-Finn-
The granite of the central nexus was warm beneath my palm, vibrating with the slow, steady pulse of the ward knot that Alexia, Soren, and I had woven hours earlier. It wasn't just magic; it was the slow, rhythmic beat of our combined hearts—a silent promise of protection that I was sworn to uphold. I stood guard in the courtyard, letting the cold morning air wash over my exposed arms, but my core temperature was already too high. I could feel the thin, metallic tang of the Silver Trap report hanging in the atmosphere, drifting out to the High Council of the Fivefold Accord like bait on a deadly line.
I was waiting for the snap.
My scales were tight beneath my skin, an itching, ready sensation. Unlike Soren, who relied on silence, or Jasper, who relied on peace, my instinct was raw, destructive power. I craved the confrontation the Council represented. I craved the right to burn them out of this school and seal the gates forever. Alexia Mae Carter had ordered me to lock down the nexus, to hold the physical line, but the discipline required to stand still was a heavier weight than any battle I'd ever fought. Every muscle fiber in my body begged to move, to patrol, to fight something.
The courtyard was eerily quiet. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath, wings frozen mid-flap. Every shadow was sharper, more pronounced, every blade of grass etched in cold clarity by the rising sun. I could feel the tension in the students' nerves, trickling up through the wards like a faint electrical charge, each pulse echoing the anticipation coiling in my chest. I wanted to roar, to stretch my wings, to let the dragon inside me take control—but Alexia had made it clear: control was the weapon here.
I watched the sun crawl over the eastern horizon, painting the sky in colors too beautiful for the ugly maneuver that was about to unfold. Gold and rose streaked the clouds, oblivious to the storm that approached. A cruel irony that I savored in silence. Nature didn't care about councils or decrees, and neither did I—but I could use it. Every reflection, every shaft of light could be bait, a distraction, a weapon in a fight that was only just beginning.
Then, the air shattered.
It wasn't a spell, not yet, but a sound—a jarring, mechanical thrum that bypassed the school's acoustic wards and resonated in my teeth. The atmosphere snapped from tranquil morning to aggressive siege in an instant. My claws dug into the granite, leaving faint, glowing scars where heat from my veins seeped into stone. The wards under my hands vibrated against my pulse like they were alive, testing me, waiting to see if I could hold.
High above the main gates, a massive, shimmering magical projection materialized. It was the color of bruised obsidian, displaying the seal of the High Council of the Fivefold Accord—a cruel, stylized serpent coiled around a bound sun. The seal alone radiated enough binding magic to make the air feel thick and resistant. Its oppressive presence made the hair on my neck bristle. Every instinct screamed that this was no ordinary visit. This was a strike, and we were the target.
The Council's decree followed, bursting from the projection in glowing, jagged script:
By order of the High Council of the Fivefold Accord, Alexia Mae Carter is deemed unable to manage magical matters responsibly. A provisional Oversight Authority will assume immediate control of Whisperwind Academy. All bonded creatures, wards, and magical implements are to be surrendered for containment. Obstruction will be met with binding, expulsion, or confiscation.
Confiscation. Containment. They weren't just trying to corner Alexia; they were trying to sever her bond, to snatch me, Soren, and anyone tied to her from the school. Every word of that decree tasted metallic and bitter in my mouth, each letter a spark of challenge I was itching to respond to with fire.
I could feel the heat rise beneath my skin, scales quivering, fire thrumming along my veins. Every instinct screamed to charge the gates, to rip the projection from the sky and shred it to nothing—but Alexia's instructions, Jasper's calm, Soren's measured presence, held me fast. Control. Precision. Controlled fire.
"They've made their move," I said, teeth gritted as my claws dug deeper into the granite. "We make ours. The students, the wards—every line holds. When the Overseer crosses the nexus…" I let the words hang, heavy with promise. "…we burn their decree to ash."
Soren's shadow cloaked him like armor, silent and ready. "Understood."
I felt Alexia through the mate-bond. Her heartbeat was steady, coiled, and waiting. She was calm in a way I could almost envy, but I could feel the subtle tension of her magic, like a humming wire strung tight, ready to snap. The trap was set, but traps didn't stop a storm—they funneled it. And the storm was here.
The students were watching too. Hidden within the courtyard, they moved like ghosts under the wards, faces tense, ready. I could feel their fear, their excitement, their eagerness to prove themselves. It pooled at the edges of my awareness, feeding into the nexus knot, and I allowed it—carefully. Not enough to lose control, but enough to sharpen our collective edge.
The first ripple of arrival magic brushed the outer wards. Too soon. They weren't waiting for compliance. They were already inside our line.
Good.
I flexed, letting a thin ribbon of flame lick from my palms, just enough to warm the morning air. My claws glinted in the dawn light, faint heat waves distorting the stone beneath them. "Welcome to Whisperwind," I muttered, low and dangerous, "Overseer. Let's see how weak we really look."