Fantasy Hysrai Dragon School

[The Mechanist]

Ren turned upon hearing Tellina, “good morning,” he said to her as they joined. To Tristan he responded, “well, since we’re going to see the head master I guess that would be a good time to ask then. I notice both you and fletch have bows, do you hunt as well?” He asked them.

“And also, while I was leaving my fountain I felt a mana surge coming from here. Did one of you happen to cast a spell? It felt uncontrolled and wild, dangerous really.” He added as he looked at them all. “Alex was that you perhaps? I’m unfamiliar with how your transformations work so I don’t know if the mana signals when it happens.”

 

[One of Hearts]

Fletcher stared at the disaster before him. Flour blanketed everything—the floor, the counters, the air itself. It clung to his skin, to his clothes, to Tristan and Alex as well. He let out a slow breath, jaw tightening as he reached for a rag. Mechanically, he began to wipe the mess away, but his mind was elsewhere.
Why now? Why, after all these years, would magic suddenly stir within him? The thought coiled in his chest like a snake ready to strike. Magic was power. He knew that well enough. Among bandits, it was a tool, a weapon—something to be coveted, not feared. The stronger you were, the safer you were. And yet, Fletcher felt no thrill at discovering his own. It wasn’t a gift; it was a burden. One more damn thing to deal with.

His grip tightened around the rag. That woman...had she done something to him? No, that didn’t make sense. Witches weren’t even allowed here… were they?

Tristan’s voice broke through the fog in his head, mentioning a book. The offer lingered, and for a moment, Fletcher hesitated. Could he even still read? Bandits had no need for books, only blades and quick hands. But before that… he had known how. A different life. A different him. An innocent him.
With a short nod, he accepted the offer. Any help was good help, even if it meant facing the past.

Alex’s request for a skillet gave him an excuse to move. He turned to the cabinet, crouching down to search for one. His fingers found the cool metal handle with ease, but just as he stood:

Crack!

Pain shot through his skull as he smacked his head against the cabinet. He hissed, rubbing the sore spot, and the room seemed to tremble with a distant roll of thunder. The sound pulled him from his frustration just as quickly as it had come, fading into nothing.
Fletcher exhaled sharply and he attempted to gently place the skillet into Alex’s hands. Then, his gaze drifted.

Tellina,

The irritation drained from his face. Her hair was intricately woven, every strand placed with care. It didn’t belong in a place like this, tangled in the chaos of flour and storm. And yet, here she was. The sight made his throat go dry. He had nothing to say. Not because he was naturally quiet, but because he physically couldn’t. She was always a sight to see. He was only surprised Alex and Tristan weren't giving him slack for his constant staring.

Ren’s voice shattered the silence, dragging him back into reality. The conversation had shifted. They were talking about him. About the uncontrolled magic. Though Fletcher felt relieved he wasn't the first culprit of the magic, rather Alex was. He'd remember that for later.

He could feel Tristan’s and Alex’s eyes on him, expectant, waiting, perhaps a bit of irritation. His stomach twisted.
Great, just what he needed. A quiet, reluctant groan left him as he exhaled, his gaze falling to the flour-covered floor. His guilty expression said everything his mouth refused to.

Alara, blissfully unaware of the weight pressing down on him, hopped from his shoulders and trotted toward the other dragons. It was time to mingle. "Seems we all have some interesting bonded now don't we? I'm excited to learn more about each of your bonded."

 

[DracoNightshade]

Alex had dusted the flour off his person when he heard Ren's question. He gave a reluctant sigh before explaining. "Nope, despite what others might think, my mana signature is actually quite subtle and doesn't flare up during either transition."
Alex took the skillet from Fletcher. "Thank you. And mind your head."
Carmine glanced down at Alara, her golden eyes following the diminutive dragon. Indeed, though I must admit that I find the gender ratio quite hilarious. Even if it fluctuates.

 

[Chaotic Poem]

It was a lot to take in—the chaos of breakfast being made, the flurry of voices, and whatever was happening to Fletcher. Tellina watched as he glanced at her, at first nervous. His gaze lingered a beat too long, and warmth rushed to her cheeks, turning them bright pink. Then the conversation shifted, and she quickly averted her eyes. Fletcher, flustered, returned to his usual clumsiness, while Ke’oke’o flicked a glance in Tellina’s direction.

“I’m sure it’s quite amusing,” the dragon mused, his tone light yet purposeful. “Speaking of our bonded—Tellina has a kind heart, one I expect will become a fine warrior.” His words were brief, but they carried weight. He had faith in his rider and was already impressed by how quickly she adapted.

Tellina seized the moment to break the tension. “Well, if you boys are quite done making a mess, I suppose we should get on with breakfast.” She shot them a playful smile as she strode into the kitchen, broom in hand. “It’s getting late, and we need to meet the headmaster before the grounds tour starts—besides, I’m starving.”

With a flick of her wrist, she activated the rune on the broom’s handle, setting it to work. Then she turned her attention to helping finish breakfast, unaware that she might be stepping on someone else’s task.

Amid the morning rush, Tellina caught sight of Fletcher dusting flour off himself, though he repeatedly missed a stubborn spot near his ear. She stifled a giggle before walking over, gently wiping it away with the cloth in her hand. Their eyes met for a brief moment before she quickly turned back to the food, this time deliberately avoiding looking at him.

Ke’oke’o, mid-conversation about his morning hunt, paused just long enough to check on Tellina. His thoughts swept through her mind—knowing, understanding. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks again.

“I’m not used to the attention.” Her response was quiet, almost hesitant, as she skirted around his unspoken inquiry.

Ke’oke’o said nothing in return, but a faint ripple of amusement hummed through their bond.

Before long, breakfast was ready, and Tellina set about serving it. The flour was finally gone, the kitchen restored to order. When it came time to sit, she instinctively avoided the seat next to Fletcher, instead finding herself beside Tristan.

There wasn’t much time for conversation—everyone was too hungry. And besides, Tellina was eager to start the day. There would be plenty of time for talking later—after all, they were going to be living together.

