Chapter 17 THE STORM WAS ON MY SIDE
LYRA
Yvaine returned eventually, and the three of us fell into lighter chatter about tomorrow’s ground drills.
As the evening meal wound down and students began drifting toward their dorms, I felt the weight of the day settle into something almost peaceful.I smiled into my empty plate, the promise settling like a spark in my chest.
The Academy walls might be strict, the rules ironclad, and watchful eyes ever-present, but I was here. Bonded and flying.
And whatever important things Tempest had to share, whatever scrutiny Ser Thorian brought, I would face it with the wind in my hair and lightning at my back.
For the first time in my life, the storm felt like it was on my side.
~
Morning light filtered through the narrow window of our dorm room, soft and pale, the kind that promised a clear day but carried the chill of autumn coming early.
I woke slowly, my body heavy with the bone-deep exhaustion that came from too much adrenaline and not enough sleep.
The events of yesterday replayed in fragments behind my closed eyelids: the electric surge of bonding with Tempest, the wind tearing through my hair as we soared, the weight of Madame Cerys’s gaze in her office, Kai’s wink during orientation, and the quiet promise in Tempest’s bond that there was still so much more she wanted to share.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the wooden beams above my bed, listening to Yvaine’s steady breathing from the other side of the room. The new uniform hung neatly on a hook by the wardrobe, sleek black leather that still smelled faintly of oil and fresh stitching.
My violet hair spilled across the pillow in wild curls, the color vivid even in the dim light. For the first time, it didn’t feel like a mark of otherness. It felt like part of the storm I now carried.
I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor was cool beneath my bare feet, grounding me. Yvaine stirred, muttering something incoherent before pushing herself upright with a groan.
“First morning drills,” she said, voice thick with sleep. “They start brutal on purpose. Builds character, apparently. Or breaks it.”
I managed a tired smile as I stood and crossed to the small washbasin. Splashing cold water on my face woke me up properly. The reflection in the polished metal mirror showed a girl who looked different from the one who had snuck onto the Choosing field, my eyes brighter, shoulders a little straighter, violet curls framing a face that still carried yesterday’s wonder and nerves.
“I feel like I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept feeling the wind on my skin.”
Yvaine laughed softly as she joined me at the basin. “That’s the bond settling in. Tempest’s probably still buzzing in your head. My first week with Ember, I dreamed of flames for days. You’ll get used to it.”
We moved through our morning routines with the easy rhythm of new roommates. I pulled on the fresh uniform, the leather cool and supple against my skin. It fit perfectly after yesterday’s tailoring, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows, with subtle silver stitching that caught the light.
The boots were sturdy, made for gripping dragon scales or running across uneven training grounds. I felt taller in them, more capable.
For my hair, I sat on the edge of my bed and worked quickly. I gathered the thick violet strands into a low braid that hung down my back, the curls at the front left loose to frame my face in soft waves.
The color stood out sharply against the black leather, but instead of shrinking from it, I let the strands fall naturally. It felt bold. Right.
Yvaine watched me with an approving nod as she tied her own short curls back. “That braid looks good. Practical for drills, but still you. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I replied, my stomach twisting with a mix of excitement and dread. “Let’s go before I talk myself out of it.”
We left the dorm together, stepping into the cool morning air. The Academy grounds were already stirring, riders moving toward the training fields, dragons calling distantly from the roosts, the faint clang of metal from the armory. The sky was a clear, pale blue, but I could feel the faint charge in the air, like Tempest’s energy humming just beneath the surface.
Morning drills took place on the main training field, a vast expanse of packed earth and grass marked with wooden beams, balance poles, and obstacle courses designed to test strength, coordination, and bond awareness even on the ground.
New riders gathered in loose groups, some chatting nervously, others stretching in silence. Seniors stood at the edges, observing with critical eyes. Among them was Ser Thorian Stormridge, his presence commanding even from a distance.
And beside him stood a tall, elegant girl with sharp features and perfectly styled auburn hair, Calista Stryker, Cassius’s sister.
She carried herself with exemplary poise, her wind dragon perched regally on a nearby post, its feathers rippling in the breeze.
Calista’s gaze swept the class like a queen surveying her court. She looked every bit the stellar rider, uniform immaculate, posture flawless, an air of superiority that made my stomach tighten.
Ser Thorian stepped forward, his deep voice carrying easily. “New riders, attention. Today we begin with basic ground drills. These exercises build the foundation for aerial work. Balance, core strength, coordination with your dragon’s energy. Pay attention. Learn from each other. Corrections will be public, use them.”
Calista moved to the front with graceful, deliberate steps. She demonstrated the first drill with flawless execution: a series of balance walks along narrow beams, followed by controlled squats and lunges that incorporated arm movements mimicking wing adjustments.
Her wind dragon assisted subtly, creating gentle gusts that tested her stability without knocking her over. The whole class watched in silence, impressed.
When she finished, she turned her sharp eyes on the group, and landed directly on me.