I was no breeder.

Same way I was not an alchemist. I couldn’t explain why potions worked the way they did, or which ingredients to replace in a recipe to improve its effects. However, even though I was not an alchemist, I could tell which potions had inferior quality with a few glances; be their lacking scent, their fading glow, or to their texture and liquid state.

I was no breeder, yet I knew how to spot a mediocre dragon amidst a dozen. I knew when a dragon had potential, when they had the power but lacked the body to enforce it, or when they were simply a waste of resources. Because that was part of my job as a ringleader.

Yet I would bet all my past life savings even the most ordinary simpleton would be able to tell, with a single glance, the innate quality of Alantra Harris’ mount.

“What Miss Harris will help me demonstrate today is how wing shapes can directly affect the dragon’s speed and performance when applied to external factors such as weather and wind speed.”

Professor Taliesin was talking, yet my eyes would not look away.

They would not look away from that beast.

It had been a very long time since I had seen a four-legged dragon that big. Their muscles were not only incredibly defined, they made one tremble from within. Something that established that dragon even more as the apex of their kind.

Their scales were a bright crimson, a tone that would shine and reflect the light in a way that made it seem like the creature was covered in fresh blood. Yet the many small horns covering their head, face, wings, and limbs had silver scales on their tip. A color scheme that matched almost too perfectly their rider.

The creature looked ferocious, unforgiving. Untrusting. Their gaze pierced us from below, glaring at us as if we were less than crawling worms who were being given too much of their time. And for a second, the red dragon’s gaze focused solely on me. Lingering. Focusing.

My heart failed a beat, a frightening thought crossing my head.

Alantra Harris could not recognize me because of Jackal’s mask and distorted voice.

Yet what about her dragon? What about Jackal and Vex’s scent?

I clasped my hands together, trying to prevent them from shaking.

“Please keep in mind wingless dragons are an exception to these rules, as their flight capability is connected to their core.”

“Excellent input, Miss Harris!” the professor exclaimed, his eyes glowing with the same excitement in his voice. “Indeed, the anatomy of wingless dragons is still an ardent field of study, with many unanswered questions and convoluted dilemmas. So please, remember most things you will learn in this elective will be applied to their winged cousins. In the future, I may ask other students and their mounts to participate in our lessons—to better exemplify all the three races and the different wing shapes.”

As the lesson went on, I found myself tensing more by the minute. Even though the dragon was no longer looking my way, or that Alantra Harris barely glanced in my direction, the constant fear of being discovered put me too much on edge.

When Professor Taliesin asked Alantra to better show the dragon’s wings, the creature immediately opened them wide. I heard Elowen gasp, his eyes widening as he admired the dragon in front of us.

“I have a four-legged as well; looks nothing like this one. Think I could have a chance of fetching a similar one?” the boy asked, without turning his head.

I had to swallow back my laugh, giving him a shrug instead.

Not even in a million years.

Not when the Harris family had hand-picked the dragon’s egg by hand, after consulting and working with a dozen world-renowned breeders. Dragons like this were rarely born naturally. It would take at least seven broods to get to that level, with breeders analyzing the strongest hatches and best matches in order to produce their award-winning eggs.

Eggs people like Alantra’s family paid millions on top of millions to get in their hands.

And even if Elowen belonged to a noble family—which was very likely—he did not seem to be the golden child who received their parents’ undying attention and resources.

Right then, the boy lowered his voice for the first time since I’d met him—as if he was afraid of being heard, the words coming out of his mouth like reluctant whispers.

“They say the prize for the StarWing race will be a dragon egg. An egg like one never seen before.”

I stopped breathing, the sound of my heartbeat echoing within my ears.

“Cousin Thomas said he knows people who swear on all their lives they’ve seen it—some illegal recording of the egg. That the egg glows, or that it sparks. Not sure I believe any of them. But it makes me curious.”

A nervous smile played on my lips, trying to relax the rigid muscles of my face and likely failing to do so.

“Curious about what? About the egg? The race?”

Elowen shook his head, his eyes still gazing at the mighty red dragon. “If the egg is as incredible as the rumors say…whoever wins that race will finally take their spot.”

Their spot…

I didn’t have to ponder too hard to know who Elowen was talking about. The person who still occupied the first spot as the greatest dragon racer of all time. Yet as my initial irritation of thinking about them melted away, the boy’s words began to sink in.

Alantra Harris’ dragon was formidable. It was currently one of the strongest racing dragons in the kingdom, and would still be for many years to come. Even then, she and many other contenders for the StarWing race were eating their own hands in anticipation. As if their lives depended on that egg.

The StarWing race was a race hosted every fifteen years, advertised as the ‘Race of the Generations’. Only the very best riders of the past decade would be called contenders, and only the most exceptional ones would advance and actually compete.

The top winners would be known as the best dragon racers of their time—there was no higher accomplishment a dragon racer could achieve in their entire life than participating and winning the StarWing.

Yet from all past races, from all of the amazing prizes, there had never been a dragon egg. Nothing ever came even close. There were rare alchemy ingredients, outstanding potions, or exotic magical creatures like fairies.

Never an egg.

If the dragon that came out from that egg was as impressive—no, half as impressive as what the rumors were saying…

The winner of this generation StarWing would not only take Ikarus’ place, they would be able to shape a new era. And the current path I was taking, the vengeance that was leading me to best Alantra Harris and take her prize—

That path opened up the possibility of me becoming this person. Someone who would never again be compared to the utter defeat of Ikarus, and their downfall. Someone greater. Someone who not only was better but shined brighter.

The one person who would ever surpass them.

Suddenly, my muscles relaxed. The beating of my heart changing and morphing—from nervousness to excitement.

Euphoria.

I put my arm around Elowen’s shoulder, grinning. The boy was startled for a brief second before turning to face me, his eyes changing as he saw my gaze.

“You know what? You are right. Whoever wins that race will be the king of a new era.”

And if I could no longer be a king as Jackal—

I would become a king as Vex.