violet." Her mother turns, fixing her with the penetrating stare that has broken hardened soldiers. "You've accessed materials that have been intentionally restricted. You're investigating abilities that have been rightfully suppressed for the stability of the realm. And you're associating with individuals connected to resistance elements."

The direct confrontation forces a decision—continue denials that won't be believed, or acknowledge some truth to gain understanding of her mother's position. Violet chooses a middle path.

"If abilities have been suppressed, then something has been taken from riders without their knowledge or consent," she counters. "How is it 'rightful' to limit what dragons and their riders can achieve together?"

"Because unfettered power leads to catastrophe." For the first time, emotion breaks through her mother's professional facade—something like fear flickers in her eyes. "The Barrens War nearly destroyed our kingdom. It wasn't just a border conflict as the public records claim—it was the last time riders with full abilities walked among us. The devastation they caused... entire regions rendered uninhabitable for generations."

This revelation adds new complexity to Violet's understanding. "So the suppression was for public safety?"

"Initially, yes. A desperate measure in desperate times." Her mother's voice drops lower. "But power, once claimed, is rarely relinquished willingly. What began as temporary restriction became permanent policy. The crown discovered that limited riders were more controllable riders—useful military assets rather than potential rivals."

"And where do you stand in this, Mother? Did you send me to Basgiath knowing I might discover this truth? Or hoping I'd die before I could?"

The question hangs between them, loaded with years of complex relationship and recent betrayal. For long moments, General Sorrengail says nothing, her expression unreadable. Then she moves to the door, checking that it remains securely closed before returning to stand directly before her daughter.

"I sent you to Basgiath because war is coming—not just with our traditional enemies, but within our own borders. The resistance grows stronger, and the crown grows more fearful. Soon, every rider will be forced to choose sides." She reaches out, her fingers brushing the signet ring on Violet's hand. "Your father believed riders should recover what was taken from them. His research cost him his life, but his vision endures in those who continue his work."

The implication staggers Violet. "You... supported his research?"

"Our methods differed. Julian believed in revolution—immediate reclamation of full rider abilities regardless of consequence. I advocated for gradual reintroduction, controlled expansion that wouldn't trigger the crown's immediate suppression." A shadow crosses her face. "Our disagreement on approach created a rift that never healed before his death."

"And Xaden's father? You ordered his execution."

"I carried out the order," her mother corrects precisely. "There is a difference. Commander Riorson was exposed beyond my ability to protect him. His public execution was inevitable—but certain evidence that would have implicated dozens of others mysteriously disappeared from the investigation."

This revelation forces Violet to reevaluate everything she thought she knew about her mother's position. Not a crown loyalist blindly following orders, but a resistance sympathizer playing a dangerous double game from within the military command structure.

"The court official who questioned you today is Lord Pernick, the king's Spymaster. His presence here is not coincidental—the crown suspects Basgiath has become a hotbed of resistance sympathy." Her mother's expression hardens. "You've drawn his attention, which was inevitable given your parentage and abilities, but you've done so before you're ready to defend yourself adequately."

"I'm stronger than you think," Violet counters.

"No doubt. Your dual dragon bond alone marks you as exceptional. But there are forces aligned against the return of full rider abilities that would eliminate you without hesitation if they confirmed what you're attempting."

Before Violet can respond, a sharp knock at the door signals the return of the Commandant. Their private conversation is at an end, but her mother leaves her with a final whispered warning as they formally salute each other for public appearance:

"Trust your dragons above all else. And when the time comes to truly dance with destiny, remember that rhythm matters as much as power—timing your move is as crucial as having the strength to make it."

The cryptic advice follows Violet as she returns to regular training, her mind reeling from these revelations. Her mother—traditionally the embodiment of military loyalty—stands revealed as a complex figure working within the system to gradually reform it. The knowledge is both reassuring and terrifying; it suggests potential alliance but confirms the deadly stakes of the game they're playing.

That evening, as regular activities resume following the Integration Project, a college-wide announcement brings unexpected news: the annual Dragon Dance competition will commence in three days' time. This traditional event challenges riders to demonstrate the depth of their bond through synchronized aerial maneuvers, testing precision, creativity, and magical coordination.

For first-year candidates, participation is optional—most lack the experience to compete effectively. But Violet immediately recognizes the opportunity this presents. The Dragon Dance offers a sanctioned context to push the boundaries of rider-dragon connection, potentially demonstrating abilities that would otherwise draw dangerous attention.

When she shares this insight with Xaden during their next clandestine meeting, he agrees with cautious optimism. "The competition allows for experimental techniques that wouldn't be permitted in regular training. We could use it to gradually normalize enhanced abilities—showing just enough to intrigue without revealing everything."

"A public statement of possibility," Violet muses, "without explicitly challenging authority."

"Precisely your mother's approach, it seems." His tone carries complex emotions regarding the general's revealed position. "Gradual change rather than open rebellion."

