Day 1 of the Scythe season, year 2447

The waitress brought breakfast, which consisted of multiple colourful fruits, vegetables, and tree bark, to the group. Accustomed to eggs, bread, and ham by this time of day, Azéna wasn't sure what to make of this meal, but ate anyway, leaving the bark aside. Eyes glistening, Fayne seemed quite content.

“You don’t want to eat your bark?” asked Vigoth, staring at the Kindirah curiously. “It comes straight from the Strangled Forest in the heart of the territory of the sylvan elves. It's a rare treat.”

“Umm... No thanks,” she replied, smiling stupidly. “I'm not the type to eat tree bark.”

“Right. I forgot again that you've never been to Nëowalds. In fact, all elves eat bark, because it is very nutritious for us. Humans generally stray from it, but some just eat it for pleasure.”

“Is it pleasant to eat?”

She raised an eyebrow and imagined herself trying to chew through the bark. She grimaced.

“I'll do without,” she continued, finishing her green apple.

“Fussy lady,” Fayne scoffed.

She finished her friend's plate for her, leaving only crumbs. Meanwhile, the waitress returned and seemed surprised.

“My word, you were hungry,” she said as she filled their glasses with water.

“Thank you very much,” Leith smiled and took a sip.

The worker offered her a smile and then picked up the empty plates. When it was Vigoth's turn, she couldn't help but show interest in his attire.

“Are you a Guardian of Aerinda?”

“Oh, yes, I am. You have nothing to fear with me around,” chuckled the lunar elf, ever so charming with the ladies, as usual.

The waitress laughed, thanked him for his work and went back into the kitchen.

“You know I'm one too, right?” Leith asked impatiently. “And soon, so will Azéna.”

“I'm sorry,” Vigoth replied. “I stole all the glory from you.”

“What kind of title is that?” the Kindirah asked, raising an eyebrow. “And… honestly, I think I have enough titles, thank you very much. I don't need another one.”

His interlocutor laughed and gave her a friendly pat on the back.

“Don't worry, kid. It's just a fancy title to indicate that you're a dragon rider and dedicated to protecting Aerinda.”

Azéna wasn't sure how she felt about this. It seemed like a big task, but she loved being part of an adventure. Fayne gave her a subtle glance of encouragement. She was always there to support her, valiant Fayne. Her friend silently appreciated her gesture.

After breakfast, Vigoth helped her get ready for the academy. He carefully packed all the equipment into her backpack. Then they installed the saddle on Tyrath's back. He snorted impatiently, but didn't object.

“Now you can fly with him without getting hurt on his scales,” the grandmaster informed.

Azéna blinked, unsure of what to say.

“Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked. “Go ahead and try. Try it! You'll have a head start on the others during the flight course.”

“Flying lessons?” she asked.

The moon elf picked her up and placed her on the back of the silver drake who was fidgeting in excitement.

“Wait! No, no! By Elysia! This is sudden! It's too early for me!” the teenager shouted in panic.

“You'd better grab the reins,” Vigoth recommended before turning to Tyrath. “Go show her the blue world, big guy.”

The latter took off at full speed. He grunted, too excited to contain his emotions. As her companion began to ascend, Azéna realized that she had to grab the reins and quickly. She patted around looking for them, panicked by their absence. Finally, she settled for clutching Tyrath's neck. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the ground, and held back from screaming.

After a moment in mid-air, she managed to relax a little. Eventually she found the reins. She heard a series of grunts. She quickly realized that it was laughter, strange as it was. Was that kid dragon making fun of her? She smiled, not taking it to heart.

Leith and Vigoth watched the duo with pride, while Fayne stood in awe, afraid for her friend.

Tyrath suddenly turned upwards. Azéna looked up and could only see blue and white: the sky and the clouds.

“This is what he meant by the blue world!”

She touched a cloud. Her hand came out of it wet. The two suns warmed her face while a breeze refreshed her. But most important was the feeling of absolute freedom. No one could tell her what to do up there. She could go wherever she wanted.

