Illara and Aria exchanged a glance that could only be described as mischief-laced. Without warning, they each hooked one of their arms through mine, Aria on the left, Illara on the right.

  “We need a moment with the girls,” Aria declared brightly, tossing a glance over her shoulder at the others still standing nearby.

  Before I could blink, they were leading me away from the central fire, their grip gentle but firm. I cast a brief glance back over my shoulder—Vesk was still standing there, and for just a second, I caught his eyes following me. Watching.

  His expression was unreadable. Again.

  As we slipped from the room, Aria made a quick detour to a table near the hearth, grabbing a small plate piled high with cheese, dried fruit, and honeyed bread. “We’ll need sustenance for proper girl talk,” she winked, balancing the plate expertly as she fell back into step beside us.

  Illara led the way, her pace unhurried as we wove deeper into the network of caves. My ears traced every shift in pressure, every soft echo of distant voices and footsteps. This place was vast—larger than I had imagined—and alive with sound.

  Eventually, we came to a wide chamber with high, arched ceilings of carved stone and ice. Soft light from embedded crystals painted the walls in shades of blue and silver. A fire crackled gently in a hearth, and scattered cushions and thick rugs made the room feel less like a cave and more like a sanctuary.

  It was clearly someone’s personal quarters.

  Aria closed the door behind us as Illara let go of my arm and crossed the room to a tall, carved wardrobe against the far wall. With a practiced flick, she opened it wide and turned toward me with a playful tilt of her head.

  “As much as I love that dress,” she said, eyes gleaming as she motioned toward the deep purple gown still draped around me, “I assume you’d like something a little more comfortable—at least until you put on another show.”

  Her tone was teasing, but kind. I smiled, warmth blooming quietly in my chest.

  “This is your room?” I asked, glancing around again.

  Illara nodded as she pulled a few soft tunics and leggings from the wardrobe. “Mine and Vaerik’s,” she confirmed, laying the clothes on a cushioned bench near the fire. “Most of what I own will fit you well enough—try what you like.”

  Aria settled onto a plush rug, setting the food between us. “I like that we’re stealing you away,” she said with a grin. “Feels like we haven’t had anything lighthearted around here in ages.”

  I picked up a piece of honeyed bread, letting the textures guide me. Warm. Sweet. Sticky. My smile lingered as I chewed.

  It was so easy being with them. Easier than I expected.

  We sat and chatted as I changed into a soft wool tunic and leggings Illara had offered. It wasn’t flashy, but it was warm and soft and made me feel like I wasn’t trying too hard. I folded the purple gown carefully and placed it over a nearby chair.

  Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me.

  “What should I expect tonight?” I asked quietly, glancing between them.

  Illara exchanged a look with Aria, then leaned forward with a thoughtful hum. “It’s not about winning or besting someone. It’s more about revealing who you are.”

  Aria nodded. “Vaerik usually leads the tests.”

  Illara leaned in slightly, her tone turning more thoughtful. “They’re not about proving dominance or combat skill alone. They’re designed to understand who you are—how you react under pressure, how you think, how you move. It’s as much about instinct as it is about strength.”

  She hesitated, then added, “You’ll have to fight Vaerik. But don’t worry—he won’t harm you. The purpose isn’t to defeat you. He just wants to see how you respond, whether you can defend yourself, and if you pose any kind of threat to the rest of the horde. It’s about trust and understanding.”

  The weight of her words settled into me—not fear, exactly. But gravity. This wasn’t just about skill. It was about belonging.

  I nodded slowly, understanding the tradition. My family’s horde had something similar, though less formalized. Still, the idea of standing in front of someone as powerful as Vaerik made my pulse quicken.

  I wasn’t sure how old or strong he really was—but judging by his presence, I guessed he had centuries behind him. And me? I hadn’t sparred with another dragon in decades. Thirty years surrounded by humans had sharpened different instincts. I could manipulate sound, read tone and rhythm, strike with my voice—but I hadn’t fought claw to claw since I was barely more than a hatchling.

