Soren opens the wooden door to find a spacious room inside. A bed rests against the right wall, with a desk to its left. At the foot of the bed sits a large chest. On the opposite wall stands a wardrobe with rusted handles on its drawers—it clearly had been there for quite some time. The room was simple, but it fit his every need. One think he did noticed was lacking, was a bathroom. He was not looking forward to figuring out where that may be.

  As he scanned his chambers, something unusual caught his eye towards the back: a large doorway just beyond the desk, leading into another area.

  He stepped into the back room, and the purpose of the space became immediately clear. This was where Rayzil would stay. In one corner, a large pile of hay rested beneath a high window, golden shafts of sunlight pouring through. Against the wall, a wide water trough—connected to a narrow waterline that would keep it perpetually full. And at the very back, a tall, reinforced door loomed. The hinges were designed to swing both ways, clearly meant for an Ajaiyi’s comings and goings.

  He stepped back, taking it all in.

  They thought of everything.

  He returned to the main room and dropped his duffle bag onto the metal chest at the end of his bed. With a sigh, he unzipped it and began pulling out clothes, stacking folded shirts and spare sets of pants on the edge.

  As he moved toward the dresser, he opened the top drawer—and paused.

  Something was already inside.

  Curious, he placed the clothes on top of the dresser and reached into the drawer, fingers brushing against unfamiliar fabric.

  He pulled it out slowly.

  Soren made his way over to the bed and sat down on the soft mattress, letting out a breath as he examined the clothing in his hands.

  The fabric gleamed beneath the light of the lamp—pure white, with gold lining that shimmered every time the cloth shifted. The jacket and pants were crisp and perfectly pressed.

  The boots were jet black. Shined to perfection. They stood out starkly against the pale uniform, sharp and formal.

  It took him a moment to realize exactly what he was holding.

  His Cadet uniform.

  It was a simpler version of the one he’d seen the Sergeants wear. No royal blue yet—that color was earned. This white-and-gold ensemble marked him as a recruit, someone just beginning. A symbol of potential, not experience.

  Still, it felt real now. In just a few months, the new Cadets would be formally presented to the citizens of The Capital, and this would be what he’d wear.

  He smiled faintly, then carefully folded the uniform and placed it back into the top drawer.

  With that done, he unpacked the rest of his things—his extra clothes, some small keepsakes, and a few books he’d brought from home. By the time he was done, a low rumble from his stomach reminded him of his next priority. Food.

  Soren stepped into the hallway and made his way next door. Lifting a hand to knock, he paused just as the door swung open.

  Zeph stood there, looking just as surprised to see him. They locked eyes—Soren’s hand still frozen mid-air, caught mid-knock.

  Soren cleared his throat and quickly dropped his arm.

  “I was just coming to get you. I’m starving. Want to find that mess hall?.”

  Zephares blinked once. “I was about to get you to do exactly that.”

  Soren grinned, shaking his head. “Great minds think alike.”

  He turned on his heel and started toward the main door. Zeph followed without a word.

  The two made their way down a single flight of stairs, following the path the Colonel had described.

  Just as promised, the mess hall opened up before them—a large stone room filled with the low hum of conversation, clinking cutlery, and the occasional laugh. Evenly spaced lights lined the walls, casting a glow over the space. Rows of long tables stretched across the room, many of them already crowded with Cadets.

  At the far end stood a wide service window leading into the kitchen. That was where the food waited.

  Soren and Zeph navigated through the crowd, weaving between chairs and clusters of recruits. Already, some groups had begun to form—many sticking with the people they’d arrived or trained with, while others looked more adventurous, floating between conversations.

  When they reached the window, the boys fell into line, stomachs growling in unison.

  By the time they made it to the front, the smell of warm bread and roasted meat had them practically salivating. They grabbed their trays and moved down the line, picking out generous portions. Despite the sheer volume of food the kitchen must’ve had to prepare, the quality was surprisingly good. And after nothing but fish the night before, neither of them was going to complain.

  With full trays and cups of water in hand, they scanned the room before settling at a table with fewer Cadets. They slid into seats across from each other and immediately started shoveling food into their mouths.

  But midway through a bite of stew, Soren’s eyes flicked upward—and landed on someone across the room.

  A girl stood near the edge of the crowd, tray in hand, scanning for a seat.

  Keta.

  The same girl they’d met earlier that day.

  Soren quickly swallowed his food and waved his arm in the air, calling out across the room.

