Day 41 of the Suns season, year 2447

“Hey, now! You can’t make decisions like that without my consent!” yapped the Kindirah girl. “Tyrath, destroy that wall then!”

“There’s no time, girl!” insisted Leith. “Save yourself, at the very least.”

But it was not her who needed saving; it was the rest of the group.

The soldiers were fast approaching. The clanking of their armour could be heard clearly.

Azéna was expecting the silver dragon to listen to Leith. She refused to leave her and Fayne at the mercy of whatever her father would decide, but she also knew that if her and Tyrath wished to leave, it was now or never.

There had to be another way.

The silver dragon let out a deafening roar, breathed a cone of fierce wind and charged. As his body slammed against the pale wall, the previously damaged stone cracked significantly.

“Tyrath!” yelped Azéna, worried.

The wall was thrice Tyrath’s height. It was likely that he would hurt himself if he continued.

“Stop!”

Leith extended her arms toward the wall and a golden beam of energy shot from her palms. Simultaneously, the young dragon repeated his measures with even more savagery. This time, he rammed through it all, creating a hole. Stones tumbled down. The newly formed arc collapsed, too weak to stand on its own.

After the cloud of dust dissipated, Tyrath could be seen standing proudly on the other side. He was surrounded by dirt roads, farms and green hills rolling to a faraway forest of yellow, orange and red. The undergrowth was blanketed by delicate white flowers. Woodruff.

Azéna watched the scene unfold in disbelief. What had just happened?

“To the Red Woods!” commanded Leith, already rushing to the crudely formed exit.

As she passed by, she grabbed Fayne by the shoulder and beckoned her. Wide-eyed, the redhead squeezed her Bleurètte pendant and held back a grimace. To Azéna’s relief, she followed suit.

“I’ll figure this out,” promised the Kindirah lady. “Don’t think too much. Just come with us for now.”

Her confident smile seemed to have soothed her friend successfully. They rushed out of the cemetery to the Greater Nothar. Quite a few citizens, mainly working the fields, stopped to stare at the scene with confusion and fear. Some screamed and ran for their lives. Others hesitated but remained armed up with pitchforks and hammers.

“Dragon!” a farmer yelled as a war cry.

Those with courage jabbed their weapons toward the scaled creature who hissed at them. As long as they kept their distance, nobody would get hurt.

“Shit, shit, shit,” growled Azéna, feeling surrounded.

Leith took the lead. When she passed by Tyrath, she paused and pointed at him.

“You need to be more careful, little rascal,” she snapped. “You could have been killed. You don’t understand the savagery of this world. You listen to your mother!”

Azéna could not believe her eyes. In front of her was an old lady scolding a dragon. She blinked a few times to make sure she hadn't gone insane.

The dragon pouted and then bared his teeth slightly. With a playful growl, he leaped beside Azéna. He gave her a friendly nudge with his muzzle and positioned himself defensively, watching the armed farmers. Half of them ran off.

Leith smiled, satisfied. However, a semblance of sadness washed over this happiness.

“He’s already very attached to you,” she said. “I’m glad.”

That statement confused Azéna, but she did not have the time to question it. The clanking of armour resumed, and the remaining farmers let out a sigh of relief. As such, Leith turned her attention behind her companions. Her face hardened with sombre intentions.

The soldiers were closing in.

“Halt!” one of them thundered. “In the name of Lord Kindirah and the High King, you are all under arrest!”

His gaze levelled with the farmers who were on a cultivated hillock snaked by a beaten road.

“You help us capture these dangerous fugitives!”

The biggest man amongst the farmers took a step forward and bowed his head slightly.

“Men!” he thundered, rallying the other male workers at his side.

They moved as a unit, weapons turned toward Tyrath. As soon as the dragon locked his predatory gaze upon them, some of them fled, leaving only a dozen. Another two dropped to their knees, begging Elysia for her protection.

The big guy did not flinch. Skin beaten red by the twin suns, he rushed, hammer up, to the winged creature. He simply had no care. The City Guard came to his side and also struck, his sword in hand.

 “Die, you thieving beast!”

The dragon, seemingly insulted, shook his snout. He snapped his jaws on the soldier’s arm, stopping the sword in its track. The metal bent and the bone cracked. The man yelped in horror, desperately trying to pull his arm free. His grip loosened up, letting the weapon fall and clatter on the ground.

