Archive of Our Own ^beta

To be so very and completely honest, I am not ready for this. I don’t think it’s a great omen that I hurled my guts up just before approaching the valley, so if that’s any indication of what today will bring, then I’m one hundred percent fucked.

But I can’t be. I made a promise to my squad. That’s the thing about Deaconshire folk – we don’t go back on our promises. I’d sooner die than let my friends down – especially with what we’ve already gone through this year. I won’t let myself be felled or left behind, so I do what every logical person would do: I adapt.

 I go through the motions. I show up. I stand with the squad at the entrance to the valley while Professor Kaori yaps on about the rules. I don’t pay attention to most of it, since I’m simultaneously trying to keep my stomach from churning again. I can’t let myself be killed like this – like a coward – because the dragons know exactly who and what you are. I’m aware of my reputation among my wing; hopefully, the dragons aren’t, because the last thing I need them to know is that people mostly know me for cracking jokes and sleeping around. I know I’m nothing special, but I’d like to think there’s more to me than dick and humor.

When Kaori shouts at us to go, I watch with amazement as Sawyer and Rhi dive into the forest with terrifying ferocity. I can’t do anything but follow suit and slide on my mask of overconfidence. It’s not that it’s completely a ruse – it’s just exaggerated. I can be just as deadly as the rest of them if I want to be; I just don’t like to be.

I race through the trees, narrowly avoiding groups of my year-mates killing and being killed. I won’t be one of them, no matter how weak some people think I am. I am not weak. I am not less than. I know I’m strong, because I am alive. A good percentage of the people I started out with can’t say the same.

Literally, they can’t. You know. Because they’re dead.

After a while, the chaos and fear turns to exhilaration. I like these big open spaces, despite it being overtaken by massive creatures who could kill me in less than a second. Instead of fighting, I find myself wandering. We’re hardly allowed outside unless it’s for training and breaks, and caging someone like me is hard to do. I’m not meant to be locked up, and when I am, it’s inevitable that I find a way to break out.

That’s how I know I’ll make it out of here alive. I may be free now, but when the sun starts to set, this forest will become a prison for the unbonded and dead. I won’t be among them.

Eventually, I find myself by a lake – which means I’m probably at the other end of the valley, somehow. It’s…Nice. Really nice, actually. The water looks like a mirror with how crystalline it is, and I’d bet my bottom dollar that it’s cold. Clean, too. I glance around a little before I sneak towards where the rocky terrain meets the water’s edge and cup my hands, drawing some water and gulping it down. Yep, it’s clean — and damn good, too.

I fish out my waterskin and allow it to soak up the water while I scan the rest of the area. I’m alone, I think, which is both a good and bad thing. If I’m truly by myself, then no one will be able to kill me — but if the undergrowth is good for hiding in, that only leaves one option for a potential threat to harm: Me.

And for a moment, I think my fate is sealed once I notice the feeling of someone watching me — that is, until my ears are filled with the roaring of water, and the next thing I know, I’m fucking soaked.

I sputter and shake my head, running a hand through my now-drenched hair as my eyes finally refocus on the space around me. That was so fucked up, and I have half a mind to start yelling and throwing hands with whoever the hell just did that to me — and during Threshing, of all times — when I realize that it’s not even one of my year-mates who’s watching me. Not even human, actually.

I’m face-to-face with a dragon — an honest-to-the-gods brown dragon — with the widest golden eyes I’ve ever seen. Its lips curl back, exposing long fangs that could probably impale me, absolutely dripping with saliva. For a moment, I think I’m good as dead — until it lets out a sound: A single resounding huff, that — paired with its stretched mouth — sounds like laughter.

Against my better judgement, I don’t look away; in fact, I have the audacity to look offended.

“That was shitty,” I declare, keeping my feet planted in place. “Really fucking shitty, actually.”

The dragon growls, but it’s not ferocious by any means. In fact, it’s light, almost playful.

“And you think you could do better?”

I freeze. What the fuck?