Preparation for the Dragon Dance consumes the following days. Violet works with both her dragons to choreograph a routine that demonstrates enhanced connection while concealing its most revolutionary aspects. Through careful experimentation, they develop maneuvers that incorporate subtle elemental manipulations disguised as conventional fire techniques.

The competition itself transforms Basgiath's main training arena into a spectacular venue. Thousands of magical lights illuminate the space, while enchanted amplification allows the massive audience—including visiting dignitaries and potential military sponsors—to hear the accompanying music that riders often incorporate into their routines.

As a first-year, Violet is scheduled early in the program, when audience attendance is still building and attention less focused. This works to her advantage—fewer witnesses if something goes wrong, but still an official record of her performance.

When her name is announced, Violet guides Tairn to the center of the arena while Andarna remains temporarily hidden among spectator dragons at the perimeter. Their routine begins conventionally enough—precise aerial maneuvers that demonstrate basic competence without revealing exceptional ability.

Then, at a carefully planned transition point, Violet activates the modified signet pattern she's developed. Through her enhanced connection, she reaches simultaneously to both dragons, coordinating their movements with unprecedented synchronization. Tairn executes a complex spiral ascent while projecting controlled flame patterns that seem to dance independently of his physical movement—a subtle demonstration of elemental manipulation beyond normal parameters.

At the routine's climax, Andarna joins unexpectedly from the sidelines—revealing Violet's dual bond publicly for the first time in a choreographed aerial dance where both dragons move in perfect harmony with each other and their shared rider. The audience falls momentarily silent before erupting in astonished applause at the rare spectacle of a rider commanding two dragons simultaneously.

As they land to thunderous appreciation, Violet maintains her composed exterior while internally navigating complex emotions. The performance revealed significant enhanced ability, but packaged as spectacular entertainment rather than revolutionary demonstration. It establishes her exceptional status while maintaining plausible deniability about the full extent of her developing powers.

Among the judges and senior staff, reactions vary dramatically. The Commandant watches with calculated assessment. Professor Melgren's expression darkens with suspicious recognition. And in the VIP section, Lord Pernick, the royal Spymaster, leans forward with undisguised interest that borders on hunger.

Most significant is her mother's reaction—the slightest nod of approval, nearly imperceptible, but carrying unmistakable meaning between them: Well played. A demonstration without declaration. A dance with destiny without fully revealing your hand.

As Violet leads her dragons from the arena amid continuing applause, she understands that she has taken an irrevocable step. Her performance serves as both public coming-out as an exceptional talent and veiled declaration of alignment with those who seek to restore riders' full abilities.

The Dragon Dance has transformed from mere competition to symbolic statement—a carefully choreographed assertion that the boundaries between riders and dragons might be more permeable than centuries of suppression have led the kingdom to believe. In publicly demonstrating even a fraction of what she's discovered privately, Violet has subtly challenged the foundation upon which the crown's control of dragon riders rests.

What remains uncertain is how various factions will respond to this challenge—and whether her calculated risk will advance the cause of restoration or merely accelerate the confrontation between those who would reclaim riders' full heritage and those determined to keep such power forever suppressed.

As she returns to the candidates' preparation area, Xaden briefly passes close enough to whisper: "The dance has begun. There's no returning to simpler steps now."

With both trepidation and exhilaration, Violet silently agrees. The path forward leads only deeper into the conflict her father died trying to resolve—a dance with dragons and destiny that will reshape not just her life but potentially the future of Navarre itself.

Chapter 6 The Price of Power

In the aftermath of the mid-term trials, Basgiath War College settled into an uneasy calm. For Violet Sorrengail, however, the absence of immediate danger only heightened her sense of foreboding. The knowledge she'd accumulated—about suppressed dragon abilities, about her mother's possible betrayal, about the resistance movement—weighed on her like physical armor she could never remove.

Standing at the edge of the dragon cliffs during a rare moment of solitude, Violet watched Tairn and Andarna soaring through the late afternoon air. Their aerial dance, fierce and beautiful, reminded her of how much had changed in mere months. Her once-fragile body now moved with a grace and strength that still surprised her. The constant pain that had been her lifelong companion had dulled to a manageable whisper. Yet these physical improvements paled beside the magical awakening she'd experienced.

"They're magnificent together," came a voice from behind her. Professor Lilith Sorrengail—her mother—stood several paces back, her general's uniform immaculate as always, her posture revealing nothing of her thoughts.

Violet straightened instinctively. "I didn't know you were visiting the college today."

"Official business with the Commandant." Her mother's gaze remained fixed on the dragons. "Your dual bond has caused quite a stir in the high command. The last rider to successfully maintain two dragon connections was over seventy years ago."

"Is that why you came? To confirm the anomaly for yourself?"

A flicker of something—pain, perhaps—crossed her mother's face before the professional mask returned. "I came to warn you, Violet. You're drawing attention from quarters that would be better left undisturbed."