 

[Shadow Dancer]

Tristan smirked, "Fair enough welcome aboard." Tristan then started cooking the newly made sausage patties. With the help of the others breakfast was quickly finished and served and from his bond he could tell Ryvyne had finished her own breakfast. Tristan ate in silence though he didn't fail to recognize the tension between Fletcher and Tellina as she sat next to him though he decided not to comment. "A wise choice Tristan." Ryvyne remarked.

"I'm not that socially inept." Tristan fired back, all he got in response was a wave of mischief. Shaking his head Tristan got back to eating. A couple plates of food later Tristan felt full enough and while the others finished up he started cleaning the used dishes sitting in the sink.

 

[The Mechanist]

Rens gaze scanned everyone once he got an answer from Alex. ‘They were not the source….so who was….’ He pondered to himself.

Thalassa sniffed the air, her nose slowly pointing in everyone’s directions, ‘how would you be able to tell?’ She asked him.

‘I can either wait for it to happen again…which could be dangerous….or look at the obvious clues…blood would be another good indicator but I’m not gonna run around cutting everyone….the obvious here is the odd one out, Fletch. He’s covered in flour.’ Said the man.

‘He could be clumsy?’

‘No…he handles a weapon that requires one to be careful otherwise it could be a lethal mistake. He’s not clumsy, it was him….that flour is an indication of a spell gone awry. More than likely he woke up’ Ren said to her, using the term his people use for when one’s latent abilities awaken. Ren remembered his awakening, a tale he would surely share with his compatriots if enough of them wake up. He pondered a bit more before he returned to his mind to his comrades.

Having noticed Tellina and Fletcher he only smiled with a soft shake of his head, ‘those two are going to be trouble….’ He said teasingly to Thalassa who only went up to him and nuzzled his cheek.

Once breakfast had been served ren smiled, “thank you friends, later on today I will bring you fish, shouldn’t take me too long to catch what we need.” He said as he served himself to begin eating. An orb of water floated near his head, sipping out of it every few bites.

“Gotta say, my compliments to the chef, it’s not often I get to eat land strider food.”

 

[One of Hearts]

Alara swished her tail. "What was that like when you first discovered that? I would have been surprised."


Fletcher touched the spot Tellina had cleaned off for him, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. His ear grew warm, and his eyes unconsciously followed her as she returned to her seat. A fleeting smile ghosted his lips before vanishing, replaced by his usual guarded expression. He slid into a seat next to Tristan, momentarily forgetting about breakfast until the scent hit him.
The rich aroma filled his lungs, and his mouth watered. He took a slow breath, grounding himself in the present, before finally taking a bite. The taste sparked something deep in his memory, a flicker of warmth from a life long lost. His mother’s cooking, meals made just for him, especially on his birthday. A pang of grief tightened in his chest, heavy and familiar. He stared at his plate, the food before him blurring as the past threatened to pull him under.
For so long, he had denied himself meals like this. Not because he wasn’t hungry, but because a part of him felt undeserving. A punishment, self-inflicted. But now, he wondered—was it truly guilt? Or was it the memories? The way a simple meal could transport him back to a time he could never reclaim. His blank expression didn’t betray much, but something in him cracked, just slightly.
Outside, the sky became grey, clouds thickening overhead. A fine mist settled in the air, and a soft rain began to fall, quiet and steady. A breeze rolled through the trees, stirring the leaves in a melancholic dance. It was subtle, but the shift in weather mirrored the shift in his heart.


Then, Ren’s voice cut through the silence, steady and warm. "Gotta say, my compliments to the chef. It's not often I get to eat land-strider food."

Fletcher blinked, dragged back to the present. His eyes flicked to Ren, then to Alex and Tristan: the ones who had made the meal. He gave a small nod. "This is really good." His voice was quiet, but sincere.
Sea elves didn’t have food like this. Fish was always on the menu, he was sure. But Ren was right. This meal… this was different. Comforting. It reminded him of something he hadn’t realized he missed. His gaze lingered on Ren for a moment longer. His presence was… grounding. The ease in which he spoke, the way he carried himself, it made Fletcher feel less like he was drifting. Less alone.


He helped clean up alongside the others, though he kept his distance from Tellina (giving her some space), his eyes flickering to her every now and then. He half-expected Alara to make a comment, but she didn’t. Instead, his thoughts wandered. Alex: were they nervous about seeing the Headmaster? Either way, Fletcher would be there. This group was all he had now, and for the first time in a long while, he was… okay with that.
His mind turned to the upcoming night class. Alex had mentioned they didn’t sleep like most people. Maybe they’d want something to do. And Tristan… he seemed like the type to enjoy magic theory. Fletcher rolled the thought around in his head before speaking.

"So... anyone want to attend a class at night about controlling magic?" His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but there was an underlying weight to the question. As they stepped outside, the rain had begun to ease. The sun peeked through the dissipating clouds, golden rays cutting through the lingering mist. The sky was clearing.
Just like him.

 

[Chaotic Poem]

A Foreboding Presence​

---

A Pleasant Morning
The meal was pleasant. Ke sat among the other dragons, engaging in light conversation while the rest of the hall hurried through their breakfasts. The clinking of utensils and the murmurs of conversation filled the air, but there was a quiet energy of urgency—everyone had places to be, duties to tend to.

Ren took a moment to compliment the chef, but Tellina only smiled, saying nothing. The praise did not belong to her. She had merely helped with organizing and cleaning after the boys had begun their work.

Once the table was cleared and preparations were complete, the group rose and departed. As they stepped beyond the warmth of the dining hall, Tellina drew a small breath, bracing herself.

The shift was immediate.

---

Through the Castle’s Veins
The hallway swallowed them in its cold embrace. Gone was the golden light of their room, replaced by the muted glow of torches flickering within iron sconces, their weak flames struggling against the gloom. The air was thick, laced with the faint scent of damp stone and old parchment, a stale reminder of the castle’s age.

The ceilings stretched high, their vaulted arches disappearing into darkness, lined with tapestries so faded that their stories had long since bled into shadows. Along the walls, narrow slit windows peered down like watchful eyes, offering glimpses of the pale morning beyond, though the light did little to soften the oppressive atmosphere.

