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Chapter 1

Zayne

T he meeting I’d been dreading slash anticipating for what felt like forever had finally arrived. I wasn’t sure exactly which emotion was stronger, the dread or the anticipation, but it didn’t matter. Not now that the time had finally come.

When I’d woken up this morning, in a lot of ways, it seemed like a day like any other. The only thing different was it being the beginning of the new school term. Vacation was complete. Students would be arriving back to campus soon—those that didn’t live on the school grounds year-round, that was. All the teachers who had traveled during break would return. Everything would be back to normal, or as normal as it got around here.

I’d been through this before. In so many ways, it was old hat. But today? Today was different. I just didn’t know how that different was going to look. At least not yet.

My solitude would be gone, and that was the one thing I’d miss. And it wasn’t like I lived in the dorms and would be surrounded by bunches of students at all hours of the day and night. In that way, I was exceptionally lucky.

I lived on the far end of the lake where the school resided—sectioned off from just about everyone, thanks to the tall trees that provided my cabin the privacy I’d so desperately craved. In theory, it meant that I really wouldn’t notice the extra activity going on around the school. As long as the students kept their activities quiet, I would continue to enjoy mine. But in theory and reality tended not to be the same.

I’d lived as far away from the school as I could from the first day that I’d been hired on. This area of the school grounds didn’t have a home on it until I built mine fifty-two years ago. At the time, I had no idea that I’d still be here all these decades later. Silly me, I thought it was going to be a stepping stone.

Was it truly solitude that I needed, or was I sinking into a prison of my own making? The answer to that remained a mystery, one I wouldn’t have even questioned a couple of years ago. But something had changed over the past year. If only I could put my finger on it.

I took a longer sip of my coffee, tempted to splash the hot liquid onto my face to snap myself out of those thoughts. No, it wasn’t loneliness that had me in such a funk. Or maybe it was a part of it. It was the fact that after fifty years of being Flight Leader—the best at the Academy—my job was now in jeopardy. No one had said anything to me directly, but I heard the whispers from students, staff, and even the parents. My team had been slipping the last few years. My rank—and respect—as a Leader slipped further from my firm grasp.

Last year, we finished dead last in the division games. We hadn’t even gone to the championship. I’d never missed a championship round in all my years of teaching. And as much as I’d like to say it was a bad batch of students, it wasn’t. Students were only as good as their Leader, and last year, their Leader sucked.

Unsurprisingly, there were now whispers from parents that I’d lost my edge, rumors from students that I was washed up—washed up at the ripe age of four hundred. I wished I could say they were wrong. I wanted them to be wrong. But looking in the mirror that day, the day we lost, I saw exactly what they did and vowed to be better. If only I knew how.

I set my coffee cup in the sink and went outside. I could call upon my dragon to fly me over the lake, like I did most mornings. But even my dragon didn’t want to come forth right now. I had a meeting with Flight Commander Emmon, the leader of the entire school who operated much like a principal or headmaster at a human school.

What I was going to find out, I had no idea. I liked to think that their faith in me would override everything, that they’d give me some pointers and another chance. I strongly suspected that would not be the case. As a dragon clan, we took the Dragon Flight games seriously, and if our school wasn’t winning, then, well, we needed to make a change.

I’d be the first to agree with that—except, in this case, the change was me. And even though it probably was a good move to remove me, I wasn’t ready to leave yet. This had become my home, and when it was time for me to go, I wanted to be with my team on top.

I made the mile walk around the lake, enjoying the fresh air. Would I be demoted to Flight Trainer? It was still a noble position to hold, and I wouldn’t turn it down. It would suck, though.

Or maybe I’d be let go completely and have a whole new team brought in to lead our elite division? Would I be moved down to challenger league? Or worse, sent to do something completely unrelated.

Being fired meant I’d have to move out of my cabin, find a house somewhere else. I’d need to begin again. And when I was younger, the thought of a new adventure was exciting. Now… Now it meant losing my home, where my heart belonged.

What would I even do if I wasn’t a Flight Leader? I could go into broadcasting, become a commentator at the games. I shook away that thought—I did not have the social skills necessary for such a thing. There was only so long that I could fake it before I burned myself out completely.

Journalism I could do. Did they still have sports journalists writing articles about the various teams? That seemed to have gone by the wayside with all the modern tech.

Statistics were never my strong suit, so I wasn’t going to be the type to run any numbers. My Flight Trainer, Hayden, was skilled at that, which was why I kept him on my team. I hoped that my Flight Trainers would remain even if I was let go. It wasn’t their fault that I had struggled so much the past few years. I didn’t even know whose fault it was.