  A flicker of doubt stirred at the edges of my thoughts, but I pushed it down. I had faced worse. I had survived worse.

  Aria, perhaps sensing the weight of the moment, let the silence settle for just a beat before flashing a grin. “You know… Vesk seems to have taken a liking to you. He’s usually much colder with newcomers.”

  I blinked, surprised. “Really?”

  I thought back to that moment this morning—when Vesk and I met. The way he had stared, the hesitation in his voice, how his heart had stuttered in a way that didn’t match his calm demeanor. It had confused me then, and it still did now.

  He had heard me sing, after all.

  “It’s probably just that,” I said aloud, more to myself than anything. “He heard me sing this morning. I wasn’t holding anything back—not the emotion, not the power. Sound dragons can be… a little enchanting when we really let go. It’s kind of like the sirenfolk. Especially to unmated dragons—we stir something instinctive.”

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  Aria and Illara both nodded, but I didn’t miss the glance they shared. It wasn’t disbelief. It was something else. A flicker of curiosity. Quiet suspicion.

  Like they thought there might be more to it than I realized.

  We ended up chatting for most of the day, sprawled on cushions, laughter coming easier with each passing hour. It had been so long since I’d felt this at ease—since I’d simply existed in the presence of others without needing to guard every word, every movement. I found myself watching the way Aria and Illara moved together, the rhythm of their friendship, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like an outsider.

  As the fire flickered lower, I found myself wondering if I would ever go back to the life I’d carved out among the humans. Or if maybe… just maybe… I belonged here now, with these dragons who didn’t care that I couldn’t smell, who didn’t see me as broken.

  With these friends who made the mountain feel like home.

  That night, the girls led me out of the inner caves, guiding me through winding tunnels that eventually opened into a massive archway carved directly into the mountain. A blast of frigid air met us the moment we stepped outside, and I inhaled deeply, relishing the sound the wind made as it whistled through the stone tunnels behind us.

  The landscape beyond was nothing short of breathtaking. Ice structures—delicate as spun glass and towering as the mountain itself—scattered across the ridgeline, each one catching the sunlight and throwing fractured rainbows through the air. The snow glittered like crushed diamonds underfoot, and the entire mountainside seemed to shimmer with living light and sound. I wondered who had created such stunning architecture from frozen elements—was it Vesk and the other ice dragons who carved these breathtaking halls? The thought sent a ripple of admiration through me.

  But there were no other dragons in sight.

  My ears strained for signs of life, but there was only the wind.

  “They’re all in the valley,” Aria said, catching my glance and answering the unspoken question. “Everyone’s waiting to watch your test.”

  My stomach dipped. “Everyone?”

  Illara nodded solemnly. “It’s tradition.”

  I hadn’t realized… I would be performing in front of the entire horde.

  Before I could fully wrap my head around it, both Illara and Aria shifted beside me—wings unfurling in graceful arcs, their bodies lengthening and transforming in bursts of light and movement.

  Illara’s form shimmered into that of a radiant Light Dragon—pale golden scales gleaming like polished sunlight, each one catching and reflecting the icy terrain with a soft glow. Even in the dimming sky, she glowed faintly, as though lit from within. I knew from stories that Light Dragons could breathe beams of radiant energy, and Illara looked every bit the legend as she took her full form beside me.

  I hesitated only a moment before I followed suit.

  In the space of a breath, I was once again in my dragon form. The cold no longer stung. The wind rushed past my scales like a familiar song. Together, the three of us leapt from the mountainside and soared into the air, wings slicing through the sky as we descended toward the valley floor—toward whatever awaited me next.

  The wind rushed past us, cold and sharp, but I barely noticed. Below, nestled in a wide clearing between the peaks, was a massive stone arena carved into the valley itself. Its edges were lined with dragons—some in their true forms, wings folded and tails curled; others standing tall in human form. Nearly a hundred dragons in total.