  “Yo, Keta! Over here!”

  His voice, clear and loud, cut through the background hum of the mess hall. Keta perked up, recognizing it instantly. She spotted the boys seated near the far corner and started making her way through the crowd, tray balanced carefully in her hands.

  “Hey, you guys!” she greeted as she sat down beside Soren, eyes gleaming. “Glad I found you. This place is kind of overwhelming.”

  She gave an anxious little laugh and glanced down at her tray, then back up at the boys with a grin.

  “So… how was your first day?”

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  Zephares paused mid-bite, setting his fork down thoughtfully before answering.

  “Fascinating, actually. Our group only has three Veisha. And our mentor is Colonel Larka—”

  “—Who’s bonded to a Ngari!” Soren cut in, practically bouncing in his seat. “Can you believe that!?”

  Keta’s eyes widened, jaw nearly dropping at the name.

  “No way. A Ngari? That’s incredible!”

  She leaned in, her voice dropping into something close to reverence. “I’ve only heard stories about them. They're insanely rare—only second to your Dragons. And I heard they’re super picky about who they bond with.”

  Soren and Keta quickly dove into a back-and-forth of everything they’d ever heard or read about the Ngari—rumors, theories, maybe even a tall tale or two. Zeph stayed quiet, watching his friend light up as he talked about the legendary beasts. While Soren didn’t let a lot of people, he was actually a big bookworm. He loved to read about Astrico and Ajaiyi history.

  However being in a small town far away from The Capital their access to books was limited and their school did a poor job of making up for it. Zeph knew any time they’d learn about Ajaiyi history, Soren would be foaming at the mouth for it.

  As he was thinking, something caught his eye.

  Out of the corner of his vision, he saw her—near the food line.

  The girl with light blue hair, posture straight and confident as always. She held her tray steadily in one hand, moving with practiced control.

  Wrena.

  Zeph turned slightly, raising his voice just enough.

  “Hey, Wrena! Come sit with us!”

  She paused at the sound of her name, stopping just beside the service window. Her eyes turned toward the group.

  Soren turned around, noticing the final member of their unit standing just behind him.

  “Wrena!” he said, flashing her a smile. “Zeph’s right—come sit with us. Let’s get to know each other. We’ll be training together for the next two years, after all.”

  Wrena hesitated for a moment, her fingers gently tapping the edge of her tray. Then she stepped forward, hand brushing the rough wood of the table as she made her way around. Zeph shifted over to give her space, and she sat down beside him, posture composed, movements precise.

  Soren leaned forward a bit, trying to keep things casual.

  “Hey, did you manage to find your room alright?”

  Wrena gave a short nod.

  Keta, ever eager to keep the energy going, jumped in. “I’d heard Veisha with larger Ajaiyi got private rooms. Is that true?”

  Zeph nodded, glancing between the girls. “Yeah, we did. I’m assuming it’s to conserve space. Dragons take up… a lot.”

  Keta groaned, dramatically throwing her head back. “Man, you guys are lucky. I’m sharing a room with six other people. They’re not awful, but privacy would be so nice.”

  She scooped another bite of food, then paused, noticing Wrena hadn’t said anything. The girl was eating slowly, quietly, her expression unreadable.

  Keta blinked, then put a hand to her chest. “Oh! Where are my manners. I’m Keta. You must be the third member of their group.”

  Wrena turned her head slightly towards Keta, giving another small nod.

  Keta smiled, even knowing the gesture wouldn’t be seen. “Well, your Ajaiyi must be pretty incredible to be placed with the Dragons. What kind is it?”

  Wrena didn’t respond. She started to think to herself how she could communicate with the nice girl without Falzok. Her only other form of communication being sign language, she took a chance. Praying the girl understands her.

  “I’m bonded to a Vata,” she signed. “His name is Falzok.”

  Keta practically jumped out of her seat.

  “What!? I’ve only ever seen a couple of those! Any chance I could meet him sometime?”

  Wrena’s eyes widened, not signing anything in shock that the girl somehow does know sign language. Ignoring the girls question, she sings her own.

  “How do you know sign language?” the girl signs.

  Keta blinked. “Oh, my cousin is deaf. My whole family knows sign language, I learned when I was a kid.” Soren stares at Keta in shock, but Zeph just looks at her with admiration before getting an idea. “Hey Keta. Would you mind teaching me and Soren sign language whenever we can get time? We won’t always have Falzok around to communicate, it’d be best if we had a way without him.”