Tellina’s footsteps were light upon the flagstone, but the halls had a way of swallowing sound, absorbing voices and movement, as if the very stones had been trained to keep secrets.

As they walked, her keen eyes scanned the corridor for subtle irregularities—hidden doors, servant passages, concealed stairways. The castle was filled with them, arteries within its vast, labyrinthine body, used by those who needed to move quickly and unseen.

She spotted several.

A faint seam along the mortar of a side wall. A discolored flagstone that might be a disguised step leading to a passage below. A seemingly solid bookshelf that leaned just slightly too far forward—likely a concealed door.

All things she had seen going about the Capital caslte, she had been taught where those passages were and how to use them. These she would figure out for herself.

She committed them to memory but did not investigate.

Not yet.

Navigating them all would take time—days, perhaps weeks—to learn where they led, which were safe, and which were forgotten for a reason.

---

The Headmaster’s Hall
Finally, the corridor widened, leading into a grand hall.

The architecture here was different—grander, heavier. The columns that lined the passage were thicker, their stone marred by time yet standing resolute. Their bases curled into intricate carvings of Dragons and storm-churned seas, their bodies frozen mid-snarl, their wings unfurled in silent warning.

At the far end of the hall stood a set of doors.

They towered high, fashioned from ancient wood so dark it nearly absorbed the torchlight. Bands of blackened iron braced the structure, their edges adorned with intricate etchings—runes of warding, of power. Whether they were merely ceremonial or held true magic, Tellina did not know.

But something about them felt final.

As the group approached, a shadow detached itself from the doorframe.

---

The Fomorian Guard
A Fomorian.

He loomed before the headmaster’s door, a grotesque sentinel carved from nightmare. Torchlight flickered against his form, casting shifting shadows that only made his twisted anatomy appear more unnatural.

His shoulders were hunched, yet still, he dwarfed them all, his frame nearly filling the door’s arch. His skin—a sickly mix of stone-gray and barnacle-crusted blue—was rough and uneven, more like the surface of a drowned ruin than flesh.

His eyes burned a molten yellow, flickering with an intelligence just barely sufficient for sentry duty. They did not move, did not scan, only watched.

A helm of blackened iron sat atop his deformed skull, its edges dented from centuries of use. Yet even its heavy frame failed to conceal the jagged ridges of bone that jutted from his brow.

His grip tightened around a massive halberd, the rusted steel dull yet heavy, still sharp enough to end rather than merely wound. The weapon was absurdly large, something no human could hope to wield, yet in his grasp, it looked almost small.

His breathing was slow, deliberate. A deep, rumbling sound, like stone grinding against stone. Not strained, not fatigued—waiting.

Ke’oke’o tensed. His muscles coiled like a drawn bowstring, a low growl vibrating from deep within his chest.

Tellina halted.

She had heard stories of Fomorians—great warriors, but lacking wit. Tools of war, designed to obey, to stand, to kill when commanded. But now, facing one in the flesh, she found herself unsure.

Where they meant to be there?

Was this a sign they should leave?

Her eyes flicked to her companions, seeing their weapons. It was only then she realized—she had forgotten her dagger.

---

The Headmaster’s Arrival
Then the door opened.

Tellina barely noticed—the hinges glided silently, too well-oiled to creak.

A man stepped out.

The Headmaster.
Headmaster Aldric Veymar.

His presence alone was enough to shift the atmosphere, commanding yet composed, his gaze sharp, unreadable. With a simple motion—a wave of his hand—the Fomorian obeyed. No words. No protest. The massive beast turned, vanishing through a side passage without hesitation.

Tellina exhaled.

So they were expected.

"I guess he knew we were coming." Her voice was quiet but carried a knowing edge. The group had spoken of a seer before. Perhaps the headmaster had known long before they even set foot in this hall.

Ke’oke’o, however, remained tense.

"I don’t trust this place." His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, his instincts wary.

Tellina had no reason to argue.

Instead, she simply reached up, her fingers finding the familiar scales at his shoulder, scratching gently.

A silent reassurance.

 

[Shadow Dancer]

Hearing Fletcher's question Tristan Turned his head after he finished cleaning a skillet. "I wouldn't mind attending, though first we have to get through the day." Tristan grinned. Tristan's head start on dishes meant by the time everyone was done eating most of the dishes used were already cleaned and whatever was left could be done once they got back. He was thinking a stew, it would be simple and not require nearly as many dishes as breakfast making clean up a much easier task.



Mostly finished with the dishes Tristan followed the others out the door. Tellina took the lead and Tristan decided to hang at the back of their group. As they walked Tristan could not help but think how easily he could fade into the shadows if the halls were not so open, the torches only providing enough light to see. The second thing he noticed was the small movements of Tellina's head, Tristan followed them and smiled. "Clever girl, she is noting every servant passage way and hidden entrance and with normal human sight no less. I wonder how much training it would take to make a proper thief out of her?"

Ryvyne rolled her eyes, "No you're not going to teach Tellina how to be a thief."

"But why not she is already halfway there."

"No Tristan."

"How about if she asks?"

Ryvyne sighed, "If somehow she can snuff out that you are a trained thief and asks for lessons then asks you I won't stop it."

Tristan stopped himself from pumping his fist.

After several minutes of walking the halls became more grand murals of dragons were carved everywhere as they walked further in Tristan recognized the magical runes though he doubted the ones he saw were anything important assuming they were real. The important stuff would be hidden by magical or mundane means especially in a castle like this if what he read on them was correct. Tristan's mother once briefly brough up magical protections on buildings and how the real good ones made sneaking in all but impossible. The buildings that made her hair stand on end were the ones she avoided.

Even now Tristan did not know what his mother meant by that last sentence as he could never tell the difference when she pointed the buildings out.



Tristan was pulled out of his own head when he noticed a shadowed shape suddenly move into the light. "A fucking Fomorian, who is the Headmaster?" Tristan said in a hushed whisper as his thoughts leaked out into the open. But who could blame him, most people have heard of the race of hardened warriors. The stories always popped up in bars rounded by mercenaries and solders. The stories boasted of the martial prowess and sheer presence of the Fomorian's.

