The door banged open, and Shakari burst in, very much alive and buzzing with energy. The Dragontail sigil on her arm gleamed like mine.
She leaned against the frame, all Dragontail swagger and sharp-eyed satisfaction. She said, “You look… terrible. Did you even sleep? I brought you food, we’re late.”
She held sugar bread in one hand and juice in the other.
I smirked at her reflection. “Did you have to be that honest?” I asked. “Because I feel worse than I look.”
“I’m your best friend. Your sister. I’ll always be honest.”
Crossing the room, she perched on my bed. “So you missed a hell of a celebration last night. Everyone was talking about you. You shook the whole island. Nobody saw it coming.”
I sank beside her, grabbing the bread and juice. “Well, then it’s good thing I didn’t go. I stayed up late reading, and I could barely sleep.”
I took a bite of the bread and continued: “What was I thinking? The way I cut my hand, the way I bowed to the Siren. Everyone knows I wanted it.”
She shook her head slowly. “Thea, you’ve always loved the adrenaline, the fight, the adventure. Your father would’ve been proud. You think you just made this decision, but you’ve been chasing freedom your whole life. Now you have it. People who never feared you do now. You’ve earned respect from many, too. And yes, some will hate you for throwing the succession off balance. We’ll deal with that later. First, we survive our first day.”
Her words settled deeper than any magic in my veins. “I haven’t been trained in combat like you. If the queen or the court don’t kill me, trying to be a Dragontail might.”
“As I said…” She looped her arms around me. “I’ve got you. You are strong in your fire magic; we just need to channel it for combat. Easy.”
“That doesn’t sound easy,” I said, arching a brow. But I had been sorrowful with doubts and regrets all night, so I needed a distraction, a change of topic.
"Now tell me—which twin are you seeing? It seems at least you have been having a good time while I've been languishing in my sorrows in this room," I teased.
“I think I’m in love. Rowan is good, hot, funny. Everything,” Shakari said; her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“At least I can live vicariously through you. Being betrothed sucks.”
I finished my bread and juice as her stories tumbled on, each one loud enough to drown out my own thoughts. Part of me wanted to spill everything the Siren had told me. But letting her stay happy felt better than dragging us both into whatever cryptic family drama, an ancient celestial Siren thought I needed to hear. If there were a Dragontail Solenhart, I would find the answers later.
When the last crumbs were gone, and her laughter still lingered between us, we rose together and headed for our initiation class. The moment we stepped into the white marble halls of Solphire Tower, the shift was immediate—heads turning, voices dipping. Some students bowed with polished formality. Others didn’t bother hiding their whispers.
“That’s her.”
“Solenhart heir… in Dragontail.”
“I heard she threatened the Siren.”
“No. She begged her. Big difference.”
“What a disgrace for the throne. A disgrace for Emberkeep.”
The corridors seemed narrower under the weight of so many eyes. The low murmur followed us through the winding hallways, gathering like a shadow that refused to leave. Every step seemed louder; each turn threatened more whispers.
The sound carried with us until the walls widened into the Dragontail atrium, a space already filled with the shuffle of boots and the scrape of chairs. First-years milled about, searching fortheir places. Older students sat in loose clusters, watching with a predator’s patience. The air smelled faintly of steel and stone dust, the scent of a place built for battle.
We made our way past rows of benches, their black glass backs polished to a mirror sheen, until I spotted the twins waving us over. Shakari slid in beside the person I assumed to be Rowan without hesitation, leaving me the seat beside Tran.
“We missed you yesterday, Thea,” Tran said, fresh as an apple. They had a party all night, and I couldn’t tell at all.
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my mouth as I turned, letting my gaze sweep over the space around us. From there, I could see the atrium’s heart clearly. It rose like a fortress of black glass and pale-veined quartz, carved not by mortal hands but by ancient will and whispered runes sealed in stone. Light fractured beneath the high dome, catching on relics of old wars.
At the center, where the floor curved inward like a basin, a single beam of sunlight pierced the ceiling and ignited the Dragontail sigil.
I inhaled. Magic hung thick in the air, brushing my senses in layers. Sunheart’s familiar honey and jasmine clung to my skin, but Moonveil’s sharp bite chased it: black pepper, scorched metal, and something older. This place was built for contrast and for sacred tension.
It was my first time standing among so many shaped by Dragontail. It felt like being submerged in a storm that recognized me.
