The Secrets We Hide from the Dark

 I yawn. I've been standing here for what feels like hours, listening to Captain Fitzgibbons list the names of all the dead. We're all wearing the same uniform. Black tunics and pants, but no flight leathers. Not that we'd need them, seeing as we're not going to be flying anytime soon. I have a silver four-pointed star, indicating that I am a first-year, and a Fourth Wing patch. This morning, I woke up to everyone else still snoring. Back in Calldyr, I used to get up early to snatch a few coins from the few people around. It made a pretty big difference for my family, those few coins.

When all the names have been read, chaos resumes. Squad leaders, including Dain, turn around to address their first years.

"Hope you all ate breakfast, because that's it before lunch," He says. "Riders, you know where to go. First-years, you should have all memorized your schedules. If not, find someone who has." Of course we memorized it. What did he think we were, stupid? "Stick together. I want you all alive at the sparring gym this afternoon."

Oh, no. Sparring. I suck at sparring. And when I say I suck, I suck. Like, world-ending, record-breaking suck. I'm a pickpocket, not a robber. Okay, to be fair, robbers in Calldyr aren't that good at fighting. They use fear to overpower their enemies. Thieves are the best at fighting, but I'm only a part-time thief. Should've practiced more.

We have the gym twice a week. In two months, we start to practice the Gauntlet and spend less time at the gym. If we make it through the final Gauntlet, we do Presentation, where the dragons get to have a good look at us or torch us if we don't meet their expectations. Two days after that is Threshing, where we actually bond the dragons.

"And if we're not?" the stupid boy named Ridoc asks.

"Then I won't bother learning your name, since it will be read off tomorrow morning,"

I snort, along with a second-year standing in front of me. Dain asks Sawyer, a repeating cadet who failed to bond a dragon last year to look after us, and off they go.

"Fourth floor, second room on the left in the academic wing. Bring your sheet and don't be late." Geez, does everyone here swear like it's the air they breathe?

"That's got to be hard, having to start all over again," Rhiannon says.

"Better than being dead," Ridoc says.

"That's true," Violet replies. We squeeze in with the other cadets through the door, going to get our "sheet", as Sawyer called it.

Violet suddenly looks over her shoulder and turns around. "Rhiannon, Kath–"

"Just go," I say. "We'll grab your things, but don't be late."

"You sure–"

"Just go!" Rhiannon gives Violet a slight shove, grinning. Oh, don't tell me that they're lovers. Ew. Gross. Love never ends well. When I was twelve, I vowed to myself that I would never fall in love and if I did, I wouldn't make the same mistake my mother made. Rhiannon and I walk into the dorms, and I pick up the bag we were issued, and sling it over my shoulder.

"So, where're you from?" Rhiannon asks. I look at her. What business is that of hers? "I'm just asking," she explains. "I mean, if we're going to be in the same squad for the next three years, we might as well get to know each other better." If we lasted three years.

"I was born in Tyrrendor, but I was living in Calldyr," I reply. Wait, why did I tell her about Tyrrendor?

"Tyrrendor, huh? I'm from Morraine." Morraine is the second northernmost province, and has two mountain ranges at its borders. One where it borders Deaconshire, and the other where it borders Cygnisen Provine, of Poromiel. It is also the location of one of the country's most important outposts, Montserrat.