“Yes, I’m speaking to you.” The voice comes from the center of my skull, sending the oddest vibration down my back. “Do they not teach you these sorts of things in class? What a shame. That professor of yours must learn to do his job.”

I open my mouth to respond when I feel something start to shift inside of me. Not in my stomach, fortunately, but something within the deep confines of my chest, maybe even deeper than what’s physically there. It’s a little invasive, yeah, but it’s not unpleasant. I feel like a bug clinging to an overturning rock, but better to feel exposed than dead.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” the dragon huffs as he examines me. “I was never going to kill you. I have been eyeing you since Presentation.”

I don’t comment, instead being slammed with the feeling of everything in me being rolled out on a single, invisible scroll that only I and the dragon can read. My strengths, my weaknesses, and — oh, goody; there goes my insecurities — are all on display, and while it’s certainly unnerving, I can’t help but feel understood. The last time I’ve felt that was probably…Never, actually. Even with my father being the best there ever will be, he never really got me. Here, with people who are in the same boat as me, I still feel like the black sheep unless I’m with my squad.

“They underestimate you,” the dragon growls lowly, its copper scales glinting and reflecting off the water like coins. “They see you as nothing but a well of humor and lust. I see you, though, Ridoc Gamlyn. You are so, so much more than even you think. You are adaptable. You are capable. You have so much power swirling within you, and you don’t even know it.”

I blink. Is this dragon giving me positive affirmations right now?

“I, for one,” it — he — continues, swinging his dripping Swordtail in the breeze, “think that you are quite like myself. It’s meant to be, you know? We are one and the same.”

It occurs to me that I’ve just been standing there like an idiot, so I speak. “Right,” I say dryly. “Because I totally would have snuck up on you out of nowhere to drench you with water. Smartest trick in the Threshing book.”

The tip of his tail flicks against the surface of the lake, hitting me with another splash of water. “It wasn’t out of nowhere,” he counters. “I have been watching you the entire time. I knew just by looking at you that you were perfect. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my first rider.”

Holy shit. My head snaps up, and I stare directly into his golden gaze.

“I’m your first?” I ask, my voice a little breathless. Sure, I knew that a dragon could pick me for whatever decent qualities it happened to see in me — but it never occurred to me that a dragon may want me, want me as the first rider to ever take to the skies with it.

“Yes.” He settles on his haunches and studies me. Finally, he sticks out his leg and gestures to it with his head. “Now, are you coming or not? I already had to track you across the damn valley. I don’t want to be later than we have to be.”

I can’t help it — I grin and scramble up his leg, putting one foot in front of the other until I’m sat in a little divot on his back. He swivels his head to look at me, and I can see a look of something like approval in those wide eyes of his.

Thank the gods. I’m bonding with a dragon that actually likes me.

“So.” I stretch a little and run my hand through my still-wet hair again. “Is it cool if I ask for your name? I’d like to be able to call you something other than my dragon.”

The Brown snorts and shakes his head before drawing himself up in a posture that I think I’m supposed to be impressed with.

“It is cool,” he decides, “although it is not inaccurate. I am yours, and you are mine. But, since you asked…”

He spreads his wings and launches into the air, barely giving me time to lock my thighs around his scales. Dammit, I need to do more leg days with Sawyer. Before I can blink again, we’re airborne, and all I can do in the moment is stare around me with widened eyes.

“I am Aotromspiorad of the daring Donnmisneach line. I doubt you care who I am born of, though. Don’t be bothered with the mouthful, either. Everyone shortens their dragons names. Just refer to me as Aotrom.”

If those woods were exhilarating to me, then the sky is the definition of freedom. I don’t think I want to land.

“Oh, you will,” comes Aotrom’s deadpan voice again. “Trust me. If you thought you felt nauseous before, I can guarantee you that you’ll be wishing you were back in the womb after more than two hours on me.”

My brow furrows in confusion before it dawns on me. “You saw that?”

“Indeed. Don’t be embarrassed, though. I watched a cadet have a stroke last year even before she stepped foot in the valley.”

