Page 336 of Elemental Becoming

Bound together in one form.

A sharp hand signal pulls me back to the present: Wedge Formation.

Another part of our aerial combat training involves Skysigning, a language built on motion and speed. One rider passes the message to the next, carrying it through the formation.

Thane leads. The signal ripples outward. Rian. Garrick. Me. I flash it to Jarek, who nods and shifts. Calryx responds instantly, her wings flexing with fluid strength as we slide into position.

The formation tightens around us.

Dragons carve across the sky, crimson, sapphire, emerald, and onyx flashing against the morning light like living banners. Wingbeats thunder through the air. Power gathers between riders and dragons alike, vibrant and alive.

But even among them, Calryx is unmatched.

Her silvery-white scales shimmer with an opalescent sheen, catching the sunlight in shifting shades of blue, green, and rose-gold. She doesn’t merely reflect the light. She transforms it, turning every movement into something luminous.

She’s never fixed in any one color. She is sky and starlight. Dawn and dusk. Contradiction and certainty woven together. She is everything that doesn’t make sense, and yet feels inevitable.

And she is mine. I am hers.

A gust rolls through the formation, sharp and sudden. One of the younger riders drifts slightly off-line before correcting. I lean forward instinctively, grounding myself through Calryx’s core. Her response is immediate. Strength flows through her wings as we stabilize the flank.

Wind tears past us. Dragons wheel through the open sky. Magics lingers at the edges of everything. My heart falls into step with the rhythm of her wings.

Ahead, Xaroth cuts through the sky like a blade.

Thane’s dragon is immense, his black scales swallowing the light until he looks less like a creature and more like a moving shadow. His wings stretch wide enough to eclipse the dragons nearest him.

If Calryx is moonlight made flesh, Xaroth is the storm itself. Unstoppable. Absolute.

We tighten into a V formation, dragons moving as one. Razor-sharp. Precise. Xaroth leads, the rest of us fanning out behind him in a living arrowhead.

Thane signals: Break. Spiral.

The order passes through the formation. Calryx doesn’t wait for the relay. She moves the instant the thought crosses my mind. We climb hard, then dive, banking into a tight spiral. The others follow, a cyclone of wings and scales.

Wind shears past my face. The tether magics pulls tight against my lap, anchoring me to Calryx’s back as we drop like a stone wrapped in flame. My stomach flips. My pulse hammers.

My hair whips wildly in the wind, but Calryx’s magics keeps an invisible shield over my eyes. Every dragon does the same for their rider, allowing us to see clearly even at these speeds.

The sky spins around us while the ground blurs far below.

We fall as one, but each dragon knows their part.

Below, Air Clan riders whip gales into the spiral, feeding the vortex. Fire Clan riders ignite the currents, flames twistingthrough the windstream until the entire formation becomes a blazing inferno suspended in the sky.

A new signal flashes through the formation: Pull Out.

Calryx explodes from the spiral, wings spreading wide as we arc upward. One by one, the others follow, breaking free into open sky like arrows loosed from a bow. Adrenaline races through me.

This isn’t training. This is warfare distilled to motion and instinct.

Ahead, Thane lifts his hand once more: Talon Strike.

The deadliest command in the aerial arsenal. We scatter, climbing higher and higher before dropping as one.

The world narrows to wind, speed, and the deafening scream of air tearing past. Dragons plunge like falling stars, each locked on its target. I press closer to Calryx’s neck, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her scales, the heat of her core magics pulsing against mine.

We dive faster.