The heavy oak doors of the Drakesworn Hold groaned open, revealing a vast hall bathed in the flickering glow of torchlight. The scent of warm wood, scorched stone, and faint traces of smoke filled the air — a reminder of the dragons that soared above and the fires they wielded.
Seraphina followed Mira closely, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. Around them, other recruits whispered in hushed tones, eyes wide with awe and nerves.
The hold was a fortress within the fortress. High ceilings arched overhead, supported by massive timber beams carved with the likenesses of dragons — wings spread wide, claws poised to strike, eyes gleaming with fierce intelligence.
Banners hung proudly from the walls: a blazing red dragon coiled around a silver sword, the emblem of the Drakesworn.
"This place is… incredible," Mira breathed, eyes shining. "It's where the dragon riders train and live. Every corner echoes with history."
Seraphina's gaze drifted to the walls, where ancient tapestries depicted legendary riders bonding with dragons, fierce battles, and soaring flights through stormy skies.
A tall, broad-shouldered young man with sharp gray eyes and a cocky grin fell into step beside them.
"That's Kaelen Stormfire," Mira whispered, nodding toward the newcomer. "Leader of the Stormfire Clan. Everyone's got mixed feelings about him — brilliant but brutal."
The young man smirked and folded his arms. "And I'm Lorian Nightshade," he said, voice low but firm. "Head of the Nightshade Clan. Calm, precise… not like some hotheads."
Kaelen's voice echoed from across the hall, challenging and loud. "Nightshade, you're all strategy and shadows. We'll see who wins when the dragons take flight."
Lorian shot back smoothly, "When brains win over brawn, Stormfire."
Seraphina watched the exchange, tension thick in the air. Rivalry ran deep here — not just between clans but within every breath of the Drakesworn.
As they were led deeper into the hold, they reached a large common room, walls lined with sturdy wooden benches and tables carved with dragon motifs. A grand hearth blazed with crackling flames, casting dancing shadows.
"This is where you'll eat, train, and rest," said a gruff voice. A silver-haired instructor stepped forward. "Your beds are upstairs, simple but strong. You'll learn discipline, magic, and combat here. And if you want to earn your dragon bond… well, that's a challenge only a few survive."
Seraphina swallowed hard but nodded, determination sparking in her chest.
Mira gave her a quick smile. "Welcome to the Drakesworn."
The instructor's eyes swept over the recruits, lingering on Seraphina just long enough to unsettle her before he continued.
"You're all Drakesworn now, but that's only the beginning. Within the faction are two clans — the Stormfire and the Nightshade. Each tests very different skills and demands a different kind of strength."
He gestured to two massive banners hanging on opposite sides of the hall. One bore a fiery red dragon wrapped around a blazing sword—the emblem of Stormfire. The other showed a sleek black dragon coiled through silver shadows—the mark of Nightshade.
"Stormfire is for those who burn with raw power and courage. Fighters who lead with fire and ferocity. If you want to soar alongside dragons of flame and thunder, that's your clan."
The other banner flickered softly in the torchlight. "Nightshade is for the cunning and the calculated—shadows and silence, precision strikes, and strategy. Those who bond with dragons that prefer the night and the unseen."
The instructor's voice grew grave. "At the end of the Ember Trials, each of you will face challenges tailored to your strengths and weaknesses. Your performance in these trials decides your clan placement — and your future."
A murmur spread through the hall.
Kaelen Stormfire, pacing nearby, grinned broadly. "Stormfire is where legends are made. If you've got the guts, you'll find your place among us."
Lorian Nightshade leaned casually against a carved pillar, his voice smooth but cold. "Stormfire burns bright but often burns out. Nightshade endures — quietly, but with deadly purpose."
Seraphina's mind raced. The stakes were higher than she'd imagined. It wasn't just about bonding dragons—it was about choosing a path, shaping who she would become.
Mira nudged her shoulder. "Whatever clan you end up in, you'll need your friends. And your courage."
Seraphina nodded, fists clenched. This was no longer just survival. This was war for her future.