I knew Styx could hear me. Even with all the noise surrounding us, I knew he could.

Yet he was not doing what I was telling him to.

He would dodge things in the very last second, as if he was taunting me. Trying to either roast me alive or finish his laps with me swinging from the saddle—hanging for dear life by an old leather stripe.

I clenched my fists, gripping the reins tighter.

“If this is about our bet, I warned you before—”

A fireball came flying at us, ready to hit me right in the face. I kept telling Styx to go down in a spiral, around the two rings between us, because above us there were more shots and riders blocking the way.

And Styx ignored me.

Right before I could get hit, the ebony dragon leaned his body a little to the side, forcing me to contort my body to avoid the projectile. I felt the hot air passing right beside my face, burning a few strings of hair.

This crazy animal, he wants to kill me!

“Why are you even doing this?! If we fail this class, we are both—!”

And then I saw.

In the couple of seconds Styx slowed down to avoid the turret shot, staring at me from below. Belenus Kairon.

And he was grinning.

That fucking bastard…

Styx was, without a doubt, the most experienced dragon at Ergos right now. He had almost three decades of racing and had won multiple competitions. Whenever I didn’t know how to do something, Styx still followed my lead. Because he knew what I wanted. He could fill my gaps.

But what if Styx didn’t try to guess what I wanted him to do?

What if he followed my commands to the dot?

The commands I didn’t know how to do yet?

“Fuck…” I mumbled, gritting my teeth.

One minute was up, and we were falling behind.

Too behind.

Focus, Vex.

Remember.

Yes, I might not know how to do the basic maneuvers. After all, I only had a couple of months to learn how to ride a dragon, from when I had never even rode a horse. I focused on the speed, on not falling from my mount—using Styx’s air boosts, glowers, changing equipment mid-flight. Things I knew I would need for the admission race.

I had grown too used to the fact Styx could predict what I wanted from him, so I pulled the reins the way I thought was right—the way it felt more natural to me.

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Yet this didn’t mean I hadn’t learned the very basics.

Because Emrys was my teacher.

“How do you even know this? You never had a coach.”

“When you told me I was going to Ergos, I spent a day learning the proper movements and terms—now shut up, and listen. You have to pull the reins to the right, exactly at a 45° angle. If you want to go in the other direction, it’s 45° to the left.”

“Why 45°? No—how would I even know the right angle if I’m in the middle of a race?”

Emrys stared at me, his eyes devoid of any feeling, his voice ice cold.

“Wasn’t Jackal who loved to order us to fly through buildings, going around blocks, breaking through windows? What, you think it would be easy to count how many blocks and windows we have passed until we fly over the one you want?”

I shrunk, a shiver crawling down my spine like spiders charging at a prey.

“No-no, I mean, at that point you were already used to it—”

The boy came inches away from my face, and I could swear he was about to kill me, right then.

“And you think we got used to it, exactly, how? By crying over to you? By mopping the floor with our tears and wishing for the best?” When I managed to shake my head in response, Emrys pointed at his notes and then back at my hands, his words sharper than a killer’s dagger. “Then, I believe you won’t have any problem memorizing those. You are the great Jackal, after all.”

And then Emrys made me train and write down the right movements until my hands bled.

I clenched my teeth, anger pulsing in my blood as I locked eyes with Professor Bel one last time.

There were forty seconds left, and Styx and I still had to complete eighty laps.

I gripped the reins tighter, my hands throbbing and hurting.

Let’s do this, then.

To increase speed, lean forward while tilting both feet.

To fly diagonally, pull the reins at a 45° angle.

To dive, tap the dragon’s sides while pulling the reins upward.

To fly higher or lower, pull reins at a 15° angle up or downwards.

I told Styx to increase his speed at least eight times. Our movements were clunky, our flight pattern bizarre and stiff. There was almost no fluidity, no flow.

Yet lap by lap, second by second, we avoided the turrets and the rings.

When the clock struck zero, the turrets became lifeless. Belenus Kairon was looking at me with arms crossed, his eye carrying that wild and mischievous glow. As if he was having fun in seeing me struggle and sweat over a fucking warm-up.

I matched his smile, showing him my middle finger. He only laughed louder.

One by one, the dragons landed. Some students were already crying, wiping their tears with burned or torn clothes.

“Everyone who failed, out. If you rented any equipment, leave it at the warehouse before you exit the premises. Steal anything, you will have to pay fivefold the price of the gear.”

How will he even know if we failed? He couldn’t be counting, himself.

Before any of us could ask, the black crystal on my wrist started to blink. Apparently, Ergos had linked our crystals with the professors. I thought they wouldn’t go for the hassle, considering we were in the reinforcement class.

“Pr-professor, please, if you just give me a chance—”

“You never told us there would be turrets! It was unfair.”

The man scoffed, the annoyance in his voice almost palpable.

“This class was your chance, and you failed. All of you who got less than 200 laps—out.”

Three students had to be escorted out. Four others continued to sob, their bodies shaking as they managed to walk away from the gym.

I did not move, my black crystal still displaying a single number.

237.

“The rest of you—drink some water, fix your equipment, and get ready. The lesson will start in three minutes.”

And from the 23 students that started at the reinforcement class—

We became 9.