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I knew Charles wanted to lead. Being a commander eased that desire, but it never satisfied him. Even Mother’s stripped quell was more than a family secret—it was a lie.

A faint electric hum thrummed through my chest as the academy’s ward came into view.

I tightened my grip on Setrephia’s reins.

The island stretched before us: towering forests, crystalline peaks, and griffins landing on the beaches below.

The island was shaped like a hexagon, divided into six distinct realms—one in constant shadow, the other drenched in sunlight.

Charles veered sharply. “Hold on, Severyn!”

A dragon’s scaled wing grazed Setrephia, and I caught sight of it—a creature of vermilion wings and a sharp snarl.

“Dragon,” I breathed, awe-struck. I had never seen a dragon before.

“Yeah, stay away from dragon riders. Conceited assholes, all of them,” Charles yelled over the wind. “Better yet, stay away from the male gaze until your first year ends. You can't risk any distractions.”

Setrephia’s golden wings stretched wide as we descended. The air hissed around us.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered.

Charles’s voice faded as we neared the academy. “Welcome to the Serpent Academy, Severyn.”

Fear gripped my chest as I stared at the waves below, white stripes of fury breaking against the rotted docks. I turned to Charles one last time. “I take it back. I’ll go to Malvoria with you!”

Charles chuckled, but there was sadness in his tone. “Mother would disown me if I let you do that. She’s more worried than Father.”

We landed at the docks, where a dozen first-years waited. Knox had already dismounted Julian, scanning the academy grounds. Lorna wiped sweat from her brow, pouring water into Julian’s mouth.

“We made it,” Lorna said.

Setrephia cawed, her talons gripping the wooden dock. She dipped her head low, allowing me to dismount. My boots hit the planks unsteadily as waves pushed beneath us.

“Put your cloak on,” Charles said, pulling the hood from my bag and placing it over my head. “Neval hair isn’t common around Verdonia.”

“It’s a birthmark,” I muttered.

“It’s a mark, Severyn. Now, go find Knox.”

I tightened the cloak around my neck, my hands trembling. My legs wavered as I crossed the dock, every step feeling like I was still clinging to Setrephia.

I caught one last glimpse of Charles. “I promise one of us will win,” I said, “but I can’t promise we’ll both return.”

He nodded silently, his face unreadable.

Knox stood at the golden gates, the faint sound of combat clashing beyond the stone walls. “Did you see that dragon?” I asked breathlessly .

Knox nodded. “Take a good look while you can. Dragon riders wouldn’t be caught dead talking to us. We’re just pigeon riders to them. Weak.”

I always assumed the northern winds were strong. “That can’t be true,” I said. “Father would have told us.”

“Face it, Sev. We know nothing outside of North Colindale. You think a bird’s more powerful than a dragon?” Knox scoffed.

Behind golden fences, the Serpent Academy loomed.

Sculpted hedges formed poised creatures along slick, onyx stone, reflecting like black water.

Ships docked as creatures of all kinds flew in, their feathered wings sweeping above.

Hundreds of students moved through the courtyard, their quells rippling from open palms, relics and marks etched into their skin.

The senior students stood out in dark green blazers, each adorned with the academy emblem—a geometric snake. Some wore sweater vests, others leather vests slashed by claws. Daggers hung from every exposed limb.

A hazel-eyed male met my gaze from the path ahead, a fleck of blood crusted on his dimpled chin. His smile slowly curled toward me.

I reminded myself that they could kill with a glance, most students were already masters of their quells.

“Charles said we should hide our hair,” I whispered. “Do you have a cloak?” I glanced at Knox’s rucksack—worn from years of hunting trips with Father and Charles. It seemed unlikely he’d packed many clothes.

Knox scoffed. “They say our birthmark’s a curse—oh, shit.”

He froze, eyes fixed on a three-headed hydra. A blonde woman steered it down the path, her hair tangling in the wind. The dragon spread its scaled wings and landed gracefully before the doors.

“That’s... Malachi Herring,” Knox whispered. “ The Malachi Herring. ”

Herring. A name among the most elite in Verdonia, meaning she was either related to or married into King Norvin’s family.

Her cloak glinted with golden stars, revealing muscular legs beneath a pale lace dress.

The wind seemed to follow her, flurrying around her pristine combat boots. A bejeweled dagger hung at her ribs.

“Is she a student?” I asked, baffled.

