Day 41 of the Suns season, year 2447

The Red Woods was vast, dense and rich. Azéna was beginning to wonder if she would ever get out of it. She had never reached the other side, for it would have taken too long.

Dusk was falling and the hues of the sky were turning as warm as the leaves of the towering trees. The dead ones gently swirled in the breezes. The clouds slowly darkened. The air felt cool on the skin.

The heavy smell of humidity bothered the Kindirah girl. She looked up and squinted. It was going to rain. She could not think of a potential shelter within these woods. She watched the dark dragon silhouette, still high in the sky, disappearing into the clouds from time to time. It always returned, keeping with the pace of the group.

“Noklyss, he's been following us for a long time,” complained Azéna. “We should send Tyrath to investigate.”

Leith pondered for a moment.

“It's not causing us any harm, and we might not be able to defeat it in battle.”

“We can't just ignore it. It's suspicious and not to mention dangerous.”

“Remain calm.”

Tyrath's face hardened. He turned his head toward his rider and waited. The rebel felt her instinct telling her to be wary. She shivered under his amethyst gaze. She pulled herself together, reminding herself that there was nothing to fear. The priests of Nothar didn’t know everything, but a dragon remained a dangerous predator. If Tyrath decided that he was going to kill the whole group, he could and his prey could do little to defend themselves.

He growled softly and insistently pushed Azéna with his snout.

“I don’t understand,” said the dragon rider.

“I think he wants to go to the dark dragon,” the healer replied. “He's probably waiting for your approval to do so.”

“Why is he asking my permission? He's free to do whatever he wants.”

“You are his dragon rider, his partner. He consults with you, as you should. You are a team now.”

“Approach with diligence,” requested Azéna.

Shaking his head vigorously, Tyrath flew off. He approached the black dragon, but it snapped its jaws as a warning before breathing a thick cloud of darkness. It was gone. With a dull growl, Tyrath dashed off to find it. Confused, he circled for a long time. Finally, impatient, he blew several breezes to disperse the shadow.

Nothing. There was no one there.

Frustrated, Tyrath swooped down in a roar, scaring Fayne and Shirah. At the last moment, he opened his wings to slow his descent and hovered over his rider.

“Easy, beautiful girl,” whispered the redhead as she stroked the troxx.

“Something's wrong,” Leith worried, squinting her eyes. “This dragon doesn't want to make direct contact with us.”

“Can it create shadow clouds at will?” Azéna asked with an interested glance at the traveller.

“Yes, it does. Depending on its colour, a dragon controls a specific element. For example…”

“Tyrath is grey, so he controls the wind!”

“Yes. I see you've been paying attention.”

“So, that black dragon manipulates shadow?” Fayne guessed.

“Mhmm,” Leith replied, nodding. “The proper term for a shadow elementalist is umbrancer. Every element has one; I'll teach you about them on the way to the academy.”

“I've heard rumours about umbrancer priests and that they have a wicked nature. Apparently, they receive this gift through Noktow when they prove their devotion to him. Does this apply to dragons?”

“A dragon has no need to prove themselves to anybody. They are born with an intimate connection to a specific element. Never judge them for it. It is true that each member of a draconic flight is tied to a generalized character, but there are always alterations from one individual to another. As an example, the black dragons are especially misunderstood.”

Fayne nodded and silently continued walking. She was still clutching her pendant. Azéna didn’t blame her for being anxious. It was all so strange and was going against what they were taught.

Dusk had passed and the darkness of night dominated. Azéna was far too preoccupied about the recent events in her life to worry about it. Hundreds of questions were running through her mind, but she refrained from asking Leith any of them. Against the healer's advice, Tyrath had chased the black dragon away three times. Each time he approached it, it escaped in a cloud of darkness.

“It's getting too dark to travel,” announced Leith, who was guiding their way with the small sphere of light she maintained on the tip of her staff. “We'll settle here.”

They had reached a small pond. The surface of the water shone as if billions of stars had been thrown upon it. It was calm and relaxing. The sky had cleared, but a few clouds remained. The wind still brought a heaviness that heralded rain.

“Don't drink the water,” the old woman ordered sternly.

“Why not?” scoffed Azéna, carefree. “Will it kill me?”

Leith turned around and pointed her staff at her, scaring away the shadows that hid her facial features.

“There are exotic plants in this forest, and some are poisonous, even deadly. One of them, called the black swimmer, grows under water.”

“So what?” asked the rebel girl. “I won't eat it.”

