Instinct takes over and I jolt backwards only for my heel to come down hard on someone’s foot behind me. They flinch, a sharp breath hissing through their teeth.
Magda’s head whips around, her eyes flaring wide in warning and she returns her finger to her lips.
Frozen, every muscle locking in place, I swallow the apology down as my pulse continues to climb.
For the next few minutes, she keeps me there, her tall form looming over me while the two dragons circle overhead, the camp plunging into darkness with each pass.
Right when my lungs start to burn from holding too still, too quiet, the light holds steady, and no shadow follows.
“All clear,” someone bellows from outside. “Everyone back to work.”
Magda’s shoulders drop first, the tension bleeding out of her as she finally releases a long, slow exhale. Following suit, I do the same, so does everyone else in the tent, air leaving us in a collective rush.
Soon after Magda moves to the entrance, and a cool breeze drifts in as she lifts the tent door. Ahria slips out first, then theothers follow one by one. Magda gives each of them a steady smile when they pass.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, squinting against the light as I step back out into the central square of the camp.
“Serrane’s scouts,” she replies, letting the canvas fall shut behind us.
I frown, nerves still buzzing under my skin. “So you hide in tents and hope that’s enough?”
“No.” She lets out a short laugh, her silver tooth glinting. “That’s just an extra precaution. They’ve been increasing lately and we can’t take any risks. Our temporary Veils do most of the work.”
Confused, I arch a brow, and she nods toward Ahria, who’s already off, gliding back to the Food Tent.
“Dragons constantly need to release their Threads, and one way to do so is by channeling protective Veils through their riders.”
“But why hide if you have Veils?” I press, as we start walking, the smell of fresh bread growing stronger with every step.
“Because we don’t have enough bonded recruits,” she sighs, gesturing loosely around the camp as it spreads in all directions. “And of those we do have, some are out on recon or patrol. The rest are scattered, which means the Veils are…” Tapping her chin, she searches for the right word. “Patchy. From above, parts of the camp would still show. But if everyone’s inside, it creates the illusion of something smaller. Quieter. Merely another Outerland settlement not worth a second look.”
I nod, trying to take it all in as we stop in front of the Food Tent , where Ahria is perched above the entrance, watching recruits move in and out.
“They don’t protect us from something determined to come in,” Magda adds, pulling the entrance flap aside for me and Irealise she’s so tall that she’ll have to duck to get inside. “They simply make us less… interesting.”
Taking a step forward, I turn when I notice she hasn't followed. “You’re not coming?”
“No,” she trails off, already moving away. “I need to check in with the senior leads and make sure nothing went wrong after the pass. I’ll catch up with you later.” She gives my arm a gentle squeeze, then hurries off.
Shit. I never got to ask about my sleeping arrangements. Talen said they needed to keep the healers’ tent clear, and as I scan the Food Tent , it’s obvious why. Nearly every table has someone with a sling, a bandaged hand, or bruises darkening their summer sun-kissed skin, and there are at least ten rows of benches stretching across the space, enough to seat fifty people, maybe more. Most of them are occupied, the clatter of cutlery, bursts of laughter, and the occasional argument flowing between them.
Rubbing at my eyes, I flinch as the noise presses in on me all at once. It’s too busy, too loud, and I’m not in the mood for small talk. For half a second, I consider turning around and heading back to the tent to grab a few more hours of sleep.
Ahria, however, clearly starving, darts past my shoulder to a serving bay stationed along one side of the tent, where a queue inches forward with people collecting their food. The smell hits me properly—cooked meat and warm bread—and a beat later, my stomach gives an impatient twist
Right, sleep later, breakfast first. And after I need to find Reya and get to work on fixing my fear of fire before Blood Moon.
Strolling over, I grab a tray from the stack at the end of the counter and I fall into line behind the others. The queue inches forward, and I follow without thought as my mind drifts, trying to make sense of everything from this morning.
God. All this time, Serrane’s been stealing pure Threads. His sermons, his talk of transcendence, enlightenment, freeing people from their darkness—all lies. Just a sick way to lure people close enough to strip them down and harvest the best parts of them for his weapon.
But why? It makes no sense. He already has so much control, so much power?—
“Next.”
Blinking, I jolt forward as a woman behind the counter drops a bread roll and a large serving of sausages onto my plate. I hadn’t even noticed the queue had moved.
She lifts her arm, ready to add more.