Well, that’s reassuring.

“It’s not my job to be reassuring.” Aotrom careens to the right, towards a space full of dragons that — Oh, gods. Did I just see someone fall from this height?

“I take that back,” Aotrom retracts. “Yes, someone did something stupid and fell. No, that will not be you, because you are not stupid or weak. Now clench your thighs and don’t let go. I don’t plan on my first rider dying before we can even get to the roll-keeper.”

My smile probably reaches the clouds. “I think I might love you.”

Aotrom releases something akin to a laugh. “Already? I’m impressed with myself. I quite like you, too. I think you’re like the tiny, human extension of me, like a little wing on my spine.”

Little? “I take offense to that.”

“Well, you are,” he argues, and I don’t think I’m in any position to start a heated argument while I’m midair. “Do not pretend that you don’t think it’s impressive.”

I smooth my hand down the nearest scales, admiring their glow in the light. This is where I’m meant to be, I think. No — I know. I am meant to be here, with Aotrom speeding through the air like a damn cannonball. I’m not particularly religious, but if there’s a god of fate out there, I’ll be lighting a candle for them shortly.

“It is,” I concede as we start to drop by the edge of the valley. “I’ll give you that one.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

This is not my first Threshing by any means, but it is the first where I’m certain I will find the perfect human to bond with, because I already know who it is.

I am not a hatchling, but I’m practically buzzing with excitement. If my voice was still high enough to trill, I probably would. Who cares if someone hears it? I have a human!

Well, I think I do. I’m perched not far from the entrance to the valley, and that familiar tan skin is currently ducked behind a tree, sicker than a sailor at sea.

Oh, well. He’s still  mine. I knew from the moment I saw him that he’d be my first rider. I don’t want anyone else down there, and if I have to fight my brethren for the boy, then I’ll just have to sharpen my claws a little harder.

He straightens up and flashes that easy grin that caught my attention a couple of days ago. Yes, there is the little rider. I won’t be able to settle on the field and pick him out like I want to already, so I guess I’ll just have to wait.

Or, even better — I can make a game out of it.

When the cadets start streaming into the woods, I try to fix my eyes on my chosen one — except he is human, and humans are small. The forest is quite large, so I must settle to follow in the air. I roll my joints before launching into the air after him, tracking as he speeds through the trees. It’s like hide-and-seek, except only one of us knows we’re playing, and I’ve already won.

I’m flying for what feels like hours. How one human can have so much endurance is beyond me. Maybe I just don’t understand them fully yet. That’s why I must find my rider. I have so many questions that I need answers to, no matter how undignified.

He won’t judge me, though; I can tell that just by looking at him. That grin of his, the way he laughed all throughout Presentation without being scared around me and my brethren…He’s fearless, and I know hidden power when I see it. He’s just like me, I can already tell.

I finally come to a stop by the lake at the end of the valley, and I can hide in the trees since my scales are brown, too. I like this spot, and I think he does, too. He tests the water before taking a waterskin and filling it with water, and that’s when I have the best idea in my 21 years of living.

Silently, I crawl from my hiding spot among the trees and up the cliffside that walls in the lake. Oh, yes; this will be hilarious. I wait until he’s done drinking before I adjust my wings, lean forward a bit, and then  pounce, hurtling down and skimming the water and watching as my rider gets completely soaked.

I settle a few feet in front of him and bend down to look at him — really look at him. He runs a hand through his hair and looks like he’s about to launch a volley of complaint until we lock eyes, and he immediately goes still. I smile — the closest I can get to a smile, anyway — and let out a faint huff of laughter.

Usually, Chradh told me a few weeks ago, humans look down out of deference or necessity. Not my rider, though; we stay staring at each other, and then a look passed over his face that I can only guess is audacity. Perfect. I cast out my power quickly and wrap it around his skull, just like I practiced, and let myself into his mind.

“That was shitty,” he says, crossing his arms and leveling me with a look. “Really fucking shitty, actually.”

My snout twitches a little as I let out a light growl. “And you think you could do any better?”

