Every year, hundreds die within the walls of Basgiath War College. It's no surprise that many are those who choose the Riders Quadrant. Dragons do not tolerate much, but neither do the ruthless gryphons on the outside of the wards.
At least...
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・・・ ・・・ ・・・
On Saturday, I walk alongside Xaden down the dormitory stairs. I follow him silently through the gym's hallway, then through the turn into the main corridor that leads across the valley. I've left all of my weapons behind, but considering how many of those black-bladed daggers Xaden has on him right now, I could probably be put to death for just walking next to him. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I finally ask as we get into a less densely populated area of the enclosed bridge where his footsteps echo. "To Basgiath's forge."
I blink, and my chest tightens to stop my heart from soaring away with excitement. "Thank you for trusting me," I tell quickly. The words don't feel heavy enough for the emotion I feel. "You're welcome." He looks down at me and his expression softens just slightly. "Will I earn back a little trust now?" I nod eagerly and force my head away before I recklessly give him those three words he keeps asking for.
Sometimes I think about what he said in his letter, about there being a monster inside of him that wants to do anything to hear it. I don't think there is, despite what he wrote, but it lingers in my mind at times. Is that romantic? "I found something," I tell him, offering my own piece of information to let him in, in return. His head ticks slightly my way, so I continue. "A text that said the First Six personally carved the first wardstone." "We knew that."
"The first wardstone," I repeat, then pinch my lips when his shadows hold open a door in front of us. "Which is a silent acknowledgment of a second wardstone, and implies a good chance they carved that one, too." "Good point." Another set of doors opens in front of us with his power, and I offer a raised hand in greeting to one of the Matthews. "I know what I need to look for, but I don't know where it would even exist." "Which is?"
I pause for a moment as we squeeze through a small crowd, Xaden's hand settling on the small of my back so he doesn't lose me. We begin toward a flight of stairs I've never touched before. "I need a firsthand account from one of them. I've heard Violet talk about it, so they exist, and I know one of them was Lucerish. If an unredacted version still exists, I'm probably one of the best people in Amaralys who can read it properly..." His head jerks slightly toward me and his brows furrow, making me tilt one of mine. "...with as much context we can get after six hundred years."
He stares at me for a few moments longer, making our steps slow on the staircase as I give him a puzzled look to match his own. "Are you okay?" "Fine," he answers. He rolls his head to the side to continue bouncing down the stairs. I scramble to follow, curving around a bend by his side. "Are you su—"