"Like the Riders of the Black Moon?" Violet challenged, watching carefully for reaction.

Her mother's expression hardened. "Like the royal court. The king has taken a personal interest in your progress."

The implications chilled Violet more than the autumn wind whipping around them. Royal attention was rarely beneficial for anyone, especially those connected to potential threats against the crown's authority.

"And what have you told His Majesty about your defective daughter's unexpected survival?" The bitterness in her voice surprised even Violet.

"I told him exactly what I've told everyone else—that you demonstrate the Sorrengail resilience and intelligence." Her mother stepped closer, lowering her voice despite the privacy of their location. "Whatever you think you know about why I sent you here, whatever you believe you've discovered about dragon abilities or historical suppressions, I urge you to exercise extreme caution. There are forces at work that even I cannot fully control."

Before Violet could press for clarification, a messenger appeared at the path behind them, summoning the general to her meeting. With a final meaningful look at her daughter, Lilith Sorrengail departed, leaving questions multiplying in her wake.

That night, unable to sleep, Violet slipped from her dormitory to the underground training arena where she'd been practicing expanded magic with her dragons. Xaden waited there, as arranged, his tall form silhouetted against the dim magical lights.

"You're late," he observed, though without real annoyance.

"My mother paid an unexpected visit today." Violet moved to the center of the arena, rolling her shoulders to release tension. "She knows something about what we're doing. Or suspects, at least."

Xaden's expression tightened. "Did she mention the resistance?"

"Not directly. But she warned me about drawing royal attention." Violet began the warm-up exercises they'd established for their clandestine training sessions. "Xaden, I need to know—was my father involved with the Black Moon riders?"

A heavy silence fell as he considered his response. "Yes," he finally admitted. "Professor Sorrengail was instrumental in recovering many of the ancient texts that detail the true extent of rider abilities. His research formed the foundation of our understanding about how the crown has manipulated dragon magic to maintain control."

"And my mother? Where does she truly stand?"

"That," he said grimly, "is the question that has divided the resistance for years. Some believe she betrayed your father and the cause when she executed my father. Others think she plays an elaborate double game, appearing loyal to the crown while covertly advancing resistance goals."

The ambiguity matched Violet's own conflicted feelings. Every interaction with her mother left her more confused about the general's true allegiances.

"Enough politics," Xaden decided, moving to the training circle. "Show me what you've managed with the water element."

Grateful for the shift to practical matters, Violet centered herself and reached for her connection with Tairn. Though her dragons remained physically in their aeries, their mental links stretched across the college grounds. She felt Tairn's ancient mind wrap around hers, his power flowing through the bond they shared.

Water was the most difficult element for her—fire came naturally through her signets, earth had manifested in the cave collapse, and air responded to Andarna's swift nature. But water remained elusive, appearing only in fleeting droplets of condensation when she pushed her power to exhaustion.

"Remember what the texts described," Xaden coached. "Water isn't just liquid—it's transformation, adaptation, the ability to flow around obstacles rather than confronting them directly."

Violet closed her eyes, visualizing not a forceful stream but the patient drip that eventually wears away stone. Through Tairn, she channeled power into her experimental signet—an adaptation of traditional marks combined with symbols from the cave glyphs.

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, moisture began gathering around her fingers, coalescing into a sphere that hovered above her palm. Larger than any previous attempt, the watery orb reflected the magical lights in mesmerizing patterns.

"Good," Xaden breathed, genuine admiration in his voice. "Now shape it."

Concentrating fiercely, Violet urged the water to elongate, to form a spiraling column that rose toward the ceiling. For precious seconds, it maintained the form she envisioned—then her control slipped. The water destabilized, splashing across the arena floor and leaving her gasping from magical exertion.

"Still progress," Xaden noted, handing her a cloth to dry her soaked arms. "You're advancing faster than anyone could have predicted."

"Not fast enough," Violet countered, frustration edging her voice. "The year is almost half over, and we still don't know why my mother really sent me here or what's actually happening with the resistance."

Xaden's expression darkened. "We know more than you think. Intelligence from outside sources indicates the crown is planning a significant move against suspected resistance sympathizers. Higher-level flightleaders have been receiving specialized training for domestic operations—not border defense."

"They're preparing for internal conflict," Violet realized, the implications hitting her with physical force. "A purge."

"Precisely. Which is why we need to accelerate your training. The traditional approach takes years to master all four elements, but we don't have years." He hesitated, then continued reluctantly. "There's another method mentioned in the ancient texts. A ritual that can rapidly expand a rider's magical capacity."

"Why haven't you mentioned this before?"

"Because it's incredibly dangerous. The texts describe it as 'walking the edge of death to claim power from beyond.' Most who attempted it either died outright or went mad from the experience."

Violet felt a chill that had nothing to do with her damp clothing. "Yet you're suggesting I try it?"

"I'm suggesting we consider it as a last resort. Your dual bond makes you uniquely suited to attempt the ritual. With both Tairn and Andarna anchoring you, your chances would be better than most."