He freezes once more, and through our newly-made bond that shines a nice shade of glacial blue, I can hear more swearing from his end.

“Yes, I’m speaking to you. Do they not teach you these sorts of things in class? What a shame. That professor of yours must learn to do his job.” For a so-called ‘dragon expert,’ that man teaches these riders close to nothing about us. Not that they’re entitled to much information, but I would hope that they’d at least teach the most basic of things.

While he’s still distracted, I poke through him. I’m not going to reject him now that we’re already talking, but I’m still nosy and want to see what he looks like on the inside. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t flinch, just raises a brow and then blinks when he realizes what I’m doing. I feel a twinge of something fly across our connection — not fear, but vulnerability. He thinks this is uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as being dead would be.

Oh, please. “Don’t be so dramatic,” I chide. “I was never going to kill you. I have been eyeing you since Presentation.”

There! I’ve found everything, and it’s much easier to read than I thought it would be. His strengths beckon to me like mage lights in the darkness — his adaptability, his power, his capability. I see his weaknesses, too, although they are few; slow to forgive, easy to judge — but we can work on that later. His insecurities are there, but they’re hardly noticeable or notable. Not to me, anyway. Not until I hit a bump of doubt — the realization that although he has the intellect to keep himself breathing, many still do not expect him to come out of these woods alive. I feel a surge of rage flow through me before I knock it off its course; I don’t need my rider feeling my wrath just yet.

“They underestimate you,” I rumble, scratching up the earth beneath me with my claws in frustration. “They see you as nothing but a well of humor and lust. I see you, though, Ridoc Gamlyn. You are so, so much more than even you think. You are adaptable. You are capable. You have so much power swirling within you, and you don’t even know it. I, for one, think that you are quite like myself. It’s meant to be, you know? We are one and the same.”

Me and him could be brothers, I think, if we were born the same species. Ridoc may not be the most physically-threatening creature on The Continent, but he has so much potential that I don’t think he even knows about. It’s there, blocked by a wall of chilled force — raw power swimming restlessly under the surface, waiting for a moment to be free.

I will be the one to help free it. I must, if we are to survive the oncoming storm.

He is my first - my only - and I will not lose him any time soon. You can drop all the riders you want, but this one? This one is mine.

I don’t understand Threshing very well, despite the fact that I’ve been preparing for it for my entire life. That’s how it’s always been, I think. I’m to be the rider, and Xaden is to be the duke. Except, you know, the whole ‘forced service’ situation. Now, we’re both the rider.

That’s okay. We’ve been forced to share everything else, anyway.

I already know how this will go down. I run in, I fight, and I bond. There won’t be any dying on my part — especially not by a dragon. That would dishonorable to my mother, to be killed in the exact same way that she was. I’ve already had assassination attempts on my life for a few months, but if I’m destined to die early, it won’t be on my knees with a sneering general at my back.

No. If I am to die, then it will be in front of everyone I need to protect. I’ll die standing before I submit kneeling.

Xaden and I have had the talk at least thrice already. No messing around. Only kill when necessary. Don’t look the dragons in the eye, and if it raises a claw to you, just let it happen. You’re nothing but prey to them, and they won’t think twice before incinerating you for impertinence.

Funny. They sound oddly similar to the Navarrian military.

In any case, I know I’m ready. I may not be very eager to kill, unlike others (I can see Imogen’s fingers twitching from ten feet away), but I know that I very well may have to — especially to impress a dragon. I think that’s bullshit, personally, that we’re just fighting for show — as if a bunch of 20-year-old kids slaughtering the people around them is the highest form of entertainment.

Oh, gods. I’m praying I don’t bond with a Blue. Sgaeyl is already terrifying enough.

When Kaori shouts at us to go, I’m the first one in the woods, taking off at top speed. I need to get the hell out there, bond, and then hop back out. It’s easy to dodge and weave around the others, who are aimlessly wandering around the valley in hopes that they stumble upon a dragon. Not me. Garrick told me that dragons like to find, not be found — so the only thing I can use to my advantage is my patience.

