Page 8 of The Scars Within (Twisted Thorn #1)

I scrutinized every new cadet who arrived yesterday morning. Among them was one I hadn’t seen before: Scarlet Thorne. She’s reserved, almost inconspicuous, with a thin frame and a demeanor so muted she could easily vanish into a crowd.

The Grim had warned me to be particularly vigilant this year. With this new batch of cadets, there’s no room for error. So, I arrived early at the Great Hall and stayed long after the last student had left.

I cannot afford a repeat of last year’s debacle. The Grim’s patience has worn thin, and he has made it clear that leniency will not be an option this time. If I wish to keep my secret hidden, I must adhere to his demands without fail.

At Mageia, the curriculum strays far from anything resembling a traditional school.

Every course is meticulously designed to strengthen students’ elemental powers, supplemented by lessons in battle history, war theory, and other critical subjects.

And, of course, there are the flying lessons for dragon riders.

Cadets follow a comprehensive array of classes until they successfully channel an element. Once that milestone is reached, their studies pivot to focus exclusively on mastering their specific discipline, structured by year, while still attending the college’s core classes.

Today kicks off with Intro to Air Wielding, a class my quad has been eagerly anticipating.

My class filed into the classroom, all clad in our solid black cadet leathers.

On initiation day, we were issued several sets of leathers, along with deep orange cloaks for the winter months.

In this blistering heat, I opted for the sleeveless version, ignoring the fact that it would show off my scar.

Professor Skuttlezwagon strides to the classroom’s forefront.

Air-wielding rooms occupy the college’s highest floors, a necessity for the rigorous drills of second and third years.

Half of the area is enclosed like the rest of the castle, while the other half remains open, divided into customizable sections for specialized training.

As a first-year, all activities are conducted safely under the roof.

However, second and third years frequently venture to the roof’s edge and along the college’s outer wall.

During our initial entrance into Mageia, I caught a fleeting glimpse of these areas: rock climbing wall simulators managed by seasoned air wielders within the faculty and what seemed like a daunting leap into the abyss.

I loved the view from the castle roof, but jumping from it wouldn’t exactly be my idea of fun.

“Good morning, students!” Professor Skuttlezwagon’s voice rang out across the room.

She stood shorter than most, with curly brown hair fading into gray, clad in black faculty leathers nearly identical to ours save for the badges adorning her vest. Her demeanor seemed far warmer than Hogboom’s, evident at first glance.

Returning her greeting, we stood at attention.

“Welcome to your first air-wielding class,” she continued. “You’ll notice second and third-year cadets practicing their skills throughout our sessions. However, focus on your own development. You’ll engage in these exercises only if you channel air magic.

“Please, take a seat and get to know your neighbors. Our first lesson will focus on the hand movements and mental components integral to air-wielding. We’ll practice together until the lunch bell rings.

However, refrain from practicing outside of class, as manipulating an element without proper control can pose risks to those nearby. ”

I nodded approvingly and pulled up a chair beside Delaney. I was ready with a notepad and quill in hand when thunder roared from above. A loud screech followed it. My classmates and I looked up at Professor Skuttlezwagon, but nobody said a word. She side-eyed us and grinned.

“Fine. Lesson begins in five. Go check them out,” she winked and rolled her chair up to her desk.

Everyone immediately jumped up from their desks and ran into the open-air section of the classroom to see what the commotion was about.

My jaw dropped in awe as I looked up at the sky, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand.

Three dragons were flying over the castle, undoubtedly with their riders during flying lessons.

A black, a green, and a brown dragon soared in synchronized patterns that looked like war techniques.

This was the closest I had ever seen a dragon.

These enormous, majestic creatures were the most fascinating things I had ever laid eyes on.

The brown dragon suddenly dove towards us so quickly that we barely had time to move.

As it flew directly over us, it threw its head up and let out a blast of flames into the air, making my heart stop for a split second.

Magnificent.

The dragon pivoted its body to make another close pass over us, and I recognized its rider: Shayde Wylder.

He let out a war cry and raised his fist in victory.

A wave of awe washed over me as I watched Shayde soar in the air.

The black and green dragons were still high in the sky, but I could recognize their riders when I squinted.

Davis was on the green, and Rhodes was on the black.

I have no idea what element I will channel, but I wouldn’t mind being a fire wielder.

I can only imagine the sense of unparalleled power and invincibility.

Soaring through the skies, the world below would blur into insignificance, and the wind would rush past in a symphony of liberation.

I wouldn’t just be a rider; I’d be a force of nature.

I’d no longer be the girl who has nothing and means nothing; I’d be the girl who rose from nothing and came out on top of the world.

When the lunch bell chimed, our first class was dismissed. Delaney and I followed the group into the dining hall. Our initial breakfast was a quick grab-and-go buffet table in the hallway before Intro to Air Wielding, so I didn’t experience a working cafeteria.

I only caught a mere glimpse at the dining hall in the dark last night. The hall was immense, with natural light from floor-to-ceiling windows along the back and right walls. Above us, elegant glass and steel chandeliers hung like masterpieces of art.

