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“Avirix,” Hadrian whispered.
The House of Dragons, first and foremost, helped raise the young dragons. Every Dragon Blessed knew each dragon by name. Over the years, they had all grown close to certain dragons. The hardest part about leaving the House of Dragons was going to be leaving the dragons.
Kerrigan would recognize Avirix anywhere for his bright seafoam green scales. He was the largest dragon of the five who were part of the tournament this year, but he made up for his scary demeanor by always being in perpetual good spirits.
After Avirix left, a bright red jewel soared into the arena. Netta was a nimble flyer. One of the reasons Kerrigan loved her so. They had long been friends, as they shared the same mischievous nature.
“Oh!” Clover gasped when Tieran burst into the arena next.
He was the most beautiful of them all. His scales were midnight blue and glistened in the light. Though he was one of the smallest dragons, he was completely adept at every maneuver. Unfortunately, he was also a total jerk.
Darby reached her hand out with wide eyes as Luxor shot out into the arena with his sapphire-blue scales and muscular form. Luxor was one of Darby’s favorites despite the fact that he still didn’t understand sarcasm or figures of speech.
But it was Evien that made Kerrigan lean out as she sailed into the arena with her majestic purple scales. Evien, like Kerrigan, loved to fly more than any other. They used to sneak out together and take to the skies. The pain that she wasn’t going to be able to do that much longer hit her fresh.
Now that the dragons had been displayed, it was time for the twelve tribes to present their potential candidates for the tournament. Anyone over the age of eighteen could submit themselves to be in the tournament as long as they were sponsored by a tribe. After all the potentials were presented, each would be tested, but only one person would be the final candidate for the tournament from each tribe.
The representatives of the twelve tribes strode into the arena, guided by the sponsor Society member in long, flowing black robes. Each held a banner in their tribe colors with the coat of arms embroidered in black. When a tribe was announced, a cheer went up in the crowd from the others of their home. But it wasn’t until the four blue-and-silver banners denoting the royal lines of Bryonica strode confidently into the stadium that the entire place seemed to erupt at once.
Kerrigan looked over their faces, wondering if in a different life, she would have known them, would have been one of them. She gritted her teeth and averted her gaze. It hardly mattered now.
“Look at that pomp,” Clover muttered in distaste. “A hundred potentials? Absurd.”
“It makes perfect, logical sense,” Darby said. Her voice was earnest.
“It makes them look desperate,” Clover countered. “Twenty to fifty potential competitors are sufficient to guarantee that you find a champion. A hundred is ridiculous.”
“It’s a show of strength.”
“I’d expect that from a warrior tribe. But Bryonica? They’re healers. It’s beneath them.”
Kerrigan tuned their argument out. Her attention was drawn to what no one else had noticed now that all twelve tribes were assembled. Black smoke was spinning into existence at the center of the arena.
Black smoke. Her insides coiled as a memory floated back to her from her vision the previous night.
“Gods, do you see that?” Kerrigan whispered.
Her friends snapped to attention, taking in what was happening.
Hadrian touched Kerrigan’s shoulder. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”
“No,” she lied. She had seen this before, but she had no idea what it meant. Her visions weren’t clear. They didn’t tell her what was going to happen. Only a hazy idea of images. If this were true… what the hell else had it shown her?
“I thought they had extra security this year,” Clover said.
“They do,” Darby confirmed.
Kerrigan frowned. The smoke grew stronger, almost solidifying at the center. Even though she had seen this happen in her dream, it was so much different, watching it happen in reality. How was it even possible? Hundreds of barriers around the arena kept anyone from penetrating the grounds. No one should be able to enter without permission from the Society.
The crowd grew restless, talking over the master of ceremonies as he attempted to calm the arena. Society members on the ground reached for their magic, stepping forward to protect their contestants. Others in black robes appeared on the outskirts. Kerrigan recognized the protections they were reinforcing on the perimeter. And still, that black cloud continued to spiral.
Then, just as soon as it had come, the smoke disappeared, and standing at the center of the entire arena was a man dressed from head to toe in black. He was tall—impossibly tall—with long, lean legs in fitted black pants. He wore a suit jacket at the height of fashion with a black shirt buttoned high, nearly to his collar, just barely exposing his pale, nearly translucent throat. He ran a hand back through his dark-as-night hair and then leisurely surveyed the crowd with eyes that were pure sin.
