Chapter 105: Excitement

The next morning dawned crisp and golden, sunlight spilling across the academy’s courtyards and cloisters. Normally, mornings began with quiet order, the shuffle of feet toward classrooms, the rustle of robes, the occasional yawn from a sleepy first-year. But today, the air was electric.

Everywhere Lira went, she heard fragments of conversation. In the stairwells, first-years whispered about dragons with wide eyes, voices rising with both awe and fear. In the courtyard, a group of older students debated animatedly about what kinds of elements the Dragon Academy might teach. Even the dining hall, usually subdued with the sound of spoons clinking in porridge bowls, roared with speculation.

"They say their students can summon fire straight from the sky."

"No, no, some of them are dragons. I heard it from a tutor who visited years ago!"

"What if they let us ride one?"

Lira slipped through the hall with Fluffy at her side, balancing her satchel on her belt. It was nearly impossible to avoid the whirlwind of excited voices around them. She caught a glimpse of two professors standing at the far end of the hall, speaking in hushed tones, their expressions serious, but even they couldn’t completely conceal the spark of anticipation in their eyes.

Settling at their usual table, Lira stirred her tea, quietly observing. The excitement was contagious, even for someone who usually preferred the stillness of books. She felt her chest hum with the same anticipation she’d carried from last night.

Maelin leaned forward, grinning. "Half the school didn’t sleep a wink. Listen to them. You’d think we were all boarding the ships today."

Lira smiled faintly, glancing toward a group of first-years who were reenacting what they thought dragonfire looked like with exaggerated hand gestures. "It feels different, though. Like... everything we’ve studied so far is only the beginning. Now everyone’s realizing there’s more waiting beyond these walls."

Maelin chewed thoughtfully on her bread. "It makes our lessons feel like practice for something bigger."

As the morning bell rang, summoning them to their first class, the buzz didn’t fade but only shifted. Students hurried down corridors, voices echoing against the stone, and even the classrooms seemed filled with restless energy. Teachers had to remind them, more than once, to focus on the lessons at hand.

Yet Lira noticed something subtle. Beneath the chatter and the exaggerations, there was a shared spark in every face she passed: hope, curiosity, and a sense that this year would indeed change everything. And in her own heart, steady and calm, she carried that same spark, though hers burned with quiet determination.

The morning’s lessons began with an energy unlike any other. Normally, classes followed the strict curriculum of magical theory, practice drills, and study of old texts. But today, every instructor seemed to have abandoned routine in favor of what was on every student’s mind: the Dragon Academy.

In the grand lecture hall, Professor Aelira, tall, with silver-streaked hair pinned neatly back, addressed her group of second-years. A map of the Dragon Lands shimmered in the air behind her, drawn with threads of light.

"The land you will soon visit," she began, her tone steady but alive with interest, "is not like the forests and valleys surrounding our own academy. The Dragon Lands are rugged with mountains that pierce the clouds, valleys carved by fire, rivers so hot with volcanic flow that they glow at night. Their people live in harmony with these extremes, and so must you, if you are chosen to travel there."

A murmur swept the class. Students leaned forward, eyes wide, scribbling notes as if every word were a key to survival.

"Clothing," Aelira continued, flicking her fingers so the map shifted to illustrations of garments. "You will need light layers for the high mountains, yet fire-resistant material for valleys near lava flows. Our academy tailors are already preparing enchanted fabrics. Still, you would be wise to bring your own sturdy boots, gloves, and traveling cloaks. Do not assume comfort will be guaranteed."

Lira took careful notes, her mind painting pictures of burning skies and sharp peaks. She found herself unexpectedly calm with the thought of preparing rather than fearing steadied her.

Later, in elemental studies, Teacher Elyra strode into the classroom with her usual booming voice, but this time her lesson carried a sharp edge. "The dragons respect strength and control. If your magic is wild, they will see it. If it masters you instead of you mastering it, they will know." Her gaze swept over the rows of students, lingering long enough to make even the boldest shift uncomfortably in their seats. "From this day forward, your training is not just to pass academy measures but it is to prove you are worthy of being there at all."

They practiced elemental forms with professor Varyn unusual intensity. Lira felt her vines coil and move in her palm, steadier than it had ever been. Her confidence, sharpened by the last few days, gave her more control than she’d expected. When she called back the vines at the precise moment Master Varyn commanded, his approving nod sent a quiet warmth through her chest.

At midday, history and culture lessons followed. In a smaller chamber, the students gathered around Professor Ken, who spoke in a softer voice but carried the weight of knowledge. Shelves behind him overflowed with scrolls and records, some so old they seemed ready to crumble at a touch.

"The Dragon Academy is not simply a place of learning," he explained, unfolding a scroll etched with draconic script. "It is a living covenant between dragons and humankind. Their traditions are older than our written histories. Respect them, and you will be welcomed. Dismiss them, and you will find yourself shut out, or worse."

He went on to describe formal greetings, the importance of names, and the way dragons viewed fire as not merely an element but a sacred inheritance. Lira wrote quickly, her heart tugging with curiosity. This was the sort of knowledge she lived for, the insights buried in text, waiting to be carried into the living world.

