𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒

𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞

The endless chatter within the main hall ceased as a man with somewhat thinning hair and light brown eyes leapt onto the dais and raised his voice. "Welcome to the Riders Quadrant cadets." He spoke with his hands raised. "At this stage you are most likely feeling unbeatable, am I correct?" A large roar of a cheer filled the room. He let out a hearty laugh, but Isolde could not ignore the slightly sinister look her had in his eyes. "Two hundred and seventy of you managed the crossing today," More cheering. "Fifty-eight of you, however, did not." Silence enveloped the room. Isolde looked down as she left a moment of silence for those who would no longer be returning to their families.

Leaving the room still for a couple of moments, the man bared one final toothy smile before speaking once more. "I am Commandant Panchek, as well as this I remain a colonel within our Navarrian military. Discipline falls to your units, and your wingleader is the last word. If I have to get involved..." A slow, sinister smile spreads across his face. "You don't want me involved." A sinking feeling fell through her. "You will be assessed by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. If you survive to Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders. Then we'll see how many of you make it to graduation."

"He's not intense at all is he?" Garrick mumbled behind her. Using the heel of her boot she kicked behind her like a donkey and hit him in the shin. Upon hearing a groan of discomfort, she let herself smile a little before pulling her focus back onto Commandant Panchek. He spoke a few more words in an attempt to instil fear into the fresh cadets before walking off of the dais and waving his hands to signal the Wingleaders, Section leaders and Squad leaders to take over.

Four people clad in various black items of clothing stepped onto the dais. The first to step forward was a striking woman with silver-streaked black hair and piercing green eyes. Her face was sharp and angular, with a scar running from her left temple down to her jaw, giving her an intimidating presence. Clearing her throat, she began to speak, "The four of us are the leaders of the wings. I am First Wingleader Taryn Durness the three next to me will introduce themselves in a moment but for now we will organise you into wings and then you will go off and be sorted further into your sections and squads. When I call your name stand in front of me."

Isolde waited with her hands by her side for her name to be called. "Jareth Avenor." A man on the shorter side joined the First Wing formation. "Maelis Smith." She followed behind Jareth. Soon First Wing was filling up rapidly leaving her to believe that the chance of her joining them was slimming down. As Durness finished rattling the names off of her list the second wingleader walked forward to move the attention from her to him.

"Same instructions apply. I'm Kessler Thyrelin and if I call you name queue up in front of me and be quiet." The second wingleader had a wiry and deceptively unassuming aura, with short sandy hair and soft brown eyes that gave him a disarming, gentle look. "Dorian Blackstone." She watched as the man who tried to throw Garrick off the Parapet joined the second wing. An unpleasant snarl curled up onto his face as he glared behind her towards the man he previously tried to kill. In which his response was a blank stare. Thyrelin repeated the same process until his wing was also full. Then the third. "Liora Veridan. Third Wing's Wingleader." She did not explain it again and just went straight into naming the cadets of her wing. "Elara Faelen." Isolde peaked over to the increasingly growing group to her right and watched as her somewhat new friend was sent over to a wing separate from hers.

As the third wing was completed it became abundantly clear that she would be a part of the Fourth Wing alongside the two behind her which she was hoping to avoid.

"Looks like we are all stuck together. How fun." Garrick spoke with a forced jollity as he looked at the two in front of them. Neither of them smiled. "Good Gods are you both emotionally constipated?" No reply. He let out a huff before shoving past the both of them.

"Ladies first Aritia." Xaden spoke down to her. She let out a similar huff to the boy who just left and walked past him.

"Right Fourth Wing, I am Iskar Drevaris and I'm quite clearly your wingleader. If you have problems that your main ports of call cannot answer, come to me and I will do my best to resolve your issue. Please don't waste my time with trivial shit." Iskar was tall, with chestnut brown skin and eyes like polished stone. His hair is long and jet-black, braided in a warrior's style. He held a cloud of silent confidence around him.

"I will call out your name, and you will hear either claw, flame or tail alongside a number between one and three this will indicate your section and squad. Squad leaders have their section and squad number badges on their shoulders to signify who you need to go towards. Understood?" A mumble of agreement flittered over the group. "Good." He commenced the reading.

Isolde essentially blocked out all of the names until a couple started to intrigue her. She recognised the boy that was called to the Claw section as the ginger guy she saw crossing the parapet before her. Myles Lanow. Spaces filled rapidly and she was now trying to remember names before she felt a pinch on her arm. What the-

She glanced up at the perpetrator with an outraged look of confusion as to why Xaden Riorson just pinched her. "You've just been called up Aritia, pay attention. Flame section, Third Squad." Oh Gods. Truthfully, she was not quite used to being known as Lysandra Aritia and had not processed the name as her own. "Right. I know, just wasn't sure where my squad leader was." He lifted up his finger towards a girl with dark crimson hair who was already speaking to the cadets that had joined her.

"Thank you," Walking over, she heard Xaden's name being called. "Xaden Riorson Flame section, Third Squad." They've got to be joking? It would have been hard enough to avoid him in the same wing let alone the same squad. She refused to look behind her as she knew he was following her over to the same Squad Leader. The crimson haired lady was midway through introducing herself as Cassandra Bencik as a commotion erupted within the hall. Deafening wing beats filled the residual silence as everybody turned to look at the source of the noise.

Three dragons landed on the side of the building, their talons gripping into the stone making sections crumble as if the walls were made of paper. Two greens and a brown dragon stared down at them with their chests puffed observing the options for the upcoming presentation. Isolde's heart lurched forward like it was threatening to beat out of her chest and onto the floor. But she did not run. The time spent in her home library taught her that there is nothing dragons value less that weakness. Unfortunately, it seemed that others were not so knowledgeable as a gaggle of cadets turned around shoving others out of the way in an attempt to run away.

The brown dragon between the two greens opened its snout revealing razor sharp teeth dripping with saliva; a burst of flames shot out of its mouth burning the twelve cadets attempting to make their daring escape. All that was left of them was an overpowering scent of sulphur, and ash covering the floor beneath their feet. Suddenly,  another set of wingbeats joined the mayhem and landed to the side of one of the greens. It was much larger than the rest and had a deep navy tone on its scales. Its golden beady eyes searched over the faces of the non-charred cadets before locking onto Xaden. She edged her face closer to him and Isolde was sure she stopped breathing. She could feel the hot air coming out of the dragon's mouth and was sure that it could kill Xaden without lifting a single talon. Luckily, Xaden remained stoic with his chin held high and subsequently, the dragon backed off and flew away with the other three following behind her.

Two hundred and seventy cadets dropped down to two hundred and fifty-eight.