“It contaminates the water,” explained Fayne.

“Oh... I see. Well, shit. I'm thirsty.”

Leith handed her a waterskin.

“Don't drink it all. It's our only supply of fresh water.”

She looked around, inspecting their surroundings with caution.

They were far enough from the path to avoid being seen.

“I don't think Lord Kindirah sent any troops after us, which is odd, but good for us.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” admitted Fayne, seemingly conflicted. “I want to go home, but…”

“Trust me, you don’t want the soldiers to be the ones to find you. We’ll have to talk to Lord Kindirah before you can return.”

She offered her a comforting smile.

“We’ll figure it out at Atgoren. Grandmaster Terenas will help, I promise you this.”

Fayne nodded weakly. Azéna knew she worried about her parents. She did too, for sometimes Bayrne’s underlings and the citizens could be cruel and judgmental.

Tyrath, his belly growling, went hunting for the fourth time that day. This time he had the cover of darkness to his advantage and returned quickly.

Meanwhile, Fayne tended to Shirah and offered her some berries she foraged, which the troxx devoured with gluttony. Leith planted her staff firmly in the ground to serve as a light source and began to rummage through her leather bag. She offered the youngsters an apple before pulling out a curious silver amulet.

“Fetch some twigs to light a fire,” she ordered Azéna. “Use this to help you.”

She mumbled a few incomprehensible words as she clutched the amulet in her right hand. The little charm began to glow, creating light around it. She offered it to the teenager who accepted it willingly and tied it to her neck.

Irritated, the latter raised an eyebrow. She was not happy to be ordered about, but she carried out the wishes of her elder without groaning. She was no longer in her family’s castle, after all. There was no servant to get her everything she wanted on command.

As she delved deeper into the forest, she scanned the area for branches small enough to carry. She found a few of them and chose the driest ones. She unearthed one whose appearance particularly caught her attention. The top of the branch reminded her of a wolf's head. As she bent down to pick it up, she heard the crackle of leaves. Alarmed, she turned around and saw a humanoid figure watching her in the distance. They were completely exposed.

“Hey!” she barked, pointing at them. “Who are you? Why are you watching me, Godsdamnit?”

The intruder was draped in a cloak too big for them. Their face was hidden by a hood. They had no weapons, and they were not moving. Azéna tried to approach them slowly.

“Shit, are you going to answer me or are you deaf?”

The mysterious figure dissolved into shadow. The teenager's eyes widened, and fear took hold.

“A black priest,” she murmured. “A demented Noktow loyalist.”

She froze and felt her heart stop momentarily. She began to panic. Even worse than a black priest, she could have been facing one of those nasty necrodins, corrupt paladins who spread horror wherever they went. She blinked, and the stranger was merging with the darkness of the night.

It took a moment for her body to respond to her.

With a trembling hand, she picked up the branch with the tip looking like a wolf’s head and sprinted back to the camp.

There, she dragged herself, arms overflowing with twigs, to Leith and Fayne, who were sitting on a stump chatting. Shirah was eating the scraps off the corpse of a deer that Tyrath had hunted. The stench was pungent, even from afar.

“Good,” said the healer. “You can never have enough wood for a fire.”

She suddenly frowned. Her satisfied expression was transformed by concern.

“You're white as a sheet and exhausted. Did something happen?”

“I ran into someone!” squeaked Azéna.

Leith’s body stiffened.

“Pray, tell us about it.”

“The person didn't seem to want to hide. When I turned around, they were standing there staring at me blankly.”

“And then?”

“I asked them who they were, but they just disappeared. They literally turned into a shadow.”

“They must be the rider of that black dragon!” exclaimed Fayne.

“It's possible,” Leith corrected.

Terrified, Azéna felt blood rush to her cheeks. Ignoring her feelings, she placed the twigs next to the healer's staff and handed the amulet back to her, whose glow had dimmed considerably.

“Tyrath still hasn't returned?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Does it seem like he’s here?” Fayne replied sarcastically.

“Ah... I... Yeah…”

She grunted and buried half her face in her interlocking arms. Fayne offered her a place on the stump and cuddled her.

“I hope we’ll be all right…”

Her proximity managed to calm Azéna.

Leith tried to light the fire, but to no avail. She had gathered a reasonable number of twigs in front of her and was frantically rubbing two rocks together.

Azéna soon tired of watching her and turned her attention to the moon. She had always found it beautiful and mysterious, but above all fascinating, because it changed colour according to the season. At that moment, it was a humble golden hue and it most resembled the suns, only paler. She quietly listened to the teenager when she was lonely.

