Alantra knew why she was present in that room.

  She just wasn’t sure she liked it.

  Every year, the first-year valedictorian would participate in the judgment process of the admission exam. She had been at the top of all her classes, and ranked first in every race in the last year. So naturally, none of the professors opposed when she was chosen to be one of the judges. Alantra had given her own scores to the applicants from what she saw during the race.

  Yet the meeting happening in that room was not only for the judges and the ones who participated in the admission exam—every single professor in the academy was present, alongside the director himself.

  All to decide who would be the ones to be accepted from the waiting list.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to pick out the trash first? Anyone below 30th place, out.”

  A professor with an eyepatch spoke as he put both feet on top of the table, his smile rude and presumptuous. Beside him, a purple-haired woman adjusted her glasses as she stared at his feet.

  The contempt was present in both her gaze and voice. “The order is random.”

  “Then they can blame it on bad luck. Easy.”

  She hit him with a book.

  “Take this seriously, you buffoon. And mind. Your. Manners.”

  The man cursed when the woman dragged his foot down with the book, yet nothing else.

  “Why not approve them all? We have enough classrooms.”

  “We are not a charity, much less a second-tier school. If we risk opening our doors to any untalented freak out there, our ranks will suffer.”

  “Precisely. Vacant seats do not mean they are free to be taken—each one of them must be earned.”

  Alantra heard the professors debating among themselves. She had counted around twenty people in the room, half being professors she had only seen walking in the halls. Still, every single one knew who she was.

  Who her family was.

  Amidst the whispers and murmurs, and occasional curses and complaints, director Heimdal von Tosell glanced at Alantra with a curt smile, his hands clasped together.

  “Would you have any suggestions for us, Mrs. Harris?”

  The director had not raised his voice, yet the sound was powerful enough to claim all the noise in that space. Suddenly, all eyes were on her, the room silenced.

  Alantra met the director’s gaze for a few seconds—only a few—yet was forced to look away. The man’s eyes were far too intense.

  “I believe Professor Hesper separated silver orbs for today, correct?”

  The professor with the glasses nodded once, purple curls bouncing off her shoulders.

  “Yes. The flasks are labeled by lane, ranks, and groups.”

  She placed a tray at the center of the table, dozens of liquid silver flasks reflecting the lights. One by one, the professors took the flasks they wanted.

  Alantra took her own, feeling their weight. “Each one of us could choose five contenders. Then we eliminate any replicated names, and cast our votes based on the final list. The applicants who receive three votes or more get accepted.”

  As she finished her explanation, the others started to contemplate. By their expressions, no one seemed to be against the idea.

  Director Heimdal smiled, if only a little.

  “Let’s make it unanimous. If even one of you disagrees, the applicant is out.”

  “What about you, Director? Won’t you participate as well?” Hesper asked, glancing at the lack of flasks in the man’s hands.

  “I will abstain myself, this time. It’s more interesting this way.”

  The way the director grinned sent shivers down Alantra’s spine, and by the others’ reactions, the feeling was shared.

  For the next hour, they watched the recordings back-to-back.

  Some took their time, watching different recordings, taking notes, making pro and con lists. Then, there were the ones who only used the silver orbs because the director was eying them. Professor Kairon, the man with the eyepatch, chose his five contenders by rolling his dice.

  Alantra had her own methods to qualify the applicants.

  As she was about to start her second year, she knew quite well what Ergos demanded from its students—everything. She knew all the aspirant riders who had a chance, and all the ones who were fated to fail even if they showed enough promise to be on the waiting list.

  Out of the one hundred, perhaps forty were prepared enough to manage the accursed lessons and insane training the academy would force upon them. And out of those forty, who was to know how many would give up midway or straight up fail before they could finish their first term.

  As a rider, and as a Harris, Alantra knew she was not being cruel or unfair—she was simply facing reality with open arms. Life was not fair, and effort and dreams alone were far too brittle to withstand the weight of what it took to achieve success. Especially with races.

  As dragon riders.

  After time passed, with everyone apart from the director choosing their five applicants, they managed to narrow the list down to 67 applicants.

  The professors exchanged glances, looking at the blackboard with the dozens of names written in the beautiful cursive handwriting.

  “Our opinions divided quite much, huh? Shit, I wanted to end this before sundown.”

  “If all of you had taken the task seriously…”

  “Yeah, yeah, we just have to go over the new list, yes?”

  While Professor Hesper and Kairon continued their bickering, Alantra kept staring at those names. More than half the names on that list she had dismissed in the first minutes, while some of them made her curious on why they had been picked.

  Indeed, that was going to be harder than she previously thought.

  “Let’s not delay this any further. No one wants to spend their entire evening here, right?” Heimdal flashed them all a curt smile, pointing at the first name on the blackboard.

  ‘Alexus Theodore Hendritch’

  Alantra searched in her memory, that name. That rider. He had not been one of her picks, yet he came pretty close.

  “Who wishes to vouch for Mr. Hendritch?”

  Three hours later, they were down to the last three applicants.

  It was amusing to her how even the ones who had aimlessly picked five contenders became ardent in defending them when it came down to voting.

  Alantra was close to getting a headache.

  Director Heimdal was even forced to prohibit them from changing their votes after they kept running in circles. When he did, people suddenly became a lot more attentive with their arguments, the debates more heated, the reasonings more complex.

  And at last, after all the pointless drama and ridiculous arguments, they were close to agreeing with the final list.

  Yet some professors were being incredibly persistent.