"Better than most," she echoed. "But still likely fatal."

Xaden stepped closer, his usual guardedness falling away. "I wouldn't propose this if I saw another option, Violet. The resistance needs the kind of power you're discovering—power that's been kept from riders for centuries. Without it, we're just playing at rebellion while the crown holds all the significant advantages."

The weight of his words settled between them. Violet had come to Basgiath expecting merely to survive. Now she stood at the center of a conflict generations in the making, holding knowledge that could reshape the kingdom's power structure—if she lived long enough to fully claim it.

"Show me the ritual," she finally said. "I need to understand exactly what I'd be risking."

From his pack, Xaden withdrew a slender volume bound in dragon hide so ancient it had petrified to stone-like hardness. The pages within contained diagrams of signet configurations unlike any taught at Basgiath—interlocking circles and spirals that seemed to move subtly even as they remained fixed on the page.

"The Immersion," he explained, voice dropping to near-whisper despite their privacy. "A ritual where the rider's consciousness fully merges with their dragon's, accessing not just the dragon's current power but the accumulated magical knowledge of their entire lineage."

Violet studied the complex patterns. "These signet combinations would be impossible to maintain simultaneously."

"That's where the ritual differs from normal signet magic. These aren't cast externally—they're carved directly into the rider's skin, creating permanent channels for dragon magic."

The brutality of the process shocked her. "Carved? With what?"

"A blade forged in dragon fire and quenched in the blood of both rider and dragon. The text calls it 'the knife that binds two souls as one.'"

As Xaden explained the remaining requirements—the specific lunar phase needed, the protective circle of elemental anchors, the dangerous state of suspended consciousness the rider must maintain—Violet felt a growing certainty that this ritual represented both tremendous opportunity and deadly trap.

"Even if I survived," she reasoned, "such magic would be impossible to hide. The instructors, the Commandant—they would know immediately what I'd done."

"Which is why timing would be crucial. The winter solstice approaches, bringing the annual Candlelight Vigil when all riders honor those lost in the previous year. It's the one night when the entire college, including staff, participates in ceremonies lasting until dawn. Our only window of opportunity."

The logistics were daunting, but potentially manageable. The greater question remained: "What happens if I succeed? What exactly would this power enable me to do?"

Xaden's eyes held a fervor she rarely saw in his typically controlled demeanor. "According to the texts, a rider who completes the Immersion gains ability to channel all four elements simultaneously, to communicate telepathically with any dragon regardless of bond, and to access memories from dragons long dead. Essentially, you would become what riders were always meant to be before the crown's interference—a true Dragon Speaker."

The title resonated through Violet with unexpected force. Tairn's consciousness, always present at the edges of her mind, surged forward with a tumult of emotions—recognition, warning, and beneath it all, a terrible hunger for what once was.

"Tairn knows this ritual," she whispered, catching fragments of his thoughts. "He's seen it performed before, long ago."

"Ask him the outcome," Xaden urged.

Violet closed her eyes, diving deeper into the connection with her silver dragon. The memories she touched were fragmented, clouded by time and what seemed like deliberate obscuration. But certain images burned with clarity: a circle of riders, their skin glowing with signet light; dragons surrounding them, wings extended in protective canopies; and at the center, a woman wreathed in elemental magic that bent to her will like extensions of her own body.

"It worked," she confirmed, opening her eyes. "At least sometimes. But Tairn is... reluctant. There's something he's not showing me."

"Dragons have their own agendas," Xaden reminded her. "Even bonded ones. They lost as much as riders did when the old ways were suppressed—perhaps more, since they remember what true partnership once meant."

A sharp pain lanced through Violet's head, accompanied by Andarna's distinct mental touch—a warning. The younger dragon projected urgent images of approaching figures, academy guards making an unscheduled patrol near their training area.

"We need to go," Violet hissed, already gathering their materials. "Andarna senses guards."

They extinguished the magical lights and slipped through the hidden exit Xaden had discovered weeks earlier, a maintenance tunnel that connected to the college's extensive drainage system. As they navigated the narrow passage in darkness, Violet felt Xaden's hand close around hers—ostensibly to guide her, though both could see adequately in the dim phosphorescence of the tunnel fungi.

"Consider the ritual," he murmured as they neared the point where they would separate to return to their respective quarters. "But know this isn't a decision I or anyone else can make for you. The price of such power is paid in blood and risk, and only you can decide if the potential gain justifies that cost."

His fingers tightened briefly around hers before releasing. In the faint glow, his expression held something beyond the determination of a resistance fighter or the calculation of a strategist—something that made Violet's pulse quicken in a way unrelated to their clandestine activities.

Later, lying sleepless in her narrow dormitory bed, Violet weighed impossible choices. The rational part of her mind catalogued the dangers of the ritual: death, madness, discovery by authorities, the unknown consequences of such profound magical alteration. But beneath these logical concerns pulsed a deeper current—the sense that she stood at a crossroads not just for herself but for all of Navarre.