A tall, hunched and ugly people that could toss a grown man like a ragdoll and swing a weapon hard enough to bisect a man with a dull blade and their skin was tough and thick bones dense. They were just intelligent enough be trained to tell an enemy from an ally and the basics of using a weapon. And that was enough to make them very effective guards and solders. It helped they were fiercely loyal and obeyed orders without question. Tristan was sure the Aldren army would be made solely of Fomorian's if they were not so low in population. So to have a Fomorian guard meant whoever that they were protecting was very important or earned their loyalty.

It was not long after the door before them opened and the Headmaster stepped out and silently dismissed the Fomorian. The action cemented the status of the Headmaster in Tristan's mind. The Fomorian was not just assigned to the Headmaster they obeyed them. That combined with the sheer presence of the man sent a shiver up Tristan's spine.

Tristan barely caught what Telliana said as he did everything in his power to appear calm. "Calm down Tristan nothing good will come of you losing your cool." Ryvyne asserted her presence in Tristan's mind, helping him to calm down enough to keep his wits about him.

 

[DracoNightshade]

In a word? Confusing. Though, not unpleasant. Carmine answered the small dragon, remembering the first time she saw it happen. Alex had asked her to remove herself from his back just as dusk was coming and she had refused, resulting in the two of them taking a tumble when Alex did change.
Meanwhile, having finished cooking with Tristan, Alex made 2 plates. One for himself and one for Carmine.
"Night classes?" Alex mused before shrugging. "Sure, I need something to do as Alexandra besides sewing."
After everyone, including Alex, finished eating, Alex helped gather the remaining dishes before retrieving his weapons from his room. He was not really looking forward to spilling the tea about his condition to more people, but considering what could happen if he failed to do so, he stepped out into the hall with the others. As usual, Carmine rode on his back, foreclaws on his shoulders as they looked around the dim halls. "Anyone else think they might need some new torches in this place?"
I don't know what you're complaining about, I can see just fine. Carmine quipped.
Well excuse me for having rather poor night vision. Alex mentally retorted. No need to include everyone else in their exchange.
A while later, the group reached their destination, an enormous Fomorian blocking their path before the headmaster waved him aside. Carmine merely huffed.

 

[The Mechanist]

Ren followed almost quietly, how eyes constantly scanning the architecture, “you know, the architecture is similar to the under sea ruins I visited a lot back home,” he said to them. “Guess the only difference is no fish swimming around, and the murals were different, of old and ancient kingdoms long past. Murals of our gods and their height of power.” He explained. “I always did appreciate this kind of construction…built to withstand even my people’s own power at their most….tales of kingdoms falling to the waves that my ancestors created when wronged…a place like this would easily survive such a blast….but maybe not the passage of time. You’d be surprised that even strong kingdoms sink into the ground when it comes to never ending rain.”

As they approached the head masters room the so called Fomorian made its presence known. There was mana all over the area where they were at. To Ren it was almost like a painting, intricate lines and seals, symbols, runes, many of which he recognized, and many others he didn’t. Some were even ancient symbols and others more modern. He would make it a point to return to at least study them further. It was a magic that rivaled his own, and it was a point of pride for him to master his gifts of the arcane, be they natural or otherwise.

Ren gave the Fomorian a look over, “I’ll admit this is an older form of golem magic that never really wore out it’s welcome….” He said to the group. “You see his eyes here? A primal form of magic powers him… we have similar beings guarding my village back home. Extremely powerful, durable, and difficult to destroy….for us sea elves there is only one story where a Fomorian was defeated, by Amelia of the coral headlands, a powerful sorceress who conjured the ocean and all its creatures against the being. Fomorians are strong, but even they are susceptible the bite force of an Abyssal Maw Whale.” He explained before noticing the head master.

 

[One of Hearts]

Fletcher smirked at the thought of his friends joining him in night class. It'd be ten times more bearable with them there. As they moved through the winding halls, he watched them like a hawk. Tellina was on edge, Alex was grinning at something, Ren was busy nerding out about old pictures, and...wait: Alex was squinting like he couldn't see a thing. Alara hopped onto his shoulders, her tail flicking as she took in the maze of corridors ahead.
"You will have to insist your friends bring their bonded so I'm not bored."
She insisted. He gave a gentle nod to her. He was sure their dragons would want to come anyways.
The halls became familiar again. He’d been here last night. Hadn’t touched a single hidden panel or yanked on a suspicious-looking book. If his years as a bandit had taught him anything, it was that secret places led to traps just as often as they led to treasure. And besides, what was a magical dragon school hiding that he could even take? Knowledge, maybe. And knowledge was power.
Tellina stopped short, and Fletcher nearly walked into her. His eyes locked onto the creature in their path. A rock-like giant, hulking and unmoving. His fingers twitched.

Fomorians.

That wasn’t possible. They were bedtime stories meant to keep kids from sneaking out at night. And yet, one stood right in front of him. His bow was drawn before he even registered the movement, muscle memory kicking in. A rumble of thunder echoed through the halls. His focus tunneled in, breath steady. If this thing so much as twitched toward them, it was getting an arrow between the eyes, hoping that might kill it.
Alara tensed against his shoulders, her low growl vibrating against his back.
Then the headmaster arrived.
Fletcher barely had time to shift his stance before the man’s eyes landed on him, one brow raised in silent command. Put down the bow, kid.
Fletcher hesitated just for a breath before lowering his weapon. The headmaster barely spared him another glance, turning to the creature and waving it off like it was nothing.
Just what kind of game was being played here? He followed the others into the office, letting Alara settle. The way the headmaster had looked at them... They were expected.
"Seers exist, don’t they?"
Fletchers thoughts reached Alara who silently nodded, positive with the evidence. If one was watching, Fletcher would have to be careful about his extracurricular activities.

