Page 6 of Tempest Rising

"Thanks, Mason," she said, picking up her satchel. "I could use the company." She spared me a glance, amber and curious, before turning to leave with Mason.

I watched them walk off, her animated gestures clashing with Mason’s calm, lumbering steps. She was so… human. And yet, somehow, she had managed to worm her way into the center of every storm currently brewing within the Guild. Human, dragon-bonded, and inexplicably tied to multiple figures of interest, Tess was a disruptor.

I understoodwhy.What I didn’t understand, however, was why the thought of her enduring the Survival Challenge alone caused something in my chest to tighten, like an unseen cord constricting itself.

It had to be professional concern. That was the only explanation.

She was inexperienced, vulnerable in ways she couldn’t begin to comprehend. That made her dangerous—not just to herself,but to others—and I couldn't ignore it. My plan to send her to meet Garanth was starting to look a little questionable. Garanth operated at the fringes of the Guild's awareness, a two-faced demon who’d either offer insight or exploit a weakness, depending on what he could gain. And Tess? Right now, she was glowing with inexperience. Garanth would seize on that without hesitation. If she faltered, it could all spiral wildly out of control.

I shouldn’t care. Tess being tested, even in the harshest circumstances, would only strengthen her resolve—or eliminate her if she wasn’t cut out for this world. Yet, the image of her walking into one of Garanth’s traps stirred something primal in me. Anger. Resentment. Unease. What was it about her that upended my calculations and made me second-guess decisions I should have already set in stone?

I exhaled sharply. Emotions were messy. Distracting. Illogical.

And yet... there they were, clouding my judgment just as my next objective came into view. Tess was unlike anyone I had ever encountered, but that didn’t mean I could lose focus. I would compartmentalize. I always did. Everything had its place, including whatever absurd fixation Tess had ignited within me.

Grinding my teeth, I turned toward the north edge of the grounds, forcing my focus forward. There was only the mission. Nothing else. Therecouldbe nothing else.

The discreet section of the Guild compound I arrived at was bathed in shadows, tucked away behind training barracks where few candidates ventured unless summoned. It was the perfect place for clandestine meetings—a raw arena stripped of ceremony and pretense. The faint hum of lingering magic crackled through the air, mingling with the stale scent of old leather and singed wood.

I spotted Veyla immediately.

Keen and dependable, she was integral to my network—a set of eyes and ears that granted me insight into the undercurrents among the dragon rider hopefuls. Many of them held their tongues when I was near, wary of my connection to the Lord Protector of the Guild. Veyla, however, had a knack for blending into the background, listening where others would dismiss her, and passing along whispers that never reached me otherwise.

She was leaning against the far wall, her lithe frame obscured effortlessly in the shadows of a warped post. Her fiery hair was pulled back tightly, though a few rebellious strands framed her face, softening the edge of her sharp, determined features. As soon as she spotted me, she straightened, her blue eyes darting across the room in a quick, habitual sweep before stalking toward me with a deliberate, feline grace.

"Kane," she said, her voice low but eager. Her respect for me was unmistakable, though I noted the barest hint of relief in her tone as I stepped closer. She was nervous. Good. Nervous meant aware of danger, and that kept her alive.

"Veyla," I greeted evenly, my hands clasped behind my back. "What do you have for me?"

Her lips pressed together, and she glanced around once more before lowering her voice. "Tess is… stirring people up. The candidates are talking—complaining, really." Veyla crossed her arms, her unease apparent. "Comments like ‘It’s unnatural that she’s even here,’ and ‘She doesn’t belong’ are spreading. Some of the pureblood Fae are particularly vocal."

I frowned, though I wasn’t surprised. Tess had been lucky so far. Words were cheap—easily ignored, easily dismissed. But there would come a point when words wouldn’t be enough for herdetractors. There was always someone willing to escalate their rhetoric into action. "Names?" I asked, my voice sharp.

"Most of them keep quiet around me," Veyla admitted, frowning. "But I’d be willing to bet a few of the older candidates are already forming quiet alliances to undermine her. I could try digging, but—”

"No need," I cut her off. I could connect the dots. Tess was a human anomaly in a world of Supes. Resentment was inevitable.

Something else flickered in Veyla’s expression. Hesitation. Her next words were halting but deliberate: "It’s not just Tess causing waves, though. Draven… there’s something off about him."

I raised an eyebrow, suddenly more alert. Veyla never mentioned names without justification. "Elaborate."

She shifted her weight, chewing her bottom lip. "He doesn’t act like the others. He’s too… perfect. Too polished. I caught him watching Tess during lunch today. And once, I overheard him asking someone about Guild politics—specifically about dragon selection. It doesn’t feel right."

Draven. An incubus known for exuding effortless charm, he was always surrounded by women. But other than that, I didn’t know much about him.

"Continue to keep an eye on him," I ordered. "Don’t overextend yourself, but I want to know the moment you hear something concrete."

Veyla nodded, her shoulders straighter now with purpose. "Understood."

???

The tires of my Tesla hummed against the narrow road leading into Drakehaven, the quiet hum of the engine a sharp contrast to the quaint, timeless atmosphere of the town ahead. Drakehaven was a paradox, blending the charm of history with the subtle hum of arcane power.

I parked outside The Haven, the local tavern, the neon sign flickering faintly above the sturdy oak doors. The building exuded a strange warmth, lit by soft magic-infused light that made even skeptics feel a little safer inside. To the human eye, it was just a charming small-town bar. To those who knew better, it was one of the bustling hubs of supernatural gossip and clandestine exchanges.

Stepping inside, the scent of aged wood, spiced mead, and faint traces of glamour magics greeted me. The buzz of conversation filled the air, mingling with the occasional burst of laughter from the far corners. Cali was easy to spot. Even though her partially corporeal sprite form flickered faintly with magic, her boundless energy radiated like a beacon in the dim atmosphere. Behind the bar, her iridescent wings shifted faintly, catching the light as she flitted back and forth, pouring drinks for her eclectic clientele.

“Ellesar,” she greeted as I slid into one of the high-backed barstools. Her bright green eyes sparkled mischievously as she poured me a glass of her finest whiskey without asking. “You’re punctual, as always. I’d say it’s endearing, but we both know you don’t care much for pleasantries.”

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