Chapter 7 THE CHOOSING
LYRA
The morning of the Choosing Ceremony broke with a sky the color of tempered steel, heavy clouds rolling low over Aetherwind like they were holding their breath. I stood in front of the small mirror in my room, heart hammering so loudly I was sure the whole house could hear it.
My dark purple hair refused to behave, falling in thick, rebellious waves that caught the weak light and turned it into something almost electric, deep violet shot through with hints of midnight. It looked alive, untamed, completely out of place next to the neat golden-yellow braids Mother was finishing on Selene downstairs.
“Lyra, are you almost ready?” Mother called up the stairs, her voice carrying that familiar edge of nervous excitement. “We need to leave soon if we want a good viewing spot.”
I took a deep breath and tucked the worst of my purple strands under a simple gray hood. The borrowed uniform was already hidden in a small satchel slung under my cloak, pinched at the waist to fit better, the fabric rough against my skin.
My hands shook slightly as I adjusted the strap. Today was the day. No more attic plans or whispered promises to myself. In a few hours, I would slip away from the family viewing area and blend into the crowd of candidates on the sacred field. One last chance. One desperate, rule-breaking chance.
“Coming!” I shouted back, forcing my voice to sound normal. Casual. Like I wasn’t about to risk everything.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of fresh tea and the faint sweetness of leftover honey cake we’d sneaked the day before. Selene stood in the center of the room in her new pale blue dress, the ribbons we’d bought woven carefully into her sunny yellow hair. She looked radiant, golden and hopeful, exactly the kind of girl the dragons were supposed to notice. Mother fussed around her, adjusting the hem one final time, her own cheese-yellow braid swinging with each movement.
“You look perfect, darling,” Mother said, stepping back to admire her. The pride in her voice was warm, unguarded. “The ribbons catch the light just right. Any dragon would be lucky to bond with you.”
Selene blushed, twisting her hands. “I hope so. My stomach feels like it’s full of storm clouds.”
I stepped into the room, pulling my cloak tighter. “You’ll be fine, Sel. Better than fine. Just breathe and remember what we practiced, stand tall, but not stiff. Let them see the real you.”
Mother glanced at me then, her expression softening into something more practical. “And you, Lyra… you’ll stay with me in the viewing stands, yes? No wandering off. This is Selene’s day, and I want us all together as a family.”
The words landed like a quiet weight. Selene’s day. Not mine. Never really mine after last year’s failure. I nodded, swallowing the guilt and determination twisting inside me. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”
We left the house together, the three of us walking the familiar path toward the Academy grounds. The streets were alive with energy, families in their best clothes, young hopefuls clutching small tokens for luck, the distant roar of dragons echoing from the training fields like thunder on the horizon.
Banners fluttered overhead, depicting swirling wings and crackling lightning. The air tasted metallic, charged, as if the sky itself was preparing for what would come.
Selene walked between us, her yellow hair bright against the gray morning. She chattered nervously about everything and nothing, how the ribbons felt in her hair, whether the dragons could sense fear, what she would do if none of them chose her.
Mother answered with gentle reassurances, her hand resting lightly on Selene’s shoulder. I stayed quiet mostly, my mind racing ahead to the moment I would slip away. The guard shifts I’d memorized, the blind spots near the eastern edge of the field, the shadow-weave tincture tucked in my pocket for extra cover.
When we reached the outer gates, the crowd thickened. Academy officials in crisp uniforms directed families toward the raised viewing stands while candidates were funneled toward the preparation tents. The sacred field stretched out beyond, a vast, open expanse of trimmed grass ringed by ancient stone pillars carved with dragon motifs. In the center stood the Choosing Platform, empty for now but humming with latent magic.
Mother found us a decent spot in the stands, not too high but with a clear view. “Here,” she said, spreading a small blanket. “We’ll be able to see everything.”
Selene sat close to her, eyes wide as she took in the growing crowd. I lingered at the edge of our spot, scanning the chaos below. Candidates were starting to gather on the field, mostly seventeen-year-olds in formal tunics, some legacy kids with proud family crests, others like me last year: nervous underdogs hoping for a miracle. My pulse thumped.
This was it.
“I’m going to get us some water,” I said suddenly, keeping my voice light. “The line at the vendors looked short earlier. I’ll be quick.”
Mother frowned slightly. “Now? The ceremony’s about to start.”
“It’ll only take a minute,” I promised, already stepping away. “Save me a seat. And Sel, good luck. I believe in you.”
Selene gave me a quick, grateful smile, her yellow hair catching a stray beam of light. “Thanks, Lyra. Hurry back.”
I slipped into the crowd before Mother could protest further, heart pounding as I moved against the flow of families heading up to the stands. The shadow-weave tincture went on quickly, a few drops on my wrists and neck, the faint herbal scent helping blur my outline just enough. I ducked into one of the preparation tents, changing into the borrowed uniform with shaking hands.
The fabric smelled of old leather and someone else’s sweat, but it fit well enough once pinned. Hood up, purple hair tucked tightly away, I looked like any other candidate.