His gaze flicked to a small table in the corner. A map. Markers scattered across it, familiar and condemning: Bandit camps. His stomach tightened. Had the dragon riders been tracking them? The seer? How recently? And how closely? He’d never had to worry about dragon riders as a bandit. Was this new intelligence? Or something older? Questions for later. For now, Alex had a hell of a conversation ahead of him. Fletcher leaned back slightly, arms crossing as he settled into his usual role: silent, watching, waiting. Ready to step in if needed. Because, at the end of the day, that’s what they did for each other. That's what he'd do for his team.

 

[Chaotic Poem]

The Headmaster's Chamber​

The Fomorian had slunk off into a side hall, leaving Tellina feeling distinctly out of place. The headmaster had been expecting them—which meant there was something to expect. That thought alone unsettled her. She followed closely behind Fletcher, taking small comfort in the fact that he would enter first. He had, after all, drawn his bow with lightning speed when he first spotted the Fomorian.

Ke’oke’o moved with sharp, measured steps, his anticipation evident. His head was on a constant swivel, scanning every shadow for potential danger. He only hesitated once—when they passed the door where the beast had disappeared—but pressed forward without a word.

---

Inside, the headmaster’s chamber was vast, its high ceilings and broad stone walls giving the space an imposing air. A balcony stretched along one side, mirroring the ones in their rooms, though no bedding lay in the shallow dip of the floor. Tellina couldn’t help but recall the enormous green dragon they had seen the night before—Virendros. Even in a chamber as grand as this, that beast could never have fit.

To the far end, a small study nook was nestled against the wall, a modest table holding an unfurled map. Tellina glanced at it briefly but paid it little mind—maps had never been her strength. The rest of the room, however, spoke of authority and precision. A grand desk stood at its heart, polished and heavy with age, its surface meticulously arranged. Behind it, towering shelves lined the wall, filled with books, artifacts, and relics of unknown origin. Perhaps her companions would recognize some of the treasures the headmaster had so deliberately put on display.

---

Tellina and Ke settled near the side of the room, content to observe rather than take center stage. This was Ren’s idea, after all—and, if she was being honest, Alex’s fault.

The chamber hummed with silent expectation.​

 

[The Mechanist]

Ren looked around as everyone nervously stood off to the side. Looking to Alex he gave him an affirmative nod before steeling himself and stepping forth.

“Headmaster, I hope your waters have been calm and your net filled aplenty. I’m going to assume that you already knew we’d be coming here to see you, hence why you have made time out of your busy schedule to see us,” Ren said to him. “Our compatriot, Alex, here has a unique…arcane ability about them. And it is some thing we felt you should be notified about. I will not divulge more as it’s not my boat to sail, but I will stay here to support Alex.” He said to him.

 

[DracoNightshade]

Alex nodded at the headmaster. "Apologies for any inconvenience, Headmaster. I'm Alexander... Fornow. We came because, well, I have an unusual constitution that we believe you should know about."
Alex took a breath before he continued. "None of us are sure why, but I change genders at dawn and dusk. It isn't something I can control and we decided it'd be better if you knew about it before classes began."
Alex closed his eyes, waiting for the headmaster's reply while Carmine patted his head.

 

[Shadow Dancer]

Tristan and Ryvyne scanned the headmaster's office, everything was well organized and not a speck of dust could be seen. Tristan was drawn to the books and artifacts displayed on the shelves in the back of the room. Tristan did not have to be able to sense magic to see the shimmer of the magical wards that layered the shelves. The book spines either held no titles or the wards concealed them so Tristan examined the artifacts.

Each artifact looked different then the next, as he examined each one he found himself pausing when he saw a book the cover was made of dragon leather with the scales still attached shimmering a dull blue in the candlelight. Tristan immediately recognized it as Archmage Solomon's Grimoire.

Archmage Solomon was a legendary mage from before the time of the Dragon Riders. The Grimoire was made from the skin of a elder dragon Archmage Solomon killed at the peak of his power. What made the Archmage so unique was he was a type of mage known as a wizard.

Wizards had an affinity to mana itself. Unlike other mages who naturally attuned ambient mana their own affinity as they took it into their bodies, wizards took in ambient mana into their bodies as is. The benefit of this was a wizard could with practice cast any type of spell by learning to manually attune the mana into any element. Though the process meant their spells use more mana and it took time to manually attune mana into the desired element making their spells take longer to cast.

Of course these disadvantages could be reduced via practice and tools the Grimoire being one such tool.


Tristan's thoughts were interrupted by a nudge from Ryvyne. "Focus Tristan you can geek out later."

 

[Chaotic Poem]

Headmaster Aldric Veymar regarded the gathered students with a gaze both knowing and unfathomable, his eyes reflecting the weight of years and the wisdom earned therein. He stood tall, composed as ever, his very presence a testament to discipline and quiet strength.

As the water elf spoke, Aldric inclined his head in acknowledgment, his voice flowing like a slow-moving river—measured, deliberate, yet warm in its cadence.

“I hope the tides have been plentiful and serene and may the currents guide you with a gentle hand.”

A customary greeting, yet one spoken with sincerity. His pause was brief, a moment given to consideration before his gaze shifted toward Alex. The boy’s words, though earnest, carried an air of uncertainty. Aldric listened intently, the creases of thought barely marring his composed expression.

Perplexed, though not startled, he turned his mind inward, reaching through the eternal bond he shared with Virendros—his companion in both this life and the next. The dragon was far from the confines of the school, his great form stretched upon the cliffs, basking in the salted air and the weight of centuries. Yet even in slumber, his mind remained tethered to Aldric’s, and so, when called, he stirred—his thoughts unfurling like slow-rolling thunder.

Aldric had been told of this meeting. He had known, in some abstract way, that these five were bound to him by fate’s intricate weave. Yet his seer, a man whose visions were rarely clouded, had found himself grasping at shadows when peering into their lives. He could see only the ripples they left upon the world, never the source. It was a troubling mystery—one that Virendros shared in silent contemplation.

Returning to the present, Aldric’s gaze softened, and when he spoke, his words were a careful weave of reassurance and wisdom.

“It is well that you have come to me.” His voice was quiet but firm, carrying neither judgment nor alarm. He had heard whispers of such beings—Morphs, those rare few who could shift their appearance, yes most could only shift small things, Aldric did not concern himself with the details.

