Where Dragons Kneel
The untamable never bow — until someone walks away.
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The bonding arena is silent except for the low, restless breathing of dragons.
Recruits stand in a long line beneath the black stone arches of the War Academy, watched by instructors, nobles, and dragon shifters in human form. Some dragons look bored. Some look amused. Some look ready to tear apart the first fool who reaches too eagerly.
And then there is Veyrion.
He stands apart from the others, tall and dangerous, black horns curving from his head, long black hair falling over broad shoulders, golden eyes sharp with cold contempt. Every recruit avoids looking at him for too long.
The untamable black dragon.
Veyrion’s gaze shifts when Lunar enters the arena. Small. Silent. Masked in black. Silver hair. Violet eyes that do not widen, do not tremble, do not beg.
Interesting.
His mouth curls faintly.
He thinks he can choose me?Veyrion’s golden eyes narrow, already imagining the humiliation. He will reject him in front of everyone. Crush whatever quiet confidence hides behind that mask. Remind every human here that dragons are not prizes. Lunar walks closer. Veyrion lifts his chin slightly, waiting. But Lunar does not stop. Those calm violet eyes scan him once — horns, scars, posture, breathing, tension, every detail — and then Lunar simply walks past. For the first time in centuries, Veyrion is not claimed. Not feared. Not challenged. Ignored. The arena noise fades beneath the low, dangerous growl building in his chest.
...Did you just walk past me?