The suppression array hummed like an angry horn, its crushing weight still pinning Eryx's boots to the shattered floor. Sweat mixed with dust slowly dripped off his jaw, but his eyes never left Darius, who lay curled on his side, wheezing bloody foam into the scorched sand.For a moment, the arena seemed to hold its breath. The air felt thick with heat, dust, and the sharp metallic smell of blood, while the remains of the damaged ring lay scattered around their feet. Nothing about the scene looked like the clean ending of an exhibition match. It looked completely broken, unsettled, and far more dangerous than before.Up on the high balcony, the Head Elder leaned over his iron staff, his face drawn tight into a cold mask. He looked out at the high-house lords in the upper tiers, then cleared his throat, his voice projected across the arena by spirit-amplifiers."Due to dangerous ring damage and uncontrolled beast interference, the council declares this exhibition match a draw," the Hea

The chamber sat high above the cloud line in the crest of the Central Spire, where no student, noble, or elder was ever permitted to set foot. There were no decorative banners here, no polished marble, and no sunlight. Only bare obsidian walls and a massive, circular brass scrying glass floating in the center of the dark room.High Overseer Kael stood before the glass, his long leather coat dusted with dry arena grit.On the shimmering surface of the lens, the footage of the pit replayed in silent, crystal-clear motion. It showed the exact second Darius’s white spirit-fire washed over Drogo.It captured the way the shadow dragon's dark scales hadn't scorched, cracked, or peeled, but had instead pulled the liquid light straight into its skin, turning the heat into raw, dense weight.Kael leaned forward, his gloved fingers gripping the copper rim of the scrying desk. His breath came out slow, his hands, usually as steady as forged iron, trembled slightly against the metal."Rewind the c

The wooden door hadn't even been repaired from the morning raid. It hung crooked on a single twisted iron hinge, groaning softly as the wind from the lower grid blew through the gap.BANG!A gauntleted fist struck the wood, throwing the door off its frame. It crashed onto the floorboards with a splintering thud, kicking up a cloud of stale hearth ash into the narrow living room.Clara didn't even look up from the small wooden table where she was chopping turnip roots with a paring knife. She slammed the knife down into the cutting board."Again?" Clara shouted, her voice raspy with raw, bitter rage as she turned to face the doorway. "How many times are you going to send your boots through my home? I gave you my answers three hours ago! I have no silver! I have no secret letters!"Six crimson-cloaked officials pushed their way into the cramped apartment, their heavy iron boots tracking wet mud across the floorboards. Behind them walked the same pale investigator, his grey scribe coat b

The mist hung low over the narrow stone ravine as twelve grey-plated war riders hovered above the tree line on heavy-winged marsh drakes, their long dragon-killer spears dripping with spirit-dampening oil. Their saddles creaked in the wind, brass spyglasses scanning the dark canopy below.They expected a stray to flee. They expected a wounded boy dragging a broken leg through the mud, hiding under rotting logs like a rat in a gutter.They did not expect the shadow to stand its ground.Eryx stood at the mouth of the narrow canyon, his back pressed against the jagged granite wall. He looked up at the sky through the gaps in the branches, his hand tight around the grip of his broadsword. The canyon was a narrow choke point—a natural funnel he remembered from the old terrain charts back in the tactical archives. Flying six abreast was impossible here. They would have to drop into the gap two by two."Lira," Eryx rasped, "Take the ground hounds. Anyone who tries to circle around the ravine

The air in the Valley of the White Ribs tasted of sour tin and calcium.It was a vast, sunken basin nearly three miles wide, hidden beneath a permanent blanket of sickly yellow fog where the academy’s high scouts never dared to fly. On the official Vanguard charts, the entire area had been marked in flat, grey ink, with a single warning stamped across its borders: DEAD GROUND: NO DRAGON FLIGHT.Eryx walked at the head of the narrow path, his dark linen trousers shredded at the hem and his bare torso covered in black, crusted blood scabs. Every step stirred a little bone dust beneath his boots. Behind him, Drogo followed with his massive obsidian scales clicking like iron plates. Three paces farther back, the second dragon glided silently across the black soil. It was an eight-foot silhouette made of pure, living shadow, mirroring Drogo’s every movement.Lira kept five paces between herself and Eryx. Her hand never strayed far from her dagger, and her dark eyes kept flicking toward t