By the end of the day, students left each classroom buzzing not just with excitement but with a new awareness. Their journey wasn’t going to be a mere spectacle but it was something to prepare for, body and mind.

As she and Maelin walked back through the courtyard with Fluffy at their legs, Lira hugged her notes to her chest, her mind alive with images of flame-lit valleys, towering mountains, and dragon eyes watching her closely. She felt the pressure, yes, but beneath it all was a steady flame of readiness.

By the time the sun dipped low, painting the academy’s stone walls in gold and shadow, the mood among the students had shifted. What had begun as wide-eyed speculation at breakfast and eager note-taking during class had turned into a frenzy of preparation.

The dormitories were alive with energy. Doors stood open, voices drifted from room to room, and the sound of trunks opening, boots being tested, and cloaks being shaken free from dust filled the air. First-years darted about in packs, asking older students what to bring, while third- and fourth-years offered advice, half guessing, half helpful, half designed to stir nerves.

"You’ll want fireproof gloves, trust me," one boy warned dramatically in the corridor. "I heard a careless student once tried to touch dragon scales bare-handed, and they were burned for a week."

"Don’t listen to him," an older girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Just bring sturdy boots. You’ll do more walking than touching dragons."

Lira moved more quietly through the bustle, her satchel clutched close as she returned from the library. She had borrowed another stack of books of histories, bestiaries, and an old volume on draconic customs. While others rushed to polish boots and patch cloaks, she found herself cross-legged on her bed, notes spread around her like a small fortress.

Across the room, Maelin was bent over the sofa, muttering to herself as she sorted through tools and scraps of metal. "If they have forges there, I’ll need my chisels... and my hammer. Oh, but it’ll weigh too much..." She groaned, tossing the hammer back in and shutting the lid with a thump. "This is impossible."

"You’ll figure it out," Lira murmured, her quill scratching steadily.

Maelin glanced at her and smirked. "You’ll figure it out too, once you actually pack something instead of reading about what you should pack."

Lira hid a small smile behind her parchment. "Knowledge is preparation."

"Boots are preparation," Maelin countered, though her tone was light. She flopped onto Lira’s bed and stared at the ceiling. "Do you think they’ll choose us? Or will it just be the prodigies and the best duelists?"

Lira hesitated. She remembered Master Rhovan’s words about strength, about control. Her flame had been steady that day, not wild, not weak. For the first time, she could almost believe she would be chosen. "I don’t know," she admitted softly. "But if they do... I think I’m ready."

The corridors outside still buzzed with voices, students bragging about their skills, whispering about who the Grandmaster might select, or daring each other to guess what dragons smelled like. Yet inside their room, a calmer sort of anticipation grew between the two girls. Not just fear, not just excitement, but the sense that something larger was waiting just beyond reach.

That night, as Lira turned off light and slid beneath her blanket, she lay awake a little longer than usual, Fluffy cuddled near her. The echo of Grandmaster Elion’s words lingered in her mind. The Dragon Academy awaits. She closed her eyes, and for the first time, dreamed not of books or quiet libraries, but of wings sweeping through the sky.

As night deepened, the academy quieted at last. The clamor of voices in the dormitories faded one by one, doors shutting softly, laughter dwindling to whispers, then silence. Lanterns in the corridors dimmed, leaving only the pale glow of moonlight through high windows.

But Lira could not sleep. She lay staring at the ceiling, her mind restless, turning over the lessons of the day, the maps and histories, the warnings of new teachers, and the image of flying ships cutting across the sky. Her body felt still, but her thoughts burned bright and restless, like an ember refusing to go out.

At last, she slipped from her bed, careful not to disturb Fluffy’s steady breathing. She drew her cloak around her shoulders, soft leather boots muffling her steps as she left the dormitory. The corridors were hushed, their echoes hollow, the great halls seeming older and heavier in the absence of student voices.

She moved through the archways and across the courtyard until the stone paths gave way to grass. The forest loomed beyond the academy’s edge, dark and alive with the whisper of leaves stirred by night winds. The scent of earth and moss hung in the air, sharper here, far from the hearthfires and cooking smoke of the academy.

Lira stopped at the border, where the last lantern of the grounds cast its light in a wide circle before surrendering to shadow. She pulled her cloak tighter and breathed deeply, her eyes adjusting to the gloom. The forest beyond felt vast, known to her, but strangely welcoming, as though it too carried secrets waiting to be discovered.

A small light flickered to life in her hand by the tool she bought over the vacations, not out of fear but to feel the warmth, to steady herself. The glow illuminated her face, soft orange against the silver of moonlight. She held it there, letting the flame dance, watching how it bent and curved with her breath.

For a moment, standing there at the edge of forest and academy, she felt the pull of two worlds, the safe stone walls behind her, filled with lessons and order, and the untamed dark ahead, full of mystery and promise. Somewhere between them, she felt herself growing, stretched thin but strong, like a thread of flame reaching upward.

The leaves rustled, a bird stirred in the branches, and the night carried on. Then, she took steps into it.