The Last Dragon Rider

Chapter 5 : Ties of Blood and Deceit

"To bond with a dragon is to bind your heart, soul, and strength to something greater than oneself. To defend the innocent is not a choice, but an honor. To ride as one is to forsake fear and face the fire."
- Oath of the Dragon Riders

•The first rays of dawn spilled over the jagged peaks of the mountain range, casting a quiet glow across Draedon's Peak. The rebel hideout stirred with the early sounds of preparation, as swords were sharpened, armor repaired, and fires stoked in the cold mountain air. Salomon awoke to the warmth of Ignarus curled by his side, the young dragon still snoring lightly, flickers of warmth rising from his scales as he dreamed.

But even in the quiet of morning, the echoes of his vision remained fresh in Salomon's mind. During his training with Caelum the previous day, he had seen something both beautiful and haunting. A vision that felt as though it were imprinted deep within his soul. As he closed his eyes, the memory returned vividly.

In the vision, Salomon had stood on a cliff, the sky above him alight with colors as a powerful dragon flew overhead, its scales shimmering like a thousand mirrors reflecting the sun. On the dragon's back was a rider, a figure veiled in radiant light. The forms of the dragon and rider blurred at the edges, their features obscured by the brilliance of their bond. But the power emanating from them was undeniable. A force beyond anything Salomon had ever felt. It was as if he were witnessing the very soul of the ancient Riders, pure and unbreakable. The vision had left him breathless, his mind racing with questions about the uncovered secrets of the bond he has with this little dragon of his.

"Who... who were they?" Salomon whispered to himself, brushing his fingers across Ignarus's scales. Ignarus stirred, nudging Salomon with his snout, sensing his rider's thoughts. Salomon knew the vision was more than just a memory or an illusion. It was a glimpse into a legacy he barely understood.

As he dressed and prepared for the day, he heard the faint sound of voices outside. Garren, his father, was speaking with Caelum near the main cavern entrance, their faces grave as they discussed the growing dangers facing the rebellion. With a quiet nod to Ignarus, Salomon slipped out of the tent, eager to continue his training and learn more about his place in this ancient order.

The training ground lay on a ledge outside the cavern, where the mountain sloped into a vast, open expanse overlooking the forest below. Caelum stood waiting for him, his expression unreadable as he observed Salomon approach.

"Ready, then?" Caelum asked, gesturing to a set of weathered weapons laid out on a stone slab.
"Today, we're focusing on both the bond and your own strength. To be a Rider is not only to wield magic, but to wield discipline. Your bond with Ignarus is young, unpredictable. It could empower you beyond measure or turn against you if left unchecked."

Salomon nodded, lifting one of the swords from the slab. It felt heavy in his hand, the weight of its history almost palpable. Beside him, Ignarus watched intently, his eyes tracking every movement as Salomon swung the sword, adjusting to its heft.

But training was no simple feat. Caelum pushed him hard, instructing him to balance his focus between his physical form and the bond with Ignarus. Salomon could feel Ignarus's instincts flaring, encouraging him, pushing him to move faster, strike harder, even as he struggled to maintain control. Caelum watched with a discerning eye, his silence both unnerving and encouraging.

Hours passed, and Salomon's muscles ached, his mind exhausted from balancing both physical effort and mental focus. But with each moment, he felt the bond between himself and Ignarus deepen. It was as if they were becoming a single force, learning to anticipate each other's movements, their emotions blending in a strange and powerful unity.