Ashborn Chapter 3
She survived the Crucible. Now comes the quiet — a bare room, an old letter, and a name that echoes in her bones. As Dareya wakes to a new title and the weight of everything she’s lost — and gained.
I started coming back to myself. The ground beneath me didn't feel hard like stone. The sharp, medicinal scent of tinctures assaulted my nose.
I sat up too quickly, pain blossoming in my head as I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I realized with a sigh of relief that I was in the infirmary.
A firm hand gently pressed my shoulder, guiding me back. “Easy.” Warden Brielle’s tone was uncharacteristically gentle. “You fainted just as the seal completed. You’ve been unconscious nearly the entire day.”
I gasped, my mouth dry. “A day?”
“Drink. Slowly.” Brielle raised a cup to my lips. A wry grin flickered on hers. “He stayed close until we could move you.”
“He stayed?”
Brielle nodded. “Refused to leave the arena until you were safe.”
A strange, echoing warmth stirred in my chest.
“I am here, Vel’shaari.”
She gasped.
“You’ll get used to that,” Brielle said. “Eventually.”
I slept in the infirmary that night, my rest fitful.
Early the next morning, after I ate breakfast, the nurses cleared me to return to the dormitory. Not to duty. I was to return to my dormitory and rest. Of course, they were empty when I arrived.
As an unmarried dragon-bonded woman, I would soon move to the Dragon-Rider dormitory. The married women would also move to the dormitory until their families could be relocated to Sylphion.
The women who did not form bonds with a dragon would either move to a dormitory for the work they will do in the Arakita Order, or they will return to the unit from which they came. The dormitory would be cleaned and closed for the next decade until the next Crucible.
My belongings were still in the room I had occupied for the past ten weeks. Ten weeks ago, there were eight of us in the room. By the time we marched into the Selection and Bonding Ceremony, I was the only occupant.
I picked up a sealed envelope from my pillow, recognizing Jillona Vrabek’s handwriting. She had been one of the women who started training with me, although she ended up dropping when she became ill with fevers and had missed too much training to continue.
With shaking fingers, I opened the seal on the parchment and read Jillona’s letter.
Dareya,
I wanted to write before everything changes. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the end with you. The Crucible was unforgiving, and sometimes the body just won’t listen.
No matter what happens next, you belong here. As for me, I’ve returned to my posting and will write again soon. Please keep me in lots of stories, as it gets very boring here, as not much happens.
-- Jillona
My chest tightened. A letter from a friend I made, though only had known about a month, was a small comfort.
I folded Jillona’s letter carefully, placing it inside a book I was currently reading, and started to tuck my belongings inside my worn pack. The weight of solitude settled over me as I sat on the bed. Had everyone already been assigned to their new quarters?
I sat on my bed, thinking over the Ceremony. My dragon. The one that chose me.
He wasn’t the largest. He wasn’t the first. Naturally, the highest-ranking dragon would be the first to select his rider.
And, just as naturally, that would have been Jessa. She has the perfect pedigree and is a legacy dragon rider.
I was content just to have been chosen, although I don’t know the last time a person not of noble blood bonded. Has it ever happened?
“Vel’shaari”
That voice again. That word again. What might it mean? I wonder if that’s my dragon’s name.
A sudden sharp knock startled me.
“Tempered Dareya?” The voice was cautious. “It’s Warden Brielle. You’ve been cleared to move to the Dragon Rider barracks. Do you need help moving your things?”
“I fit it all in my bag.” I slung my rucksack over my shoulder and opened the door. Brielle and two young men I had seen around were waiting.
“We came just in case you needed help moving.” One of the young men said. “You should have seen the trunks Tempered Varnell had.”
“Thank you.” I lifted the strap of the rucksack from my shoulder. “As you can see, I’ve got it.”
I followed the entourage through the building and across the courtyard and into another building.