Meanwhile, the big farmer had turned tail and ran with the rest of his companions.

Azéna and Fayne stared in complete shock. They had seen some gore, but nothing like this. The redhead took a few steps backwards, trembling at the sight of Tyrath who was ripping the soldier’s arm off like a dog with a bone.

“Piece of shit monster!” spat vehemently the dying soldier. “You’ll never destroy our sacred lands!”

He lay in his spreading pool of blood, glaring at his killer.

“Kill it, my brothers!” he thundered. “For Daigorn! For the White

Mother!”

The dozens of soldiers who had gathered clamoured their approval. They all charged at the dragon with the strange purple eyes, determined to eliminate it. A few archers knocked an arrow to their bow.

This was bad.

“Fly her out of here, Tyrath!” yelled Leith.

The young dragon stood his ground and tensed his muscles as if he was working at something that required much focus. All the nearby wind currents flocked to him, forming a tornado that was swirling around him. His attackers were all brutally knocked back.

Everybody gaped at him as if he was a divinity. He certainly looked liked one.

“That’s Noktow’s power!” roared a farmer. “How dare you steal it, you savage beast!? Defiler!”

“Yah!” encouraged many others.

Tyrath beckoned his companions to him while he started to slowly cross the fields, destroying everything in his wake. Nobody dared approach him and the arrows were lost in the insane winds.

Azéna, Fayne, Leith and Shirah all stayed in front of him, away from the guards who kept being pushed back by the moving tornado controlled by Tyrath.

“We’ll be safe in the forest, right?” asked Azéna.

“I couldn’t answer you,” admitted Leith. “It will depend on how aggressive our pursuers are.”

“These poor farmers,” said Fayne with regret. “I’ve let them down.”

The lowborn folks had a greater sense of community. They helped and supported each other in hard times. It was crudely seen to damage another’s labours.

“M-my apologies, Fayne,” whispered Azéna, blushing of shame and anger.

When she felt too vulnerable, she would revert to how she behaved with her parents, including how she was expected to talk.

“Uh… I mean, I’m sorry.”

The herbalist winced and avoided her gaze. She was uncomfortable with the dragon and running away, but she knew she did not have a choice.

For that, Azéna felt burdened.

They ran until their pursuers abandoned the chase. Too much damage had been caused by the tornado and Tyrath. The soldiers had been called back by their Lord. That made Azéna’s heart sink even though she hated him. He was still her Father and she wanted him to be proud. She simply would never admit it.

At this point, the fugitives were nearing the Red Woods. It was a strange forest that seemed to be stuck in an eternal autumn and it was where children would venture if they felt bold. Azéna certainly would and dragged Fayne along. They never found anything dangerous in there. To that day, she had no idea why parents would not let them go.

Since they were no longer pursued, Tyrath had stopped controlling the tornado which caused it to dissipate. The farmers had returned to their stead to begin repairs. They had all shrunk in size, hugging the golden horizon.

Leith was attempting to educate Azéna who was anxiously glancing at her childhood friend.

“Dragons always have long, complicated names that are almost impossible for us to pronounce,” she explained, still leading. “Often, for the sake of simplicity, we use the first two syllables as a first name.”

Azéna felt herself shook as she shifted her focus.

“So…?”

“His name is Tyrathralent. They combine their first names with their clan's name, which forms their full names. Some dragons hate for them to be separated, especially wild dragons. It's a familiarity that can quickly become an affront if the dragon doesn't deem us worthy of the privilege.”

“So, his clan name is Ralent?”

“Yes.”

“Tyrathralent,” she repeated proudly. “Nice to meet you.”

Tyrath gracefully arched his muscular neck like a horse. Azéna was not sure how to react. Leith smiled at them and explained:

“This is the polite greeting among dragons.”

“He can't talk, right?”

“He’ll learn in due time.”

“Does he-”

She paused as Tyrath looked behind him and snarled. Both Fayne and Shirah let out a cry of surprise and took a few steps back, terrified of the apex predator.

“It's okay,” said Azéna softly. “He won't hurt you.”

She was not sure how truthful her own words were, but she had a feeling Tyrath would respect her boundaries.

“He's a dragon,” Fayne reminded her. “How can you trust him?”

“It's fairly hard to explain. Don't worry, though. Have a little faith in me. They're more than just animals!”

