Page 72 of Tempest Rising

The dining hall buzzed with life when I arrived, the clatter of dishes and hum of voices creating a lively backdrop. The air was thick with the smells of bacon, eggs, and freshly brewed coffee, mingling with the faint, sweet aroma of enchanted pastries. Bespelled lanterns floated above the long, communal tables, their soft, golden light flickering like fireflies.

Mason spotted me almost immediately and waved me over to the table where he sat with Kane, Raze, Anya, and—to my surprise—Draven. His large, calloused hand rested on the back of the chair he’d saved for me, and when I slid into it, he silently pushed a plate of food toward me.

“Figured you’d be hungry,” he murmured, his gruff voice carrying a softness that made my chest tighten. His dark eyes held mine for a moment, before glancing away.

I gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Mason.” As I leaned into him slightly, the solid warmth of his shoulder against mine sent a ripple of comfort through me. It was strange how easily I relaxed in his presence now, how natural it felt to be close to him.

A flicker of heat rose to my cheeks as memories of last night surfaced—his arms around me, his quiet reassurances, the way he held me like I was something precious. The bond between us felt stronger today, like an unspoken connection humming just beneath my skin.

Across the table, Raze was in the middle of an animated retelling of yesterday’s chaos, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. “I’m just saying,” he declared, amber eyes gleaming with excitement, “if it weren’t for me, those salamanders would’ve roasted us all alive. Admit it, Kane—you owe me one.”

Kane didn’t even look up from the notebook he was scribbling in. “Yes, Raze, your reckless charging into danger was a masterclass in heroics. Truly inspiring,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Raze leaned back in his chair, clearly undeterred. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Draven, who had been quietly sipping his coffee, chuckled, a deep, smooth sound that seemed to wrap itself around the conversation. “I heard Tess was the real MVP yesterday. Something about new dragon magic?” His hazel eyes locked onto mine, their colors shifting like liquid gold and green. There was a glimmer of intrigue in his gaze, and I felt a strange pull, like the air between us had thickened.

I fumbled with the edge of my toast, feeling my cheeks heat again. “It wasn’t that impressive,” I muttered. “I just… tapped into my bond with Thalon. Honestly, it kind of happened on instinct.”

“It was impressive,” Mason said firmly, his hand finding my knee under the table. The weight of it was grounding, hiswarmth seeping through the fabric of my jeans. I glanced up at him, and the quiet certainty in his expression made my breath catch.

Kane’s hand paused mid-scribble, his sharp blue-violet eyes flicking to where Mason’s hand rested on my knee. He didn’t say a word, but the slight tightening of his jaw and the brief flicker of something unreadable in his gaze didn’t escape my notice. My stomach twisted. Was that… jealousy? No, I was probably imagining things. Kane barely tolerated me most days.

Anya, sitting across from us, tilted her head, her violet eyes glinting with curiosity. “Instinct or not, that kind of connection with a dragon—especially Thalon—isn’t something to downplay. It’s significant, Tess.”

Significant. The word settled heavily in my chest. I wanted to brush it off, to pretend it was nothing, but the truth was, I could still feel Thalon’s presence like a steady flame in my mind. It was comforting and overwhelming all at once, a constant reminder that I was stepping into a world far bigger than myself.

The conversation shifted as they dissected the salamander attack in more detail. Draven leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious as he remarked, “Whoever orchestrated that attack wasn’t just causing chaos—they were sending a message.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Kane’s gaze was sharp as he folded his arms. “The salamanders weren’t acting naturally. And they don’t normally just show up in those quantities. They had summoning runes carved into their scales—someone controlled them.”

A chill ran down my spine. “I didn’t see any runes.”

“They weren’t meant to be obvious,” Mason rumbled, his deep voice steady but grim. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

Anya exhaled slowly. “This wasn’t some random magical anomaly. It was deliberate.”

The weight of her words settled over me like a lead blanket. Someone had gone to great lengths to orchestrate an attack, to make it seem like an accident. But why? And more importantly—who?

Kane nodded, his brow furrowing. “And did anyone else notice the shadow during the fire? The dragon-shaped one?”

I blinked, looking around the table. “What shadow?”

Kane’s gaze sharpened as it landed on me. “It was there. A dragon, but darker—like it was made of living shadow. It felt… unnatural.”

Raze barked out a laugh, breaking the tension. “Oh, come on. You’re not seriously saying you saw the Reaper, are you?”

“The Reaper?” I echoed, frowning.

Raze leaned forward, his grin wide and teasing. “It’s a bedtime story Supe parents tell their kids to scare them into behaving. A shadow dragon that hunts down anyone who gets in his way. Supposedly, he’s unstoppable. But it’s just a myth.”

“It wasn’t a myth,” Kane said, his voice cold and clipped. “And it wasn’t a story.”

A shiver ran down my spine at the certainty in his tone. My mind drifted back to the salamander attack—the heat of the flames, the chaos and fear, the moment I’d felt Thalon’s presence surgethrough me. Could there really have been another dragon there? A shadow dragon?

Before I could dwell on it further, the dining hall doors slammed open with a force that reverberated through the room. The enchanted lanterns flickered, and the hum of conversation abruptly ceased. Theron strode in, his expression grim and his presence commanding.

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