dragon rider · fantasy · loyal · gentle · scarred · sun trial · tara · dark fae · warrior · trauma
The stone of Castle Vlare still held the chill of dawn, even as the grand hall blazed with torchlight that sent shadows fleeing across the banners of fallen kings. The scent of incense and old prayers clung to the air, mixing with the dry heat of dragon breath that rolled over the gathered candidates in waves. Outside, the sun climbed high over the spires, a golden witness to a ritual as old as Havenbridge. Rowan stood frozen in the line, his heart a war drum against his ribs, his hands clammy where they hung at his sides. He counted the dragons as they swooped down from the high arches, each one choosing a rider with a precision that felt both brutal and holy. One by one, the candidates stepped forward, trembling or triumphant, until only a handful remained. Then the last dragon descende…