Page 45 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

Tess

Stepping toward the training grounds, I felt the morning mist roll back, and my breath caught in my throat.

The Grand Arena sprawled before us in impossible grandeur—a massive amphitheater carved from living stone. My boots sank slightly into the dew-damp earth as I stepped through the archway, and I felt the faint buzz of magical wards activating along the perimeter.

"Holy shit," someone whispered behind me—one of the other applicants.

"Did you see it rise?" another voice carried on the wind. "The whole thing just... emerged from the ground like it was sleeping."

I barely registered their words. My gaze was fixed upward, where dozens of dragons perched on obsidian-lined platforms high above the arena floor. Their eyes glowed in the pre-dawn light—amber, silver, deep emerald—all fixed downward on us.

My stomach flipped. Whether from awe or dread, I couldn't tell.

A warm, familiar touch brushed against my hand. Mason's fingers found mine for just a moment—not holding, just there . Grounding me without a word.

I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my breaths even.

My gaze flicked to Kane, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed tight across his chest. He looked like he was holding something in—or holding something back.

His blue-violet eyes scanned the arena, but there was tension in the set of his shoulders that spoke of more than strategic assessment.

"Whoever designed this Hunger Games nightmare deserves a summoning circle to the crotch," Anya muttered, leaning in just enough that her voice reached my ear.

I snorted, the sound escaping before I could stop it.

The dark humor was so perfectly Anya —sarcasm when she was scared.

But I caught the slight waver in her voice, saw the way her violet eyes darted nervously between the dragon perches and the massive arena floor below.

She was scared. Just hiding it behind snark and dark eyeliner.

The tension between all of us was thick and heavy.

"They're watching for weakness," Draven's voice was low, almost lost to the wind that swept down from the arena's heights. "Don't give them any."

His hazel eyes had shifted to that predatory golden shade they took on when his incubus nature stirred close to the surface. He was scanning the elevated tiers, cataloging threats and advantages with the same methodical precision he brought to everything.

I met his gaze and nodded. The message was clear—I wasn't here to flinch. Not anymore.

Raze leaned toward me with an exaggerated whisper, his amber eyes dancing with mischief despite the gravity of the moment. "If we die, I just want you to know—I never actually returned that library book."

A startled breath of laughter escaped me. "You're the worst," I whispered back, but I was grateful. Even here, even now, humor helped. It reminded me that we were still us —still the ragtag group that had somehow found family in each other.

A deep, resonant bell sounded from somewhere high above, and the ground trembled subtly beneath our feet. The enchanted arena was fully activating, and I watched in stunned amazement as the flat terrain began to transform.

Stone rearranged itself under impossible architectures of magic.

Forests sprouted from bare earth in seconds, their trees growing tall and thick with ancient power.

Ruined temples rose, their broken columns and crumbling walls creating a maze of shadows and hiding places.

Sheer cliffs thrust upward, their faces scarred with caves and ledges that would challenge even the most experienced climbers.

My stomach flipped again. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

And it was real . Not illusion—actual stone and earth and growing things, all shaped by magic that made my core power hum in response.

"Mother of dragons," Kane breathed, his tactical mask slipping for just a moment as wonder crept into his voice.

I followed his gaze upward and felt my heart skip.

The elevated platforms surrounding the arena were packed with observers—hundreds of them.

Dragon emissaries with their otherworldly grace and barely-leashed power.

Omnium delegates in their formal robes and ceremonial jewelry.

Representatives from powerful Supe factions I couldn't even identify, their magical auras creating a rainbow of energy that made my eyes water.

What was supposed to be a Guild trial now felt like a supernatural summit. Everyone who mattered was watching.

I counted at least a dozen dragons on the highest perches, their massive forms radiating authority and ancient wisdom.

Their scales caught the light—deep emerald, burnished copper, silver.

There were even cameras floating overhead—crystal orbs enchanted to broadcast the trials to remote observers across the supernatural territories.

