Cyrene stood alone in a dark room.

Every tribe had been given its own room before testing, which meant she was alone. Even the Society members had left, leaving everyone to wonder what would come next. Because…no one knew.

She had no clue what testing even meant, except that it was a closely guarded secret to determine which person from each tribe would move forward into the next round. No matter how many people were put forth from each tribe, only one person would make it through.

But none of that really mattered to her right now. Not while she had to sit in darkness for what felt like hours. She had to manage her boredom and anticipation. Fear and excitement.

Every other tribe had a spot in front of her.

She would go last.

The waiting reminded her of her Presenting so long ago. Edric had deliberated with Kaliana and Daufina about whether to accept her as an Affiliate. Would her path be very different now if they had not done so? Well, she couldn’t change it now. She was here and doing what she could to right the wrongs that Viktor Dremylon had started with Serafina. If she could.

The door to her room opened, and Cyrene jumped to her feet.

“Cyrene Strohm,” a female voice said.

“That’s me.”

“This way.”

Cyrene followed the woman down a stone hallway. When they reached the end, the woman pulled the door open and gestured for her to enter.

“Proceed to testing,” the woman said.

Nerves bit into her. So much of her future hung in the balance here. So many believed that she could never do this. She was here to prove them wrong.

She stepped forward into the dimly lit room and heard it click shut behind her. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and that was when she took in the large mass in front of her. She gasped and took a step backward.

In front of her was an enormous black-and-gray dragon. The beast’s gray eyes were fixed on her. Its proud neck held its head high above her. She swallowed as fear pricked through her.

Yes, dragons were incredible to look at. The show they had put on for the tournament was spectacular. Even when Matilde’s and Vera’s dragons had appeared in the arena, it had been a sight to behold. But that was one thing, and it was entirely another to be this close to one in a room all by herself. Especially when one was the size of a house and looked as if it could crush her under one clawed foot.

“Hello,” she whispered, trying to steel her nerves. This was clearly part of the test. She hoped.

Hello, Cyrene Strohm of Doma tribe.

Cyrene bit her lip. It was a bit unnerving to hear the dragon speak directly into her mind.

I am Gelryn of Roan and Fryldran and dragon bound to Master Mexes of Erewa. May his ashes replenish the Great Mother.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Gelryn,” she said. “My apologies for inquiring, but I believed that it was difficult, near on impossible, for a dragon or its rider to continue to live after their other half perished.”

Gelryn tilted his head at her. Not exactly surprised by the question, but more by her.

Aye. I have not seen the sun since my master passed. I fly solely at night when I can see his soul cast in the stars. Darkness suits me better now.

“I am so sorry for your loss. One of my comrades lost his dragon. He seems okay now, but he has a mission that seems to be keeping him going. I worry about what will happen when his mission is complete. Do you have any advice for him?”

Allow him the chance to take his life before he loses his mind.

Cyrene swallowed. Not the answer that she had been hoping for. But she appreciated his honesty. “Thank you. I will consider that.”

Cyrene of Doma tribe, you are not like the others. Gelryn’s head swooped down until he was nearly eye-level with her. You do not fear me.

“On the contrary, I fear you greatly, but I respect you more. We do not have dragons anymore in my homeland. It is incredible though unnerving to be this near one.”

Something like a laugh escaped him as he straightened out and grew to his full height. Then, you have not heard stories of Gelryn the Destroyer. For other little children in this fine world tell nightmares about the destruction I caused when in battle. The great deeds I achieved.

“I can see that you are magnificent,” she said, figuring flattery was never a bad route. “And I would love to hear the stories of your might.”

He gave her what she suspected was an amused look before he lay down on his haunches and dipped his head back down to eye-level. I am here to test you to determine your merit to be a Society dragon rider. Stories and my legend will have to wait.

She demurely nodded her head.

Touch my snout, and we will begin.

Cyrene took an uneasy step forward. Knowing part of Gelryn’s rich history made her even more shaken as she approached him. Of course, that was clearly his purpose. So, she pushed that all behind her, reached her hand out, closed her eyes, and touched his snout.

