The following morning dawned bright, the skies swept clean by the night winds. Excitement hummed through the Dragon Academy like a song carried in the halls. That day, both academies were to be allowed into Drakorra, the great market-city that gleamed like a jewel at the bend of the River Seryth.
In the outer courtyards, the students gathered, buzzing with restless anticipation. Teachers barked orders and reminded them of rules, but their words slid like water over stone, no one could stop looking at the dragons waiting in the field beyond.
Dozens of them, sleek, scaled, alive.
They were smaller than the colossal guardians of legend, yet still magnificent: wings like sails stretched wide, scales glimmering as though dusted with starlight. Some shifted colors with the angle of the sun; others gleamed in pure tones of emerald, sapphire, obsidian, pearl. Their eyes glowed with intelligence, sharp and ancient, meeting each student's gaze with unsettling weight.
