Chapter 21 Aug 18, 2025 The sunrise didn't come with birdsong. It came with silence - thick and expectant, like the mountain itself was holding its breath. Then it hit. Not sound, not light. A pulse. Deep and ancient, like the stone beneath their beds was whispering now . Mira sat up straight, heart hammering. The Horn of Reckoning. Skybrand was coming. Liorith stirred in her chest before she even reached the window. The silver dragon's magic rippled through the bond like static. Mira didn't need to ask if Bastian felt it too. She already knew. Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Someone was yelling names. Doors slammed. Caerborn had been built on trials, but none like this. This one wasn't earned through points or praise. This one was elemental. "Mira Solvain," a voice barked from outside her door. "To the Inner Sanctum. Now." She dressed fast - not for battle, but for ceremony. Tight black gear, sleeves rolled to her elbows. No cloak. No hiding. Outside, the air felt different. Charged. As if even the wind recognized the day. Bastian waited for her at the stone path that wound down to the Sanctum. His jaw was clenched. Vharok prowled behind him, shadow and flame on four legs. Liorith flew overhead, silent as silver fire. The Sanctum was carved into the side of the oldest cliff - older than the towers, older than the academy itself. The door wasn't a door, not really. Just an arch of raw, glowing runes that pulsed in time with Mira's heartbeat. They entered. Inside, the chamber was round, hollowed from obsidian and veined with molten light. The forge burned at the center, iron brands lined like weapons on a wall. Everything smelled like heat and permanence. "Initiates," said the Warden standing beside the forge. "Kneel." Mira lowered herself beside Bastian, her knees brushing the stone. She didn't look at him. His presence burned as steady as the flame. One by one, the brands were lifted. Runes glowed with dragonfire - not drawn, but summoned, pulled from the bond between rider and beast. Mira felt Liorith in her lungs, in her veins. Her magic surged. The iron touched Bastian's wrist first. No sound. His rune appeared like it had always been there - sharp, perfect, in sync with Vharok's roar beyond the cliff. Then came hers. The heat hit her skin like truth - fast, blinding, alive. She gasped, just barely, and swallowed the rest. She wouldn't show weakness. Not now. The rune curled around her wrist in silver and blue, pulsing once in time with Liorith's breath. She looked up - only then. That's when she saw Tessan. She stood at the edge of the chamber, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Her wrist was already marked. Her dragon - a sleek, pale gold beast with sharp eyes and sharper ego - lounged at her side like royalty. Word had already spread: Tessan hadn't waited after the official selection. She'd made an offer-gold, favors, something no one would name out loud-and suddenly a dragon that should've been out of her reach had accepted her. No one could prove it, but everyone knew. She didn't earn it. She bought it. And the dragon didn't seem to mind. "Didn't think they let sympathy cases through," Tessan hissed, her voice low but loud enough to slice through stone. Mira's fingers curled into fists. Bastian turned, slow and deliberate. His eyes darkened, but he said nothing. The Warden didn't react. The forge burned on. "Rise," came the command. Mira stood. The rune on her wrist glowed in sync with Bastian's. Their pulses matched. Their dragons watched from the cliffs above. Magic vibrated between their chests like a chord struck by fate. But Tessan wasn't done. She stepped forward, slow and smug, her dragon's tail curling behind her like a living ribbon. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. Her voice dripped sugar, sharp and bright. "You think that mark means you belong here?" she said, circling Mira like a vulture. "It just means you're next to die." Mira didn't answer. Her shoulders stayed square, chin lifted. But she could feel the sting. Not in her skin - in her memory. Of every time someone like Tessan told her she wasn't enough. Too soft. Too slow. Too much. Bastian stepped closer. "Watch your mouth." "Oh, please," Tessan laughed. "Did I touch a nerve?" He didn't move, but his wrist blazed hotter. The Warden raised a brow, then turned away, as if conflict was just another part of the rite. Tessan leaned in close to Mira, so close her breath touched Mira's ear. Her voice fell to a whisper sharp enough to draw blood. "You'll crash before you ever get off the ground."