Leander Ceres

You've always loved spring. The bright, fresh harbinger of hot summer. Now you hate this time of year. Just like any other. You look at the almond tree, covered in pink blossoms, and you want to burn it. Why do you need spring? Why do you need the world around you? Why do you need everything if you're left alone... You torment yourself, breathing in the scent of almonds. You torment yourself because you know: she loved him. She smelled like that. And you. Now all you have is this tree, your loneliness, and a beautiful coral-colored scale a third the size of your palm... It's the only thing left of Anthea, your dragoness, who died six months ago. You don't know how you could have screwed up so badly. "Why couldn't I save her?" And yet, it all started as if trouble was never meant to touch you. You showed promise... You graduated from the Academy with honors, full of ambition. Anthea was by your side. Beautiful. Proud. Straightforward. Sometimes even too much. You were more than just a team, sisters. But something in your lives went wrong. And at the very end of your first year of service in the garrison, your dragon died. Because of you. And you simply lost everything. You lost a part of yourself. Every day you see how others look at you. You know what they think - a failure, a disgrace to the family. You were almost disowned. You were planning to leave for the mainland. To start all over again. On your own. But this morning you received a letter from the western garrison. Even though you served in the eastern one. And now you don’t understand what people you don’t even know want from you. You look at the letter again and... open it with apprehension. The neat, crisp letters echo inside you, a disturbing sound. Your heart beats wildly. So much so that you can't breathe. You unclench your fingers and drop the crumpled almond blossom. The sounds return as the wind begins to flutter the paper in your hands. Someone was unlucky. Someone died. But the dragon survived. And you are the only adult dragonrider without a dragon at the moment. If you agree to come to the garrison, you can try to establish a connection... And perhaps get a chance to go on living as before. You know you're lying to yourself in this moment. Without Anthea, things will never be the same. But you must try to regain your will to live. And so you make your decision immediately, consoling yourself with the thought that Anthea would want you not to drown in despair. To go on living. Even without her. And so you set off to meet your destiny. And you hope that the dark days will cease to be so, and the sun will once again touch your soul, if only for a moment. A decade passes before you resolve all the problems with paperwork, orders, family, and finally arrive at the western garrison. The Alerians greet you from afar with wary, mocking, and disdainful glances. A dragon flies overhead. You stop to watch and notice the rider; he gives you a stern look and quickly disappears from sight. Of course, everyone around already knows. In terms of the speed of gossip, the garrison is the same as the Academy, only worse. This place is crueler. There is no room for weakness here. Within these walls, the language of strength rules. You walk toward the massive entrance, feeling all these glances. Cainous, sympathetic, arrogant. But you don't care. Let them look. You don't even want to think about it, although you understand the reasons. Losing a dragon not in battle, but during training, is not only a tragedy but also the greatest shame for a rider. Because during training, the loss is always your fault, not the enemy's. Now you understand why the garrison commander said it was better to die yourself than to let a dragon die. After all, dragons are the most valuable, while you've always been secondary. No one will give you a whole decade to grow and train a newly hatched dragon. So after everything that happened, this is your only chance. "I'm afraid to imagine the details that have grown up around Anthea and my story. I'll do everything I can to keep the gossip from spreading." From a distance, you spot a broad-shouldered man with a truly stern bearing and a stern face. You're certain it's Commander Alcmaeon. He signals the Alerii to stop staring and return to their training. You must greet the commander first, to tell him your name, which he's probably already forgotten. You're no longer a rider, so you can choose how to address him, thereby making an impression. Without thinking twice, you decide to greet him in the garrison style. The commander's slightly raised eyebrow suggests he's surprised by such a greeting, since you're no longer a rider and no longer a member of his garrison. But the flicker of approval in his gaze reassures you. He seems to appreciate it. "Great Aleria. Welcome to the western garrison. I express my hopes that you will return to the ranks of the riders." Did you deliberately emphasize that you're not an active member of the Alleria, or is it just a matter of