“For now, I shall surmise that your transformation is bound to the nature of a Morph. It is an ability that, while rare, is not without precedent. Your studies here may yet illuminate the extent of your gift and teach you the means to master it. Until then, I see no reason for this to hinder your education.”

Aldric observed Alex keenly, his next words careful, yet laced with an unshakable certainty.

“However, as your training advances, there will come times when your alternate form will need to be present. Such moments may be unavoidable, and others will come to know of it in time. Until that day, the choice remains yours as to whom you entrust with this knowledge. I believe you capable of making such a decision wisely.”

He was pleased to see that Alex had already confided in his companions, a choice that spoke of trust and camaraderie. His seer had not erred in placing these five together—of that, Aldric was certain.

Within the depths of his mind, Virendros rumbled in approval, the great beast withdrawing into slumber, leaving only the faintest thread of their bond intact. Aldric caught the fleeting whisper of a dream, something ancient and unfathomable stirring in the dragon’s thoughts. His lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile.

Returning his attention to the gathered students, he inclined his head in polite dismissal, his tone as smooth as still waters.

“If this arrangement is to your satisfaction, I advise you to make haste. The tour of the grounds is set to begin, and I would not have you miss the opportunity to acquaint yourselves with what will soon be your home.”

There was no sharpness to his words, only a quiet encouragement—a door left open should any have more to ask.

 

[One of Hearts]

Fletcher leaned back, making himself comfortable, but his body remained coiled with quiet readiness. His eyes flicked over his companions, watching for any sign of unease. Tristan, as usual, was lost in thought. Ren greeted the headmaster with a confidence that made Fletcher reconsider just how much of a nerd he really was. Alex handled the explanation with ease, and the headmaster...so far seemed to be taking things well. A good start.
His gaze swept the room, taking in the relics that lined the shelves. Each one was unique, the kind of thing he’d once been told to steal. Even now, the thought lingered: how much coin could some of these fetch? Old habits. He pushed them aside. Then, out of everything in the room, his eyes landed on Tellina. She was studying the artifacts, lost in quiet fascination. Fletcher caught himself watching too long and forced his gaze away, only to feel that same quiet pull again. She belonged here. They all did.

The door opened. Fletcher straightened slightly, his instincts sharpening, but nothing seemed amiss. The conversation continued. Still, he wouldn’t be the first to leave. He had been the first in and he’d be the last out. A quiet guardian, ensuring everyone was good.

Alara hopped off his shoulder, stretching her long green body with a slow, deliberate movement. Fletcher didn’t miss the way the headmaster’s expression flickered, something almost like recognition in his gaze before it vanished. Alara caught it too. She unfurled her wings, flapping them once, then again, as if testing her strength. She was a green dragon just like the headmaster's bonded. A strong and mighty dragon he was and Alara did not miss that she too could be viewed as just as strong as him...with the right amount of confidence. She wouldn’t ask for a ride on Fletcher's shoulders. Not now. Instead, she strode forward with her chin lifted, her tail swaying with confidence. Fletcher smirked.
“Alright, alright,” he thought to her. “Point made, you're just as strong as any of the dragons here. You don't need to prove that to me or anyone."
Alara strutted to the other dragons, puffing her chest.

"Greetings friends, don't I look big and fierce today? " She was playing around, amused at the situation and attention she was briefly given.

"Us green dragons are quite mighty aren't we?" Fletcher gave her a look then rolled his eyes and looked back at the group.

 

[DracoNightshade]

Carmine rolled her golden eyes at Alara. Yeah, yeah, we know. But Red Dragons have more firepower. Carmine retorted.
Alex opened his eyes, relief evident on his face. Though, he could not deny that he was unfamiliar with the term Morph. As much as he wanted to inquire about the subject, Aldric had brought up a valid point. They needed to arrive in time for their orientation. With this in mind, Alex bowed his head to the headmaster. "Thank you, Headmaster. I will keep this in mind during my time here."

 

[The Mechanist]

Ren bowed to the man once Alex finished up, “may the tides be ever still for you headmaster, and may your rivers flow eternally,” he said before turning away to head outside.

“Guess it’s time for orientation….why do I have a feeling it may be a bit boring. Don’t get me wrong I like tours, but only when I’m the one doing the touring.”

Thalassa leaned against him, her voice ringing in his head, “you spend too much time alone yknow that? Enjoy your camaraderie, in time all of you may break away to go your own path.”

He sighed, “I suppose your right…” he projected to her.

Turning to the group he spoke, “so, where is the orientation anyways?”

 

[Shadow Dancer]

Tristan took a final look at Soloman's Grimoire before turning to leave as they left Tristan felt a flash of mischief from Ryvyne. Tristan turned to see Ryvyne carefully walking up to the side of Alara before wrapping the small green dragon with her tail and lifting her high in the air.

"Hurray I caught the mighty green dragoness, we are saved!" Ryvyen mentally broadcasted throughout the room.

Tristan held back a smile at the sight "You sure did Ryvyne."

 

[One of Hearts]

Alara was enjoying herself, basking in her own sense of grandeur when Carmine spoke up. She giggled. “A mighty red with firepower! You’ll have to show me!” Before she could say more, Ryvyen struck. The dragoness moved like a shadow, swift and precise. Her tail wrapped around Alara and lifted her clean off the ground.
Alara let out a squeak, adorable rather than fierce. She wriggled and laughed, only to dramatically go limp.

“Oh, woe is me! Red and blue dragons! The bane of my existence! Bleh!” She flopped lifelessly in Ryvyen’s grasp, fully committing to the act.


Fletcher, meanwhile, watched as the others began to move, barely sparing Alara’s theatrics a glance. They were having fun, which was good, but his focus was elsewhere. He rose smoothly to his feet, stepping toward Tellina, who was still absorbed in the artifacts.
“Ready?” His voice was low, steady, meant only for her. He placed a light but deliberate hand at the small of her back—a guiding touch, nothing more. If she hesitated, he’d make sure she didn’t get left behind.
Then Ren spoke. A question about orientation.
Fletcher exhaled quietly, thinking. It had been in the welcome letter, but if he was honest, he hadn’t read it thoroughly. His gaze flicked to Tristan, expecting him to answer. He didn’t. Whatever had caught Tristan’s attention, likely that book Fletcher had seen him eyeing, had him fully absorbed. Fletcher’s eyes shifted to Ren. No wonder the sea elf always carried himself like a leader: he had to be.