Her amber eyes swept over the crowd before she glided past us, leaving a trail of vanilla scent in the air. She draped a sheer lace cloak over her head, the wind nudging her heel, stirring debris. She didn’t look back, her gaze fixed ahead as she approached the ancient stone steps.

“Looks like it,” Knox muttered. “The king’s granddaughter definitely rides dragons.”

The king’s granddaughter had come to face trial.

We passed beneath silver-and-gold-scaled arches—like dragon wings dipped in metal—leading to a black-stone castle surrounded by vines that snapped at the approaching students. Even the plants were deadly. I was in over my head.

At the castle’s edge, a black-glass snake coiled around the southern end, its head frozen in mid-attack.

Trees bordered the campus, flanking six narrow trails.

One was slicked with frost—Winter’s trail.

Another, likely Spring, burst with lilies and sunflowers.

A faint electric hum buzzed from the entrances, the ward trapping heat and cold behind it.

Guards stood at the gates, assessing every student. They dismissed Malachi with a simple nod. Their snakeskin cloaks swayed as swords glinted at their spines.

One guard raised his sword, nearly slicing me. I froze as the blade slipped beneath my cloak, ripping my hood down.

“Conceal,” the guard muttered, his copper eyes piercing through me as if he could see every bone. I feared he might end me with a single stroke. But the guard lowered his blade, allowing us to pass.

I clung to Knox’s arm, nearly tripping on the pearl rug. Whispers rippled among the first-years as warmth enveloped us, pulling us into the grand hall.

Scales and shattered light filtered through stained-glass windows. A grandfather clock ticked by the podium. Two staircases forked ahead, one marked with a sun symbol, the other with a blue thunbergia—the symbol of Spring. The castle groaned, hissing with age as students crowded together.

Knox nudged me, his gaze flicking to six figures near the podium. Their bodies were covered in intricate serpent tattoos, each a precise brushstroke, a hissing lindworm marking them.

A woman with dark skin stood with arms crossed, braids cascading over her shoulders. Her upturned nose tilted as if she could smell the fear in the room. That must be Saani. A whip of flame curled around her wrist, faint embers crackling in the air.

To her left stood a tall man with olive-toned skin, muscles straining beneath his white, tailored shirt. Violet buttons ran down his broad chest, each one barely holding against his frame. His sharp blue eyes swept the crowd, as did the serpent tattoo coiling around his neck.

I couldn’t help but wonder why Father’s serpent mark was on his arm—and why he always kept it hidden from us.

Then his gaze locked onto mine, and recognition hit me like a blow to the chest.

The man beside Saani—I knew him.

“That’s Archer Lynch,” I whispered, breathless. “He won the title the same year Klaus attended. I bet he killed him. That’s why he came that day to deliver the news of Klaus’s death.”

Father had sent him away with a slam of our iron door, nearly shattering the wards .

Knox met my eyes, his sharp chin dipping in a curt nod. “Don’t get too worked up, Sev. Someone like him will never know your name. But I’ve got to admit, the Night realm is pretty badass.”

“But why—” I shook my head, the words sticking in my throat. “He had no reason to know Klaus. I overheard Charles talking to Father after Klaus died. Archer was the last student to see him alive, Knox.”

Knox shrugged. “Klaus failed our family, Sev. I know that’s hard to accept.”

That Serpent had wormed his way into our home.

His smile and voice lingered in the portrait plastered on the Serpent press for weeks after his crowning.

I’d never seen Father so furious—never knew parchment could burn twice.

Father fed the flames every time the mail arrived, bearing Archer’s icy grin.

I needed a distraction.

My reflection caught in the lanterns strung along the hall, their candle wax dripping down the metal beams. I couldn’t meet Archer’s eyes again. Not after they wilted me, like a beetroot left to rot in last season’s harvest.

Silence fell as a cloaked figure entered.

The man I assumed to be the headmaster strode forward, standing beside the six Serpents.

He raised a curled fist, his cape billowing.

Yellow eyes glinted like polished glass, sweeping over the new students.

His mane of black curls framed his pale, nearly translucent skin, hard lines marking his expression.

Every eye turned toward him, including mine. But my focus frayed, torn between the headmaster and the storm of Archer’s gaze.

His voice rasped as he spoke. “The Serpent Academy welcomes you for another year to earn your title. I am Professor Mundair, and I shall be your headmaster as you embark on your journey to leadership. ”