A New Generation

Yousef pelted down the cavernous tunnel as if the hounds of the nine hells nipped at his heels. His chest burned with each strained inhale of breath and his legs felt like they would collapse out from under him at any second. Still he ran, dodging around surprised kitchen staff and alarmed guards. He shouted a few hasty "sorrys" over his shoulder, but never broke his stride. Clutched in his hand, wound up into a tight roll to keep it safe, was the single most precious piece of paper he'd ever held in his life.

"Guys," Yousef shouted as he drew near the rec room.

Though there were many such rec rooms scattered about New Warren, this was THE rec room. The best one. It was the smallest by a significant margin, and also the oldest, and also pretty run down, but it was the best because he and his friends had claimed it as their personal hideout, and no one came to bother them there.

"Guys, guys, guys!" He shouted again.

The door to the rec room opened and Kordon's confused face and shaggy mess of brown hair appeared in the crack of warm light spilling out from within. Yousef lifted the paper and waved it dramatically in the air.

"You'll never guess what I have!"

Yousef slammed into the door, forcing it to slam back into the room and throwing Kordon back a few steps.

The big man grunted and let out a surprised exclamation, pinwheeling his arms to keep himself upright. Behind him, Yasmin 'eeked' in fright. Not for the entrance, but for the threat of being crushed beneath Kordon's bulk.

Yousef caught his friend by the arm and yanked him to a steady position.

"Sorry," he rasped between gasps of air.

"What the hell, Yousef?" Kordon demanded. He pulled his arm out of Yousef's grasp and raked a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his thunderous brows. "What's so important that you had to run me over for it?"

"This!" Yousef held up the roll of paper triumphantly.

Kordon plucked the roll out of his hand and uncurled the paper.

"What is it, Kordon?" Yasmin, asked. She sat up in her chair, swinging her legs around to tuck them under her so that she could lean over the arm of her well-worn armchair and peer around his elbow.

"It's an open call for all dragon rider kids to jump the application process for becoming a dragon rider," Kordon said.

Yousef could scarcely contain his excitement as he looked between his friends for their reactions. He watched with glee as Kordon passed off the paper to Yasmin. He bounced on his toes as Tellifa lifted her head and glanced across the table when Yasmin held up the notice for her to see.

"So?" Tellifa called after a beat of silence. The leggy, raven-haired girl lounged across the only other proper furnishing in the room. Everything else in the room came from old boxes, discarded wooden planks, and old blankets, but Tellifa had personally supplied that couch from her family's den. As such, she often monopolized the space.

"So? So?!" Yousef repeated with increasing incredulity. "So this is awesome! That application process takes months. Now there's nothing stopping us from getting out into the Nexus."

"I mean, there wasn't anything stopping us to begin with," Tellifa countered. "We're the Elite Five. Any dragon agency would be blessed to have us as candidates."

With her back to Tellifa, Yasmin rolled her eyes straight to the moon and back.

"Well, there's been one thing stopping us," Kordon muttered under his breath.

The simple reminder sucked all the light and joy out of the air. Even Yousef sagged a bit.

Kenia was not in the room at present, but her presence was felt. It always was when the topic of dragon bonding came up. She'd been the first of them to stand for a clutch, after all. And the first to fail.

The Elite Five had come together naturally through their school years. They were all of a similar age, and they all came from high ranking dragon rider families. It was only natural for them to gravitate together. What held them together over the years was a shared sense of purpose. They were destined to be dragon riders. Every one of them. No other future would do.

When Kenia had received the summons at a tender five years old, they'd all been awe-struck by her achievement. They'd fawned over her, worshipped her, and begged her to take them along too. None of their parents had agreed, of course, and so she'd gone off on that adventure alone.

And returned alone.

With that empty-handed return, the bright and perfect future that they all knew was waiting for them shattered into dust. Kenia, perfect, beautiful, bright Kenia, hadn't bonded. That meant that any of them could be deemed unworthy as well.

Oh sure, other candidates could stand for multiple clutches and fail. That was to be expected, but they were the Elite Five. There was only one path available to them, and abruptly, even that path led through shaky ground.

Thankfully, the ramping up of the war and the shuttering of Tris'Hath from accessing the other worlds put a pause on worries of not being worthy. Dragons continued to have clutches on Tris'Hath, but the Elite Five only wanted to go off-world. That was what their parents had done, after all. Then the war ended and peace returned to Tris'Hath. They were still closed off from the Nexus though, so it was okay. Then the restrictions lifted, and still they didn't make a move. There were too many rules in place, they complained. The application process was too long. Well, now even that hurdle had been knocked down.

