Chapter 18 THREAT OF A STORM
LYRA
“You,” she called out, voice loud and clear, laced with mock sweetness. “The new girl with the dragon fruit hair. Lyra Voss, isn’t it? Come forward. Show the class what a rider worthy of Tempest can do."
My heart slammed against my ribs. Heat crept up my neck, turning my cheeks warm. Dragon fruit? The nickname stung, childish and cutting, especially in front of everyone. I swallowed hard, feeling every eye on me.
My only physical training had been sneaking out at night to climb the outer walls just to watch the older riders practice, scrabbling up stone with scraped hands and racing home before Mother noticed. That was nothing compared to this.
Yvaine stepped slightly forward, voice steady but concerned. “Calista, she just bonded yesterday. Maybe give her a day to—”
Ser Thorian raised a hand, cutting her off calmly. “Let her try. The class can learn from the corrections we make on Lyra. Real growth comes from seeing mistakes turned into lessons.”
Great. Now I was the example. Fantastic.
I stepped out onto the field, legs feeling wooden. The balance beam looked impossibly narrow and high up close. The lunges and squats that had looked graceful on Calista now seemed designed to expose every weakness.
My violet curls framed my face, the loose strands brushing my cheeks as I took a deep breath.
Calista crossed her arms, a smug smile playing on her lips. “No new ordinary rider is worthy of riding a storm dragon like Tempest. Show us, Voss. Prove you belong up there.”
I swallowed again, throat dry. The class watched in expectant silence. Ser Thorian observed with steady, unreadable eyes. I could feel Tempest’s faint presence in the back of my mind, curious and supportive, but not interfering.
I started the drill.
The first few steps on the beam were shaky. My arms windmilled for balance, boots scraping against the wood. I made it halfway before my foot slipped. I caught myself, heart hammering, and continued.
The squats came next, deeper than I expected, my muscles protesting from yesterday’s flight. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My braid swung with each movement, violet curls sticking to my damp skin.
Calista watched with narrowed eyes, her teeth grinding together in visible frustration as I pushed through. She had clearly expected me to fail spectacularly from the start.
Toward the end of the sequence, my legs gave out. I lost my footing completely on the final lunge, tumbling hard onto the packed earth. Pain shot through my hip and elbow as I hit the ground. I winced, breath catching, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else for a moment.
Then thunder rumbled overhead, angry, low, and sudden. Wind whipped across the training grounds, kicking up dust and scattering loose leaves. The sky, moments ago clear, darkened with fast-moving clouds.
Ser Thorian’s head snapped toward me. “Lyra. Calm down. Control it.”
I pushed myself to sit on one arm, staring at the sky in shock. “Was that… me?”
The words came out small, disbelieving. I expected laughter. Snickers. Whispers about the girl who couldn’t even finish a simple ground drill without causing a scene.
But no one laughed.
Instead, the class stared in stunned silence. Calista’s smug expression had twisted into something tighter, anger mixed with reluctant surprise.
Cassius appeared at my side almost instantly, crouching down and offering a strong hand. His touch was warm, steady. “Easy there. Up you go.”
I took his hand gratefully, letting him pull me to my feet. My hip throbbed, but the pain was secondary to the embarrassment and the strange power still crackling in the air.
“You did better than most on their first try,” Cassius said, voice calm and encouraging, loud enough for the class to hear. “Bravery counts for a lot. And controlling the weather already? That’s not nothing. Tempest’s power is bleeding through, means your bond is strong.”
He didn’t let go of my hand immediately. Instead, he guided me through a simple breathing exercisez slow inhales, longer exhales, focusing on the rhythm. “Breathe with the storm, not against it. In… hold… out. Feel the wind settle.”
I followed his lead, eyes closed for a moment. The thunder quieted to a distant grumble. The wind died down, clouds beginning to part.
When I opened my eyes, the sky was clearing again.
Cassius gave me a small, genuine smile. “There. Better.”
The whole class was still staring. Whispers started, but they weren’t mocking, they were awed. My face burned hot, violet curls framing cheeks that felt like they were on fire. I wanted to sink into the ground.
Yvaine rushed over, squeezing my shoulder. “You okay? That was intense.”
Ser Thorian approached, his expression thoughtful rather than disapproving. “A strong reaction for day one. We will work on control. Tempest’s emotions can amplify your own, especially when you’re pushed. Use it. Learn from it.”
Calista said nothing, but her jaw remained tight, eyes flicking between me and Cassius with clear irritation.
As drills continued with the rest of the class, I stayed on the sidelines for the next round, catching my breath and processing what had just happened.
The fall hurt, the attention burned, but the thunder… that had been real. My power, Tempest’s power rather, responding to my emotions.
Kai wasn’t in this session, but I could imagine his green eyes watching if he had been. The thought brought a strange mix of comfort and nervousness.
Yvaine stayed close, offering quiet encouragement between exercises. “You didn’t back down. That definitely counts. And the threat of a storm? People are going to talk about that for weeks.”
By the time morning drills ended, my muscles ached and my hip throbbed with a deep bruise, but a quiet pride had settled in my chest alongside the embarrassment. I had fallen, but I had also called the sky.
As we headed back toward the dorms for a quick break before the next session, Tempest’s presence brushed warmly against my mind.
'Well done, little storm. The wind listens when you speak'
I smiled despite everything, touching the end of my braid. The violet curls framing my face felt like a banner now, not something to hide, but something to carry.
The Academy was testing me already.