“It's not so bad after all,” she boasted as she puffed out her chest slightly and straightened her back with pride. “I wasn't even afraid.”

Again, a series of grunts took her by surprise. Tyrath vibrated softly, seemingly content.

His rider closed her eyes and savoured the moment. A short time later, a jolt shook her. Tyrath grunted in warning and turned so sharply that he leaned a little too far to the side. The teenager could not help but slip. Her heart pounding, she clenched her teeth in concern. Tyrath let out a roar of victory and turned his body so that it was upside down. Azéna found herself hanging in mid-air, clutching one of the many spikes of the winged creature with one hand and the reins with the other.

“Stop!” she screamed, desperate to be upright again.

With a mischievous grin on his face, Tyrath returned to his original position and tensed his powerful muscles. He clutched his wings to his sides and dove toward the ground. The landing was abrupt and rough.

Azéna immediately jumped to the ground. Her legs were shaking and she had to concentrate not to fall backwards. Every inch of her body was in shock.

“Not so bad, is it?” Vigoth chuckled happily.

“At least you have experience,” Fayne encouraged, gently tapping her friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah, right," the fresh dragon rider grumbled, unconvinced and trying to catch her breath,

“Well, that’s enough time wasted,” announced the lunar elf while letting Karia know to follow him. “We have one last stop to make and then we'll leave.”

They passed by the Arm of Melèriar. Melanh'tash had completed the order. The leather armour was slipped on perfectly under the teenager’s uniform. She was surprised at how comfortable her outfit was. She strapped her quiver and elven longbow to her back and thanked the smith.

“It was a great pleasure,” Mel replied gently. “Just make sure you don't destroy my store on your way out. I hear you and Tyrath are troublemakers,” she accused with a teasing smile.

She waved them goodbye respectfully. The group did the same and set off for the edge of Agmeath. Vigoth had stayed behind to enjoy a moment alone with Melanh'tash. As predicted, he had returned with a sore ass.

“The legendary kick again?” Karia questioned with a touch of irritation. “You should be more polite to females. You know they can be rough and your life could depend on it.”

“Oh, don't worry,” replied the elf, rubbing his backside. “One day, it will be worth all my efforts.”

His partner sighed and stepped forward to lead the group, surely to recover some of her sanity at a distance from him.

During the walk, Tyrath puffed up his chest as a sign of pride and threw haughty glances to Karia who was still not taking him seriously. Meanwhile, Azéna recovered from her aerial ride rather quickly. Vigoth tried to encourage her by telling her that many dragon riders vomit during their first try.

“Also, sometimes your dragon will throw you to the ground with a

hard blow of their tail,” he added.

“That's not encouraging at all,” said the archer, who felt her heart rise in her throat.

“You had it easy,” he underlined. “Next time, it will be smoother.”

“I sure hope so. I will remember your words.”

“Don't worry. It's a promise.”

“Funny how I don’t believe you.”

Both chuckled. Not paying attention to her surroundings, Azéna tripped on a rock but was saved by none other than Leith who had lowered her staff toward her.

The rest of the walk to the academy was long. There were just trees, clearings, and new landscapes that bored Azéna to death. There was no sign of civilization, except for the dirt road they were following. Fayne and Leith examined plants from time to time, angering the poor apprentice dragon rider who just wanted to get this miserable journey over with.

“Are we almost there?” she complained for the millionth time.

Dragging her feet and not paying attention to the road, she bumped into the grandmaster who had stopped.

“Hide and stay here,” he ordered.

Thirsty for action, she did not listen to him and followed him slowly. Fayne and Leith made no attempt to stop her, probably tired of her attitude. Vigoth strayed from the road into the underbrush. He hid behind a large rock, the teenage girl at his heels. He frowned when he realized that she was there.