Truthfully, Yousef was glad for it. He'd grown tired of the complaints and the excuses. He wanted to get out there. Even if that meant becoming a failure. His father had always told him that failure was part of life, after all. It didn't hold the same sting for him as it did for his friends.

What did sting though was the thought that there were adventures happening out there on other worlds. There were parties to attend and people to meet, and he'd spent his whole life stuck here in the Warren. Even Thayer, golden boy that he was, got to flit off to other worlds whenever he wanted. Him and his dragon.

Gods, Yousef couldn't wait to get into the skies.

Yousef shoved through the morose moment and leapt onto the couch next to Tellifa, forcing her to scrunch up her legs or else be sat on. She hit him with an irritated look, which passed right over his head as he addressed his friends.

"Listen, we've been talking for years about how we're all supposed to be dragon riders. Well, we're not going to get there if we don't bond dragons. This rule change lines up perfectly with an announcement I saw on the Nexus bulletin board earlier. There's a whole host of eggs that've popped up at the Healing Den. You know, that place between worlds? The coolest place in the whole of the Nexus?"

Tellifa contorted her face into an expression of distaste.

"My father's dragon can reshape mountains and my mother's dragon can alter the fabric of time and space. Don't you think Denners are a little… bland?"

"Oh my gods, Tellifa, shut up," Yasmin scoffed.

At the same time, Kordon let out a groan and Yousef smacked her with a loose throw pillow.

"Don't forget that Senorith's a Denner," Kordon added.

"Alright! Sheesh," Tellifa griped. She grabbed the pillow that had been used to knock sense into her and hugged it to her chest.

"This is bigger than just the dragon eggs though," Yousef cut in, his excitement lifting his voice to a new octave. "This is the Healing Den. I hear that place is a non-stop party. Like every floor, every night, there's some kind of party going on. And-" he added, swiftly raising a finger in the air to forestall his friends' objections, "because it's in the middle of nowhere, there's always traffic from other worlds."

He waited, looking around the group. Kordon exchanged a glance with Yasmin, who looked to Tellifa. All of them equally confused by this abrupt turn in their conversation.

"Oh, come on, guys," Yousef pleaded. He couldn't understand how they weren't following the logic. "Dragons from other worlds all over the place? If the Healing Den is a bust, we hitch a ride out to another world and keep the party going!"

"And what? Just world hop until we bond or die of alcohol poisoning?" Yasmin asked.

"Yes," Yousef replied enthusiastically.

She'd been joking, based on the surprise now scrawled across her face. Yet as he watched, that surprise morphed into contemplation, and then curiousity. Yasmin looked up at Kordon, who shrugged and looked at Tellifa.

"What about Kenia?" Tellifa ventured. "Do you really think she's going to go for it? After, you know, what happened last time?"

"I know she is," Yousef replied with what was likely far more confidence than was deserved in the moment. He began ticking off points on his fingers. "The Healing Den is where her mom and uncle bonded. She loves a good party. It's way easier to not come back a failure if we just don't come back until we succeed. It's flawless!"

"Yeah, the last time you said you had a flawless plan, we all ended up grounded for a week," Kordon griped. "Last time I trust you with a business idea."

"Okay, so selling time shares on an island none of us had ever been to before was a bad idea, but that just proves my point. I was never meant to be a business man. I was meant to be a dragon rider. We all are." Yousef paused and watched that same uncertainty fly back and forth between his friends again. He clasped his hands together and leaned into the most heart-wrenchingly sincere expression he could muster. "Please, guys. Please!"

"Okay! Just stop that," Tellifa said, waving a hand at him as if he'd just released the most gut-churning stench. "I hate it when you beg."

"Yeah, but it works" Yousef chirped.

"Okay, but if we do this, we do it quietly. Everyone's expecting us to make a big deal about going off to bond," Yasmin said.

"Four gods, can you imagine the chaos that'll happen when we just show up with dragons?" Tellifa let out a tittering giggle, already delighted by the imagined future.

"If we show up with dragons," Kordon muttered.

"No, Yousef's right. If we don't bond at the Healing Den, we go on to the next world," Tellifa cut in.

