"Dragons without riders are monsters," Instructor Vex said.
"If you can't control it, kill it."
Dry wind from the top of Ignis hit my face the second the magic airship doors opened. No flowers. No applause. Just a line of black-uniformed Dragon Knights standing stiff like statues, eyes narrowed, judging us—new recruits to the Imperial Dragon Knights.
I stepped down slowly.
The Obrynd Dragon Academy loomed over the cliff, a fortress made of volcanic rock covered in purple fog. Nothing like the textbooks showed. Not grand. Not noble. More like a prison. The walls vibrated—ward magic, they called it.
I kept my head down, but my eyes searched.
The peak.
The dragon pens.
And then I saw them.
The parade started an hour after we arrived. No rest. No food. Mandatory tour: know your enemy before you ride it.
The dragons were dragged out of underground tunnels. Forced to walk under living magic chains fused into their necks—like collars, but worse. Because this thing was alive. Grown into their skin. Controlling them.
They didn't growl.
Didn't flap their wings.
Didn't look at anyone.
Their eyes were empty. Unfocused. Like they hadn't dreamed in years. Wings drooped, cracked at the edges, looked burned.
I stood in the middle of the line.
"Without us, they're just wild beasts," Instructor Vex said firmly. "No purpose. No mind. We're the ones who tame them. We give them meaning."
The recruit next to me nodded like a trained dog. I wanted to punch him in the face.
I whispered, low:
"Then why are they locked up?"
My training partner, Renn, turned. "Are you crazy? They're dragons. They could burn a city in one breath."
"Then why don't they?" I asked.
"Why are they silent? Why do they look… dead?"
Renn laughed. "You're from the village, huh? Dragons are animals. Animals need chains. Need trainers. Otherwise, they'd eat us all."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Then laughed louder.
Instructor Vex heard us. But he didn't yell.
He just glanced over.
Here, questions are weakness.
Here, empathy is a disease.
Bond training started that afternoon.
Location: Connectivity Arena—a flat stone field with a blue magic circle on the ground. Dragons were paired with recruits. One by one.
"Touch their skin," Instructor Vex said.
"Feel the energy. Let the bond form. If there's no resonance in three seconds, you fail."
I got Dragon no. 7.
The magic collar around its neck pulsed faintly. Its eyes—again—empty.
I stepped forward.
Hand shaking.
I touched it.
And—
The world stopped.
I felt pain. Deep, endless pain.
Then—
Images.
Fire.
A massive cave burning.
Sky collapsing.
A child crying.
Can't speak.
But I heard:
"Dad… help… I'm scared…"
Then—
A vision of a huge dragon, wings on fire, falling from the sky.
Caught by soldiers with magic weapons.
Dragged by chains.
Cut open—
Not to save it.
To take something out.
Its brain.
Replaced.
Manipulated.
Destroyed.
And the last voice:
"I remember… I used to fly…"
Then I collapsed.
Gasping for air. Hands trembling.
"Get up!" Instructor Vex roared.
He flipped me over.
Stepped hard on my hand.
It hurt like hell.
"Weak," he hissed.
"Emotional. Not fit to be a Knight."
I didn't fight back.
I just stared at the dragon.
Its eyes—for a split second—weren't empty.
There was something.
Like recognition.
Like thanks.
Then the magic collar pulsed.
And its eyes went blank again.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
The egg under my mattress was pulsing softly.
Like a heartbeat.
I touched it.
Warm.
Not scary.
But I didn't dare open it.
I left my room.
Alone.
Went to the pens.
I didn't have permission.
But I had to know.
The dragon pens were on the east side of the academy—half-buried in the cliff, surrounded by electric fences. I sneaked in through a ventilation shaft. Small. Stuffy. But I fit. My body was strong—used to climbing cliffs back in Tidewell.
I got in.
And I saw them. All of them.
Locked in separate cages.
Magic collars glowing faintly.
Breathing heavy.
Like they'd never rested.
I walked to Dragon no. 7.
The one I touched earlier.
It looked at me.
And—
A tear fell from its eye.
No sound.
No growl.
But I heard it.