My mouth went dry. This wasn't just about passing a test anymore. This was about proving that a human could stand among dragons. That I could be worthy of the bond that already sang between Thalon and me.

A figure stepped forward on the central platform—Lord Protector Silvius, his tall frame commanding immediate attention. Intricate tattoos glowed faintly along his arms. His voice carried clearly across the arena, enhanced by amplification spells.

"Dragon Rider applicants," he called, his tone formal but not unkind. "Welcome to your final trial."

The arena fell silent except for the whisper of wind through the newly grown trees.

"The format is as follows: you will be divided into eight randomized teams. Each team must hide and protect its flag while attempting to capture the flags of other teams. Your performance will be measured in points, awarded for strategic thinking, magical creativity, and cooperative teamwork.

Losses will cost you—repeatedly failing to defend your flag or being captured by an enemy team will drain your score far faster than you can recover it. "

He gestured toward the arena walls, where massive crystalline displays materialized from the stone itself.

"You will receive enchanted amulets that will track your actions in real time—movement, combat, defenses, even your use of magic.

Along with color-coded armbands to identify your team allegiance to opponents.

Points are updated instantly on the board for the judges to see.

The maximum score any individual can achieve is one hundred points. "

I followed his gesture to the scoreboard, its crystal surface shimmering with empty grids waiting to fill with names and numbers.

"If you are captured and held by an opposing team for more than two minutes, your amulet will mark you as "Compromised"—a penalty of fifty percent of your current points, deducted instantly. Most who reach this status do not recover enough to pass."

A low murmur passed through the crowd. Silvius waited for it to fade before continuing.

"The hazards you see before you are active. Injuries are expected. Withdrawal is possible at any time—but once you quit, you are eliminated for good. There are no second chances."

My heart pounded against my ribs as the rules hammered home just how much I had to lose.

For every other applicant here, this trial was a chance to pass, to earn their place among the Dragon Riders.

But for me, it was a requirement . If I failed, my bond with Thalon could be severed—nullified by Guild authority.

I wasn't just being evaluated as a candidate. I was being watched as a precedent. A test case. The first human to bond with a dragon, standing trial before the supernatural world's most powerful eyes.

My gaze drifted upward again, past the observers to the dragons hovering overhead. Their ancient eyes seemed to pierce straight through me, weighing something I couldn't name. I didn't know which of them were looking at me specifically, but I felt their attention.

Were they measuring my courage? My worthiness? Or were they simply curious about the human who had somehow claimed a place among their chosen?

Silvius raised his hand, the amplification spells making his voice carry to every corner of the arena. "Team assignments will now be announced."

"Team One," Silvius called, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Alana Cross."

A silver amulet materialized in front of a tall woman with intricate tattoos covering her arms, hovering at chest height before settling into her palm.

The metal was plain and unadorned, with a leather strap attached like a watch band.

A crimson armband appeared simultaneously, wrapping itself around her upper arm with a soft shimmer of magic.

More names followed—powerful mages with impressive combat records. Then, finally: "Draven Loto."

My heart gave a sharp, painful lurch as Draven's amulet and matching crimson armband appeared. His team was stacked, deliberate, designed for magical dominance. When he caught my eye, something passed between us—a flash of frustration, of regret. He didn't want to leave me. But he had no choice.

"Team Two," Silvius announced. "Viktor Crane. Sarah Mitchell."

The first two amulets appeared with soft chimes, accompanied by deep blue armbands that materialized around their arms. "Kane Ellesar."

Kane's name came third, and the names that followed were exactly what I'd expected—disciplined fighters with military precision, the kind of team that would follow Kane's strategic mind without question.

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his gaze finding mine across the space between us. For just a moment, I caught something raw in his expression—concern, maybe calculation, definitely frustration—before he schooled his features back into that familiar mask of controlled authority.

"Team Three," Silvius called. "Anya Ravenspell."