Just then, Gravis stepped forward, his voice deep and steady as he introduced himself. Confidence radiated from him as naturally as heat from a forge.
Collin shook his hand—solid as iron—and the others followed suit with polite nods and greetings.
Sky was next, her smile lingering on Aries a breath too long as they exchanged hellos. Rhea hovered near the edge of the group, hesitant, until Clive offered a warm “hello” and coaxed one in return.
“We’re missing one,” Niall said, glancing at the group, then the chairs.
Collin turned to look—two rows arranged in a hollow square: five in one, six in the other. Eleven seats, ten occupants.
Nic looked like he was about to make a wisecrack when the front doors rattled hard in their frame.
Everyone jumped.
The candidates fell silent, every gaze fixed forward. A moment later, the doors creaked open—and Dragonfly stepped in.
She paused just inside the threshold, her gaze sweeping across the dim hall. The light caught in her hair like molten gold.
Before anyone could speak, Captain Sol appeared behind her and crossed into the room.
The mood shifted, whispers stilled. Whatever this was, it was about to begin.
Collin met Dragonfly’s gaze.
And for the first time, he wished she weren’t there.
Whatever they were about to face—he would have spared her from it. But the world gave no such mercy.
“Take a seat,” Sol said, his voice calm, almost bored, as he strolled past the cluster of trembling recruits. No one moved. The order drifted through the air and settled heavily over them, unanswered.
Sol didn’t pause to repeat himself. He walked the full length of the dim hall with deliberate slowness, footsteps echoing against stone. When he reached the great teacher’s table at theback, he set down the roster without flourish. Then he drew a chair with a long scrape of wood across tile, sat, and opened a leather-bound ledger. He began to write.
The scratching of his quill was unnervingly steady.
Clive was the first to break. He slipped into a seat at the end of the row, stiff-backed and blinking fast. Niall followed and sat across from him.
Aries motioned toward the front and moved confidently, but before Collin could follow, Sky swept past him—casually, brazenly—and claimed the seat beside Aries with a sultry little toss of her hair. Even now, Collin thought grimly. Even now.
Nic, Lekyi, and Uriah jostled silently behind her like dogs chasing the scent of distraction. Collin, exasperated, dropped into the nearest empty seat. Lekyi ended up to his right. When Collin looked to Dragonfly and subtly nodded for her to sit beside him, Rhea took the chair instead—her movements sharp, possessive.
Dragonfly sat in the only seat left, her bracelets chiming like distant warning bells.
Sol made no comment, no sign of acknowledgement. He turned another page in his ledger and continued writing.
The silence stretched, thick as fog.
Niall cleared his throat too loudly. Aries shifted, and his chair shrieked against the floor. Nic’s cufflink knocked against his watch as he slowly rolled his sleeves up. The beads at Dragonfly’s wrist gave another faint jingle as she clasped her hands in her lap, pressing them down to stop the trembling.
Collin’s chest was tight. His breath came short, and his heart was racing even though he had done nothing but sit. Sweat slicked his back and curled damp hair at his temple. And still, somehow, the cold seeped into his bones.
Dragonfly stared forward like an animal sensing a trap in every corner. Clive had gone pale. Nic’s glances toward Sky hadturned mechanical—habit, not interest. Uriah sat frozen, lips slightly parted, eyes locked on a blank stretch of wall. Lekyi had shrunk into his chair, flushed red, as if his body was trying to disappear altogether.
And Rhea—Rhea was glaring.
It took Collin a moment to remember why. Lekyi’s brief entanglement, he realized. Of all the seats, she had to choose this one.
He shifted uncomfortably just as Sol’s voice shattered the silence.
“Dragonfly of North Town.”