"Yeah, because our parents will just sit around on their hands while we world hop. You don't think they'll get suspicious?" Yasmin asked.

"I think they'll be too busy to notice right away, and when they do, they'll just be happy that we're off being someone else's problem," Tellifa retorted.

Now it was Yousef's turn to exchange a look with Kordon.

They all had busy parents. They had all spent many a day being babysat by a relative or friend of the family. They had all missed out on holidays. They had all gone to far more stuffy events being shoved into uncomfortable clothing and told to behave on pain of death. The rest of the group took this as their due as the children of Important People™. Tellifa, however, always seemed particularly bothered by facet of their lives.

That was not Yousef's problem to solve, though. Getting off-world, that was his mission in life.

"So are we doing this?" He asked the assembled teenagers.

Again those exchanged looks. Again the uncertainty that made his nerves rattle against the underside of his skin.

"Yeah, I'm in," Tellifa said. "Party, dragon, or bust."

Kordon shrugged. "Party, dragon, or bust."

"Party, dragon, or bust," Yasmin echoed. "Let's go get Kenia."

"Kenia."

There was history in these walls.

"Kenia."

Well beyond the scorch marks of torches burned for hours on end. Beyond the colourful tapestries flapping overhead, declaring this table belonging to the Tertius Wing, Quartus Wing, Quintus Wing, and so on. The history was carved into the pillars stretched from ceiling to floor. It glittered in the hints of quarts and mica embedded in the far walls. It hid itself in the striations that bled down the walls and into the floor. Beneath this room, there lay history beyond imagining.

"Kenia!"

Kenia blinked and drew herself back to the present. There were so many stories to be told all around her, but her mother only ever wanted her to focus on the ones not yet written.

Myia, Matryonus of the Primus Wing and her mother, sat across from her wearing a scowl that had a history all its own. Kenia could write the history of that scowl. Most of it circling around her and her unwillingness to do whatever it was that her mother wanted her to do this time.

"Sorry, what was the question?" She asked in a dreamy voice.

The scowl deepened. The story of its displeasure grew longer.

"I asked you to name the four new Caretakers. This is grade school stuff, Kenia. You should know this already."

Her mother's tone made her skin itch, but she reigned in her emotions and kept her expression neutral and disinterested. She answered with a shrug.

"The Sudlanese princess, some Traxan royal, some Pentas royal, and a paper pusher or something."

Myia pressed her hands to her face to shield her own reaction. Kenia knew what lurked in the shadows there though. Her mother never bothered hiding her disappointment at home. It was only because they sat in the midst of a busy mess hall that she wanted to hide at all.

"Nobili Sabrilla Alyssa Coranaet and Kanishkath lead Sewyn Warren in Sudland. Erec, attendant to the throne of Traxar, is still out waiting to bond, but he'll lead the Traxan warren when he gets back. Nobili Brotus Aurelius Gorgo and his bonds Kyriacho, Doxa, and Theristis lead Gorgo Warren in Pentas. Nobili Hewlitt Oneya-Maes and Oneya Kane lead Theradurn Warren in Antiem."

The list of Caretakers and their bonds rattled off with the speed and efficiency of one reciting the alphabet, followed by the crisp snap of someone biting into an apple.

Kenia felt a fissure of irritation mar the perfect mask of dreamy inattention plastered to her face. She threw a glower over her shoulder at the young man seated beside her.

Lane, her younger and infinitely annoying cousin, smiled right back at her and took another big bite of his apple.

"Thanks, Lane," she growled.

"Kenia, you are never going to pass your modern politics class if you don't study. I thought you wanted to follow in my footsteps," her mother cut in.

Kenia rolled her eyes.

"What I want to do, like I've said a hundred times before, is change the world. Like Mystic did. She didn't get picked out by some royal to lead the Warren. She made it herself through hard work. That's the kind of person I want to be."

Out of the corner of her eye, Kenia watched her mother draw in a deep breath and wage an internal war not to say what immediately came to her mind. Her mother was a politician through and through. She had the wit and skill to give quick retorts (Kenia had heard them when her mother had girls night in the den), but she always buried them in favour of a defanged and politically correct response. Sometimes Kenia did her best to get under her mother's skin just to hear one of her snappish comebacks. Somewhere beneath that clean pressed blouse and socially acceptable smile was a warrior woman. That was the version of her mother she wanted to be.