“I ordered you not to follow me,” he murmured, looking sternly at her. “Well, it's too late now, anyway. Stay behind this rock and keep quiet. Do you understand? This is not a game.”

It was strange to see him behaving so austerely. He took a few quick glances over the rock. Azéna did not dare to imitate him. She stiffened when she heard screams and grunts.

“What's that?” she whispered.

She received no reply so she dared a glance. Vigoth was observing a group of about twenty-five men torturing a moon elf. They were dressed lightly, in leather, animal skins, and furs. They were dirty and stained with dried blood, suggesting that they were not civilized people.

Azéna identified a man of impressive size whose muscle mass was more voluminous than the rest of the tissues on his body. He had long black hair and a stone-cold gaze. His ebony eyes stared at the moon elf who was lying on the grass in front of him. He was ready to decapitate the poor victim with his giant war axe that he held in one hand without difficulty.

The tribesmen were singing. Their voices were low and husky.

We make the dragons cry until their last breath.

We make their entrails into red rivers.

We wed in their death.

We are the Blood of the Dragon!

The young dragon rider averted her gaze and as soon as she heard the head fall to the ground, she shivered. The barbarians roared their victory and the chanting restarted.

I should have listened to Vigoth, she thought.

The grandmaster motioned for her to follow him. The pair joined their companions without the barbarians noticing them.

“We'll have to leave the road and go around them,” Vigoth said.

“Who are they?” asked Azéna, irritated.

“Men of the Blood of the Dragon, and I believe the one with the big axe is their warlord.”

“They’re still alive,” realized Leith with fright. “I thought we drove them out for good.”

“Apparently, they're back, and this time they're much bolder and vicious than last time,” Vigoth replied with a touch of concern. “They've been killing a lot of dragons lately and attacking a lot of travellers.”

“I was not aware. Something must be done.”

“We're doing all we can, unfortunately. They are hard to control. Also, their new warlord is proving to be much more savage than the

last one.”

The rest of the trip was quiet. The mysterious black dragon and its rider were still stalking them from the skies.

“He's still following us,” Vigoth remarked.

“What do you suggest?” asked Leith.

“He's not bothering us, so I suggest we leave him alone. It's best not to put the youngsters in danger. We’re nearly home.”

It was only near the end of the journey; they were left alone. They were greeted by a gate that was at least twenty times the size of a man. It was connected to huge ramparts. Every ten metres, a large beige flag striped of black and white decorated with a silhouette in the shape of a dragon's head fluttered gently. It was surely the emblem of the city. 

“By Elysia!” the two teenagers gasped in wonder.

Vigoth smiled with all the pride a parent would feel for his child.

“Welcome to Atgoren, home of the dragons and their riders. Welcome to your new home.”

A huge dragon-shaped lock barred the iron gate before which Azéna and company waited.

“Who's there?” asked one of the guards patrolling the top of the great wall.

“Grandmaster Vigoth!” exclaimed the second guard. “You are blind, Fuywen!”

He was sitting on the back of a green dragon while Fuywen was on a smaller one with brown scales. They were equipped with long spears, elven bows, plate armour of excellent quality, long cloaks and tabards designed like the flags.

“Sire, is it safe to let Tyrath pass without reinforcements?” asked Fuywen.

Tyrath glared at him and bared his fangs. As a precaution, Vigoth motioned for him to calm down and the youngster obeyed, but his eyes remained focused with vigilance.

“Don't worry,” he reassured him. “He has found his rider. His temperament should soften.”

Wasting no time, the guards quickly manipulated a large key, levitating it by magic. It was guided to the open mouth of the lock and entered. It pivoted and the iron dragon closed its fangs on it. Its dull eyes lit up and the gate slowly opened.

“You put the procedure of the lock back on?” Leith asked as they crossed to the other side of the colossal ramparts.

“It's better with danger lurking,” Vigoth replied.

“Wasn't there a password once when the lock was in place?”

“There is still one,” he replied nonchalantly.

