Chapter 11 STORM ROOM 14
LYRA
The afternoon sun filtered through the high arched windows of the Academy’s main corridor, casting long golden beams across the polished stone floors. My legs still felt a little unsteady from the flight, every muscle humming with the memory of wind and wings.
Tempest’s presence lingered warmly in the back of my mind, like a steady heartbeat I could almost hear. She had settled into one of the outer dragon roosts for now, promising through the bond that we would fly again soon. '
Rest, little storm. There is much more I have to share with you. Important things'. Her words, her feelings echoed with quiet patience, leaving me both excited and a tiny bit nervous about what those “important things” might be.
A tall girl with warm brown skin and sharp, intelligent eyes waited for me near the entrance to the residential wing. She wore the standard rider uniform: fitted dark leather trousers reinforced at the knees, a tunic layered with lighter padding, and a cloak pinned with a simple silver wing emblem. Her hair was cropped short in practical black curls, and she carried herself with the easy confidence of someone who had already earned her place here.
“Lyra Voss?” she asked, offering a quick, friendly smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I’m Yvaine Calder. Your guide for the day and your dorm mate, it turns out. Welcome to the chaos.”
I returned the smile, still buzzing from everything that had happened.
My dark purple hair, pulled back into a simple ponytail for the first time in what felt like forever, swung against my back. No hood, no scarf or hiding. For once, the vivid violet strands didn’t feel like a mark of weirdness. They felt alive, like they belonged in this place of storms and dragons.
“Thanks. I’m… still trying to believe this is real. One minute I’m sneaking onto the field, the next I’m flying with Tempest.”
Yvaine laughed, a bright, genuine sound that made the corridor feel less intimidating. “Oh, I’ve heard the stories already. Sneaking in at eighteen with a storm dragon? You’re going to be legend fodder by dinner. Come on, I’ll show you around before orientation. We’ve got a bit of time.”
She led me down a wide hallway lined with tapestries depicting ancient riders and their dragons soaring through lightning-split skies. The air smelled faintly of leather polish, fresh hay from the nearby roosts, and something metallic, probably from the forges where they tempered riding gear.
My borrowed uniform still felt scratchy and ill-fitting compared to the sleek ones the older students wore, but Yvaine didn’t seem to mind.
Our dorm room was on the second floor of the residential wing, a sturdy wooden door marked with a small plaque that read “Storm Wing – Room 14.”
Yvaine pushed it open with her shoulder, revealing a surprisingly spacious chamber. Two narrow beds stood against opposite walls, each with thick wool blankets in deep blues and grays. A large window overlooked the training fields, letting in plenty of natural light. In one corner, a sturdy wooden desk sat piled with blank notebooks and a few basic texts on dragon care.
There was even a small hearth with a stack of firewood, and shelves built into the wall for personal items.
“Not bad, right?” Yvaine said, tossing her own satchel onto the bed closer to the door. “The rooms adjust a bit over time, colors shift to match your dragon’s vibe. Tempest’s stormy influence might turn things a little more electric around here. My dragon, Ember, is a fire type, so the left side sometimes feels warmer.”
I stepped inside, running my fingers over the smooth wood of the bedpost. It smelled clean, like cedar and faint ozone. “It’s bigger than I expected. Back home, Selene and I shared a tiny room barely big enough for two beds and a dresser. This feels… luxurious.”
Yvaine grinned as she opened a narrow wardrobe that already held a spare set of uniforms. “Luxury is relative when you’re mucking out dragon roosts at dawn. But yeah, it’s not terrible. You’ll get your official uniform after orientation, tailored to fit. The leather’s tough but flexible, good for flying. My family makes a lot of it, actually.”
I turned to her, curious. “Your family?”
She nodded, leaning against the desk with casual ease. “Welders. Well, more like leatherworkers and gear-smiths. Generations of us crafting saddles, harnesses, flight jackets, the stuff that keeps riders from sliding off their dragons mid-storm. My grandparents were the best in the lower districts. I grew up in the workshop, hands covered in dye and wax, listening to stories about riders while I stitched seams. Never thought I’d be the one wearing the gear instead of making it.”
Her voice softened with quiet pride. “First in the family to bond. Ember chose me two years ago. Still feels surreal some days.”
“That’s amazing,” I said honestly, sitting on the edge of my new bed. The mattress gave a little under my weight, firmer than the thin one at home. “I spent years watching from the ground, helping at our market stall, dreaming about this. My mother… she rode briefly once, but it didn’t last. She always pushed Selene more than me. Golden hair, perfect poise, the kind of girl dragons are supposed to notice before anyone else.” I tugged lightly at my ponytail, feeling the silky violet strands.
“Me? I was the weird one with purple hair that never matched anyone else’s sunny yellow.”
Yvaine studied me for a moment, her expression thoughtful rather than pitying. “Purple suits you, especially after that flight. Looked like living lightning up there. And hey, being the first, or the unexpected one, has its own power. My grandparents cried when Ember chose me. Said the family legacy finally went both ways.”
We talked easily as she continued the tour. She showed me the small washroom attached to the room, basic but clean, with a basin and a mirror that made my violet ponytail look striking rather than out of place.
Then we headed back into the corridors, Yvaine pointing out shortcuts and warning me about the temperamental staircases that sometimes shifted levels during heavy training days.