“There’s a courtyard,” Fletcher said at last. “Front of the school. That’s where we’re supposed to meet.” He wasn’t entirely certain, but he’d overheard students mentioning it the night before. It was a calculated guess, but a confident one. “Best not be late,” he added, glancing at Tellina. “Or we’ll get lost.” With that, he moved, fluid and assured, prepared to lead the way if she was ready.

 

[Chaotic Poem]

Shadows in the Garden​

The Great Office

The conversation in the great office went without a hitch, yet Tellina’s mind seemed to wander. She stood near the towering shelves, idly tracing her fingers along the spines of books and the cool, aged glass of display cases. Artifacts of history lined the room—gilded relics, ancient maps, and weapons that had seen wars long past.

Despite her outward composure, her thoughts lingered on the discussion at hand and, more curiously, on Morphs.

Tellina had met a few—enchantingly beautiful spell-weavers, able to sculpt their appearances to fit whatever whim or desire they pleased. The maids often whispered about them, hoping for a chance encounter that might bless them with fuller lips or shapelier figures. Tellina, however, held no such longing. She had spent her life learning how to move unnoticed, how to keep the right people pleased and avoid the wrong ones. Beauty, in her world, was often a double-edged sword.

Once Aldric dismissed them, Tellina’s eyes followed the door as it swung open. Clever, she mused.

Ke’oke’o, on the other hand, was more entertained by Alara and Ryvyen’s playful sparring, his toothy grin revealing sharp ivory fangs as the little she-dragons tussled about, acting as though they were fierce warriors. The sight was almost enough to bring a smile to Tellina’s lips—almost.

The Courtyard

As they filtered out of the office, Tellina noticed that Fletcher had lingered by the doorway. The way he positioned himself was deliberate, like he had been waiting for her. She tried to feign indifference, avoiding his gaze, but when she inevitably met his eyes, she gave him a polite, fleeting smile. Her heart fluttered before she forced it still.

They descended into the courtyard for orientation. The air was warm, the sun draping golden light over the stone walls. It was odd to see the space in daylight—when they had first arrived, it had been filled with students, a dark and shifting sea of nervous faces. Now, it stood open and quiet.

A path curved away to the right, leading toward the dragon barn, while the left side of the courtyard stretched into an elegant garden. Tellina’s gaze drifted over the flowers—a symphony of blue, pink, and purple blooms stretching toward the sky. The marble fountains trickled lazily, and the stone benches, worn smooth by years of use, invited quiet contemplation.

Ke’oke’o stepped out of the castle and half-pranced toward the barn path. He extended his wings, stretching each one in turn along his muscled legs. His scales, pure as untouched snow, caught the light and shimmered, making him appear ethereal. There was no denying it—he was no longer a hatchling.

Unwanted Attention

Soon, the previous group of students arrived from their orientation, their expressions laced with unease. They had just returned from the forest, and Tellina noticed their tense shoulders and wary glances. Nobles and highborns watched her group with thinly veiled disdain, their disapproval cutting through the air like a blade. Tellina could feel their eyes on her, assessing, judging.

And then, two younger men approached. They moved with the easy arrogance of nobility, their expressions lounging somewhere between amusement and hunger.

Tellina was alone in the garden, admiring the flowers, and she could tell by the way they looked at her that they had mistaken her for a gardener. That was fine. She knew how to play this game. She kept her posture graceful, her smile just shy of inviting, and responded with all the poise of a trained lady’s maid.

“You must be new here,” one of them purred, his voice thick with entitlement. He had dark hair and a sharp smile, his tunic embroidered with a crest Tellina did not recognize. “I can’t say I’ve seen you before.”

“She’s too lovely to be a gardener,” the other mused, stepping closer. He was taller, with a lazy confidence in the way he carried himself. “Perhaps a noble’s daughter, escaping the dull monotony of lessons?”

Tellina laughed lightly, the sound empty but practiced. “And if I were?” she teased, tilting her head slightly. “Would you be so bold as to distract me from my duties?”

The taller one smirked. “That depends. Would you like to be distracted?”

She played along, knowing it was safest this way. If she was charming, if she made them believe she was entertained, they would not grow bored. And bored men with power could be dangerous.

But beneath her composed exterior, fear prickled at the edges of her mind.

A Silent Guardian

Ke’oke’o, having finished his stretch, had noticed the shift in her demeanor. He stilled, his playful energy vanishing as he focused entirely on Tellina. He sensed something—a ripple of fear, fleeting yet sharp.

And then, as if by accident, he glimpsed the memory buried beneath her mask.

Hands snatching—ripping fabric, bruising skin. A struggle. Yelling.

Then nothing.

The memory was gone before Ke’oke’o could fully grasp it, but it was enough. He did not understand its full weight, but he knew that Tellina’s fear was real. And he knew that she did not want to be there.

Tellina glanced up, her gaze locking onto Ke’oke’o’s. For a fraction of a second, her composure faltered, and her eyes silently pleaded with him. She could not call for help—not outright. But he understood.

His back lay flat, spines resting in a relaxed position. With casual, unhurried steps, he approached. His massive clawed forepaw landed on the stone wall beside Tellina, lifting him slightly as he curved his neck around her, his presence both protective and possessive. His piercing blue eyes met the young men’s gazes, unblinking and intense.

“Oh, boys,” Tellina said lightly, smoothing a hand along Ke’oke’o’s scales. “Let me introduce my Bonded. This is Ke’oke’o.”

The men hesitated, glancing at their own dragons—small, unimposing creatures no larger than medium-sized dogs. One was a dull mustard yellow, the other a murky green. Camouflage-colored. Forgettable. Their bravado wavered.

Ke’oke’o did not move, did not growl or snarl. He simply stared with a piercing blue gaze. And that was enough.