“How come the guards didn't ask you for it?”

“I've been out so many times that they're sick of doing it. Also, with a special request and with grandmaster privileges, it's easy to get out of it.”

He smiled, amused by what he had just said. Leith, on the other hand, was still disappointed in him. Fayne and Azéna were looking at the wonders of Atgoren. There were very few buildings, but they were huge and built with so much love and detail that those in Nothar were reduced to a rudimentary design.

“This entire city has been adapted for dragons,” Vigoth explained. “To protect our inhabitants and the apprentices of the academies, we have three layers of walls, one of which is the Great Wall that encircles Atgoren entirely, a second, which is composed of two separate walls that encircle one of the two academies called the outer walls, and a third that is part of the academies’ structure. These are simply called the inner walls.

“Atgoren is well protected, compared to Nothar,” Fayne noted. “I imagine that being a dragon rider is quite dangerous.”

“You're not wrong,” breathed the moon elf sadly. “We try our best to protect our own. Between the dragons that support us, our brave warriors and the structure of the city, we've been lucky on that front. We managed to create a sanctuary.”

“Impressive!” barked Azéna. “And the roofs are equipped with several perches. It's fantastic!”

Soon after, Vigoth stopped in front of two new gates connected to the outer walls of a gigantic keep, all very similar to the ones they had just passed through, but in smaller versions. Held back by thick chains, the padlock in the shape of an "I", which represented the name of the academy, rested quietly in front of the gates. Fortunately for the grandmaster, they were already open and several people were entering the premises.

“I must leave you,” he announced with disappointment. “After all, this morning is the ceremony that marks the beginning of the training cycle and I must be present. In fact, you'd better hurry, because it starts in about fifteen minutes. The gates to the Archlan Academy are nearby. Follow the path.”

“Really, Grandmaster, you're not very responsible for someone who has achieved such a rank," Leith growled with concern. “Do you realize the responsibilities that come with your title?”

“They're used to it, and besides, this academy is dear to my heart. Don't worry. I simply have a way of working that is different from the norm.”

He climbed on Karia and set off in the direction of Isriss academy. Leith didn't seem to be convinced of what he said. With a desperate sigh, she continued on her way with Azéna, Fayne, Tyrath and Shirah.

Finally, they found a perfect copy of the entrance to the Isriss academy, except for the lock, which was in the shape of an "A". The guards greeted them by bowing their heads slightly. Their dragons followed suit.

“Welcome to Archlan Academy!” one of them exclaimed with a glow in her voice.

As the group walked past a dozen guards along the main path, they arrived on the grounds of a vast fort. Azéna looked at it carefully and noticed that it was more like a fort with seven towers. Six of them were along the walls. The whole thing was connected to its middle where the seventh tower loomed over the rest of the structure. It was twice as wide and high as its little sisters and at its top was a flag with the emblem of the academy. The rebel girl guessed that this had to be where the grandmaster and the other members of the staff resided. Logically, the small towers had to be the dormitory where the apprentices slept.

“Wow, that's beautiful. But... where are the classrooms?” she wondered.

As she probed more carefully at the academy, she realized that it was not just the towers and wall that made it up, but also the rooms and corridors hidden inside. Dumbfounded, she realized that her adoptive parents' palace might not be such a big labyrinth after all.

“The structure of the academy is complex,” she beamed, peering in all directions of her surroundings. “It's going to be interesting to explore everything.”

There were about a hundred people waiting for the doors of the academy to open. Parents and children were chatting, others were getting emotional. Azéna must have been the only one not waiting with her family. This realization made her slightly nauseous.

She noticed that all the apprentices had the same uniforms as her, even those who were not yet bonded to a winged partner. There were dragons of all colours, ranging from white to black going through red, green, grey, brown, and even blue. But the most beautiful one, according to her, was hers. Tyrath stood out from the crowd thanks to his amethyst-coloured eyes, which none of his fellow dragons seemed to have, and his sublime silver scales.

