Chapter 5 Aug 19, 2025 If Caerborn Academy believed in mercy, they sure as hell didn't show it in the trial pairings. Mira stood beneath the jagged slate board where names were scrawled in glowing ink that seemed to pulse with malicious intent. Her name flickered beside one other: Bastian Roen. She blinked once. Then again. Nope. Still there, mocking her like a cosmic joke. Behind her, someone laughed with the kind of cruel delight that made her want to commit violence. "Hope the storm prince knows how to carry dead weight." Mira didn't turn around. She was too busy fantasizing about setting her name on fire and watching it burn. "This has to be a mistake," Tessan's voice cut through the air like a blade as she stormed up the stairs to the instructors, her armor clinking with every furious step. "You're pairing him with her? Are you actively trying to get him killed?" The headmaster raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Mr. Roen is quite capable of handling himself, Miss Vale." "She'll drag him down!" Tessan's voice pitched higher, desperation creeping in. "She barely survived one combat round last week without falling on her face!" "She bonded," another instructor replied with the emotional range of a funeral director. "That earns her place here. The pairing stands." Tessan whirled toward Bastian, her eyes blazing with the kind of fury that usually preceded someone getting their face rearranged. "Bastian, tell them this is insane!" He didn't even look at her. Just shrugged with infuriating casualness. "It's fine." Mira gave him a look that could have melted steel. "That's literally the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He finally glanced her way, and his mouth twitched-but it definitely wasn't a smile. More like he was suppressing the urge to say something that would get him expelled. "You'll slow me down." She stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of silver in his storm-gray eyes. "Then die faster." The silence that followed was so thick you could have cut it with a sword and served it for dinner. "Charming," he muttered, but there was something almost like amusement in his voice. "You started it." "Did I?" "You looked in my direction. That was enough." Mira didn't know what the instructors were thinking. Maybe they believed throwing her at Bastian Roen would break one of them. Joke was on them-she'd already cracked in places they couldn't see. And him? He hadn't even noticed. Hadn't said a word since their pairing was announced. Hadn't looked at her. Not really. But Mira had caught the twitch of his brow, the way his mouth thinned just slightly when her name was called. Mira stared into the shadows and thought, Great. Now I get to be ignored to death in a tomb full of dragon bones. Their task was deceptively simple: survive three days, collect three dragon-marked tokens, and return with all limbs attached. No magic outside of their dragons. No communication outside their bond. No crying when things inevitably went to shit. Liorith growled the moment Bastian stepped within her personal space, her silver scales rippling with heat like molten metal. "Does it do that often?" Bastian asked, not even having the decency to flinch. "She," Mira corrected with icy precision. "Fine. Does she snarl at everyone, or am I special?" "Just the arrogant assholes." He looked at the dragon with something that might have been respect. "Fair enough." Mira crossed her arms. "She has excellent taste." "Unlike her rider." "Fuck you too." The entrance hissed open behind them-a gaping maw of bones and shadow that looked like it led straight to hell's waiting room. Mira stepped through first, because she'd rather be lost than follow his insufferably perfect lead. The maze swallowed them whole like they were nothing more than midnight snacks. The first few hours were nothing but sharp turns, narrow walls carved from what looked like ancient ribcages, and eerie silence that made every footstep sound like thunder. Their boots echoed off bone walls that seemed to pulse with their own malevolent heartbeat. Liorith led the way, her tail flicking in irritation every time Bastian got too close to her personal bubble. "Does she ever walk in a straight line?" he muttered after the fifth unnecessary detour. "She's mapping the territory. Something your storm-skulled lizard clearly never taught you." "Vharok doesn't need to map. He memorizes everything the first time." "Oh, fantastic. A dragon that's exactly like his rider-all instinct, no patience, probably thinks he's too good for basic strategy." "At least he doesn't throw tantrums every five minutes." "That's not a tantrum, that's called having standards." They climbed over a ledge of jagged vertebrae that looked like they belonged to something that had died badly. Bastian moved first, fluid and confident like he'd been born climbing ancient bones. Mira followed more carefully, testing each handhold, until her boot slipped on a patch of loose calcium and she nearly plummeted into the darkness below. A hand caught her elbow, strong and steady. She yanked her arm back like he'd burned her. "I'm fine." "I could see that," he said, voice dry as desert sand. "I didn't ask for your help." "Clearly. You were handling that fall with remarkable grace." "Shut up." "Make me." They didn't speak for an hour after that, but the silence felt different. Less hostile. More like two predators who'd agreed to a temporary ceasefire. When they finally stopped to rest, Mira knelt beside a wall etched with claw marks that looked fresh enough to be bleeding. "Something's close. Something big." "You sure about that?" She shot him a look that could have killed smaller men. "Don't question the dragon girl, pretty boy." He scanned the shadows with the focused intensity of a hunting cat. "It's your name on the death scroll if you get us eaten." "Lucky fucking me." By nightfall, the sky above the cracks in the ceiling turned black as spilled ink. The maze grew colder, bones seeming to leach warmth from the air itself. Liorith huffed steam that looked like dragon breath in the frigid air. The first token was embedded in the ribcage of a half-collapsed skeleton that had probably been impressive when it was alive. Mira moved to retrieve it, but a low rumble stopped her dead. Something moved beyond the wall. Something that sounded like death dragging its feet. Bastian's blade appeared in his hand like magic. "Don't touch it yet." "What is it?" "Bonebeast. They guard the tokens." "Naturally. Because this wasn't hard enough already." "Left side?" He nodded once, jaw tight with concentration. The beast struck like lightning made of claws and fury-a blur of decaying muscle and rage that had been festering in the dark for who knew how long. Mira ducked as it lunged, feeling the wind from its claws ruffle her hair. Bastian blocked the first swipe with his blade, sparks flying, but the second caught his side and tore through fabric and flesh like paper. Blood sprayed across the bone walls. He hissed through gritted teeth. "Keep it distracted!" Mira yelled, circling wide around the creature's blind spot. Bastian staggered back, blade slicing upward in a desperate arc. "I'm fucking trying!" "You're bleeding everywhere!" "Really helpful observation, thanks!" "Just don't die on me, storm prince!" "Wasn't planning on it!" Mira leaped onto a jutting shoulder bone and drove her sword down into the creature's neck with everything she had. Liorith roared behind her, flames licking the air. The beast shrieked-a sound like metal tearing-then collapsed in a heap of bone and rotting flesh. Silence fell like a curtain. Bastian leaned against the wall, panting hard. His shirt was soaked crimson, clinging to his chest like a second skin. "You good?" Mira asked, breathless and covered in things she didn't want to identify. "Peachy," he said through teeth clenched so tight they might crack. She retrieved the token-warm and pulsing with ancient magic-and held it up like a trophy. "One down, two to go." He looked at her then, really looked, his brows furrowed like he was seeing something unexpected. "What?" "You didn't hesitate," he said slowly, like the words surprised him. She glanced at the fallen creature, already starting to decay faster in death. "Should I have?" "No," he said, even slower. "It's just... your dragon hates me almost as much as you do." Mira's eyes flashed with something dangerous. "She's not wrong."