  The sight made my breath catch. I hadn’t expected this many. It was more than I had ever seen in one place—more than I thought even existed in a single horde. The scale of it spoke volumes about the strength and legacy of the Skyfang leadership. No wonder they were so respected. No wonder so many had chosen to follow them.

  And now I was flying into their gaze. To be tested by Vaerik, the eldest of the three brothers.

  A fresh wave of nerves gripped me, fluttering in my chest like a bird desperate for escape. I beat my wings harder, steadying myself. There was no turning back now.

  We landed at the edge of the arena, the snow crunching beneath our talons as we touched down in front of the three Aelthros brothers. One by one, we shifted back into our human forms, the cold biting against my skin until the wind stilled around me.

  Vesk stood among them—his pale silver-white hair tousled by the breeze, his ocean-deep gaze locked on me the moment I took shape. His eyes didn’t waver, didn’t flicker away, not even for a moment.

  Vaerik stepped forward, his presence commanding but calm. “For generations,” he began, his voice carrying across the arena, “we have upheld the tradition of testing all newcomers—whether they choose to stay or not. It is not a show of dominance. It is a matter of trust. A way to ensure that those who walk among us can be counted on.”

  His gaze swept the assembled dragons, then returned to me. “Are you ready?”

  I took a slow breath, steadying my racing heart. “Yes,” I answered.

  But before anything could begin, another voice broke through.

  “Wait.”

  Vesk stepped forward, his movements smooth, his expression unreadable. He came to stand beside his older brother, his eyes never leaving mine. His voice was quiet but sure.

  “I will test her.”

  For a breathless moment, the entire arena went silent.

  Then came the ripple.

  Gasps, barely audible, rose from the crowd like the first stirrings of a storm. I heard the rustle of wings shifting, the subtle scrape of talons against stone, the shifting of bodies as dragons turned to one another in disbelief. The wind carried murmurs—curious, stunned, some skeptical, others awed.

  Behind Vesk, Vaerik’s brow lifted in surprise, and his mouth parted slightly—though no words came. His mate, Illara, stood nearby with golden eyes wide, and I could hear the subtle intake of her breath. Even Aria’s heart skipped before settling into a steady rhythm. She shot Vesk a look I couldn’t interpret.

  Thor’s voice was the first to break the silence beyond Vesk’s declaration. A low, questioning rumble in his throat—not anger, just uncertainty.

  It was clear that none of them had expected this.

  And yet, Vesk didn’t waver. His gaze was still locked on mine, unreadable but certain.

  The arena had changed. The quiet expectancy of the crowd now thrummed with electric tension, every sound sharper, every breath more charged.

  And I stood frozen, caught in the storm of it all.

  Vaerik turned slightly, his expression hard to read. His voice came low and measured. “Veskairan, you’ve never asked to test a newcomer. Why now?”

  There was a moment of thick silence, heavy with breath and expectation. Vesk didn’t flinch.

  “I have my reasons,” he said simply, but his voice carried weight. It wasn’t defiance. It was conviction.

  Thor stepped forward then, looking between his brothers. His expression was serious, but there was no tension in his posture. “Let him,” he said to Vaerik. “If Vesk wants to be the one to test her, we should let him.”

  Vaerik studied Vesk for a moment longer, his blue eyes narrowing in thought. Then he gave a single nod.

  “So be it.”

  Vesk turned to face me fully then, and for the first time since his declaration, his mouth curled into something that looked far too much like a predator’s smile. Smooth. Confident. Deadly.

  My stomach twisted, and I swallowed hard.

  I hadn’t known what to expect, but this was not it.

  Vaerik, I could read. He was steady and unwavering—his strength was apparent and his energy calm, like an ancient mountain. But Vesk… Vesk was an ever-shifting storm beneath a layer of ice. I was still struggling to understand him.

  Without breaking his gaze, he extended a hand toward me.

  His fingers were steady, his expression unreadable.

  I hesitated for only a heartbeat before placing my hand in his.

  He led me forward, down the carved steps into the heart of the arena. A hush followed us, every footstep echoing off the stone. A hundred eyes watched from above, but I only felt the weight of one.