Tyrath flickered his intelligent eyes from one girl to the next, finally stopping on Shirah. Azéna had to stroke the troxx’s neck for her to stay put.

“Show respect,” advised Leith, watching the scene. “Dragons are very proud, as they should be.”

Fayne nodded and lowered her nervous gaze, probably trying to hide her fear. She was clutching her flower pendant. Tyrath relaxed and continued his way, sniffing as he went.

“Ask him to come closer,” said Leith. “He might introduce himself to her.”

“Tyrath,” called the Kindirah, hopeful.

She motioned for him to come to her, but he did not respond. He continued to stare at the sky, watching a flock of birds with the interest of a child at a new toy. With a low growl, he tried to coo like the birds.

“Tyrath!” exclaimed Azéna, trying desperately to get his attention.

The dragon wagged his tail and started chattering as a cat would do.

“He's a real barrel of laughs,” Fayne said, giggling softly.

Tyrath chased one of the birds down playfully. It was hard to know if he was going to be violent with it, but he kept his distance. In any case, nobody could stop him.

Fayne smiled, a smile that brought tingles in Azéna’s belly. If her friend happy, she was also. Alas, that did not last for the redhead’s face darkened.

“Since you’ll leave... where will you go?”

Azéna had no destination in mind, but Leith did talk about a place. She was not sure if she wanted to go there, but Tyrath seemed to be comfortable with it. As long as it was not Nothar. They would figure out the rest later. Plus, she had never seen an academy. She was intrigued.

“Huh… To this academy, apparently?”

“To the Archlan Academy,” the elder woman specified.

“What and where is that place?” asked Fayne.

“It’s in Atgoren, the city of Dragons & Riders. It lies in the kingdom of Dètmor.”

Fayne let out a squeak of horror, for the Red kingdom was known to be treacherous and on the radial side of things. Azéna did not like it one bit either. She also did not completely trust this Leith character, but she wanted to become a great dragon rider and this academy was the only place she knew about where she could receive education on the matter.

“Pardon my preconceived opinion but is that a good idea?” asked the herbalist humbly.

“Do not worry, fair lady,” reassured Leith. “Atgoren is within Dètmor, but it is independent. It was built there for the location, nothing more. The Dètmorians don’t meddle in Atgoren’s affairs for they know better. You would be a fool to incur the wrath of a dragon, even more so a colony of them.”

She paused to ascend a grassy hill, using her staff to stabilize her steps. At the top, she grazed a lonely apple tree with her hand as she passed by it. She gathered a few of the fruits and placed them in her leather bag. Azéna and Fayne enjoyed a juicy snack, unsure of when their next one would be.

“I’m essentially bringing Azéna to a school run by an order of dragon riders,” continued Leith. “There, they will guide her until she becomes an accomplished warrior.”

“I'm going to be a dragon rider!” exclaimed the rebel girl, her silver mane dancing gracefully in the breezes.

“A Guardian of Aerinda, my dear,” corrected the elder with a smile. “You already are a dragon rider. Tyrath chose you.”

“He chose me?”

“Indeed. You two are bonded now. By so, his ability to control wind is also yours to master.”

She paused to look at the youngster whose gaze was sparkling with joy.

“Remember, this is not a game. You'll both have to work together if you want to survive.”

Azéna did not feel threatened. She was a Kindirah, after all. All she cared about was her bond with this majestic being.

Tyrath slowed his pace to hover over the group. He didn't seem concerned with Leith and Azéna's discussion. His eyes half closed, drool dripped from his mouth, which was not completely closed because his dominant canines were too long to allow it. The slime dribbled next to Fayne, who squeaked in fear.

When Azéna looked over, she saw her friend who was white as a sheet and stiff as a metal bar.

“Are you all right?”

“It's nothing. He almost drooled on me.”

“He's hungry,” Leith assumed. “A dragon that age eats a lot, because he's growing rapidly.”

“Will he get much bigger?”

“Of course, he will. Tyrath is only at the very beginning of his life. He’s going through his second stage of life. During that time, a dragon is called a drake. It’s kind of the equivalent of childhood and adolescence for us.”

Fayne's eyes widened as her jaw dropped.

“Why do you know so much about dragons?!” exploded Azéna who could no longer contain herself.