A growl drew Azéna's attention to the west. A large flying figure appeared under the comforting glow of the moon. The closer he got, the more distinguishable Tyrath became. His wings, normally of an almost translucent silver complexion, were pierced by the yellowish moonlight. He dropped something of considerable mass and landed behind the group. When Fayne glanced at it, she muffled a horrified scream with her hand.

“What?” the dragon rider asked.

She turned around and found herself face to face with the fresh corpse of another deer. For a moment, she stood frozen in uncertainty. The dragon looked at her with anticipation.

“Oh. Is that for me?”

She pointed to herself, confused. Tyrath sniffed and nodded. He pushed the corpse with his snout toward her.

“Eh, thanks?” Azéna said.

Not sure what to do, she stared at the dead animal. Tyrath shook his head, visibly disappointed, and rolled into a ball on the rocky ground. He didn't seem to care about his own comfort. He quickly fell into a deep sleep.

“What exactly does he want us to do with this deer?” asked the Kindirah.

“What’s your best guess?” Fayne said in a trembling voice.

Her skin was pale, her eyes wide, and she looked as if she was on the verge of puking. The sight of a dead animal had always been too much for her, for she adored them.

“Eat it. It’s an offering,” she continued, disgusted.

“I understood that,” lied her grumpy friend as she turned back to the newborn fire.

The flames were alive and well, but small. Leith rubbed her chin, thoughtful.

“You could ask Tyrath to blow some wind on the flames.”

“Why?” dared Azéna to ask.

“Don't you know about the strengths and weaknesses of the primal elements?” asked Fayne, frowning.

Azéna gazed at her, wide-eyed and baffled.

“How do you know all these things!?”

“I read. Look, it’s easy. Simply put, wind amplifies fire. Fire feeds on air. Remember that. You may need it someday since Tyrath is a grey dragon.”

Leith chuckled and turned her benevolent gaze to the two teenagers. She motioned at Azéna to interact with Tyrath.

The silver-haired lady hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. When she noticed that he was watching them with an eye open, she chuckled.

“Would you please feed the fire of your wind?”

The young dragon exhaled a faint breeze on the fire that grew exponentially. Then he returned to lie down into a ball at his original spot.

“Anyway, shall we cook the deer?” asked the Kindirah, rubbing her hands together in preparation for the feast.

Fayne's grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

“What?” continued Azéna. “He's dead. There's nothing else to do than make this loss worthwhile.”

“I-I guess,” the herbalist stammered, avoiding her gaze.

Before going to bed, the three Daigornians ladies ate the fresh meat of the deer while discussing everything and anything. Fayne found it hard to get used to. She would usually only eat meat on special occasions, at parties or when there was nothing else to eat.

Azéna had stayed up all night. She was used to a large, cozy bed and being cradled by the luxury of nobility. The bumpy ground kept her from sleeping. Moreover, she had to use a branch as a pillow and had no blanket. She kept turning, and when she gave up trying, she settled on her back. She watched the moon, thinking about what might happen to her the next day. An entire day of walking had already passed. There were only four more to go. It was then that she realized how dense this forest was. How long would they go on before they reached the other side? In the end, it didn't matter. It would take as long as necessary to reach the Archlan Academy. 

She was wondered how everybody back in Nothar was doing. Did her little brothers Gendrel and Ravon continue the tradition of playing tricks on the commoners? She had to admit she was going to miss them, even the petulant Tria who always acted like a perfect little lady. The worst was going to be away from Argent, her older sister who had always been a kind, but strong warrior. She had always secretly admired her.

Later in the night, she noticed that Leith was also staring up at the sky.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just the stars,” she replied with a touch of sadness. “They bring me comfort.”

The dragon rider raised a confused eyebrow.

“It's nothing,” continued the wanderer. “Go back to bed.”

Azéna complied, but unfortunately did not find sleep. She found herself alone once again, worrying about the cloaked stranger.

Despite the warm season, the temperature had dropped abnormally that night. A drop of water fell on her forehead. Irritated, she wiped it off with her sleeve and grunted. She sighed and rolled into a ball.

A soft rain fell from the sky. The dying fire tried desperately to find the strength to survive. A strong current of air was washing it away. The smoke from the burning branches followed a particular path that led to a patch of woodruff in the undergrowth.

