Page 15 of The Scars Within (Twisted Thorn #1)

Thankfully, I had enough time to run to my dorm and change after we cleaned up my mess.

Intro to Fire Wielding consumed the entire day.

All fire elemental courses took place within the entry field of Dragon Valley.

The valley was close enough to the college for dragons to make the flight over within five minutes, but it was an hour’s walk on foot.

Even our lunch break was catered out in the valley, and we had everything we packed that morning until class ended a few hours before sunset.

Once again, I was in awe of the sight before me. Dragon Valley stretched across a one-hundred-mile radius. No human had ever ventured into the full depths of the biome. Dragon Valley wasn’t even on our maps before the dragons were born due to the Battle for Mareki.

The valley entrance was said to be a wall of mountains, their peaks higher than any man could see. These mountains formed a jagged wall of stone, completely impassable. People saw them as the continent’s edge.

When the first dragons, born from the fire element, had grown to full size, they needed more land to call home.

The dragons began to burn through the rocky mountains, using their talons to move mounds of earth.

It took years before the final result was accessible to humankind.

When the first elementals ventured into the land, it was named Dragon Valley, a home for the entire dragon species within our borders.

Needless to say, everything about Mageia filled me with awe.

Dragons soared overhead, their scales gleaming in the sunlight, casting shadows that danced across the ground.

The air was filled with the scent of burning wood and the distant roars of dragon riders practicing their lessons.

I could see from afar a long wall of wooden targets, all at different heights and sizes.

A tall female cadet with dark skin and bright purple braids down her back was challenging a pale-skinned male with blond hair that beamed in the sunlight.

Every time she hit the center of the target, she’d break into a silly dance just to jest. In the opposite direction, cadets were practicing their dismounts from their bonded dragons.

There was a first-year cadet who looked like he was about to faint as he looked down at the ground.

A few older cadets were waiting for him, coaching him on the dismount.

Although every rider I could see was vastly different, they worked side by side in a community of harmony. The idea of that sense of belonging that could possibly lay ahead filled me with anticipation and a deep, childlike want.

Like History of Warfare, first-year cadets shared the same fire-wielding classes until their elemental magic developed.

I heard from whispering cadets over the past few days that Intro to Fire Wielding was absolutely boring because it must be taught with extreme caution.

So, most of what we would be doing was… observing, which doesn’t seem boring to me.

I was too busy drooling over the sight before me to notice that the group of first-years was starting to divide into two groups.

Tatum grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the left as I turned to see a woman walking through the crowd.

She walked with her chin up, shoulders back, and hands behind her, demanding respect with her presence.

She made her way to the front and turned to face us all.

“Cadets,” she began, her voice resonating with a natural authority.

“Welcome to Intro to Fire Wielding. I am Professor Maksimov. For now, I am your guide. If you harness the prestigious power of fire-wielding, I will become your mentor. I will be by your side every step of the way, but I will also be the most demanding mentor you’ll ever have.

Fire-wielding may seem fun and badass, but it is also the most deadly of the elements. ”

She raised her hand, and a flame danced at her fingertips, flickering and swirling as if alive.

And then, in a blink of an eye, she hurled the flame over the group of cadets standing in the opposite group from us.

Some leapt out of the way as others raised their hands for protection.

I saw Pehper fall to the ground and choked on my laughter .

“Here, in Dragon Valley, you will learn to harness the raw power of the flame. To control and command the element that breathes life into dragons and forges the strongest of warriors. Fire is both a creator and a destroyer. It demands respect and discipline. It can warm your heart or consume you in its fury. In this class, you will learn to walk that fine line, to become one with the fire, and to channel its element with precision and purpose.”

She paused, letting her words sink in, her gaze sweeping over each of us. Professor Maksimov’s expression softened slightly, and a grin spread across her face.

“Remember, cadets, fire is not just an element but a living force. It responds to your emotions, your will, and your spirit. Embrace it, and it will serve you well. Fear it, and it will become your damnation. Now, who is ready to ride a dragon?”

Hands shot up from cadets around me, including Tatum’s. Was Maksimov being serious?

A gust of wind above us interrupted my thoughts. Darkness covered us, and the sound of wings beating drowned out my chattering classmates. I threw my arm over my head and ducked as the most beautiful, most extravagant red dragon swooped down close to us before landing next to Professor Maksimov.

“How about now?” Maksimov asked as the dragon nudged her hands with its snout. “Meet Roux,” she said, turning to pet Roux’s scaly chin.

Every one of the hands that were raised lowered.

The corner of Maksimov’s lips turned up again. “Let’s begin.” She waved her hand for us to follow her towards the right side of the valley entrance, where some second-years were getting dressed in their flying gear.

Flying gear at Mageia consisted of thicker leathers than the usual cadet attire.

Each bonded dragon goes through the process of being fitted with a custom saddle that is comfortable enough to wear at all times.

The saddles have a leather strap to help keep dragon riders in their seats and saddlebags on each side for the rider’s needs.

No sheaths or special packs are made for weapons because cadets are trained to survive with only their fire element.

I wasn’t sure how our riding leathers differed from Tyria.

All that is known to the public is that Tyria has significantly fewer fire elementals.

Rumors say this is because the Mareki Gem sees their people at fault for the Battle for Mareki, so it channels less and less of the fire element into their generations.

However, we know they have at least some gray dragons that steer toward the north once hatched.

It is said these specific dragons are ruthless and less loyal to their bonded elementals.

The second-years were all dressed as they walked in our direction.

Maksimov introduced them all to us since the entire first-year group was here, and we were only familiar with our team leaders.

