Saphira spur toward Niks, the flutter in her chest catching her off guard. His stride was calm, unhurried–like the chans swirling in the world hand hadn’t touched the case in his posture. But his gaze… his gaze held something else: A quiel pride, Unspoken You’re here, it said, tou close dirt.
“We’re starting in dragon form,” he said, stopping a few feet away. His voice, low and deliberate, was steady as stone. “I want your remfortable in ears movement. Strength and precision.”
Her throat tightened, the gravity of the moment curling around her like smoke. She nodded slowly, eyes flicking toward the others already stretching c the clearing. Zafita rolled her shoulders, casting asional nces toward Anastasia, who had dropped into a deep stance, fingers flexing over invisible lines. Finn spun a training de like he was auditioning for dramatic ir.
Saphira’s hand drifted to her ribs, brushing over the fabric with a quiet touch. I’m not alone. She looked back at Niks. He hadn’t moved, but the curve of his mouth–soft, steady–had deepened. It anchored her.
“I’m ready,” she said, voice threading through the quiet with new resolve.
He met her eyes, nodded once. “Then shift.”
She stepped forward, the wind tugging at her braid like a whisper transformation began.
of
defiance. Her breath drew long and deep into her lungs–and with a release, the
Heat ripped through her limbs, not violent, but consuming–familiar now, like old muscle memory being coaxed into ce. Bones reshaped, skin ignited, wings unfurled with a sudden snap. Her ws dug into the grass as her form settled low<b>, </b>bnced and grounded. Smoke curled from her maw, and she blinked slowly, gold eyes locking onto Niks again.
He stepped closer, eyes scanning her frame with practiced care. “We’re starting with your wings,” he said, gesturing to the sleek outer ridge. “They’re not just for flight. They’re shields. des. You <b>use </b>this edge to block, to strike.<b>” </b>
She tilted her head slightly, a low rumble rising from her chest<b>. </b>Her wings flexed–one, then the other<b>–</b>stretching toward the cue.
“Bring it in tight,” he continued. “Angle the curve down. Brace.”
Saphira shifted, weight bncing across her hind legs. Her left wing folded inward, slow and heavy<b>, </b>sweeping forward in a defensive <b>arc</b>. <b>The </b>wind dragged across the membrane, lifting dust into the air.
Awkward.
Unfamiliar.
But possible.
“Good,” Niks said. “Again.”
She repeated the movement. Once. Then again. With each attempt, she adjusted<b>–</b>spine lower<b>, </b><b>sweep </b>tighter, resistance lighter. Her wings began to move with the kind of purpose they’d been built for. This, she thought. This I can learn.
Niks’s expression warmed. “Nice. Now ws. Let’s see control.”
He knelt beside a nearby stack and pulled over a small cardboard box, tape sealed clean across the seam. He ced it with care. “Tear only <b>the </b>tape. <b>Not </b><b>the </b>
box. Think deliberate<b>.</b>”
Saphira narrowed her gaze, tail flicking once. Her w extended. Niks smirked.
“There’s no actual prize,” he added, stepping back.
She huffed, a puff of smoke curling into the air. She <b>braced </b>her talons and drew a slow line through the centre<b>. </b>
The box copsed inward with a sigh.
<b>CHAPTER </b><b>90 </b>
Her wings twitched, tall flicking harder.
Second attempt: she steadied her grip, slow breath rising, and shed again. The tape split. And the box fore diagonally across the ide
Niks gave a subtle shrug, silent encouragement.
On the final face, she paused. Het w hovered. Every muscle beneath her scales stilled. She watched the seam–mapped it and prested din
This time, the w sliced clean. No crumple. No tear.
Niks stepped forward and tapped the cardboard gently with his knuckle. “There it is.<b>” </b>
Her wings fluttered with restrained satisfaction, the motion like a breath released beneath her skin.
Niks’s gaze met hers again, more focused now. “Shift back. We need to talk next steps. They’re harder–and I want you to hear it as you.”
Saphira nodded once, slow and deep, the heat of aplishment blooming inside her chest. The shift pulled inward–bones folding, me cooling, limbs drawing back into human form. Her bare feet kissed the grass softly, and her braid fell over one shoulder as she stood <b>tall </b>again..
This time, when she looked at Niks, her heart didn’t stutter.
Saphira adjusted the strap of her top, breath still settling from the earlier drills. Her body hummed–not just with exertion, but with a strange energy thrumming low beneath her skin. The kind that came from Niks’s <b>presence</b>.
He stepped closer, arms loose at his sides but expression edged in <b>focus</b><b>. </b>“There’s one more step,” he said, tone quieter now. <b>“</b><b>I </b><b>want </b>to spar <b>with </b>you. Shifted. Me in dragon form.<b>” </b>
Saphira blinked, her body going still.
Niks held her gaze. “It’s the best way to train. You’ll learn how to face a real opponent with power behind every movement<b>. </b><b>And</b>…” He hesitated, the corner of his mouth lifting. “It strengthens the bond. Between <b>our </b>dragons. It’s<b>… </b>instinctive.”
Saphira’s heart kicked against her ribs, the pulse of her dragon answering like a flicker in the dark. The idea of facing him–him, in full <b>scale </b>and strength- set a chill down her spine, even as her ws twitched unconsciously. She swallowed.
“I don’t know if <b>I </b>can-”
“You can,” Niks cut in gently. He stepped even closer, one hand lifting to rest just above her elbow. “I won’t hurt you. But it’ll push you. It’ll be exhausting. You need to feel what you can handle–and what you’re capable of.”
She studied his eyes; the quiet certainty threaded through the blue <b>of </b>them. No hesitation. No bluff. Just <b>trust</b>.
Saphira drew in a breath. She’d asked for this. Wanted this. No more sidelines. No more holding back while others fought for her.
“<b>I </b>need this,” she said slowly. “I want this.”
Niks <b>gave </b>a slight nod, the shift in his expression subtle
charged.
“Then let’s start,” he said.
And across her ribs, beneath her skin, her dragon responded with quiet <b>fire</b>. Ready to rise<b>. </b>Ready to fight him. And not back down.