“Room 306. Third floor, third room on the right.” The clerk at the front desk handed me a key. “The nearest staircase is behind you.”
Warden Brielle and the two men leave me at the desk. I climb the stairs. The dormitory is quiet at this hour, with most people tending their duties and those who held night shift sleeping, although I can hear voices softly conversing.
I find the room. Opening the door, I’m greeted by the small room crowded with a single bed, a chest of drawers, nightstand with a small lamp and fan, desk, wooden chair, and a couple hooks to hang my clothes. Through a small opening was a small room with a sink, toilet, and shower. Nothing soft. No decoration. No personality. I almost thought there was no bedding, but then noticed some blankets folded at the head of the bed under a pillow.
I’ll have to go into town to get some things to make this room my own. With my new rank, I was no longer confined to the grounds of the Order when off duty.
With a sigh, I shut the door behind me. Ten years of duty since I had turned eighteen and fled my dusty frontier town rather than be forced to wed that slimy Elan Tavber.
Elan had been the butcher in our town, so was fairly well-to-do, and already had grandchildren, although he needed a wife to care for his younger five children after his wife died mysteriously.
They said his wife had slipped and cracked her head in the smokehouse. But I knew better. His eldest daughter, the one who had just had a set of twins told me to run.
I ran.
Straight into a recruitment post on the southern edge of our district border. I signed my name on a ledger. Said I had no dependents, no trade, and didn’t care what I did or what I was fed, as long as I got a bed and a blade. That was the beginning.
No one thought that I’d last. Not the recruiters. Not the women in my first barracks. Not the officers who watched me getting knocked on my ass during drills. But I was tenacious. I learned. I fought. I survived.
I had carved out an illustrious career. It was illustrious enough, at least, to be noticed by the Selection Committee. The one which selects the women invited to face the Crucible.
That alone was rare. I was not of noble birth nor connected to any powerful household. I had no patron. No family name that opened doors.
But then, my record spoke for itself.
In recent years, invitation to the Crucible had become politics than merit. Invitations were hoarded like dowries, doled out to daughters of noblemen, high-ranking officers, and old-money families eager to see their families tied to the Order.
If a man didn’t have a daughter, he’d push forward a niece, a cousin, a ward, and on occasion, a granddaughter. Anything to secure a spot among the Hundred.
It was rare for there to even be a single invitation that had not already been pre-promised through backroom dealing or bloodline obligation.
I had learned from Jessa that I had received an invitation that had already been promised to her best friend after she was disqualified from competing in the Crucible. Jessa was very clear that the invitation should have remained unclaimed or go to someone more deserving – someone who had the right bloodline.
Ten years of outlasting, outmaneuvering, and outrunning every trap that should have closed around me. And this is where it got me.
Tempered. A bonded dragon rider.
No one from that dusty town would touch me again.
I looked around my bare little room. No frills. No softness. No proof anyone lived here yet. The old me would have made it work. But now, I wasn’t that girl. I had faced down a dragon and been chosen.
I wanted more than survival. I wanted color. Texture. Silk ribbons tied around drawer handles. Flowers. Warm, soft blankets. Colorful scarves on the windows. Ink and paper to write letters. A new brush. Actual tea. Yes, I would take a trip into town in the next couple days.
“Vel’shaari”
That word again. I closed my eyes and sat on the bed. Are you speaking to me? I thought, not knowing how to reach back.
“Vel’shaari,” the word echoed again, but this time I felt its shape, its meaning.
Beloved one.
My breath caught. Not a name. A title.
What is your name? I asked silently, hoping I was sending the question into the bond like a line into deep water.
A pause. Then: Veyrakh.
The name rang in my bones. I hadn’t known it before now, but it fit. It was as if I’d always known and just now remembered.
“Veyrakh,” I whispered aloud with a small smile, letting the name settle around my ears.
In the distance, I could feel him. Close, just out of sight. Waiting. Watching.
Mine. At last.