  Keta smiles at the boy. “Yeah I don’t mind.”

  Soren had since zoned out of the conversation, now noticing Falzok was no where to be seen. In fact, no Ajaiyi where here. Only Veisha filled the space—no Ajaiyi in sight. He was so focused on getting food he’d completely overlooked the fact that all he saw were Veisha.

  “Speaking of Falzok... where’s Elora? And everyone else’s Ajaiyi?”

  Keta spun toward him, ponytail whipping behind her.

  “They have their own mess hall,” she explained. “My mentor told us that even though we’re stronger together, we have to learn to be apart. That’s why Cadets and Ajaiyi eat separately.”

  Then her gaze returned to Wrena, bright and eager once more.

  “I bonded to a Kitsune. Her name’s Elora. She may be small, but she’s strong. I can’t wait until she unlocks her ninth tail.”

  That caught Wrena’s attention. She looked up fully for the first time, eyes settling on Keta before signing to the girl.

  “A Kitsune... Kitsune’s always fascinated me. Not many Ajaiyi can change their forms like they can.”

  Color bloomed across Keta’s face, her expression beaming with pride. Back in her hometown of Seldre, only her family ever praised Elora. Most people were kept at arm’s length, thanks to—

  “Well, well, well.”

  As if summoned by irritation itself, Jarath appeared beside their table, dropping his tray with an obnoxious clatter as he plopped down beside Zeph.

  He slung an arm around Zeph’s shoulders, grinning like they were best friends. His ever-present lackeys filled in the rest of the table around them.

  “What’s up, man?” Jarath said, all fake charm. “Listen, I know we got off to a rough start out there in the courtyard, but hey—I’m willing to let it go.”

  Soren started to glare at the annoyance incarnate.

  “How nice of you…”

  Jarath didn’t skip a beat. He didn’t even glance Soren’s way—his eyes stayed fixed on Zeph, as if nothing else around the table mattered.

  “The strong should stick together,” Jarath said, voice smooth with arrogance. “Make a name for ourselves right from the start. So—what do you say?”

  He extended a hand toward Zephares, grin plastered across his face.

  Zeph stared at the hand for a long second.

  Then, without a word, he stood, picked up his tray, and turned toward the waste bin near the wall.

  Jarath lowered his hand, his expression souring into a sneer. “Hm. Looks like daddy forgot to teach him manners.”

  Zeph froze mid-step.

  Soren and Keta both jolted, shocked that Jarath had the balls to bring up Magnus.

  Slowly, Zeph turned around.

  The expression on him was unlike anything Soren had ever seen. It was deadly. “What did you say?” he asked, voice low. Jarath stood and walked over, emboldened by his entourage. “You heard me. Or did your dad fail—”

  He didn’t finish.

  Before the last word left his mouth, Zeph slammed him face-first into the floor.

  His knee drove into Jarath’s back, one arm twisted tightly behind him.

  The mess hall went silent.

  “If you ever mention my father again,” Zeph growled, his voice like thunder behind a locked door, “you’ll lose your tongue.”

  Jarath squirmed, red-faced, nodding quickly. “Okay—okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  Zeph released him, standing back in eerie calm.

  Jarath scrambled to his feet and stumbled out of the mess hall without another word.

  Zeph turned to face the rest of his friends, golden eyes piercing them like daggers.

  Soren slowly stood. "Hey, man… you alright?”

  Zeph looked at him for a moment, saying nothing.

  Then he turned and walked away, heading back up the stairs—back to his room.

  Soren looked down at Keta, the same concerned expression mirrored on both their faces.

  “Well…” he said quietly, “I guess that means dinner’s over.”

  Keta nodded, still a bit stunned, and the two of them began to clean up their trays and gather their things. Across the table, Wrena remained seated—her posture composed, though she’d only just started eating her meal.

  Before Soren turned to leave, he glanced over at her.

  “I’ll see you at training tomorrow, Wrena.”

  She gave a small nod, raising her hand in a subtle wave of acknowledgement.

  Soren and Keta exchanged one last glance before heading for the staircase, their footsteps softer now, like the weight of what just happened hadn’t quite lifted.

  At the steps, they paused.

  “Night,” Soren offered.

  “Night,” Keta echoed.

  Then they turned, walking off in opposite directions toward their dorms—two silhouettes parting in the dim light, each carrying the quiet gravity of the evening with them.