Mine, I suppose.

The reason was lost on me, though. It felt like I was doing the same thing I always had in the past to win. But then again, maybe that was the problem. Maybe I was stagnant while everyone else was growing.

The main entrance was quiet when I opened the doors. I waved to the janitor, Sal, who had worked at the school almost as long as me. He smiled back. You could always count on Sal to make your day a bit brighter.

“Good morning, Zayne. Ready to have the whole crew back?”

I nodded. “It’ll be good to see the students again.”

“Indeed, it will,” he said.

I hoped I was here to see them all. Would I be able to say goodbye? Some of my team members had been with me for several years. The longer I let my brain wander, the more dire the situation looked.

After a wave good-bye, I made my way to the Flight Commander’s office. It was on the third floor of the building. Much of our classes took place outside, but there were times when indoor lessons were necessary. Students needed to learn technique, along with their other subjects that were equally as important to dragon flight, including math.

The office door was open, and I walked right in. Emmon smiled when he saw me. That was a good sign, right?

“Zayne, how are you?” He stood up and shook my hand. He’d been on a trip for the past few weeks. Like me, Emmon lived at the school full-time, but during the break, he liked to travel.

“Good.” I sat down.

“I trust you know why we’re having this discussion.” Nothing in his tone was harsh, but it still stung.

I grimaced but nodded. “Yes, sir. I assume it’s time for a change.”

“It is indeed. But judging by your face, I think you might have started thinking this is going to be a more drastic change than I’m looking for.”

“I trust your judgment on this,” I said. “I’m sure that you are getting pressure from parents, other teachers, the students themselves. Heck, I’m sure even Lord Malric has weighed in.” Lord Malric was the Emberstone clan leader. Having our clan do well in the dragon flight games at any level was good for his reputation—ours really, but he took it personally. The Emberstone clan had four dragon flight schools, and we competed in several leagues at various levels. Mine was the elite division. Or it was. I supposed I was going to find out which soon enough.

“Yes, there are always complaints from all sides, whether we win or lose. I’m more concerned about you as a person, though, Zayne. Are you all right? Is there anything that we can help you with?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say yes. Of course, I was fine. I had to be fine. Instead, I just shook my head.

“I don’t know. I took the summer break as a time to really think about things. I just… I don’t know. Is that pathetic? Four hundred years old, and I just don’t even know why I’m in a funk.”

“Not at all. Living a long life doesn’t mean we have all the things figured out.”

“If you need to let me go, I understand,” I said. “Please don’t keep me on out of pity.” That would be so much worse.

“Absolutely not, Zayne. Two things—it’s not out of pity that we’ll continue to keep you on as Flight Leader. We won’t fire you for a bad season, or even ten bad seasons in a row. That’s not how we operate, nor should it be how any of the clans operate. We’re going to pull in some new people, though. New ideas. A lot’s changed in the flight world in recent years. The strategies that won us competitions twenty years ago aren’t the same as the ones that will win them now.”

Great. I really needed to be reminded just how outdated I was.

“Have you heard of Ash Halloway?”

The name sort of rang a bell, but I couldn’t say that I could picture him. I shook my head.

“He’s a golden eagle shifter. He’s been doing stats and commentary for the Dragon Flight games at the regional level for years. I hired him as your second-in-command.”

I still wasn’t sure who he was talking about, but hearing he was an eagle and going to be my second were two things I hadn’t even considered on my journey down “what-if” lane on my way over here.

“As a trainer?” I wasn’t saying I didn’t want that, more I was trying to figure out exactly what was happening.

“More than that. A co-leader.”

Co-leader. It was worse than being fired. This was the equivalent of a babysitter.

“Commander—”

“This isn’t up for debate, Zayne. The decision’s made.”

I groaned. Why did this seem so much worse than being fired? I didn’t have a choice.

“All right.” It wasn’t as if there was any point in arguing.

“If it doesn’t work out this season, with the two of you leading together, we’ll come up with a different plan.”

I had a feeling that different plan would be me not being Flight Leader. “All right.”

“I trust that you will accept an outsider?” He guised it as a question, but it was a command.

“Of course,” I said. “The fact that he’s not a dragon means nothing to me. It’s just… co-leaders? Not many teams do that.” I wasn’t sure if any did, now that I thought about it.

“No, no, they don’t. Maybe it’s the edge we need.”

I clenched my jaw. Perhaps it was. It wasn’t as if things could get worse than last year’s performance.

“All right,” I said. “Bring it on.”

“Perfect. He’ll be here this afternoon, and I’ll set up a meeting with the two of you. When the students arrive, I expect the two of you to be working in perfect harmony.”