"What would you choose?" she silently asked her dragons. Andarna's response came as a surge of youthful confidence, eager for new horizons regardless of risk. Tairn's answer was more complex—layers of ancient caution interwoven with a profound longing for what had been lost.

As dawn approached, painting her small window with pale light, Violet reached a decision born not of certainty but of reluctant necessity. The world was changing, with or without her participation. Powers were moving into position for a conflict that would reshape the kingdom. In such times, caution might be the greatest risk of all.

She would attempt the Immersion ritual. Not for power's sake alone, but for the truth it might reveal—about her father's work, her mother's true allegiance, and the future that awaited dragons and their riders in a kingdom balanced on the edge of revolution.

In the growing light, Violet traced invisible patterns on her forearms, imagining the signets that would soon be carved there in blood and pain. The price of power was high indeed. She could only hope that what she gained would prove worth the cost.

"Some choices change us forever," her father had written in one of his encoded messages. "Choose not what is safe, but what is necessary. The path of a scholar sometimes leads through darkness before reaching illumination."

With these words echoing in her mind, Violet rose to face another day at Basgiath—outwardly a dedicated candidate continuing her training, inwardly a woman preparing to challenge centuries of magical suppression through an ancient ritual that few had survived.

Chapter 7 When Worlds Collide

The winter solstice arrived with bitter winds that scoured Basgiath's stone towers. Throughout the day, an atmosphere of somber anticipation built among the riders and candidates. The annual Candlelight Vigil was more than ceremony—it was a stark reminder of their mortality in a profession where death loomed as a constant companion.

For Violet, the day passed in a blur of final preparations. Each required component for the Immersion ritual had been gathered with painstaking secrecy over the preceding weeks: dragon-fire forged metal, carefully extracted and preserved blood samples from both her dragons, rare herbs that heightened magical sensitivity, and the ancient text containing the precise signet patterns that would be permanently marked into her skin.

"You don't have to go through with this," Rhiannon said quietly as they dressed for the evening's vigil in their dormitory. Though Violet had shared only vague outlines of her plan, her friend's intuition had clearly detected the weight of imminent danger.

Violet secured her formal uniform jacket, fingers tracing the silver buttons that gleamed in the fading daylight. "Some risks are necessary."

"This is about more than just surviving Basgiath, isn't it?" Rhiannon's perceptive gaze searched Violet's face. "This connects to whatever you and Riorson have been investigating."

Rather than deny it, Violet simply nodded. "Tonight, I need you to ensure no one notices my absence during the middle portion of the vigil. Can you do that without asking questions I can't answer?"

Rhiannon's expression hardened with determination. "Consider it done. But promise me something in return—if whatever you're attempting goes wrong, you'll have Andarna signal me. I won't stand by while you face danger alone."

The loyalty in her friend's voice nearly unraveled Violet's carefully maintained composure. "I promise," she agreed, throat tight with emotion she couldn't afford to indulge.

As darkness fell, the entire population of Basgiath War College—instructors, staff, and candidates alike—gathered in the memorial courtyard where stone monuments bore the names of riders lost in service. Each person carried a single unlit candle, creating a sea of potential light waiting for ignition.

The Commandant stood at the center of the gathering, his weathered face solemn in the torchlight. "Tonight we honor those who gave their final measure in defense of Navarre," his voice carried across the hushed assembly. "We remember their courage, their sacrifice, and the bonds they shared with their dragons until death severed what magic had joined."

As he spoke the names of the fallen from the previous year, family members or close companions stepped forward to light their candles from the ceremonial flame. Each light represented a life extinguished, yet collectively they pushed back the darkness of the longest night.

Violet spotted her mother among the senior officers, the general's face an impassive mask that revealed nothing of her thoughts. Nearby stood Mira, her sister's posture perfect as always, though something in her expression suggested inner conflict. Across the courtyard, Xaden maintained his position with the other flightleaders, their eyes meeting briefly in silent confirmation of the night's true purpose.

When all names had been read and all candles lit, the Commandant initiated the traditional night-long meditation. "We stand vigil until dawn breaks, honoring their memory through our watchfulness. As the longest night gives way to returning light, we recommit ourselves to the path they walked before us."

The assembly dispersed to various positions throughout the college grounds. Some gathered in small groups to share memories of fallen comrades; others sought solitary spots for personal reflection. This dispersion provided the cover Violet needed—in the fluid movement of hundreds of candle-bearing figures, individual absences would be difficult to track.

She waited precisely one hour, participating respectfully in the initial observances before slipping away toward the abandoned watchtower they had prepared for the ritual. Located on the college's northwestern edge, the tower had fallen into disuse after structural damage made it unsafe for regular occupation. The upper levels remained precarious, but the ground floor chamber had been reinforced adequately for their purposes.