"Kenia," Myia began in a measured tone, "Please remember that Mystic is one of my best friends. I love and respect her as our high princess. That said, what she and Aaron did was pure insanity. It shouldn't have worked and they should have died a thousand times over doing what they did. I should have died a thousand times over. That we're here at all is a miracle."

"It's proof that you don't have to accept the status quo if it's not fair," Kenia shot back. "She did it because it was the right thing to do."

"She was in a very different life situation than you are. Besides that, we immediately got tied up into two wars because of what she and Aaron did."

"Two wars that we won!"

"Two wars that got a lot of people killed."

Kenia paused for breath, glaring across the table at her mother. Sometimes when she looked at her mother, she saw herself in the future. They had the same amber hair and hazel eyes. The same sharp jawline and pointed nose. Then there were times like today, where she looked at her mother and saw nothing but a paper-pushing old maid.

"You need to finish your homework," her mother said in the same slow and measured tone she used on misbehaving dignitaries.

Just then, the low-grade murmur that always permeated the mess hall broke with a high-pitched squeal. Kenia whipped her head around, looking for action, looking for adventure, and found it strolling through the front door like a quartet of superheroes.

They always looked so cool together. Tall, leggy Tellifa with her jet black hair and dagger-sharp smile. She could kill a man with a well placed word. Yasmin, shortest and sweetest of their group, but with the mind of a tactician. Though her curly brown hair and doe eyes gave her the look of an innocent little girl, that brain of hers had gotten them into and out of the best adventures over the years. Yousef, always quick with a smile and a plan. He had his father's strong jaw, but not his build yet. He was also a head shorter than Kordon. Tall, handsome, strong Kordon. He had his father's mismatched eyes and a smile that could charm the most celibate woman straight out of her dress. He had a special smile reserved just for her. He used it the moment their eyes met.

"I need to go spend time with people who understand me," Kenia said. She pushed herself to her feet and flipped her hair over her shoulder, thoroughly pleased by the irritation etched across her mother's brow. "Someday we're going to change the world, and it won't be through some royal appointment."

Kenia turned on her heels and struck out in what she imagined was a very impressive flounce.

"Take your cousin with you," her mother called after her.

Kenia's steps faltered and her lip curled just a little. She tried not to let the quick tap-tap of Lane's footsteps catching up with her bother her too much. She had to match the energy of her arriving friends.

The Elite Five, they called them. The most important and influential people of their year. They hadn't even graduated yet and already they were making waves. Her mother was wrong. She didn't need to memorize inconsequential seat-warmers. She needed to be out in the Nexus making a difference.

Kenia threw her arms around Kordon's neck as they came together in the center of the mess hall. All around her, whispers hissed like wind rustling leaves. No doubt she started a whole new round of rumours as she reveled in an intimate kiss with her beau.

"Hey," Kordon said when they drew apart.

"Hey," she echoed, smiling up at him.

Behind her, Lane cleared his throat.

The cloud of buoyant, cozy warmth that lifted her up every time Kordon wrapped his arms around her popped abruptly. Kenia rolled her eyes and let her arms fall away from Kordon's neck.

"Yeah, so my mom says we have to take Lane with us."

"We could just-"

"That's a great idea."

Whatever suggestion Tellifa had been about to make was quickly run over by Yousef's fast words and faster sweep over to Lane's side. He swung an arm around Lane's shoulders and drew the suddenly alarmed youth into their circle.

"You're just the guy we needed to see," Yousef said.

"I am?" Lane asked, concern raising his voice a few octaves.

"He is?" Kenia echoed.

"Let's walk and talk," Yousef said.

As a single entity, the group turned around and headed back the way they'd come. They all pretended to be oblivious to the whispers flying around their heads. Kenia drank up the attention.

They didn't speak again until they passed through the tall arch that led to the main hallway. Torches burned at regular intervals here, just like in the mess hall, but the ceiling was a much more reasonable height. There were still people here, mostly in the process of coming or going from the mess hall, but far fewer. Once they had passed the bulk of them, Kenia shot Yousef an impatient look.

"Okay, why are you all chummy with my cousin right now?" She demanded.

"Because Lane here," he said, giving Lane a quick, one-armed hug, "is your uncle's kid. Your uncle being the head search rider. And I have a plan to get us to party central."

Kenia looked for answers among her other friends.

"We're going to the Healing Den," Tellifa supplied.

"Oh," Kenia breathed out. Her stomach filled with a cold dread that hadn't been there a second ago. "Guys, I don't know."

