Chapter 8 - The Oath of the Ridge
The trial at the capital lasted three days, but the verdict had been written the moment the royal guard recovered the strongbox from the high peaks.
Chancellor Reev and his inner circle of corrupt administrators were stripped of their ranks, their titles, and their properties, sentenced to spend the remainder of their lives in the deep stone quarries of the southern penal colonies. The illegal mining operations in the eastern ranges were permanently shut down, and the mountain sanctuaries were placed under royal protection, declared off-limits to all human exploitation.
At the Vaelen Military Academy, the atmosphere had shifted from one of rigid, fearful hierarchy to a cautious, respectful equilibrium.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the training yard.
Wyn stood beside the central mounting block, wearing a newly tailored officer’s tunic of deep hunter-green and dark leather—clean, functional, and devoid of unnecessary ornamentation.
A small crowd of recruits and instructors watched in respectful silence from the edge of the arcade.
Kestrel stood in the center of the yard, his black-gold scales catching the morning light with an oily, magnificent sheen. He was calm, his massive wings folded neatly against his sides, his breath rising in gentle, rhythmic plumes of warm air.
Kalen walked up beside Wyn, carrying a heavy leather riding harness adorned with the silver crest of the Eastern Protectorate.
“The council finalized your commission this morning,” Kalen said softly, offering a rare, genuine smile. “Official Rider-First-Class of the Eastern Ranges. Not bad for a stable girl.”
Wyn took the harness from his hands, running her fingers over the smooth, reinforced leather.
“I never wanted the title,” Wyn murmured, looking up at the massive dragon.
“I know,” Kalen replied, clapping a friendly hand onto her shoulder. “That’s why you’re the only one who deserves it.”
Wyn turned and walked slowly toward Kestrel.
The dragon didn't wait for commands. As she approached, he slowly lowered his massive head, his amber eyes softening as he recognized her familiar, steady scent.
Then—just as he had done weeks ago in the dark stable—Kestrel folded his front legs beneath him and sank gracefully down until his chest rested against the dirt, offering his back to her without a trace of hesitation or pride.
Wyn didn't hesitate this time.
She placed her hand firmly against the warm, solid ridge of his neck plates, stepped up onto the stone mounting block, and swung her leg over his shoulder, settling securely into the deep, comfortable groove of the harness.
She took hold of the steel lead-ring.
Kestrel rose smoothly to his full, four-ton height, shaking his magnificent wings wide enough to shadow half the courtyard.
With a single, powerful surge of his hind legs, he launched upward into the golden morning sky, carrying her high above the fortress walls, out toward the endless, open horizon of the peaks.
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And for the first time in her life, Wyn didn't look down to see if she was invisible.
She looked straight ahead, into the wind, and smiled.
