The crunch of gravel beneath our boots was unnaturally loud as we approached the Ivory Academy. Each step sent echoes through the quiet morning air, as if the path itself were announcing our arrival. Storm pressed closer to my leg, his warm scales brushing against my calf, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. I reached down instinctively, fingers threading through the ridges along Storm's neck—though I wasn't entirely sure who was comforting whom.
Cassian walked a pace ahead, his usual steady stride carrying an undercurrent of tension. His hand rested near his sword hilt, not in readiness for battle but in the way of a man bracing for unfamiliar territory. "Keep Storm close," he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. "And expect straightforward answers. Academics like their words polished, but truth should still lie beneath."
I nodded, though Cassian wasn't looking. My own pulse thrummed in my ears as the Academy loomed into view—a sprawling fortress of pale stone and glass, utterly alien against the familiar forest backdrop. Sunlight bounced off countless windows, turning the structure into a shimmering monolith. Nothing like the rough-hewn cabins of the village or the shadowed quiet of home. This was a place of order, of knowledge.
And tomorrow, it would be mine.
The wrought-iron gates stood open, intricate swirls of metalwork forming patterns that might have been vines or arcane symbols. Beyond them stretched a courtyard paved in smooth grey flagstones, worn uneven by generations of footsteps. Children in neat blue tunics moved in clusters, their voices a low hum of chatter.
I felt every eye turn toward us. Whispers prickled my neck:
"A drake!"
"Look—is that really…?"
"Why's it so small?"
Storm's tail flicked, muscles coiling beneath my touch. I forced myself to keep walking, focusing on Cassian's back rather than the stares. The new weight of my short sword, which had felt like a mark of pride that morning, now seemed to brand me as something other.
Inside, the air was cool and carried scents of dust, old paper, and polish. Sunlight streamed through high windows onto polished marble floors, our footsteps echoing sharply in the cavernous hall.
My gaze caught on the paintings lining the walls—stern-faced figures in robes, scenes of study, and more unsettlingly, dramatic battles. One in particular held my attention: a lone warrior facing a shadowy winged creature, blade raised in defiance. Despite its age, the colours remained vivid, as if the moment had been frozen in time rather than pigment. A shiver traced my spine.
Storm chirped a soft warning.
Cassian stopped before a heavy oak door marked *Headmaster Thorne*. He knocked twice.
"Enter." The voice was smooth, calm.
The office was large but unpretentious, lined with bookshelves groaning under leather-bound tomes. Sunlight streamed through tall windows onto a massive desk holding only a brass instrument and neat papers. Behind it sat a man with dark hair silvering at the temples, his sharp features softened by wire-rimmed spectacles that magnified keen eyes.
"Cassian," he said, gesturing to the chairs. "Welcome. Your companion may stay close." His gaze lingered on Storm with open fascination. "Truly remarkable."
Storm positioned himself between me and the desk, watchful.
Headmaster Thorne tilted his head. Then, astonishingly, a perfect drake-chirp sounded from his throat.
I felt Storm stiffen. The drake cocked his head, then responded with a deeper, questioning chirp.
Thorne's polite smile warmed. "Ah! Excellent. I possess an affinity for beast communication. Quite useful." His gaze returned to Cassian. "You've come to register Adam?"
Cassian nodded, some tension easing. "He needs more than I can teach. Basics, history, theory."
Thorne studied Storm, who now seemed marginally less tense. "The bond vouches for him. Such connections speak louder than tests. Consider him enrolled." He took up a quill. "Practicalities—when to begin?"
"The sooner the better. He learns quickly."
Thorne scribbled a note. "Master Elara can integrate him immediately in Fundamentals. Tomorrow morning. He'll need basic supplies—the bursar will provide a list. Fees are modest for locals." He named a sum that made Cassian nod.
I listened as reality settled over me. School. Tomorrow. Classrooms, books, children whispering about my drake. Daunting—yet Thorne's easy acceptance was a relief. This wasn't some grand destiny, just a new road.
As we left, the paintings seemed less oppressive. I touched my sword hilt. Still a tool. School just another forge. Storm nudged my hand, and beneath the nerves, anticipation flickered.
Tomorrow, lessons began.
That evening, the scent of roasting herbs and fresh bread greeted us before Elowen's voice did. "In here!" she called from the kitchen.
I helped set the table while Elowen stirred stew, flour dusting her arms. Cassian watched from the doorway before joining in.
We ate in comfortable silence until Cassian cleared his throat. "I'll get his supplies after this."
Elowen nodded, passing me more bread. "I've made a list. And perhaps some sweets for courage."
I smiled despite myself.
Later in my room, I packed carefully—spare tunic, whetstone, the carved wooden wolf Cassian had given me. I sat on my bed, Storm curling at my feet.
Tomorrow changed everything.
My mind buzzed with questions. Would the others stare at Storm? Would the teachers treat me differently? Would I be any good at this?
I lay back still dressed, staring at the ceiling as Storm clambered up beside me, a warm weight. The drake's slow breaths filled the quiet. I scratched behind Storm's horns absently, earning a contented tail thump.
Just a few more hours.
I closed my eyes to quiet my whirling thoughts—but the day's exhaustion pressed down all at once. The last thing I felt was Storm shifting closer, a rumbling purr vibrating through me as sleep pulled me under.
Tomorrow would come.
But for now, there was only this: the deep, dreamless dark, and my drake's steady heartbeat beside me.