Dancing Darkness

- chapter two

"Darkness cannot survive without a hint of light. That is why most of us don't survive the first year. If you do not have morals, humanity will be foreign." - TRANSLATED BY CADET SORRENGAIL, WRITTEN BY GENERAL SONDER.
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Chapter Two - The Devils Eye.

I close my eyes.      Thousands of feet in the air. Balancing on the Paraphet like it is the ground I was walking on just moments prior. The stones are a dragon. That is what I tell myself, anyhow. As if I was even higher, and all my worries are falling through the sky and hanging there as clouds. It is the only time I allow myself to feel. If I had a choice, time would stand still. That I could capture these moments in a scroll and live in it forever. But, instead, I walk along the faceless dragons spine with a ease that could only be acquired by years of practice. I have always had a active imagination. When I was a child, I trained with imaginary friends and miniature dragons reciting the words I had read for battle tactics. The luxury of other children was foreign. A whole universe separated me from them while I screamed and cried for someone, anyone, to notice me. To tell me that I am alive and a actual person, not made only for war and battle.
By the time I had opened my eyes, I was almost at the end of the stones. The skin-tight leather stuck to my skin like scales.
My eyes drift towards the towering palace of this academy. So much money and time brought here instead of the villages that can barely survive on the outskirts of the wards.
It's pitiful how pathetic our government is.
I am quick with my steps, making sure they are barely a whisper. I aced the agility test, and did moderately on the written exam.
It was a bunch of useless knowledge on the scribes and how their sorting system works. How I will need this in the battlefield is unbeknownst to me.
The second I reach the area where two stone walls surround the Parapet, I slow down my strides. The growing chatter is horrible.
I have never craved human interaction, and I never will. Talking is unimportant and unnecessary, since there is so many more ways to communicate.
There is a whole spectrum of things that irritate me. Certain voices, certain textures... people.
Plus, I found that I don't enjoy anyone's company.
At all.
I take my first step onto solid ground.
No breath of relief is there, not even a wave of happiness.
Just blank.
My eyes snap towards the woman writing down names.
Her beauty reminds me of Amari. High cheekbones shape her oval face as several rows of brown, short braids cover her head. Warm and dark skin is practically glowing in the rain.
My presence must be apparent, my shadow looming over her.
I didn't think I was that tall.
Even with my limited communication skills and even more limited social life, I thought my height was the average.
Apparently not.
Her eyes meet my chest when she looks straight forward. By the time she reaches my scarred face, her head is tilted up.
Dread flickers in her eyes.
I don't know what my brother did during his time here, but I know he did something that got everyone terrified.
She cleared her throat, meeting my eyes with a defiance that would be admirable if her voice wasn't so shaky when she said, "Name?"
I'm getting tired of that question.
"Eralynn Riorson."
I didn't think she could get more pale.
It took her a few moments of staring before she continued. She cleared her throat once more.
"Welcome to Basgiath." Her jaw was clenched, restraining the obvious disliking tone she had spoken to me with seconds before.
I pay her no mind, disappearing into the crowd of cadets.
The relic on my face burned. From my embarrassment or the mere memory of General Melgren's dragon ripping through the skin on my face, through my eye, and down my chin.
An innocent child labeled as a monster.
They got what they wanted.
My grip on my rucksack tightened.
I walk into the dappled sunlight of the courtyard. The clouds are breaking, and the drizzle is burning off as the gravel crunches under my boots.
The massive courtyard, which could easily fit a thousand riders, is humongous. The rounded end is formed by a giant outer wall at least 10 feet thick. Along the sides are stone halls.
I had studied the lay-out of the building before. I know the four-story building carved into the mountain with the rounded end is for academics, and the one on the right, towering over the cliff, is the dorms.
The imposing rotunda linking the two buildings also serves as the entrance to the gathering hall, commons, and library behind it.
I quit staring at the academy and twist around to face the outer wall.
There's a stone dais on the right side of the parapet, with two uniformed men both in full military dress, their medals shining in the new sunlight.
New cadets file in from the tunnel. Relief, dread, and excitement are dancing on their faces. Some more than others, the diversity astonishing.
Women and men from all across Navarre coming together to die by another rider or by their own dragon.
And now, I will die among them without a single person remembering me. Just a name for Malek to claim and a percentage by the end of the year.
How charming.