So I wait. I scan the forest around me, but all I can hear is faint roaring in the distance and smell traces of smoke. I hate that others are dying for this, but that small part of me, the one steeled by hardship, is silently thankful that I have less competition.

No. I can’t think like that. The past few years have taken so much from me — my family, my friends, my home…I can’t let them take my humanity away, too. That’s the one thing I can keep under my belt, despite this school trying so desperately to make me into some kind of monster.

That’s where me and my cousin diverge, it seems. He’s become what they want him to become. I have no such plans.

It’s not long after we’re sent out that I hear a crackling noise coming from my right, and while every instinct in me screams to fucking bolt, I just stand still. Perfectly still. It’s the way I stood in front of my mother, very briefly, when she was arrested hauled away. I couldn’t save her then — I was too young, too weak, too powerless — but now, when I’m at the top of my class in a place where everyone wants me dead, I know that I have a plenty good shot of doing what needs to be done. I am not defenseless anymore.

The trees keep rustling, and before I can even squint, large, slitted golden eyes peer down at me from among the leaves. Instantly, my eyes drop to the ground. This is the part I’ve dreaded all week, but I know it’s essential. Like everything else, I’ll push through.

The dragon is surprisingly quiet. You would think, given the fact that it’s giant, mighty, and ferocious, that it would be growling at me to back the fuck up, but it doesn’t make a peep. Really, it just watches me. Waits, just like I do. I can’t force myself to look up — it would be the first time I’ve seen a dragon up close since Mother, and although that was years ago, the smell of dying embers never fails to make me nauseous.

We stand there for what feels like hours before I hear a voice, soft as Deverelli silk, float melodically through me.

“Well, aren’t you quite the extraordinary little thing?”

Confused, my head pops up, my curls tumbling straight into my face as I meet the gaze of the dragon. It blends in perfectly with the dark foliage of the woods, but its eyes stand out like two miniature suns that stare directly into mine.

Did it just…speak to me?

“Yes,” that little voice hums, dragging across my brain like a gentle breeze. “I must say, you are not like any other human to walk this valley, hm?”

Well, no. That can’t be true, with the amount of times I’ve been described as a “softer Xaden.” It’s not an insult, I think, but it definitely means that I’m close enough to be considered a Riorson without my blood even being taken into account.

“Rubbish,” the dragon declares. “You are your own rider, boy. Even if others do not see it, I do. Now, come a little closer, please.”

Without thinking, I take a tiny step forward, directly into its line of sight as it lowers its head closer to me. I’m directly in front of it — which means that, should it find I’m not worthy, it could blow me to ashes within seconds. I don’t think it will, though. It doesn’t look like it’s particularly in a killing mood.

In fact, it looks like it’s…observing me. Studying me like a little bug under a microscope, except instead of noting wing patterns or color, the dragon seems to look deeper. Like it’s peering directly into my soul, my mind, my…everything to see if I am worthy.

I am worthy. I know I am.

I have worked endlessly to be the best, even though I know that I’ll always end up one step short — only to my cousin. I am the strongest of my year. I’m the best fighter. But, honestly, I have the feeling that this dragon doesn’t care much about that.

No. Instead, I feel, it’s watching for something more. It sees past my obvious strengths and goes straight for my weaknesses, the feeling hitting me straight in the gut. It sees so much. Too much. Being left behind and disregarded as the spare. Never being able to come out of my cousin’s shadow, when all I’ve ever wanted was to be his right hand. Devastatingly, it sees my worst moment of all: The sheer powerlessness I felt watching my family burn in the midst of dragonfire whilst a soldier held us back with rings of golden flame. I would have given anything that day to watch those fires die, to reverse the deal and send it straight back to those who decides to hurt us.

But I couldn’t. And everyone else had to pay that price.

Something changes in me. It’s soft, barely noticeable, but where I once felt completely empty, I now feel…something there. Kind of like a rope, long but taut, winding itself around me and stringing directly into the depths within myself. It’s warm, like summer nights after a storm, and I can’t help but reach for it. It pulses under my fingers and draws me closer to the dragon, just a tad.

