Shadows at the Parapet Edge

As Alennah Ashwryer arrives at Basigath, she faces deadly tests and rival students, all while keeping her forgotten lineage and strange powers hidden. Surviving the first year demands cunning, courage, and trust in unlikely allies, especially as a Venin threat grows from within. The dragons are watching, and so are her enemies.

Alennah gripped the icy stone of the parapet, boots slick with mist as she edged forward, heart pounding in her ears. Around her, students pressed on, some whispering prayers, others too pale to speak. Below, the chasm yawned, swallowing the morning’s fragile light. A girl two steps ahead slipped; Alennah lunged, snatching her cloak and steadying her until she found her footing again. Wind tore at her hair, stinging her eyes with cold, but she forced herself onward, refusing to look down. The far end of the parapet glimmered with runes, guarded by Rider cadets in black and silver, their faces masked and unforgiving. Someone behind hissed her name, urging her to move faster. Alennah set her jaw, senses tingling with a warning she couldn’t place, and took her next step into the unknown.

Basigath War College rises from the crags of the Empyrian Highlands, its fortress-like walls sheltering the realm’s most promising and desperate. Here, students are forged into dragon riders or left behind, with death a constant companion. The political shadows of Terrasen’s fall linger, and the threat of Venin sorcery grows ever closer.

Basigath War College sprawls across a knife-edge ridge, its ramparts clinging to stone above fathomless mist. The campus is divided into quadrants for riders, scribes, healers, and infantry, but the Riders’ Quadrant is the most notorious. The college itself is a marvel of stone and ancient runes, with towers bristling like spears and narrow walkways that test the mettle of every initiate. The climate is harsh, cold, wet gales sweep the parapet, and the sun seldom breaks through permanent gray clouds. Life here is brutal and competitive; only a third of those who enter survive their first year. Students hail from across the realms, heirs, outcasts, and exiles alike, bound by ambition or desperation. Factions within the college, loyalists to the crown, secret Venin sympathizers, and those who seek only personal power, foment rivalries and uneasy alliances. The destruction of Terrasen hangs like a curse; many believe Venin agents still walk among them. Magic is rare, feared, and closely watched, though dragons alone recognize its true origins. Professors wield immense authority, some inspiring awe, others terror. The nightly lanterns flicker with more than just candlelight, rumors insist that shadows themselves move. Above all, the ever-present dragons circle the skies and roost on wind-blasted peaks, their choices in the annual Bonding determining not just fates, but the shifting balance of power across the continent.