In my head.
In my gut.
"…remember… flying…"
"…sky… not chains…"
"…you… can hear…?"
I held my breath.
I wasn't crazy.
This was real.
I looked at another dragon.
No. 3.
Old. Wings damaged.
I didn't touch it.
But I felt it.
"Once… I carried a mage… to the cloud peaks…"
"Now… I'm just a tool…"
No. 5.
"Afraid… loud noises… they'll come back…"
No. 9.
Leg wounded. Eyes closed.
"Better to die… than live like this…"
I backed away.
Heart pounding.
Ears ringing.
I wasn't the only one who touched dragons.
But I was the only one who heard them.
I wasn't the only one who touched.
But I was the only one who felt.
The alarm blared—loud, ear-splitting.
Pen doors opened.
Guards came in.
Black uniforms. Magic weapons in hand.
I ran.
Back through the vent.
Out.
To my room.
But before I escaped—
I saw the pen wall.
Behind the moss.
Hidden.
An engraving. Five wings joined in fire.
I didn't know what it meant.
But I knew one thing:
It was forbidden.
Erased.
Buried.
Next morning. Instructor Vex sat at a big table, two guards behind him.
I was called in.
"Kyla from Tidewell," Instructor Vex said.
"You collapsed during bonding yesterday. What did you feel?"
I looked down. "Nothing… nothing at all, Instructor."
"You overreacted. You disturbed the dragon. That's not allowed."
"Sorry, Instructor." I replied.
"You're not sorry," he stared at me. "You're strange."
I stayed silent.
"Dragons aren't living beings like us. They don't have feelings. They don't have memories. They're tools. And you, a future Knight, must learn to treat them as tools." Instructor Vex said firmly.
I nodded.
But inside—
I knew.
He was lying.
Flight training that afternoon.
We rode dragons for the first time.
I got no.
7 again.
The magic collar connected to the saddle.
I climbed on.
"Control it with your mind," Instructor Vex said.
"Your magic must sync with the collar. If not, it won't fly."
I closed my eyes.
But not to sync magic.
I touched the dragon's skin with my hand.
And—
"…you came back…"
"…you can hear…?"
I felt the dragon's emotions again. I held back tears.
"…don't let them… take it again…"
"…I remember… my name… but can't say it…"
I opened my eyes.
"Fly," I whispered.
Not a command.
A request.
The dragon moved its wings.
Slow.
Heavy.
But it flew.
Instructor Vex watched.
After landing, he pulled me aside.
"You didn't use control magic," he said quietly.
"But it flew. Why?"
I looked at him.
"Maybe… it wanted to fly."
His face changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
He let me go.
"Don't do that again."
That night, I sat in my room.
Renn came in.
"You're weird, you know?" he said.
"Everyone says it. You treat dragons like pets. They're monsters."
"If they're monsters," I asked, "why don't they fight back?"
"Because we're stronger. We have magic. We have control." Renn answered.
"Then why do they have expressions? Why do they cry? Why—"
"Dragons can't cry!" Renn cut me off.
"You've read too many village myths, Kyla. Here, dragons are made. Engineered for us. They don't have souls. No feelings. You're imagining it all."
I stared at him.
"Then why are you afraid I can hear them?"
He froze.
Then left.
But I knew.
He wasn't scared because I was crazy.
He was scared because I was right.
Late that night, I woke up—
From a call. In a dream.
A man with golden eyes.
In the middle of an eternal storm.
Sharp face. Black wings.
He stared at me.
And this time—
He wasn't silent.
He screamed:
"DON'T TOUCH THAT EGG. IT BELONGS TO THEM."
I woke up.
Heart racing.
Cold sweat.
And—
I felt it.
The egg under my mattress…
Pulsing.
Harder than before.
I touched it.
Warm.
Alive.
And in the dark, I whispered:
"Sorry… I can't listen to you. I have to save you."
That night, I dreamed again.
The golden-eyed man. In the storm.
This time, he screamed:
"DON'T TOUCH THAT EGG. IT BELONGS TO THEM."
I woke up.
The egg under my mattress…
Pulsing again.