“Ah,” it — he — says. “I see. Tell me, boy: Is this the path you truly wish to follow? Do you really want to commit to the choice of bonding with me?”

I blink. Choice? Since when has any of this been a choice? I haven’t gotten to decide anything for myself in…years.

“I don’t have a choice,” I reply, my voice slightly unsure. “Not anymore. My right to choose was taken long ago.”

The dragon growls impatiently, his Swordtail lashing behind him. “There is always a choice,” he corrects me. “Even now. You wanted to become a rider when you were a small child. Do you still wish to follow that path, knowing what this life will bring you?”

My brow furrows. Fucking Green dragons and their fucking superior intellect.

“Yes,” I say, before drawing myself up to stand taller. “I do. No matter where my fate lies, this was always going to happen. I’m meant to be the — a rider. That is everything I have ever wanted.”

The dragon nods approvingly before it crouches, stretching a leg out. “Good. You have much to learn, boy, but your intellect is keen. Now climb. I believe you have a job to do.”

Yes, I do. I have a lot of jobs to do, but I’m compelled to do one first: Climb. I study his scales for a second before hoisting myself up on his leg and precariously making my way to his back. Once I’m seated, I let out a faint yelp as he stands, my thighs clenching and forcing myself to stay upright.

“I like you,” the dragon chuffs, stretching his graceful legs out. “Perhaps I was meant to find you.”

For some reason, that sparks a warm feeling in my chest. He was meant to find me, to choose me. I wasn’t the second choice, or the spare, or the backup. It’s just me, and I am his.

I will not cry over that.

“I would not judge you for it,” he offers. “This may take some getting used to, Gréine. Do not be surprised when both your and my emotions start to overwhelm you.”

I recognize the word instantly. Gréine — Tyrrish for sun. I can only imagine what he means by calling me that before he speaks again.

“Ah, yes. How could I forget? You need my name, too.” He pauses. “Call me Cuirpríomh, of the venerable Cruaidhuaine line.”

Cuir’s silence intrigues me, as if there’s something he’s leaving unspoken. In any case, I don’t think I’m in any position to ask questions.

“Cuirpríomh,” I repeat, rolling the name around on my tongue. “You probably already know this, but I’m Bodhi Durran. Thank you—“ I trail off, my voice growing a little quieter. “Thank you for choosing me.”

He snorts, gathering strength into his muscles and beginning to glide up into the wind.

“That’s not something to thank me for,” he chastises, as if he’s had this conversation before. “But you are welcome, anyway. Now hold on tight. We must get you to the field before all the good spots are taken up by larger dragons. I like my breathing room.”

I just grin. Finally — I have everything I need to protect my people.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

I know exactly who it is I am looking for during this Threshing, if our plans are correct. I am to find the most worthy of them all, and then get out of the way. Humans are not capable of remembering important details, so I know that there is nothing stopping me.

Not like they could, anyway. They are just humans, after all.

There is no reason for me to hide, unlike some of my brethren. They can play hatchling’s games all they like; I have important business, and I will not allow the business to be interrupted.

There is a nagging feeling within me saying that I should most likely hide out better so that the wrong cadet does not approach me. However, if that disgusting scent of fear that permeates the air tells me anything, it’s that no one will actually come to me willingly. I must stumble upon my chosen, even if it slightly damages my pride.

Luckily for me, though, it doesn’t take much time for me to track down a human that doesn’t smell of pure anxiety — but one of doubt and…familiarity.

Hm. Intriguing.

I peer though mangled branches, and sure enough, a boy, wary and strong, watches the woods around him for something approaching. He is still — impressively still, like he is trying to encapsulate the image of a stone. He turns a little and stares directly into me — so I come closer.

I sniff a little and then freeze. I know this boy. I cannot recall how, but I know him. I duck down a little more and study him for a moment. He doesn’t look at me — he knows better, which sends a small tinge of satisfaction down my spine. He is smart. I like smart.

