Chapter 11 Aug 19, 2025 There were trust exercises, and then there was this. Mira stood at the edge of the launch platform, blindfold in one hand, fate in the other. Below, clouds churned over jagged cliffs, wind snapping at her braid like it had something to say. She stared at the instructor like they'd grown two heads. "Let me get this straight," she said, voice flat. "I'm supposed to ride a dragon I don't know-blindfolded-while taking orders from someone who thinks emotions are contagious?" The instructor didn't blink. "Correct." Bastian already had his blindfold tied. Of course he did. He stood like a statue, arms crossed, face unreadable. His war-drake, Vharok, paced behind him, eyes slitted, muscles coiled tight. "I'm riding that?" Mira asked, nodding at the snarl-on-legs. "You are," the instructor confirmed. "Roen will ride yours." Mira squinted. "Liorith doesn't even let people stand near her." "She will today." "She's not subtle when she hates someone." "That's the point of the trial." Mira tied the blindfold tighter than necessary. As she stepped toward Vharok, his growl rose low and warning. His body radiated heat, but there was no welcome in it. Only tension. "Don't like me? Great," she muttered. "We're off to a perfect start." "Stop antagonizing him," Bastian snapped. She tilted her head toward his voice. "You planning on defending his honor now?" "Just don't make this worse." "I'm not the one that smells like ego." Vharok snarled louder. "Be nice," Bastian warned again. "To who? You or him?" "Both." Liorith landed nearby, silver wings gleaming, tail dragging a line through the dust. She nudged Mira once before turning to Bastian, eyes narrowed like a threat. "You're riding her without a bruise count?" Mira asked. "She'll listen," Bastian replied, stepping toward her dragon like he owned the ground. "She might burn you just to make a point." With a huff, Mira mounted Vharok's saddle. His scales shifted like armor plates under her legs. She adjusted the straps, every motion stiff with distrust. Across from her, Bastian climbed onto Liorith like she was already his. Mira gritted her teeth. "You ready?" he called. "No." "Too late." The whistle blew. The dragons launched. Wind punched her chest, tore through her braid, filled her ears with a roar louder than her thoughts. Mira gripped the reins hard enough to ache. Vharok flew like a blade - sharp, fast, merciless. "Lean left," Bastian's voice cut through the wind. "He drifts right in open air." "You couldn't have told me that before takeoff?" "Trust me." "Trust you?" "Just do it." Mira shifted. The dragon steadied, barely. Every movement was a gamble, every order a risk. She hated how loud his voice sounded in her head. How much her body listened to it anyway. "Steady now. Turn coming." "I know!" "Clearly not, you're tilting too much-" "Say thank you when I survive." "You're welcome." They banked through the tunnel, shadows spinning around them. Mira's blindfold rubbed her cheek raw. She couldn't see. Could barely hear. But she felt everything - the air, the pull of the dragon beneath her, and him. Always him. "Hard right! Brace-" The wind slammed into her side. Her grip slipped. Mira shouted, legs swinging, panic flaring in her chest. "Hold on!" Bastian roared. Too late. She was falling- And then his hand caught her waist. Firm, hot, real. "You okay?" he yelled. "Do I sound okay?" "You're alive." "Shocking." He didn't let go immediately. His arm stayed around her, anchoring her against the saddle. Her chest rose and fell against him. For a second, the wind didn't matter. Just the feel of him. Just his voice. "You can let go now," she said. "I could," he muttered, but didn't move. She laughed, breathless. "Didn't know you had panic in your vocabulary." "Don't get used to it." "I won't." But the smile tugging at her mouth lingered anyway. They flew like that - awkward, close, rattled - until the course finally curved back toward the platform. Mira gave every command with clenched teeth. Bastian responded with clipped orders. Their dragons moved with precision neither of them wanted to acknowledge. "Almost there," he said. "Say that like it's a relief." "Landing might kill you." "How comforting." They hit the ground rough. Vharok skidded, claws sparking against stone. Liorith landed smoother, wings folding back with a hiss. Mira yanked her blindfold off, heart pounding. Her cheeks were flushed, not from cold. She caught Bastian doing the same. Their eyes met. Something passed between them. Too fast. Too warm. Too dangerous. Neither said a word. Above, Tessan leaned against the balcony railing.