Chapter Text
It’s been months since I joined the Riders Quadrant, and already October 1st—Presentation Day—is coming up fast. Before any of us can even dream of stepping onto the flight field, we first have to pass the Gauntlet.
The Gauntlet is no ordinary obstacle course; it’s designed to break us down, test us, and train us for the real challenges of riding. Balance, endurance, quick thinking—all of it comes into play. Each squad gets nine, one-hour training sessions to master the course. On Presentation Day, we’ll be ranked based on our performance. The best squad gets to walk the Threshing first, giving them the best chance to bond with the most powerful dragons.
Today, we’re working on the first of five ascents. The challenge? Cross fifteen rolling logs and leap across four granite pillars. The logs spin and wobble under the slightest misstep. You either keep moving or you fall—hard.
“If you stop on the logs, they’ll squash you like a bug, so… don’t stop moving,” Morgan—Miari to most people—says beside me. His tone is blunt, no nonsense, like always. With his dark hair falling over his eyes and that constant air of confidence around him, he makes the warning sound more like a fact than advice.
I glance at the logs, eyes narrowing as I study the way they spin unpredictably. "It doesn’t look that difficult," I say, trying to sound like I’m not second-guessing myself.
Morgan lets out a dry laugh, crossing his arms as he turns to look at me with that same incredulous expression he’s been wearing since we started this course.
“Are you serious right now? My parents have been drilling this stuff into me since before I could walk. Riding, combat, strategy—you name it. I’m honestly surprised I don’t have a dragon already. This? I could do in my sleep." I roll my eyes, part of me annoyed.
"Unbelievable,"He mutters under his breath.
Morgan takes a step forward, placing his boot on the first log with absolute confidence. He doesn’t even hesitate as he strides forward, his movements fluid and precise. With each step, the logs roll and spin beneath him, but he adjusts like it’s nothing, easily reaching the first granite pillar.
Turning back, he smirks at me, arms still crossed over his chest. "What can I say? I’m just that good."
I let out a snort, masking the nerves that are starting to coil in my chest. "You’re not that good," I fire back, stepping up to the log. The wood shifts under my weight, and for a second, I feel the urge to stop, to hesitate. But Morgan’s watching, and there’s no way I’m backing down now.
One step. Then another. I keep moving, fighting to stay balanced as the logs roll beneath my feet.
This is just the beginning—of the Gauntlet, of my training, and of my chance to prove myself. There's no turning back.
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In just about five minutes I’m already way farther up than Morgan. I look back down at him, he’s finally catching up to the ledge where I’m standing, his breath coming in short bursts. He's trying to hide it, but I can see the fatigue starting to wear on him.
“You know,” he says between breaths, eyes flicking up at me, “I’m starting to think you enjoy making the rest of us look bad.”
I smirk, brushing some loose dirt off my hands. "Maybe a little. It’s not my fault I’m better at this," I tease, though there’s truth to it. This Gauntlet, all of it—it’s exactly what my parents trained me for. Years of drills, conditioning, mental toughness. I was built for this.
I look past Morgan to the others struggling below, still making their way up the rock face. The logs behind them are starting to roll faster, and some of them slip. They’ll either have to speed up or risk being knocked back to the start.
"Don’t look down," I call out to them, half serious, half teasing. “It’ll only make it worse.”
I turn my attention to the next obstacle—the narrow swaying bridge that connects this ledge to the next. The ropes are frayed in places, and the boards are slick with morning dew, creaking ominously with every gust of wind. I can already tell this is where most people are going to panic.
I step onto the first board. The bridge sways immediately, shifting under my weight, but I keep moving. Momentum is key here. If you stop, you’re done for. The wind picks up, causing the ropes to groan, but I steady myself with each step. The boards creak beneath my feet, but I keep my focus on the far side, refusing to look down.
Behind me, I hear Morgan mutter something under his breath. He's never been one for heights, but he’s following, a few steps behind. "Just don’t look down," I call back to him, my voice light, though I can feel the tension in the ropes beneath me.
“Easy for you to say,” he grumbles. “You probably built something like this in your backyard as a kid.”
I laugh. “Almost! My dad did rig a zip line between two cliffs for training once. But don’t worry, I’m not asking you to jump—yet.”
I reach the halfway point, the bridge swinging dangerously as a particularly strong gust of wind hits. My body instinctively shifts to counterbalance it, and I tighten my grip on the ropes.
I glance back, and sure enough, Morgan's hesitating for just a second—his knuckles white as he grips the ropes a bit too tightly. "Come on, Morgan! You’re overthinking it again."
He shoots me a glare, but takes another step. "You always sound so smug when you say that."
I grin. “It’s because I’m right.”
Just a few more steps and I’m across, landing solidly on the other side. The ground feels firm beneath my feet again, and I turn to watch Morgan make his final steps. He’s moving slower than me, but he’s doing it. I can see the determination in his eyes now—no jokes, no smirks. He’s focused, and I have to admit, when he sets his mind to something, he always pulls through.
He lands beside me with a heavy breath, eyes narrowing slightly as he catches my gaze. “Happy now?” he says, voice tinged with exasperation but also a sense of accomplishment.
I shrug. "You made it. That’s what matters."
We both take a second to catch our breath as we glance toward the next challenge. The course ahead is brutal—more spinning logs, some of them broken in the middle, leading to swinging ropes we’ll have to grab and jump between. Timing will be everything, and I can already feel the adrenaline rising in my chest.
The sound of someone slipping behind us catches my attention, and I see one of the others struggling on the final log. They stumble, nearly falling before barely grabbing hold of a side rope. It’s enough to remind me that not everyone grew up with the same training.
"Think the others will make it?" Morgan asks, following my gaze.
"They’ll have to," I reply, more serious now. "If they don’t, we’re all screwed. This is just the beginning."
He nods, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead. “And we still haven’t even reached the last ascent.”
“Exactly,” I say, feeling a rush of excitement. “That’s when things get really fun.”
Morgan gives me a skeptical look but says nothing. Instead, he glances ahead at the swinging ropes. “Let’s get this over with then.”
I smile, stepping forward toward the next trial. I don’t tell him this, but deep down, I’m enjoying every second of this. This is what I’ve been waiting for—the real test. The Gauntlet is about separating those who can just survive from those who can thrive. And I plan to come out on top.
“Stay close,” I say, eyeing the first swinging rope. “You don’t want to miss this.”
With that, I leap, grabbing hold of the rope as it swings wildly in the wind.