Silas meadows's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Silas Meadows walked through the academy gates knowing one rule: bond a dragon today, or leave in disgrace. He wanted more than a place among riders. He wanted to lead them. Tattoos crawled up his arms, black as his coat, black as the beast waiting for him. His dark eyes swept the yard and found it there. A towering black dragon stood in the training yard, wings half-spread, watching him back. The dragon did not lower its head. It did not warm to him. It huffed once and turned away, as if Silas were beneath notice. "He's refused three riders already," a girl said. She stepped from the crowd, red braid over her shoulder, worn leather at every joint. Kira Stormwind. A student, judging by the patch on her arm. She crossed her arms and studied Silas like she'd already guessed his ending. "Stubborn. Like you look." "Then we understand each other," Silas said. He walked straight at the dragon. The beast swung its horned head down and roared, hot breath rolling over his face. Silas did not step back. He stared into the golden eyes and waited. The dragon lunged its jaw close, testing him. Still he held. Then he set one hand flat against the black scales of its neck. "You don't scare me," he said. "And I won't chase you." He gripped the ridge of muscle and pulled himself up. The dragon bucked. Silas locked his legs and held. It reared, snapped its wings wide, and launched into the sky. The ground fell away. Wind tore at his coat. The dragon rolled, trying to throw him loose. Silas leaned into every twist instead of fighting it. He matched the beast turn for turn. When it dove, he pressed low against its neck and let it dive. When it climbed, he climbed with it, silent, patient, refusing to beg. Something shifted under him. The dragon stopped fighting. Its wings settled into a smooth, steady beat. Silas felt it then, a pull behind his ribs, sudden and certain. The bond snapped shut like a lock. The dragon banked and carried him back down, calm, as if it had chosen this all along. He slid to the ground on steady legs. Kira stared, her arms no longer crossed. A woman crossed the yard toward him, goggles pushed up in her gray hair, a crimson coat swinging at her boots. Professor Elara Skyborn. She looked at the black dragon, then at Silas, and gave a short nod. "Four riders he threw," she said. "You he kept. That means something here." She turned toward the great school behind her. "Stormwind. Show him the grounds. He belongs to us now." Kira found her grin. "Come on, then. Try to keep up." Silas glanced back at his dragon. It watched him go, quiet and his. He had survived the ride. Now the academy expected something greater, and every rider in the yard had seen his face.