"No, listen to Yousef. He's got a good plan," Kordon said.

"Well…" Yasmin hemmed. "Good is subjective."

"It is a good plan," Yousef said defensively. "Listen, Kenia, the Healing Den's got a whole host of eggs right now but-" he added quickly to stop her protest, "more than that, it's, like, party central. We go, we give it a shot, if it doesn't work, we party the days away until we can hitch a ride to the next world. Keep the party going, keep the options open."

"The main thing is we don't come back until we bond or bust," Kordon said.

Kenia drew in a breath to give her usual list of reasons why going off to bond was a bad idea, and then hesitated.

She wanted to bond. They all did. That was a key part of her "change the world" plan. The problem was that every time the option came up, her mind immediately went back to when she was five years old, coming back home empty-handed to her excited friends. She had to watch the joy drain from their eyes, after already losing it hours ago.

Then there was the voice. The little, vile voice whispering in the back of her head. She didn't bond then because she wasn't worthy. She would never be worthy. Her mother was one of the most powerful and respected gold riders in the Warren, and she would never amount to anything.

Kenia shoved the voice into the deepest, darkest part of her mind and looked around her friend group. They all looked convinced, eager, ready to go. They all looked to her for the final approval.

"Okay, yeah, let's do it," she said.

Yousef let out a quiet but exuberant "Yes!"

"But that still doesn't explain why we need Lane. We can just go and sign up," Kenia said.

"Yeah, but there's no guarantee that we'll be sent to the same place," Yasmin cut in. "Registering and being searched just means you're eligible. K'lter determines where you end up."

"Oh, you need my dad's clutch list," Lane said.

He reached the crux of the plan faster than Kenia had. She tried not to let her irritation show.

"Precisely, my dear friend. You're going to get us into that office."

"What do I get out of it?" Lane demanded.

"How about I don't break your little fingers?" Tellifa asked.

Kenia shot the tall woman a glower. As much as she disliked having her cousin shadow her every step, she would not tolerate threats against her family.

Tellifa raised her hands in surrender and rolled her eyes.

"Kidding," she said.

"I want to come with you," Lane said after a beat of silence.

"What? No. There's no way your dad will allow that," Kenia protested.

"You think your mom's going to let you just party across the Nexus? You need me to make it look like it was my dad's idea. The longer they bicker amongst themselves, the longer before they come looking for us."

Alright, he had a point there. Kenia begrudgingly inclined her head in his direction, giving into his argument.

"Alright, so it's settled," Yousef said. "Party, dragon, or bust. Here we go!"

***

Myia did not storm through the halls of Castle Drakmor. The plush carpets lining the stone floors absorbed her steady footfalls, muting them into the low ebb and flow of noise that permeated these great walls. She kept a neutral expression as she acknowledged the dignitaries and workers she passed on the way. She had spent many years cultivating her professional mask. Her role as Mystic's right hand woman meant that she often faced off against some of the most irritating and obstinate people in all of Tris'Hath.

None of them held a candle to Kenia.

Upon reaching the meeting room Mystic had designated for today's working session did she let the first cracks in her exterior shell show. She opened the door calmly, then shut it behind her with slightly more force than necessary. Everyone in the room looked up from their work.

Four women and one man sat around the two long tables in the simply furnished chamber. Flanking Mystic were Ren and Talitha, and across from them sat Polana with a small, circular stitch work on her lap. As soon as Talitha realized that Myia was not some monster bursting into the chamber, she put her head back down on the table. At the other table, S'ron gave Myia a short nod of greeting before returning to his map.

"Does anyone else want portal season to come early on the off chance our dear children get punted off to some distant land and we get a few months of peace and quiet?" She asked as she navigated to the large, rectangular table her fellow Primus Wing women had claimed.

Ren looked up and gave her a lopsided, sympathetic smile.

"What's Kenia done now?"

Myia threw herself into the seat beside her fellow Matryonus, letting out a long-suffering groan as she did. She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling, letting her body go slack, as if the effort required to maintain her composure this far had drained her of all strength.

"She wants to change the world just like Mystic did. No offense, Mystic," Myia tilted her head to the side, eyeing the woman in red dutifully scratching away at a parchment a few seats down.

"None taken. Sometimes I think back on those early days and I wonder how we survived it all," Mystic replied without looking up.