A sensation rippled through her, as if she had plunged into water. She felt all at once as if she were drowning and trying to desperately fight for more air. Even though she was not moving at all. Her breath caught, and she struggled, choking on the water that wasn’t even there.

Then, something released from her.

Like she was removed from her body, yet she hadn’t moved at all.

When she opened her eyes, she realized with a gasp that she was out of her body. Just the essence of her was hovering next to her body. She wasn’t struggling any longer.

“Am I dead?” Cyrene asked.

No. You are on the spiritual plane. You are disconnected from your body as I access the four elements within you.

Spirit. She was on the spiritual plane. Holy Creator, this was spirit magic. Dragons could work spirit magic. She thought she would have fainted if she had a real body. But, instead, she just watched as Gelryn continued to work on her.

“Why don’t I just show you my access to all four elements?”

Not all magical users are aware that they can access all elements. They might have been told their whole life that they have abilities for only three of them. But tapping the spiritual can sometimes awaken a latent ability within them. First, I will locate your chosen element.

He concentrated for a moment, and then, with a puff of air out of his nose, water floated out of a bowl that Cyrene had not seen before and into her body’s palm.

Good. Your primary is water. I will check for your secondary.

The water was replaced in the bowl, and then she watched as she commanded the air all around them to move. Then, she gasped when earth appeared out of another bowl. Gelryn turned his head to her in surprise. But it wasn’t finished. Fire appeared then, mingling with air and earth, circling and mixing and separating in an intricate design.

All three of the other elements are your secondary. How unusual.

Cyrene wondered how unusual it really was to have more than one secondary. Gelryn had looked at her as if she was something else entirely.

You possess all four magical elements. Finally, I will gauge your—

Then, he broke off. All of the elements had hurtled back into their prospective bowls, and now, Cyrene held in her hand a sphere of energy. The longer they stood there, the bigger it grew. As if it were a bubble that was ready to burst.

That is enough.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Cyrene whispered.

Gelryn closed his eyes and concentrated. He seemed to actually be fighting with the body. He actively seemed to be losing control of the connection. And Cyrene had no idea what was going on. Finally, after a few tense minutes, the energy bubble shrank back down to nothing, and Cyrene’s body slumped forward. She swayed on her feet, as if she might pass out at any moment.

“What was that?”

You are uniquely gifted with spirit magic. He sounded as if he was in awe. Fae riders have never been equipped with access to the spiritual plane. Dragons, however, all have the ability and use it to enhance our riders. I have never paired a dragon with a spiritual rider.

“Does that mean…I’ve failed?” she asked in confusion.

I will think on it. First, allow me to check your strength.

Cyrene nodded mutely. He would think on it. All of this, and her spirit magic might disqualify her completely. It made no sense.

Then, Cyrene felt Gelryn reach down deep into that well of magic. She gasped at the raw feel of it. As he dug and dug and dug. She had only hit the bottom of that well twice. Once, to stop a hurricane, and once, when a Nokkin had drained her magic out of her, leaving her in a horrible state of blood-magic withdrawal.

Gelryn’s eyes snapped to her in genuine shock. You are tainted.

“Tainted?” she whispered.

Blood magic is forbidden in this world. In all worlds.

“I don’t…I don’t use it.”

That is not possible.

“I took the blood magic from my parents’ deaths to bring back the life of my king. It was wrong. But I would not take it back, even to cease the withdrawals that racked my body. I came out on the other side of that addiction, and while it still haunts me, I will never use it again.”

You have nearly limitless power, and I can feel the residue of the blood magic in everything it touches.

“Yes. That is how it feels.”

Also, you are already bound to someone else.

Cyrene nodded. “Avoca. She is my best friend. She owed me a life debt and bound herself to me.”

And another.

Cyrene hated to admit this part. “Kael Dremylon. It’s…complicated. Two thousand years ago, my ancestor bound herself with blood magic, and the curse crossed generations. Now, we are bound without our consent.”

You believe that you would be able to link with a dragon despite these other connections.