Tairn and Andarna waited nearby, their massive forms concealed by the tower's proximity to the dragon cliffs. Through their bonds, Violet felt their contrasting emotions—Andarna's nervous excitement balanced against Tairn's ancient trepidation.

"Are you certain?" the older dragon's voice resonated in her mind as she approached. "Once begun, the Immersion cannot be halted without grave consequence."

"I'm certain," Violet answered aloud, her breath visible in the frigid air. "But I sense your reservation, Tairn. What aren't you telling me about this ritual?"

The silver dragon's massive head lowered until his eye—larger than her entire face—aligned with her gaze. "The texts speak truth about the power gained, but incomplete truth about the transformation required. You will not emerge as simply Violet with greater abilities. The Immersion fundamentally alters the boundary between rider and dragon. Those who succeed are never again fully human in the way they once were."

The warning sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the winter night. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It means," came Xaden's voice as he emerged from the tower doorway, "that you will carry the essence of dragon within your human form. Previous accounts describe physical changes—eyes that shift to dragon aspect when power is channeled, enhanced senses beyond human norm, and a temperament that reflects draconic influences."

Violet absorbed this new information, recalibrating her understanding of the risk. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Because I only confirmed it yesterday," he admitted, holding up a weathered journal. "This account from a rider who underwent the ritual three centuries ago details the aftermath. I wanted you to have complete information before making your final decision."

The consideration in this action—ensuring she had all facts rather than pressuring her toward his preferred outcome—solidified Violet's trust in him more than any declaration could have.

"Does this change your choice?" Tairn pressed, his mental voice resonating with what felt like hope that she might reconsider.

Violet took a moment to truly examine her motivation. Was she willing to surrender some measure of her humanity in exchange for the power and knowledge the ritual promised? The question stripped away peripheral concerns, reducing her decision to its essential core.

"No," she finally answered, meeting first Tairn's gaze, then Xaden's. "If anything, it makes the path clearer. We need every advantage in the coming conflict. If becoming partly dragon provides that edge, then I accept the transformation."

Relief and apprehension mingled in Xaden's expression as he extended his hand toward the tower entrance. "Then we should begin. The optimal alignment occurs at midnight—less than an hour from now."

Inside, the circular chamber had been meticulously prepared. A complex pattern of interlocking circles and spirals had been inscribed on the stone floor with a mixture of crushed gemstones and metallic powders—materials that conducted magical energy with minimal resistance. At four equidistant points around the perimeter stood containers holding elemental aspects: a brazier of coals for fire, a basin of water, a jar of rich soil, and a crystal designed to capture and circulate air currents.

"Remove your jacket and shirt," Xaden instructed clinically, his earlier emotion subsumed beneath ritual focus. "The primary signets must be placed directly on skin."

As Violet complied, the severity of their undertaking struck her anew. This was no training exercise or experimental magic that could be reversed if it went awry. The signets would become permanent, both physically and magically, altering her very essence.

Xaden unwrapped the ritual knife—a slender blade of darkened metal with intricate etchings along its length. "This was your father's," he revealed quietly. "Created years ago in preparation for his own attempt at the ritual, though circumstances prevented him from completing it."

The revelation landed like a physical blow. "My father intended to undergo the Immersion?"

"He believed it necessary to prove what had been taken from riders. His research suggested that only through demonstrating the full potential of the dragon-rider bond could he convince others of the crown's historical suppression." Xaden's voice dropped further. "His execution occurred three days before his planned attempt."

This new connection to her father's work strengthened Violet's resolve. She sat in the center of the inscribed circle, extending her arms as the ancient text instructed. "Begin," she directed, her voice steadier than she felt.

Outside, Tairn and Andarna positioned themselves at opposite sides of the tower, their consciousness flowing through the enhanced bond created by the carefully designed ritual space. Inside, Xaden moved with the precision of someone who had rehearsed these actions countless times, activating each elemental anchor before approaching Violet with the ritual blade.

"The incisions must be made in precise sequence," he explained, kneeling before her. "Each completed signet will draw power from its corresponding element, building toward the final integration. The pain will be... significant."

"I understand," Violet replied, though understanding and experiencing were vastly different matters.

The first cut—representing earth—traced an intricate spiral pattern across her left forearm. The knife's edge burned worse than ordinary metal, the dragon-fire infusion making each incision feel like molten metal against her skin. Violet bit back a cry, focusing instead on maintaining the mental connection with her dragons as the ritual required.

As Xaden completed the earth signet, the crushed minerals within the circle's pattern began to glow with subtle green illumination. A strange heaviness settled into Violet's bones, as though gravity had intensified around her specifically. Through her bond, she felt Tairn channeling his power into the newly created magical pathway, stabilizing the connection to earth magic.

The second signet—water—flowed across her right forearm in curves that mimicked ocean waves. Blood welled from the cuts, but instead of dripping normally, it moved with unnatural purpose, tracing the lines of the signet as though magnetized to the pattern. The basin of water at the circle's edge rippled without physical disturbance, and a blue luminescence joined the green glow of the earth signet.