Davis was front and center with a cocky grin on his face while his green dragon, towering behind him, eyed us all as if we were his midday snack.

Other second-years were standing near their dragons, whom I hadn’t officially met but had seen around the college this week. No sign of our team leaders yet.

A male professor, likely in charge of the second-years, came out from the sea of dragons, pointing at cadets and giving orders.

Four cadets immediately jogged to and mounted their dragons with ease, using the spikes along the back of the dragon’s arms as a makeshift ladder and leaping up to grab the saddle’s pommel, then heaving one leg up and over.

Damn. If I channel fire, I will surely have to build up my core strength.

The mounted cadets burst into the sky and demonstrated an exercise of two-on-two.

In the sky was a brown, a blue, and two greens.

The pairs first flew away from each other and then stopped to face the opposite pair, their mounts flying stagnant in the air close enough to each other that the cadets could discuss their plan.

The second-year professor blared a loud horn a few moments later, and the demonstration was on.

The pair on the right made an approach with one rider scaling higher than the other while the pair on the left stayed at the same level side by side .

“Alpine is on the right while Beech is on the left. Both sets of cadets were told to show us beginner-level techniques that one will learn within the first few months of fire-wielding,” yelled the professor through a horn to broadcast his voice to us all.

Once the pairs neared each other, you could see the lower dragon of Alpine open its jaws wide, a bright glow of dragonfire starting to ignite within its throat.

It was only a diversion to distract Beech while the higher dragon released the flames down on the pair.

The two Beech cadets barrel rolled in opposite directions to avoid the flames.

The massive beasts twisted mid-air with surprising agility, narrowly avoiding the attack, while the green dragon in Beech let loose a stream of flames while mid-roll that connected with the underbelly of the lower Alpine. Another horn went off in the field.

Alpine’s hit descended as the professor yelled, “Once a dragon or its rider is hit with a flame during practice maneuvers, that cadet is out of the game. Leaving the others to finish the lesson.”

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find Shayde smiling down at me, fastening his riding jacket. He eased his way through the first-years when the professor called him out.

“You’re late, Wylder.”

Shayde threw up his hands in protest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I had a private lesson run longer than scheduled. ”

Private lesson?

The professor rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back up to the sky, where Alpine and Beech still squared off. Flames burst from every angle as the dragons did a mixture of rapid diving, bobbing, and weaving in the air.

I felt my skin prickle and took my eyes off the aerial battle to see Rhodes walking out of a darkened shadow made from two large boulders as tall as the dragons.

His eyes were locked on mine, his chin lowered as he zipped up his jacket.

Where had he been? Surely, I would have noticed him amongst the crowd of second-years on and off their dragons in the field.

Rhodes turned to face his black dragon. Between his body movements and the dragon’s puffs of air, it appeared that they were somehow… communicating.

Another horn went off as the second-year professor signaled the end of the maneuver. The dragons made their descent and landed peacefully on the practice field. The riders dismounted, their faces flushed with what looked like adrenaline.

“Well done,” their professor said, his tone approving. He walked towards the final three cadets from the demonstration.

Maksimov turned towards us and said, “Soon, that will be you all who breathe fire within your veins.”

Cleo, Laney, and I had just sat down with our dinner trays when Tatum strolled over. She nudged Cleo’s shoulder with her hip and tilted her head toward the doors. “Grab your stuff. I’ve got something to show you.”

We exchanged confused glances but did as she said. Following Tatum through the halls with our dinners in hand, she led us down the eastern corridor. When we reached a worn, wooden door, Tatum leaned against it, pushing it open with a loud creak, proof it hadn’t been used in ages.

We stepped into a tiny courtyard, barely connected to the castle by that single door.

The space was at most ten feet by ten feet.

A small fountain trickled in the center, but there were no benches.

The bushes in the corners had dried up, and vines snaked across the stone walls.

Above us, the night sky was visible through the open roof.

Tatum plopped down by the fountain. “What do you think?”

We followed her lead, and I leaned against the fountain’s edge.

“How did you find this?” Cleo asked.

Tatum had already started to dig into her shepherd’s pie, “I was trying – to learn my way around the castle when – I stumbled on it. Isn’t it cool?

” She swallowed her bite. “We could give it a name, like the Sanctuary, and it could be our little secret. Our place to hang out and get away, without actually getting away.”

I looked around the mini courtyard. It definitely needs a cleanup, but it has potential. Like the rooftop, it could be another place to escape.

“I love it!” Laney said, excited. “We could bring some cushions or chairs and make it cozy.” She stuck her pinky out in the center. “Let’s promise to keep it between us and brainstorm a codename.”

We linked pinkies, giggling.

“What about ‘The Hangout’?” Cleo suggested between bites.

“Boring,” Laney groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Sanctuary 2.0?” Tatum offered.

Laney shot her a glare in response.

We sat in silence for a while, eating, when Laney suddenly jumped up. “Bolthole!” she shouted with her hands in the air and a huge grin on her face.

“Bolt...hole?” I asked skeptically.

“Yeah! It’s another word for hideaway.”

“I think that sounds a bit... inappropriate,” Cleo deadpanned.

“Exactly! No one would suspect anything if they thought they heard me ask you to meet me in the butthole!” Laney defended, grinning mischievously.

We all burst out laughing, tears forming in my eyes. Laney wandered around the space, finger to her lips, as if calculating how to redecorate.

“Bolthole it is,” Tatum said, shaking her head with a smirk.

Cleo snapped her fingers and brought the bushes back to life.