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He kept his gaze locked on the line of thrashing reptiles, but the possessive aura radiating off him was unyielding.

Focus Tauriel, now is not the time.

“The Drakoryn Trial doesn’t begin on the islands,” Caspian stated, his voice carrying over the thunder of the waves. “It begins right here. The high houses required the sea crossing to be a filter. If a male cannot hold onto a sea-drake through the violent currents of the open ocean, then there is no universe where he survives the crushing grip of a true dragon. The crossing is the first challenge.”

My stomach dropped as the brutal logistics of the trial crystallized in my mind. We weren’t just riding them out of the harbor. We were facing an agonizing, thirty-six-hour marathon of physical torment. Freezing ocean spray and muscles locked in a screaming grip as we clung to living missiles tearing through the dark. By the time our boots touched the shores of the hunting grounds, our legs would be weak, our bodies exhausted, and our minds worn thin by sleep deprivation.

The true dragons of the north liked it that way. They wanted to see who could even survive the journey, culling the weak before we ever had the chance to look them in the eye.

“Mount up!” Commander Manem’s voice boomed from the high deck of the lead command ship. “The midnight tide is turning! If you aren’t locked into your saddle by the next bell, you’ll be left for the crows!”

The twenty candidates moved instantly, the elite and the transfers rushing toward the slipways. Handlers—armored thralls using long iron prods spiked with lightning magic—fought to keep the sea-drakes steady as the riders climbed onto the slick leather saddles.

I was assigned to a massive, battle-scarred female drake whose left eye had been blinded by a deep claw mark. The moment I approached the slipway, the beast let out a low, vibrating click that rattled straight through the soles of my boots, her serpentine head swinging toward me with lethal intent.

“Steady, you miserable bitch,” I muttered between my teeth, my fingers digging into the wet scales of her flank as I hauled my weight upward.

The physical effort was a test. The leather of my gear chafed against my inner thighs, and the silver brand on my shoulder flared with a white-hot reminder of the contract I had signed. I threw my leg over the saddle, my core aligning against the muscular ridge of her spine. The power vibrating beneath me was intoxicating and terrifying. I leaned forward, my hands locking around the heavy iron handles of the pommel. My knuckles turning white as I squeezed my knees tight against her sleek flanks.

To my left, Dax vaulted onto his mount with a loud, reckless shout, his drake rearing back and slamming its webbed talons into the timber dock.

Across the slipway, Caspian mounted his beast with effortless grace. He didn’t reach for the handles immediately; he locked his broad thighs around the beast’s torso, his hands resting on his lap with absolute composure. He looked over at me, his eyes locking onto mine through the swirling sea mist. There was no comfort in his gaze, only a cold, demanding promise.

Survive.

Then, the handlers pulled the iron tethers.

The drakes didn’t swim out of the harbor; they exploded into the current.

The handlers dropped the chains. My drake’s tail hit the tide with the sound of a thunderclap, the sudden acceleration jamming me backward. Salt spray hit my face like needles, but I held on.

We tore out of the citadel’s protected bay, aligning into a tight, V-shaped formation. The two command ships followed behind us, their hulls cutting massive wakes through the dark water.

Our route was dangerous. We were navigating the Cintrina Saer—a narrow strait carving its way through the stone heart of Nymeria’s northern continent. The strait was a natural choke point, flanked on both sides by towering black granite cliffs that rose hundreds of feet into the air, blocking the wind but funneling the current into a violent torrent.

The first twelve hours were a lesson in agony.

The sea-drakes maintained a relentless pace, their bodies undulating beneath the surface as they sliced through the black water. Every rise and fall of the beast’s spine sent a heavy thud straight to my lower back. My quadriceps burned with a relentless fire as I forced my knees to maintain their grip against the slick scales. Freezing water soaked through my leather, the chill seeping into my muscles until I couldn’t feel my toes.

The speed created a gust that threatened to rip the breath from my lungs if I dared to look straight ahead.

Behind us, the two command ships kept pace through pure, unnatural coercion.

I risked a glance over my shoulder, my vision blurred by stinging salt spray. Standing along the high, iron-railed forecastles of the trailing ships were the High Mages of the Crown. Their crimson robes fluttered wildly in the wind, their arms outstretched as they channeled ancient ley-lines. Amethyst and crimson light arced from their fingertips, striking the water around the hulls in crackling webs of magic.

The mages were bending the laws, weaponizing the currents to force the heavy ships to match the speed of the sea-drakes. The strain was visible even from the water; the faint glow of their eyes and white mist of their breath showed they were burning through their internal reservoirs to keep the ships from falling behind in the rough winter tide.

By the twenty-fourth hour, the Cintrina Saer began to widen. The granite cliffs gave way to low, jagged shelves of dark stone, and the scent of fresh water vanished, replaced by the salt and rot of the open ocean.

We were approaching the mouth of the strait—the gateway to the Isath Nalore Isles.

The isolation of the northern coast hit us like a physical wall. Heavy, bruised storm clouds rolled in from the north, swallowing the silver faces of the moons until the world was rendered in shades of dark grey and black. The waves grew monstrous, rising into twenty-foot walls of freezing black glass that threatened to swallow the formation whole.

My hands were completely numb, the iron handles feeling like blocks of ice fused to my skin. Sleep deprivation created strange shadows at the edges of my vision.

Hold on.

Hold on, or you die in the dark.