We move steadily toward the academy, every step feeling easier than the last. The landscape around us is a vast, sprawling plain of lush, rolling fields, dotted with scattered trees that sway gently in the breeze. It's a stark contrast to the icy hellscape we've left behind vivid green grass stretching endlessly, unbroken by snow or frost. The air is warm here, almost balmy, and I can feel the weight of fear pressing against my chest evaporate. We're finally nearing the academy.
Lucian falls into step beside me, his eyes flickering with quiet intensity. Without a word, he initiates the link his presence slipping into my mind like a shadow. I blink, allowing it. How funny we've grown accustomed to this telepathic link we have.
Do we mention the monster? Lucian's voice echoes softly inside my head, the question clear.
I sneer, a cold, bitter smile curling my lips. "Of course," I reply. "How else are we going to explain our injuries? Not to mention that eighty percent of our house is dead." The words taste like ash in my mouth, and I feel the weight of them settle into the silence between us.
Lucian's mental nod is almost imperceptible but solid. Thought so. Just wanted to check with you first.
I smile, a little grim, a little cold. "Yes, I appreciate that," I say, ending the connection as we keep walking.
Imara, on the other hand, is practically buzzing with excitement. She's chattering nonstop her voice high and animated, her eyes shining with happiness. "Can you believe it? We actually made it! The dragons still live, the academy's really in front of us! After everything, we're finally here!" She's practically bouncing on her heels, her hands gesturing wildly as she babbles about how incredible it is that they survived the mountains, that they're still alive. Her joy is contagious, even if I'm still trying to process the flood of emotions inside me.
The others nod or murmur, their faces varying from cautious optimism to outright enthusiasm. Rye gives a small smile, her eyes flickering with the same awe I feel, while Niko, glancing at his broken arm, mutters, "Hope the healers can fix this quick. I don't want to be walking around with a mangled limb when we get inside." His tone is light, but I catch the faint edge of worry in his voice like everyone, he's aware of the danger that still lurks. The Academy is not going to be a place to relax. It will be just as cruel and deadly as everything before us only this time our enemies are the worst kind of monster. Other humans.
We keep moving, the miles slipping by unnoticed as the city of the academy begins to emerge on the horizon. From here, it's still another fifty or so miles, but even at this distance, I can see hundreds of student Elites walking in organized groups or soaring above us on powered by their marks of power. They're uniformed in sleek, perfectly tailored black robes and armor, the emblem of their house stitched neatly onto their chests. Most of them bear the insignia of House Luxor from what I can see.
I can't help but glance up at the sky, searching for the dragons, but they're gone disappeared without a trace. The sky remains clear, the clouds drifting lazily, and I wonder where they've gone. When will they come back? I want to see them close up I cant deny it.
A sigh escapes my lips, and I turn my gaze back to the sprawling school ahead. The gates are approaching, immense and imposing, guarded by the proctors figures of authority cloaked in white robes that shimmer in the sunlight. Their presence is commanding, their expressions stern and unyielding. They look like the very embodiment of discipline and power, and I feel a flicker of unease. They are waiting for us.
Then I spot her Evanaora Hilton. The proctor with the cruel, calculating smile, her pink eyes flashing with an unsettling intelligence behind her scarred face. She stands at the forefront of the proctors , her scar running from her eyebrow down to her jaw, a jagged reminder of battles fought and lives taken. She's the kind of figure who commands respect and I can see the cold calculation in her gaze as she surveys us, her gaze lingering on our battered forms.
She's waiting at the gate now, her presence alone enough to make the hairs on my neck stand up. I can feel her eyes boring into me, assessing, like a predator sizing up prey. The moment we step forward, I know she'll be the one to decide whether we're worthy of entry, or if we're just more trouble for her to deal with.
The group begins to slow, and I tighten my grip on my sword, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline and anticipation. Whatever awaits us inside that massive school, I know it won't be easy. But I also know deep down that I want it. I want the power and I'm willing to pay the price to get it.
So we walk toward her and towards her and her grading of our performance.