By the time Xaden began the third pattern—air—across her left shoulder and upper chest, Violet had entered an altered state of consciousness. The pain remained intense but somehow distant, as though happening to someone else. Through Andarna's connection, winds began circulating within the chamber despite its sealed state, carrying whispers in a language Violet somehow understood despite never having heard it before.

The final element—fire—required the most complex signet, extending from her right shoulder down across her breastbone in a pattern reminiscent of stylized flames. As Xaden completed the last incision, the brazier's coals erupted into brilliant illumination without consuming their fuel. Red-orange light joined the existing glow, creating a swirling aurora of elemental energies around Violet's kneeling form.

"The binding signet remains," Xaden said, his voice seeming to reach her from a great distance. "This connects the four elements and creates the channel for complete integration. Once cut, there is no retreat from what follows."

Violet could barely focus on his words. The individual elemental connections were already overwhelming her senses, flooding her awareness with perceptions beyond human experience. Through earth, she felt the minute vibrations of every creature moving within a mile radius. Through water, she sensed the flow of fluids in living bodies—including Xaden's elevated pulse. Air brought the whispers of conversations throughout Basgiath despite solid stone walls between them. Fire showed her the varying heat signatures of everything in her vicinity, revealing the energetic essence beneath physical forms.

"Complete it," she managed to say, though her voice sounded strange to her own ears—layered with harmonic overtones that echoed draconic speech patterns.

With ceremonial precision, Xaden placed the final signet—a complex knot-work pattern at the center of her chest that connected the four elemental marks. As the blade completed its path, all four elemental sources flared simultaneously with blinding intensity.

Pain transcended itself, becoming something entirely different—a cataclysmic reorganization of Violet's very being. Her consciousness expanded explosively, merging fully with both Tairn and Andarna in a three-fold awareness that should have been impossible to maintain. Through their linked perception, she experienced their draconic understanding of the world—fundamentally magical rather than physical, attuned to energetic currents and ancient patterns invisible to human senses.

More shocking still was the sudden connection to draconic memory—not just her dragons' experiences but the accumulated knowledge of their lineages stretching back through centuries. Generations of dragon wisdom flooded into her mind, threatening to overwhelm her human capacity for comprehension.

In this overwhelming deluge, Violet might have lost herself entirely if not for an unexpected anchor—her father's presence, preserved somehow in the ritual knife he had created. The familiar essence of his consciousness provided a model for how human and dragon awareness could coexist without one subsuming the other.

"Balance," his memory-voice guided her. "Not dominance of either nature, but true partnership."

Clinging to this principle, Violet fought to maintain her core identity while integrating the vast expansion of awareness. The struggle seemed to last both moments and eternity, time itself becoming fluid in her altered perception.

When awareness of the physical world finally returned, Violet found herself suspended several feet above the ritual circle, held aloft by intersecting currents of elemental energy. The signet cuts on her skin no longer bled but glowed with corresponding elemental light, the patterns now permanently embedded not just in flesh but in her magical essence.

Xaden stood transfixed at the circle's edge, his expression caught between awe and apprehension. "Violet?" he questioned cautiously.

As her feet gradually returned to the stone floor, the swirling energies subsided to a more contained radiance that centered around her transformed body. She met his gaze and saw his sharp intake of breath—confirmation that her eyes had changed as the ancient accounts described.

"I'm still myself," she assured him, though her voice carried new resonance. "But also more."

Before either could say more, a catastrophic sound shattered the night's silence—the alarm bells of Basgiath, signaling immediate threat to the college. Their distinctive pattern indicated the gravest possible emergency: direct attack.

Violet extended her newfound senses beyond the tower walls, instantly perceiving what had triggered the alarm. A massive force approached from the north—dragons in combat formation, bearing riders whose armor bore unfamiliar insignia.

"The border has been breached," she realized aloud, accessing knowledge that came from beyond her personal experience. "Those are Poromiel raiders—at least fifty dragon-rider pairs."

Xaden's expression hardened from wonder to wartime focus. "Basgiath's defenses are minimally staffed tonight due to the vigil. They've chosen their moment well."

The implication was clear—this was no random border incursion but a calculated strike against Navarre's primary dragon-rider training facility while its defenses were compromised. Through her expanded awareness, Violet sensed the approaching attack force's confidence, their certainty of easy victory against an unprepared target.

"They don't expect significant resistance," she observed, already moving toward the tower entrance. "They believe most riders will be unarmed and focused on ceremonial obligations."

"As they would be," Xaden confirmed grimly, "if not for our preparations here tonight."

Outside, Tairn and Andarna awaited, their massive forms tense with battle-readiness. Elsewhere across the college grounds, confusion reigned as the solemn vigil transformed into frantic defensive preparations. Through her enhanced connection, Violet perceived dozens of separate conversations, orders being shouted, the panic of younger candidates, and the grim determination of experienced riders.