There, she saw a shadow. It was the same figure she had seen while gathering twigs. This time they were much closer to her, but the darkness prevented her from distinguishing their features. Their cloak danced gently in a breeze.

The torrent of rain intensified, and yet the serenity of the forest dominated. All that could be heard were the drops falling to the ground. Azéna was mystified that her companions had not woken up.

She could not talk nor breathe. She felt paralyzed with fright at this eldritch presence.

The stranger left the tree on which they were leaning and with a slow, almost graceful movement, they approached her. The latter flinched, unsure if she should warn the others. Listening to her instincts, she stood still, afraid that they would take her life before she could do anything to defend herself.

A drop fell near her eye. She wiped it away, closing them. When she opened them again, the stranger was no longer there.

A moment passed.

She felt a warm, slow breath caress her neck.

“Beware, Azéna Kindirah,” a masculine voice whispered in a dubious, yet seductive tone. “I know who you really are and what your tangled fate holds.”

He paused.

From his voice, Azéna guessed that he was a young adult, probably in his early twenties if not late teens. Intrigued, she dared to

look at him. He retreated and then turned around. His heavy cape danced in his movements.

“You attract danger and unpredictability,” he continued in a dark whisper. “Dirty blood runs through you, but your strength remains. Ah, but He calls to you. He seeks you.”

He disappeared into the darkness of the night. Only his mysterious voice trailed behind:

“The impure blood will turn out to be pure.”

“Leave me alone!” she cried, her heart thumping in her chest. “Please!”

She felt goosebumps crawl on her skin. It felt like insects. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision went black.

She woke up with her heart still pounding, her skin damp and her breath raspy. Her vision was blurred. After blinking several times, she made out Fayne who was standing in front of her and staring at her.

“Are you okay?” her friend asked, worried.

The dragon rider pushed a wet strand of hair away from her face.

“What? What happened?”

“You spoke in your sleep,” explained the redhead. “You were yelling at someone to stop.”

Azéna's mind slowly cleared. She remembered what had happened during the night, but her memories seemed so unreal. She called for Tyrath, but he was gone hunting.

It was no longer raining. It was hot and humid. All Azéna wanted to do was lie there lazily and sleep. Her clothes were heavy and stuck to her skin, which she hated. Her two companions were in the same boat as her.

While eating breakfast, she told them the whole story, leaving out the fact that the intruder's voice was intriguing, which bothered her considerably.

“Should I take these warnings seriously?” she asked as she swallowed a piece of cooked deer.

“I don't know,” the healer admitted. “It's hard to tell. I'd just advise you to behave at the academy.”

“Yes, Mom,” the young dragon rider whispered sarcastically.

She got up to gaze at the pond.

“There are black swimmers in these waters,” Fayne reminded her.

The Kindirah grumbled and settled for the gourd that was emptying too quickly for her taste. There were only one or two sips left. 

Soon after, Tyrath returned from his morning hunt. When he arrived, he greeted her with a friendly grunt.

“Good morning to you too,” she replied.

 “We have a long way to go,” said Leith. “Your father might go looking for us today. It is wise not to stay in one place too long.”

They gathered their things, got rid of the remains of the campfire and set off. Azéna recounted what had happened to her during the night to Tyrath, who reacted by growling and whipping the air with his tail in anger. He wanted to challenge the black dragon, but Leith scolded him, preventing him from going.

Near the borders, the Red Woods was no longer so dense. The rays of the two suns could penetrate the foliage with more ease. Soon after, they were at the borders.

“Finally!” exclaimed Azéna as she ran into the field and up a grassy hill. “We are free of this shitty forest.”

“Let's keep going,” ordered Leith. “And Azéna... watch your tongue.”

Tyrath flew freely over the plains and performed spins, twists and other tricks in midair. His rider tried to keep up with him on foot, but he was too fast for her. He challenged her and she tried harder. Despite the fierce competition, she laughed, happy to be part of the game. She chased him even though she knew she had no chance of winning.

“Azéna!” called Leith. “Stay close to us.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it's dangerous around here.”

“You can be so annoying…”

Leith glared at her, more severe than ever.

“All right, all right,” the teenager whined.

She resigned herself to following the dirt path behind Leith who was leading the way.

The mysterious dragon was nowhere to be found.

In the late afternoon, as the first sun just began to set, the group’s path crossed a traveller for the first time. He was dressed in a clean uniform and had fair skin subtly tinged with blue. The most remarkable thing about him was his mount: a huge white dragon that moved about with serene calm. Twice Tyrath's size, it looked down on him. Immediately, he began to fly around them like a bird of prey and snapped his jaw.