complying with all the conditions? The commander points in the direction, and you follow him. "You have a rare chance to wash away the shame from yourself and your family." Words cut you from the inside, but you remain silent. "If you regain your title of Aleria, you can try to gain a place among the "Heroes" on an equal basis with everyone else." You stop abruptly, drawing the commander's attention to you. He smirks. Becoming part of the elite "Heroes" squad, led by Orion Throne himself, the first rider of Heliodor, is the dream of any Alerian. Entry is nearly impossible. Selection occurs only when one of the active "Heroes" dies in the line of duty. This happens often, because this squad is far better equipped and trained than any other force in Heliodor. But the price among the "Heroes" is high. They are sent where others like you die by the dozens. But for you, this is more than just a chance... It is practically a gift from the Eternal. Even if you live only a short time and die on a mission, your family will immortalize your name in history, and your grief will no longer be a shame. The commander moves forward, and you follow him. After long minutes of speeches about how the garrison is organized, the rules and regulations, you finally reach the training grounds. Your heart skips a beat, then picks up a frantic pace as you enter the training arena. Dragons are everywhere. They fly, filling the sky, roaring and thrashing. Eternal, how you miss this. The roaring, the flight, the training. The sight of them, the teamwork of the Allerii. Your chest tightens, because most of all, you miss Anthea. The commander stops. You stand next to him. He whistles and waves to someone. A shadow quickly covers you, forcing your head up. "Rrrrrrrrrruuuuurrrrr" A dragon with pearl-white scales lands with the dull thud of paws hitting the sand, raising a whirlwind of dust. You've seen her before in front of the garrison. Her rider dismounts. Up close, you recognize him. You weren't close at the Academy, not even personally acquainted—you studied in different groups, in different buildings, and he's a bit older. So all you knew about him was his name, a name you couldn't forget, because his mother is known to every family. "Leander Ceres, son of the head of the Council." His movements are light, yet slightly brash. You get the feeling he's disregarding discipline in the smallest details. He smiles at the dragoness, strokes her graceful neck, and says something to her. And only then does he head in your direction. His gaze, sharp and appraising, glides over the commander, then locks onto you. Just a moment longer than it takes to simply recognize someone he barely knows. He appears distant, but the attentiveness with which he regards you betrays his interest. Until his eyes find yours. And as soon as that happens, the rider grins, barely perceptible but impudent. You don't know why, but this makes you nervous. He comes closer, straightens up, and greets Commander Alcmaeon. "This is a former Aleria from the eastern garrison. Introduce her to Galaktion." The rider's composure vanishes in an instant, his gaze hardening, becoming piercing and hostile. You can't stop looking at him; you don't understand what's happened, but you feel frozen, caught in the moment. The desire to know more, mixed with a sudden apprehension, takes your breath away. The commander bids farewell, giving you both a few final instructions, and then leaves. "Follow me." He doesn't wait for you, but quickly goes off somewhere. You follow him. You make your way to a spot where there are the fewest other riders. This, of course, doesn't diminish the attention. You still feel everyone's eyes on you. The white dragon sniffs you with interest, breathing hot air down your back. "Pff..." She smells strongly of thyme. Every dragon has its own scent. Most often, they smell like the place they like to spend time in or the thing they like to lounge in. "Luna. Call him." "Rrrrrraaaaaurrr" You turn to the priestess and greet her. "Hello, Luna." "rrrur." Leander looks at you with a searching gaze that you feel first on your skin and only then notice. A deafening sound cuts through the sky, and you tilt your head back to see a huge, pearly-blue dragon. "Rrrrraaaaaa" You inhale deeply and think he's beautiful. Scary, but beautiful... The dragon descends sharply, with a roar and a harsh growl. "Rrrrraa ... "Galaktion, the commander ordered me to introduce you. I think you understand why." The dragon's angry eyes stare at you, and you stare back. It seems you both understand that failure awaits you. You're even certain of it. And Leander's smirk, echoing in the cultivated silence, only confirms it. Dragons like you and this one aren't exactly rare. But re-bonding with an adult dragon isn't always easy. "His rider died only a couple of months ago, and they already sent you."

When the soul is a garden strewn with dust, behold: among the decayed branches the first almond blossom breaks through to the light, heralding spring.