  “Hey, Miss Alchemist. Call forth the breeder in you—look at that marvel. Are you seriously telling me that dragon is not worth at least one of your votes?” On Professor Petras' silver orb, a four-legged wingless dragon was flying with full speed. Alantra had used one of her votes for those two.

  Hesper sighed, rubbing her temples. She was the only one still against that particular rider.

  “She clearly has no control over her mount. I give her two weeks in Taming before she goes back crying.”

  “No, no, no—Arke, you are underestimating the bond between a breeder and their creation! Trust me on this, they only need to dance the same dance and sing the same song. Feel the same wind, touch the same ground.”

  “…you are in serious need of a physician, Pan.”

  The taller woman grabbed her orange hair and shrieked in frustration.

  “If I’m wrong about them, I will give you samples.” Petras said, her voice on the verge of desperation. She had struck deals with the other professors throughout their voting, yet this one had been her most desperate one by far.

  Hesper raised her eyebrow. “Of which kind?”

  “Whatever kind you want! Just give them your vote.”

  Hesper smiled, adjusting her glasses. If Alantra didn’t know any better, she would almost think Hesper had planned that from the very beginning.

  “Done.”

  Professor Petras punched the air, victorious.

  “That’s what I’m talking about! Yes!” She let out a relieved sigh, going back to her seat. “Hah, I’m finally done.”

  “We still have two applicants left, birdbrain.” Kairon spoke while leaning back in his chair, the man’s voice echoing the boredom in his eyes.

  “Oh really? Well, fine. I say yes to both, done.”

  Kairon frowned. “Seriously? You are voting for the guy with the geezer dragon? The animal is almost good to be put down.”

  Petras snorted in reply, crossing her arms.

  “As if you would know. Besides, they both made it to the highlights—they show promise.”

  It was Kairon’s time to roll his eyes and snort, gazing at the ceiling with a cold, calculating eye.

  “They got to the highlights, but the scene cuts right before the dragon got hit because the rider couldn’t dodge. This guy doesn’t know the very first thing about riding and will end up killing them both if given the chance—that thing in the highlights? That was a fluke.”

  A fluke…

  “He is probably from there.”

  “An applicant with no family name? Oh, no doubt. We got a lot of applicants from the gutters this year, right? They can never hide the stench.”

  “We should just expel all of them…Ergos should not be wasting its time taking care of those low lives.”

  Around them, professors who had already voted talked among themselves. Kairon scratched his head, grunting.

  “Hah, they could be with the Crown for all I care. If they suck, they’ll stink. It’s as simple as that.”

  Even if most did not seem to share Kairon’s opinion, the room got quieter again.

  Hesper sighed, leaning against her chair. “Since we are discussing this ‘Vex’, we can get it over with. Kairon, you are against his enrollment, right?”

  The man snorted. “Obviously.”

  “Then we can move on to the last applicant. Anyone wants to vouch for—”

  “Ms. Harris. You have something on your mind.” Heimdal von Tosell cut Hesper’s words, turning his head toward Alantra.

  She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “You wish to say something. About the boy with the old dragon.”

  Her eyes went over the other professors, some judging or scrutinizing her, others merely curious.

  Alantra had seen the highlights many times. As one of the judges, she gave her own insights about which moments were good enough for them. And though she agreed with Professor Kairon about the applicant not knowing how to ride, calling it a fluke…

  It felt wrong.

  Professor Kairon let out a dry laugh. He put his foot on top of the table again, resting both hands behind his head, an ironic smile on his face.

  “Our little wonder girl can think whatever she wants. I’m not changing my mind on this, so that guy’s out. Next, please. I want to go home.”

  The director closed his eyes for a few moments, as if deep in thought.

  “Hm, fine. Let’s do it this way. Ms. Harris, if you can convince me, I will approve this boy’s enrollment in the academy.”

  At that moment—

  Director Heimdal’s words disrupted the air, bringing forth thunder and curses. Outrage.

  “Why is she getting special treatment?”

  “Why didn’t you offer this when others didn't agree with someone I wanted?”

  Kairon slammed both hands on the table, his voice booming within the tempest. “This is ridiculous, Director!”

  Director Heimdal did little. Not much at all.

  He only glared at them.

  Yet his gaze was so cold, it could turn magma into frost and turn oceans into sand. It sent shivers down Alantra’s spine, silencing every single person in that room—making them recoil and cower like children.

  “As Ergos director, it’s my duty to support and nurture the talent of the youngest generation. Provide them a chance to shine brighter. Miss Alantra Harris not only became the youngest intern to lead an operation with the authorities, she is the first student to get full grades on every subject, throughout an entire year. She is not only the new face of Ergos, she is a contender for the StarWing race, a student who will be a Diamond Wing upon graduation—if Ms. Harris has something to say about that young man, shouldn’t I give her the chance to make her case?”

  Not a single professor dared to return the director’s gaze, though some did glare at her.

  Director Heimdal smiled, clasping his hands together.

  “Good. We are all in agreement. Now, Ms. Harris, I know you had something to say about that boy. Let’s hear it.”

  Alantra was used to standing in the spotlight due to her family. Her skills as a rider. Still, most times, it made her uncomfortable. She felt vulnerable—decipherable, even—when the director was able to tell with such ease the one time Alantra hesitated and contemplated the decision of her superiors. About her own.

  Did that boy Vex deserve to be part of Ergos?

  Did he have what it took to become a rider?

  She glanced at the silver orbs, focusing on the moments he was on display. And the moment she made her mind, Heimdal von Tosell grinned.

  Just like that, of the one hundred applicants that made it into the waiting list—

  23 got accepted.