Meanwhile, Fayne had to stop Shirah from running away. Azéna stood in awe of such individuals. They shone with a beauty she could not describe.

The white dragon came to a stop, ignoring the commotion it was causing. Tyrath was surely too small to intimidate it.

“Good morning to you, Leith,” the dragon rider greeted politely, bowing his head slightly.

“Ah,” said Leith, smiling at the newcomers. “It's been a long time, young Vigoth Jarthen. Beautiful Karia too.”

The one named Vigoth laughed softly.

“Young? You forget that I have several decades more than you behind me.”

Yet he seemed so youthful, as if he was merely thirty years old.

How is it possible? Azéna wondered, confused.

“You seem troubled, young lady,” the stranger said.

“I-I,” she stammered, pointing at him. “Uh... How did that…?”

“Ah, I’m assuming that you've never met an elf. Here’s an interesting fact for you: especially among moon elves, twins are common. Even triplets are not that rare.”

“An elf!?” the troublemaker exclaimed impulsively. “Is that why you look so young and have bluish skin?”

Her face turned crimson. Realizing she had talked with too much

freedom, she lowered her finger. Fayne and Leith giggled softly, which embarrassed her even more. Vigoth, on the other hand, seemed to be used to this kind of reaction.

“Not all elves have skin of this tone, but it is a typical characteristic of moon elves,” he explained.

His gaze fell on Tyrath’s paws. He squinted, clearly bothered by the shackles, then focused his attention on Fayne and Azéna.

“Who are these two lovely young women?” he asked with a warm smile.

The Kindirah introduced herself first, then Fayne. Vigoth seemed surprised when they explained their friendly relationship.

“No offence meant, Miss Litfow, but it's rare that Daigornian nobles allow themselves to become so close to a commoner,” he commented. “I like your open mind, Azéna.”

“Tell me Vigoth, how is it that you are away from the academy with the bonding ceremony starting so soon?” asked Leith.

“Oh, you know, the workload is immense and…”

“And,” the old lady continued, staring sternly at her interlocutor with her intense little eyes, “you ran away, as usual.”

“Ran is a big word,” he replied, avoiding her gaze. “In any case, the danger posed by the Blood of the Dragon is growing. Someone must patrol the area.”

“I figured these dragon slayers would come back some day. It's not just that. A black dragon and its rider have been following us since we started our journey to Atgoren.”

“Right! You were supposed to retire in Nothar. My brother is very upset over it.”

“Did you send someone in that area?”

“Not in the last few days. It’s always so calm and peaceful there.”

He pondered for a long time, which made Azéna's temper flare with impatience. She wanted to know what was going on and who this person was. His long cloak, his finery, his majestic dragon and his beauty gave him an air of importance. She did not like it. She did not trust him.

“Maybe Terenas did,” he finally replied.

“From the Archlan academy?” the rebel asked with interest.

“Yes. Are you going there?”

“Indeed,” confirmed Leith. “This young lady here has been a dragon rider for two days.”

“Oh, why not offer her to go to the Isriss Academy?” suggested Vigoth with a large, playful smile.

“Vigoth,” grunted the old woman.

“It was a joke, of course. A grandmaster is always looking to recruit new apprentices.”

“So, you’re in the charge of another academy?” asked Azéna, confused.

“Indeed,” Leith confirmed.

She pointed to the emblem of the Isriss academy that rested on Vigoth's crimson tabard. The logo was beautiful. It was a grey dragon's paw that rested atop the letter I in its centre.

“I offer myself as an escort,” the grandmaster offered politely.

“That would be much appreciated,” Leith replied, delighted at the news. “You never know. That black dragon might come back, and so might followers of the Blood of the Dragon.”

“You’re quite right. As my brother Terenas always says: "prevent before you fix"”.

The white dragon gave Vigoth an offended look. At first, the moon elf didn't seem to understand what it wanted from him.

“Ah!” he suddenly exclaimed. “I apologize. Let me introduce you to my partner, Karialiatren or Karia of the Liatren clan.”

Karia raised her head and let out a majestic roar. In response, Tyrath glared at her and puffed his chest. Azéna smiled, amused by his reaction.

“This is Tyrathralent or Tyrath of the Ralent clan.”

“Oh, we know,” said Karia.

Her voice was a strange mixture of roughness and feminity. She let out a grunt that sounded like a chuckle when Tyrath looked away.