She also sensed something unexpected—recognition from every dragon within range, even those bonded to other riders. Their awareness turned toward her like compass needles finding true north, acknowledging what she had become through the ritual.

"Dragon Speaker," came the collective thought, rippling through draconic consciousness across Basgiath.

Mounting Tairn with fluid grace that would have been impossible before the ritual, Violet made an instantaneous decision that would irrevocably commit her to a public role in the unfolding conflict. Through her transformed connection, she reached not just to her own dragons but to all within Basgiath, projecting a unified battle plan that materialized in their minds as clearly as if they had studied it for weeks.

Across the college grounds, riders reacted with shock as their dragons suddenly moved with coordinated purpose, responding to direction they themselves hadn't provided. Some fought the unexpected guidance, while others—recognizing the tactical soundness of the strategy—yielded to their dragons' certainty.

"What have you done?" Xaden asked as he mounted his own dragon, a massive black male named Sgaeyl.

"What was necessary," Violet answered, the elemental signets on her skin glowing with increasing brightness as she drew on their power. "Tonight, we stand not just against foreign invaders but for the true potential of what riders and dragons can achieve together."

As they launched into the night sky to meet the approaching enemy, Violet knew the coming battle would reveal what the Immersion ritual had truly cost—and what it had granted. The price of power would be measured not just in physical changes or magical ability, but in how the world would respond to the reemergence of an ability long suppressed: a human who could speak directly to the consciousness of all dragonkind.

Behind them, Basgiath War College erupted into organized chaos as dragons and riders prepared for combat. Ahead, the enemy force approached with predatory confidence, unaware that they faced not just a training facility observing a solemn tradition, but the rebirth of an ancient power they had never encountered.

Between these forces flew Violet Sorrengail—no longer merely a candidate struggling to survive, but something Navarre hadn't seen in centuries: a Dragon Speaker whose very existence challenged the foundations upon which the kingdom's power had been built.

As elemental energies gathered around her outstretched hands—earth, water, air, and fire responding simultaneously to her will—Violet embraced both her transformed nature and the uncertain future it created. The irrevocable choice had been made. Worlds had collided—the ancient and modern, dragon and human, personal ambition and kingdom-wide consequence.

What emerged from that collision would change everything.

"When true partnership returns between rider and dragon," her father's final encoded message had predicted, "the foundations of power will shift beneath those who built their thrones on separation and control. What follows may be destruction or renaissance—perhaps both simultaneously. But change, once begun, cannot be unmade."

As she led the defenders of Basgiath toward their approaching enemy, Violet carried these words in her transformed consciousness—no longer just a prophecy but a reality taking shape through her own transformed body and soul, written in the glowing signets that marked her skin and the draconic awareness that now shared her mind.

The price of power had been paid. The time had come to discover its true value.

Frequently Searched Questions About Fourth Wing

Here are some common questions users might have about Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros:

1. What is the plot of Fourth Wing?

The story follows Violet Sorrengail, a young scribe who is forced to join a war college for dragon riders by her mother, the commanding general. Violet must navigate a brutal environment where dragons rarely bond with fragile humans, and her life is constantly at risk due to her physical vulnerabilities and her mother's reputation.

2. What genre does Fourth Wing belong to?

Fourth Wing is classified as a high fantasy romance or "romantasy" novel, incorporating elements of adventure and suspense.

3. What is the Empyrean series about?

The Empyrean series, of which Fourth Wing is the first book, revolves around the world of Basgiath War College, where students are trained to become elite dragon riders. The series explores themes of survival, loyalty, and hidden secrets within the college.

4. Who are the main characters in Fourth Wing?

• Violet Sorrengail: The protagonist, a young scribe forced into the Riders Quadrant.
• Xaden Riorson: A powerful and ruthless wingleader.
• Rhiannon Matthias: A friend and ally of Violet.
• Dain Aetos: A childhood friend and potential love interest.

5. What themes are explored in Fourth Wing?

The book explores themes of survival, friendship, romance, and the struggle for power in a high-stakes environment where only two outcomes are possible: graduation or death.

6. Is Fourth Wing suitable for all readers?

Fourth Wing is generally recommended for readers of adult fantasy and romance due to its mature themes and content.

7. How does Violet's condition affect her journey?

Violet has a condition that makes her body brittle, which is a significant challenge in the physically demanding environment of the war college. Her condition also makes her a target for others who see her as weak.

8. What is the significance of Basgiath War College?

Basgiath War College is a central setting where students are trained to become dragon riders. It is known for its brutal training methods and high mortality rate, with only two ways to leave: graduation or death.

9. How does the war outside the college impact the story?

The ongoing war outside the college creates a sense of urgency and danger, as the kingdom's protective wards are failing, and the death toll is rising. This external threat adds to the tension and stakes within the college.

10. Is Fourth Wing part of a larger series?

Yes, Fourth Wing is the first book in The Empyrean series, followed by Iron Flame and Onyx Storm.