Then, the realization hits me. I do not need to look into his eyes to know the blood which runs through his veins.

Amber eyes.

A cheeky grin.

An easygoing human, even in the midst of war, smiling even as he bled from a gaping wound in his left temple.

This is Emyr Durran’s grandson, I am sure of it. I do not bow to any god, but I shoot Zihnal a quiet thanks. This boy’s blood is already bound to me — which means I already know what to expect from him.

“Well, aren’t you quite the extraordinary little thing?”

His head snaps up, a gaggle of dark curls falling into his eyes. He is the spitting image of his grandfather, except where Emyr was always endlessly chasing the next biggest adventure, this boy is more quiet. Subdued, even. He blinks, and I can hear the faintest ring of a question crossing his mind.

“Yes. I must say, you are not like any other human to walk this valley, hm?”

Instantly, doubt flickers over his face, and I curse internally. Someone has made this boy feel like less of a priority and more of an accessory.

No. That fate will not befall him.

“Rubbish,” I huff. “You are your own rider, boy. Even if others do not see it, I do. Now, come a little closer, please.”

Hesitantly, he takes a small step forward. I lower my head a bit to get a closer look. Only his eyes differ from that of his grandfather. Where Emyr’s eyes were amber and flaming, Bodhi Durran’s eyes are that of onyx. Deep, careful, and calculating. That, I can appreciate. Clearly, he will not be as reckless.

I stare deeper, looking for something to set him apart — and, oh, do I find it. What a strong child this is, smart and powerful and full of potential that not many recognize. What is it with this boy being pushed aside? Do humans not recognize the pure power that swirls within him?

I brush that aside, though. I care not for his strength, but for the things that have built him. I sift deeper, and his eyes widen a little as he realizes what exactly I am watching for.

It comes in flashes, his feelings. Hurt. Inadequacy. Bitterness. Helplessness. Powerlessness. Guilt. Stacked upon each other in a library of sadness, tucked away far from the common eye.

I am not the common eye, though. I see all of him.

And I decide it right then and there — this boy will be mine. To hell with those pesky human laws. I am a member of the Empyrean. I do not answer to the whims of humans.

Ever so gently, I cast out with my power and hook into him, nice and tight. He stumbles a bit and then stills, as if realizing exactly what’s happening.

Ah,” I muse. “I see. Tell me, boy: Is this the path you truly wish to follow? Do you really want to commit to the choice of bonding with me?”

Once he is bonded, there is no going back. There may be consequences, but they will not be his to bear.

He frowns before speaking softly, an air of tiredness cushioning him as he speaks. “I don’t have a choice. Not anymore. My right to choose was taken long ago.”

Horrible, spineless, wretched humans. My tail lashes behind me, and I take a moment to collect myself.

“There is always a choice,” I reply. “Even now. You wanted to become a rider when you were a small child. Do you still wish to follow that path, knowing what this life will bring you?”

He does not know, though. Not fully. Not what this will condemn him to.

He lifts his chin, suddenly a tad more confident. “Yes,” he says, “I do. No matter where my fate lies, this was always going to happen. I’m meant to be the — a rider. That is everything I have ever wanted.”

He gets points for determination. I nod and stretch out a little. “Good. You have much to learn, boy, but your intellect is keen. Now climb. I believe you have a job to do.”

We  have a job to do — much of which falls on me, for this blatant act of ignorance for laws that have been in place for almost a century. He will be prepared, though. I will make sure of this. Bodhi Durran will survive to see a thousand suns, and I will not allow anything less.

We take off in a flurry of pride, admiration, and simpering emotion. Then, it hits me — he needs my name. That did not occur to me before now, but luckily enough, I already have a name in mind for this boy to call me.

Cuirpríomh. To place first, to lead with authority, for my special little rider whose talent is hardly ever recognized. I see it all, Gréine, rest assured. You will never feel powerless again, not with the gift I have yet to bestow upon you. Now, we wait.