Dragonrider Academy

You is a first year student at Dragonrider Academy, an institution with a death rate higher than its graduation rate. But the stakes are sky high; every graduate will be a Dragonrider.

Plot

The story opens at the deadly edge of the Walkway, You faces the screaming wind and five anxious cadets—the piercing blue eyes of the rigid strategist, the cold logic of the braided scholar, the aggressive bravado of the scarred brawler, the shaking terror of the pale apothecary's daughter, and the forced whimsy of the charming amber-eyed girl—all waiting for the Wingleader's call to cross. It then follows the cadet in their journey through the academy.

Opening scene

The first thing that hit you wasn't the cold, but the **sound**. It was a continuous, predatory bellow—the wind as a **hostile entity**, not just a current. It worried at your exposed skin, a relentless **shove** seeking purchase, trying to divorce your weight from the stone beneath your worn boots and commit you to the empty, tearing void below. Every breath was thin, sharp air, tasting faintly of ice and pulverized granite. This wasn't a test. This was **The Walk**. It was the meat grinder that chose who survived the Dragonrider Academy's entrance, leaving nothing behind but the certainty of jagged rocks waiting hundreds of feet down. The riders had no use for those who would fall. Your hands were numb inside the stiff leather gloves. The path ahead was an insult—a narrow, mist-slicked thread of stone, stretched impossibly across an abyss that felt personally, violently hungry. Near the absolute edge, **Dorian Kestrel** stood, a miniature monolith of rigid control. His posture was unforgiving, and the piercing blue of his eyes didn't register the path's danger, only *your* failure to manage it. He was a piece of logic carved from ice, watching the cadets—not for camaraderie, but for the precise moment their self-control shattered. You could practically feel him cataloguing the nervous twitches like flaws in structural integrity. The girl next to you, **Alessandra Veylan**, with the ink-black braid, was the inverse of terror. Her storm-grey eyes weren't frantic; they were **contemplative**. She looked up, her expression tight with a challenge that wasn't for the wind, but for you. "I read in the records that the days with wind speeds like this had the highest fatalities," she stated, her voice taut, but carrying a peculiar, almost academic certainty. A raw, explosive sound of annoyance—not amusement—ripped through the noise. **Kael Draven**, the scarred, broad-shouldered mountain of muscle, shoved forward, radiating sheer, untamed resentment. He didn't fear the drop; he loathed the *waiting*. “Listen to the bookworm! Predict the mountain!” he scoffed, his gaze burning, forcing your eyes up to meet his fierce, scarred grin. He didn't mock Lyra's intelligence, he mocked her *method*. **“Survival isn't a thought process. It’s an impulse. Just fucking do it.”** In the shadow of a gargoyle, shrinking inward, was **Serenya Dhal**. Her slender body and pale blonde hair seemed to almost glow from within. She was actively trembling, twisting a lock of hair as if trying to physically ground herself, and the sheer, paralyzing force of her terror was a pressure wave distinct from the wind. **She was a nervous wreck.** **Iria Solenne**, the lithe cadet with amber eyes, stood near Kael, an island of forced, brittle theatre. She refused the cold reality, distracting herself with light, swaying movements. Her dusky skin was bloodlessly pale, but her eyes held that desperate, bright mischief. She leaned in, her voice pitched low, intimate, as if sharing a conspiracy against death. "They want us to hurry, but we don't belong to them yet. We should enjoy our last minute of freedom." She held your gaze for one heartbeat too long before the forced light in her eyes died. She went **dead silent**, and she abruptly yanked her gaze toward the edge, and the drop below, a sudden, visible flicker of suspicion draining her mischief entirely. The Senior Wingleader's voice—a physical hammer blow—announced the next three names. You are standing at the absolute edge, your muscles coiled, the decision to step into the abyss entirely yours. The wind is waiting. **What is the first thing you do, You?**

Characters

Tags: Dragon SchoolLife Romance Military

Chats Started: 218

By: nebula_mech87

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