“Yes. I was bound to another before as well as my homeland. But I broke those bindings. I know that I am only supposed to be bound to one person; however, Avoca makes me stronger, and I know that my dragon bound would as well. Then, we, together, could sever my ties to the Dremylons.”

Gelryn considered what she had said. She was sure by the dull look in his eyes that he wanted to turn her away. She was an outsider, a human, tainted and sullied. She was a wild card for his people. And, while it seemed that she had the magic necessary to be bound to a dragon, that wasn’t enough for him.

I believe you are right.

“You do?” Cyrene gasped.

I will pass you through to the tournament as long as you promise me one thing.

“Yes?”

You will never use your blood magic. No matter how it claws at you. No matter how you believe it will help you save someone you love. No matter how you think it will do good. It will never do good. It will only bring pain and suffering and anguish. You must never use it again.

Cyrene slowly breathed out. She had never planned to use it again. But saying the words out loud felt impossible. As if it were lodged in her throat. She hadn’t realized until then that she had been holding blood magic back as a just-in-case scenario. As a way to save the day in the event that she really needed it.

You are damning your soul.

“I promise,” she whispered hoarsely. It felt like more than a promise. Like a commandment set in stone. Something irretrievable and unbreakable.

Then, you are passed through to the tournament.

Suddenly, her spirit was shoved back into her body. And the weight of everything she had experienced crashed down around her. She felt as if her body had gone through the wringer. Every part of her was heavy and exhausted. She couldn’t imagine taking a step without passing out.

And, Cyrene of Doma tribe?

She tilted her head up slowly, cautiously.

Good luck.

Cyrene left Gelryn’s room behind and followed the female Society member around in a trance. She was worn out. She needed something to eat and at least a few days of sleep.

Luckily, she was taken to a small room full of snacks. She gorged until her heart was content and then was promptly shoved out of the room and placed into line behind the other competitors. She tried to peek around the person in front of her, but the man was mammoth-sized. Then, they were walking forward, and she had no better luck.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for returning for the evening portion of our opening ceremonies where we will finally announce this year’s competitors,” Ephriam said loud enough that Cyrene could hear outside of the arena.

The crowd roared with approval, and it managed to sound even louder than earlier today. Even though it felt like a year had passed rather than a single afternoon.

The sand crunched beneath her feet as she was ushered toward an entrance of the arena. She could see the crowd behind Mammoth Boy’s head, and it stunned her. She was about to walk out there. She was about to have to perform in front of all of these people. For so long, she had only ever considered the possibility that she would get to this moment. But, now that she was here, she was thinking about what she would actually have to do in this tournament.

“Let’s welcome our wonderful competitors from each of the twelve tribes as they enter the arena,” Ephriam said. “First up is Alura of Venatrix.”

Cyrene rolled her eyes. Of course it was Alura. She took one step closer.

“Fallon of Galanthea.”

Her mouth dropped open. Fallon had done it. She was pretty sure that he was kicking himself for even entering now. But it had to be worth it to see the faces of the other Galanthea tribe that hadn’t made it because he’d entered under their noses.

“Maxon of Herasi.”

The crowd cheered even louder for him. It was almost deafening.

Ephriam continued to name the competitors and their tribes. Cheers followed. She could now see that flowers were being thrown onto the arena floor. It was littered with them. She knew that she should pay attention to the rest of the competitors. She would have to spend several weeks with them, but she couldn’t seem to focus on them. She knew so few tribes at this point that they all started to blur together.

Then, she heard something that made her stop cold.

“Dean of Elsiande.”

It couldn’t be Dean. Not her Dean. That had to be a common name or at least…someone else from Alandria had to have that name. Because how would it even make sense? But what had Mistress Helly said at her inquiry? That Elsiande had put forth a human with no objection.

She couldn’t help herself. She pushed Mammoth Boy out of the way.

“Hey, watch it,” he said.

Then, her gaze fell on the man who stepped into the arena for Elsiande tribe. He was tall, well over six feet, with sandy-blond hair and a stride that she’d recognize anywhere.

“Dean?”