“Tyrath! You have finally found your partner!” remarked a man with a celestial tone.

When Azéna turned her head, she saw a familiar face. That hair and eyes...

“Vigoth?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“I assume you've met my little brother,” replied the moon elf who was riding his dragon. “My name is Terenas and this is my partner Rendar of the Nusx clan.”

Rendar was the biggest dragon the rebel girl had ever seen. He was made of pure muscle, a beast that shook the earth with every step he took. He growled and a puff of smoke floated away from his nostrils. His eyes pierced the soul of his admirers and reminded them what he really was in the wild: an alpha predator. Terenas wore an elegant outfit, surely due to his rank at the academy. He jumped down from

the huge crimson dragon and approached Azéna to shake her hand.

“Terenas Jarthen. I am the grandmaster of the Archlan Academy. I welcome you, by the way.”

“My n-name is... ehh...,” stammered the teenager, staring at him in disbelief. “Azéna Kindirah. Uh, excuse me, are you his twin, Vigoth, I mean?”

“No,” he laughed softly, releasing her hand. “Actually, I was born a decade before him. We look alike by pure chance. Still, people sometimes confuse us.”

Azéna noticed the differences between her interlocutor and her brother. Terenas' general expressions were more severe than those of his brother, who experienced life in a much more relaxed and joyful way; the same was true of his voice. His hair was combed and braided to perfection, unlike Vigoth's who was free to do as it pleased. Their beauty and their discernible charm, they were expressed in opposite facets. Wisdom was in Terenas' eyes while rebellion was in his younger brother's. Still, it would seem that the deities were watching over both of them.

The Grandmaster of Archlan smiled; a smile that shone in his benevolence.

“I suppose you have questions.”

His assumption caught the teenager off guard, but reminded her that she was indeed looking for answers.

“Why did you chain Tyrath?” she asked with a touch of dryness in her tone of voice.

“Azéna!" cut in Leith. “Be patient. He'll explain when he wants to.”

“It’s fine,” Terenas replied with the greatest of politeness. “Go ahead, Miss Kindirah.”

“How was Tyrath brought to Nothar?” asked the latter, still impatient.

“I can answer you, but if I do it now, the details will have to be sacrificed, because the ceremony will begin shortly.”

All of Azéna's attention was now focused on what her interlocutor was going to say.

“Tyrath's father and mother are feared,” he began warily, as if he was afraid someone would hear him. “They caused a lot of trouble and eventually fell in love. Of course, we couldn't stop mating between two dragons. The problem was not only their relationship, but the child they would produce. Because, you see, dragons have a strong tendency to inherit their parents' personality traits. When Tyrath hatched, his mother was absent. So, he was raised by a white dragoness who tried to show him different values as well as she could. Unfortunately for us, it proved to be difficult.”

He paused and glanced around at the other dragon riders to make sure he wasn't late, then redirected his gaze to meet Leith's and then Azéna's.

“In any case, he refused any contact with the potential new recruits. After a few years, we realized that he might have bonded with someone else during his youth, which would explain his aggressive behaviour.”

His blue eyes fixed on Azéna. The teenager felt the need to escape from his piercing gaze, but he detached it before she could react.

“Seven days earlier,” he continued, “a guard was on his morning patrol when he noticed that our young grey dragon was missing. No one saw him run away except for two-night guards who were savagely attacked by him as they tried to stop him from leaving.”

He smiled at the silver drake who was staring at him with his suspicious little eyes.

“Anyway, I must leave you. It's time for the ceremony to begin. Nice to meet you, Lady Kindirah and good luck with your training.”

The moon elf mounted Rendar. The red male glared at Tyrath, letting him know he was the dominant one here. The youngster growled and blew a breeze between his fangs in defiance. A mischievous, haughty smile played across the corner of Rendar's mouth as his rider pulled on his reins. He obeyed and flew off to perch on the walls of the academy near the main entrance.