To the left, the food line and espresso station beckoned, and I joined our quad in the queue.

The buffet spread was enormous, offering various foods I’d never seen before. It was far from what I am accustomed to—just bread and beans. Following Cleo’s lead, I filled my plate with a bit of everything.

Once trays were in hand, we settled at a table by the windows. Tatum, Cleo, and Delaney dove into their meals and lively conversation. Meanwhile, I sat pondering my plate, unsure where to start.

I picked up a triangular thin bread smothered in red sauce and multicolored cheese shreds. Just as I was about to bite into the bare end, Delaney caught my eye and gestured, spinning her finger in a circle, signaling me to turn the triangle around .

So I started on the corner of the two longest sides and took a bite of the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. The bread was warm and satisfyingly firm, perfectly contrasting the luxurious flavors of Kalymdor’s finest cheeses.

My eyes fluttered closed as I chewed, savoring every moment. Before I knew it, I had reached the edge of the triangle that I had nearly neglected.

Delaney leaned in, her voice hushed. “That’s a cheese pie. The edge is the crust—the best part when you save a small piece of pie to eat with it,” she whispered with a knowing smile. “It’s my favorite, too.”

I couldn’t hold back a giggle as I playfully nudged her shoulder. “Thanks,” I managed through a mouthful of crust.

I looked up and made eye contact with Shayde, who was grinning ear to ear.

His attention was split between me stuffing my face with cheese pie and Davis sitting next to him.

Pehper, the girl sitting across from him, followed his gaze and scowled when she saw me.

She snapped her fingers to get his attention, but Shayde picked up his tray and walked over to our table, plopping down next to Cleo. Davis followed suit.

“Hey, cadets,” Shayde greeted us.

Cleo froze, her cheeks flushing red.

“Hey, Shayde!” Delaney shrieked.

“I’m surprised you want to sit with the first-years, Cadet Wylder,” Tatum said.

“Well, I’m surprised that you’re surprised,” he replied. “I was a first-year too, you know.”

I kept eating, trying not to comment about Pehper, whose glare felt like it could burn a hole through me.

“Yeah, but you also have a girlfriend,” Delaney sang.

Davis started choking on his food.

“Had. Had a girlfriend,” Shayde corrected.

Delaney’s head snapped towards Shayde, flinging lettuce and dressing across the table and onto my face .

“Oops, sorry darling!” Delaney exclaimed, grabbing a napkin to wipe my cheek.

The table fell silent until I opened my eyes and looked at Delaney. Then, in unison, we burst into laughter.

“You’re lucky I don’t want to get in trouble for a food fight on the first day, Laney,” I giggled.

Delaney stopped wiping the dressing off my face and grinned.

“What?” I asked.

“You called me Laney.”

“Oh, sorry, it just slipped out.”

“No,” she said. “The only people who call me that are my family.” Laney hugged me, smearing more dressing on both of us.

Suddenly, something cold and gooey smashed onto my head.

“Oops. I missed my mouth,” Shayde said, holding an empty pudding bowl.

“Oh, it’s on!” Tatum declared, dumping her salad into Shayde’s lap.

Chaos erupted. Food flew in all directions as cadets seized the opportunity to join in.

Plates of pasta, bowls of soup, and chunks of meat became makeshift missiles.

I let go of my self-control and threw a chocolate cake across the table, aiming for Tatum, but it hit Pehper instead.

Enraged, Pehper jumped from her seat, slipped on salad dressing, and landed with a thud.

Her friends rushed to help her as more food flew.

“Can’t say she didn’t deserve that!” Davis laughed as Tatum snuck around him and dumped a bowl of noodles over his head.

Cadets were laughing, shouting, and diving for cover. I ducked under a table with a bowl of ammo. When I thought the coast was clear, I emerged, ready to throw.

But Shayde shoved an entire chocolate and whipped cream pie in my face.

The pie tin slid off and clattered on the floor.

Barely able to see through the cream, I was stunned.

Shayde raised his finger, gently wiped a glob of whipped cream from my nose, and licked it clean without breaking eye contact .

“Enough!”

The cafeteria fell silent. Rhodes stood in the doorway, his voice thunderous. “Clean this up immediately!” His eyes blazed with fury, his clenched fists trembling. His expression left no doubt that he was beyond pissed.

Nobody moved a muscle.

Until Davis slipped and fell on his ass.

Davis was slurring a handful of colorful words while Rhodes slowly walked through the rows of tables. The clicking of his boots echoed off the walls. He walked by Shayde and me and stopped. Eyeing us up and down, Rhodes scoffed.

“I said– clean this up,” he growled.

Cadets scrambled to gather the scattered food and wipe down tables, though the buzz of excitement still hung in the air. I grabbed a mop and began working on the sticky floor, the rhythmic swish breaking through the lingering chatter.

A few aisles down, Shayde glanced up from his task. Catching my eye, he gave a slight nod of approval, his lips quirking into a faint, amused smile. His eyes seemed to sparkle as if he found the chaos—and my mop-wielding effort—entertaining.