This sudden display of rage caught Tyrath's attention. He stared at the scene, careful not to miss any details.

“I used to work at the Archlan Academy,” Leith replied, her gaze unnaturally impassive as if she was trying to hide something.

“So, you're a dragon rider,” the rebel asserted with a fierceness seemed to please Tyrath.

“I am not bonded with any dragon. I was a healer.”

“Is that how you know Tyrath’s name?” Azéna murmured warily.

As soon as Leith nodded, she raised her tone of voice.

“By the way, what was that golden energy coming out of your palms? Remember, when you helped Tyrath blow up the wall?”

“I can control the element of light, though my power is far from being at the level of a dragon rider’s. As you’ve seen, a concentrated beam can be powerful if you master it well.”

“Hmph.”

She met Fayne's eyes, which seemed as concerned as she was.

Tyrath landed on the ground to walk beside his partner. Leith took the lead again. Meanwhile, Fayne and Shirah closed the march, uncomfortable with being so close to the drake.

Azéna wanted a better explanation from Leith. Something here was amiss. Squinting, she stared at her suspiciously.

“Is there a question you wish to ask me?” asked Leith softly.

The silver-haired teenager, as proud and stubborn as her dragon, didn't reply and averted her gaze to the Red Woods that peaked beyond one last hill.

“I used to play in the Red Woods as a child,” Leith said, her face lighting up briefly.

She was most likely trying to lighten the mood. Azéna didn’t feel like replying to her, so she let Fayne take over the conversation.

The group entered the Red Woods’s dense undergrowth. Most of the trees were deciduous. Their leaves were brightly coloured, ranging from ruby to pale gold, with red being more common. Some were already falling, heralding the beginning of autumn. In the spring, they would grow again, resplendent in their warm hues. Growing around them, patches of white woodruff gave the forest even more beauty.

“How far is the academy?” asked Fayne.

“About five days walk from here,” replied Leith. “We'll have to hurry. A new cycle of training starts soon. Hopefully, we'll get there in time.”

“Fayne!” exclaimed Azéna as if she had just had a brilliant idea she wanted to share with her.

She turned to her friend as she continued walking.

“Fayne, how did you get to the cemetery so quickly?”

“A brave guard held up the others,” the herbalist replied. “He claimed that Leith was a legend and should not be killed.”

“Kardun,” murmured the old woman sadly. “I hope with all my being that he has not been punished.”

“Do you know him?”

“Since he was a baby. I used to take care of him while his parents worked in exchange for a few coins.”

“Leith was young once,” Azéna smiled with slight mockery, not thinking.

Fayne glared at her.

“Err... sorry,” said the dragon rider. “I was just kidding.”

“It doesn't matter,” Leith replied with a smile. “Every creature gets old eventually.”

“Even elves?”

“Yes, although the process is much slower. Dragons have the longest life spans of all.”

Tyrath looked at a small group of deer that was passing by. He sniffed the air, purring, and took off.

“Where is he going?” asked Azéna.

“Probably hunting,” Leith guessed. “Dragons do what they want. Nobody has any rights on them.”

“Why me? Why did Tyrath choose me?”

Leith seemed to lose herself in her memories for a moment.

“It's a mysterious process that is highly debated. Some say that it’s the dragon rider's personality that inspires his dragon to choose him, while others say that it’s a natural choice, without explanation. Others go so far as to say that it’s a connection between the core values of both.”

“Values? What exactly do you mean?”

“The values that guide most of your choices without you realizing it. But we are influenced by multiple external factors that change who we are. Dragons are able to understand who we are with a simple look if they put their mind to it.”

“So, he chose me, whatever the reason may be.”

“In short. I don't know everything about this subject; you'll have to ask Eldarytzan, the master who will teach you about draconic psychology. However, I can see that you two share a similar personality.”

Azéna felt herself blushing in spite of herself. The pieces of the puzzle were almost all there.

“What was Tyrath doing in Nothar? How did he know I lived there?”

“I’m afraid I don't know.”

A ferocious roar echoed through the forest and the drake landed beside Leith. He snorted anxiously and pointed his index finger to the sky. The group followed his movement. A silhouette stained the pure white of the clouds.

“What is it?” asked the Kindirah, squinting.

She made out a pair of slowly beating dark wings.

“A dragon,” Leith replied sternly. “And it's stalking us.”