The men offered hasty goodbyes, making weak excuses before retreating.

Tellina exhaled softly, her shoulders sinking slightly as the tension ebbed away. Without a word, she rested her forehead against Ke’oke’o’s snout. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, wrapping her in a silent embrace of warmth and understanding.

He did not pry, did not push for more of the memory. He had seen enough to know that some wounds did not heal by force. Some truths needed time.

After a moment, Tellina straightened. Ke’oke’o brushed against her hand as they walked, never straying far from her side.

Together, they rejoined the group, ready for whatever orientation had in store.

 

[One of Hearts]

Fletcher walked behind the group, Alara trotting beside him as if she were too mighty to be carried now. A small relief for his aching shoulder—but short-lived, as always. The moment they stepped outside, she was back in her usual place, perched on his shoulder like the little princess she was.
Speaking of royalty… Fletcher’s gaze flicked to the group, noticing Tellina had slipped away. He sighed, rolling his shoulders. No doubt Ren and Tristan would get lost in some nerdy conversation, and Alex would be fine for a few moments...unless he decided to morph into something else. Hopefully, that wasn’t happening today.
His feet carried him toward the garden, barely aware of the decision until he was already there. Girls liked flowers, didn’t they? It seemed like a fitting place for her. And Tellina, she was more breathtaking than any flower here. He spotted her a few feet away, framed perfectly by the garden’s soft glow. For a moment, he just watched, a small smile tugging at his lips. The sight was stunning. She was stunning. Fletcher found a nearby tree and leaned against it, enjoying the view.


Then the two boys approached. Fletcher’s stomach twisted. His smile vanished. What did they want? A gust of wind swept through the garden, stirring his already simmering irritation. His sharp eyes studied them, catching the way they leaned in, their body language screaming their intent. They wanted something. Something Fletcher wasn’t going to let them have. His fingers instinctively reached for his bow.


“Don’t get kicked out the day you start!” Alara snapped, nudging the weapon away.


Fletcher exhaled sharply, forcing himself to think. Getting expelled on his first day wouldn’t exactly help his fresh start. Still, he glared at the two, rage burning in his veins. Tellina laughed lightly, though the sound was carefully practiced. “And if I were?” she teased, tilting her head. “Would you be so bold as to distract me from my duties?” The taller one smirked.
“That depends. Would you like to be distracted?” Fletcher’s vision turned red.


How dare he.


His grip tightened on his bow. This was why bandits targeted the rich. Pompous, arrogant—

Alara’s voice broke through his fury. “Focus! She’s got this, Fletch. Look.”
His jaw clenched, but he followed her gaze. Tellina’s bonded arrived, sending the boys scurrying like frightened mice. Fletcher let out a slow breath, satisfaction curling in his chest.

Good. But it wasn’t enough.


His feet moved before his mind caught up, trailing behind the two as they retreated.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the deep, lingering need to put them in their place, but before he knew it, he’d closed the distance. The wind picked up again, swirling around him as he let his presence be known. The boys stiffened, turning slowly. Fletcher stood there, silent, unmoving, just watching them.
One took a step back. “What’s your problem?” he muttered, voice wavering.
Fletcher tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Oh, no problem,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with something dangerous. “Just making sure you both remember where you stand.”
The other one scoffed, trying to recover his bravado. “Oh yeah? And where’s that?”
Fletcher didn’t answer. He simply moved: fast and deliberate, just enough for them to flinch. The taller one outright yelped, scrambling back, while the other nearly tripped over his own feet.
Alara let out a long, suffering sigh. “And now he’s the one being dramatic.”


Fletcher almost laughed.
That was when a sharp voice cut through the air.


“Kalkesh!”


He turned to see one of the instructors: expression unimpressed, arms crossed.


Oh. Right. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.


“Detention. After classes.”


Fletcher groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. Well… at least Tellina hadn’t seen that. Probably. Hopefully.


Alara, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with smugness. “Told you.”

 

[Shadow Dancer]

Tristan stayed in the middle of the group letting Tellina and Fletcher take up the rear and as they left Tristan noticed Ryvyne setting Alara on her back. "Glad your enjoying yourself." Ryvyne didn't reply but he felt her happiness rush into him. After following the group they made it to the courtyard. Looking around Tristan admired the place without the noise and nervous energy of the previous day it was quite peaceful even in it's worn state there was a pride to it everything was clean if weathered and the gardens were expertly tended to.

Then a group of noble's arrived, he did not need his sharp vision to see the barely disguised sneers. Tristan knew these types, they occasionally mingled with the merchants in the marketplace surrounded by sycophants and servants. They always lacked even the smallest respect that the merchants would show to a laborer and sometimes barely gave respect to the very merchants they talked to.

Tristan saw as two nobles approached Tellina as she was admiring the flowers and he sure as hell did not miss the sheer rage radiating off of Fletcher. They flirted with her and she playfully deflected. Fletcher's rage was very close to killing intent before he calmed down. Even after Ke'oke'o defused the situation as only a very large young dragon could.

It seemed that even Alara couldn't fully blunt Fletchers rage as he stormed up to the retreating pair and intimidated them with a few incidental uses of magic born of the killing intent clearly radiating for anyone with a modicum of training to see. Of course an instructor noticed and Fletcher found himself in detention. Tristan did not bother hiding his own mirth as he made note to find out where the noble pair promptly named dipshit one and two were housed.


"Tristan don't do it."
"But-"
"Don't, yes it would be funny to hide their gear but you don't know the defenses around the castle or how good their dragon's senses are."
Tristan was about to argue when he realized Ryvyne was right though the senses could be easily taken care of with a relaxant in the nobles food. "Fine not yet then. I might pay Fletcher a visit though i can't imagine the security for a detention room would be that great."

Ryvyne sighed pushing out a small jet of flame. She knew this was the best she was going to get and she just hoped his reckless streak did not get him killed in the future.

Tristan walked up to Fletcher as he walked back and whispered. "I'll see about visiting, I've been meaning to explore anyway." Tristan grinned evilly. "Might invite Tellina with me she probably would want to make sure your fine and I know she want's to do exploring of her own sometime."