"That's what I said!" Myia threw up her hands in frustration to emphasize her point. "I would have killed for the kind of upbringing she's had, but no, she doesn't want to finish school and actually learn something useful. She wants to just charge into the future and expect everything to work out."

"That sounds very much like how we all were at her age," Ren said wryly.

"If it makes you feel any better, Tellifa's been no better. She skipped class the other day, and when Telif found out, they had a horrible screaming match."

Polana sat across the table from them, her hands occupied by a new piece of stitch work. Outwardly, she appeared as calm and composed as ever, but Myia knew the stitch work only came out when she was truly unsettled. Polana sighed and her tone became wistful.

"They used to be as close as twins when she was little. Now I'm afraid their similarities are what's driving them apart."

"I remember An'drel and Ry at their age," S'ron put in. He stood over a map spread across the only other long table in the room. Though not one of the Primus Wing riders, he often tagged along to their planning sessions as both a means of gathering information to relate back to Aaron, and to get some planning done of his own. Among the Secundus Wing, he was the only rider whose sole focus was record keeping and organization. The rest were knights in one capacity or another.

He shook his head and removed his glasses to clean them, taking the conversation as a small social break from his studies. "They were just as wild and bullheaded. Thankfully life's beaten some sense into them, but I'm afraid that's not a sustainable method of education."

"I just wish their teachers would call them on their shit more. I've told them so many times that they have my permission to bring Kenia to task, but they won't!" Myia griped.

"They're afraid. On top of that, that group backs each other on everything. If one of them gets in trouble, the rest will band together to come up with a viable story as to why it couldn't be their fault. Eralli's told me some wild stories about watching them at work," Ren said.

"Sarrintha harassed Penorith yesterday until K'lter searched her. Now all of my children are begging to go down to the search office so they can take advantage of the new accommodation for rider children," Talitha said.

The typically quiet Avengaea representative sat at the far end of the table, head pillowed on her hands. Myia had assumed she was asleep until she spoke up, but no, she was simply more done with her children than herself.

Myia covered her face with her hands and let out a strangled scream into her palms.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with her."

"At some point, you have to let her learn on her own," Mystic said.

Myia sat up and leaned forward on the table. Throughout the discussion, Mystic hadn't stopped working. A few years back, Mystic had been the one struggling to wrangle her unruly teen. Myia recalled many rants very similar to her own regarding his antics. Now the Red Mage spoke with the calm authority of one who had parenthood all figured out.

"How did that work out with Thayer?" Myia asked with genuine curiousity.

"Painfully in many situations." Mystic finished her notes and put down her quill. She looked up and met Myia's gaze. "Thayer is still stubborn and willful, as you've all seen."

"At least he listens to you."

"For the most part," Mystic answered with a shrug. "He'll argue every request, but he's learned when it's imperative to listen."

"How? Please. What is your secret?"

"Well, for one, I learned to let him fail on his own." Mystic smiled in response to the blank look on Myia's face. "Magika once gave me a much needed lesson on managing a teenager. He is not a trophy. I can't put him on a shelf and never expect him to move. Eventually, I need to accept that he will do things in his own time, his own way. The tighter I held on, the more he would struggle to be free."

Myia sat back, mulling over the advice. This wasn't the first time people had advised her to loosen her hold on Kenia. She'd spent her whole life being afraid that someone or something would take Kenia away from her. Even now, fully aware of her hang ups, she couldn't imagine just letting her go off on her own. There were too many dangers in the world, and more in the Nexus. More than that, she desperately wanted Kenia to do better with her life than she had.

"I'm just afraid I'm watching her throw her life away," Myia said after a lengthy pause.

"We all feel that at some point, but it's their lives. All we can really do is support them and teach them consequences. It's hard but they have to learn," Polana said.

"Mind you, any time Thayer because truly difficult, I'd toss him off to Magika for a few weeks," Mystic quipped.

"Gods, I wish I had an offworld mentor to throw at Kenia. She needs one."

A pensive look came across Mystic's face. She steepled her fingers together over the stack of papers in front of her and rested her chin atop her hands.

"Myia, do you remember the first time you met Baeris?"

The memory of that day sent a small thrill of alarm racing through her already raw nerves. Myia resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to check for the tall, imposing matron of the Healing Den, but only just.

"Yes, she terrified me."

Quiet murmurs of agreement went around the room. Baeris did not quite have the aura of a boogyman around the Warren, but her name had weight here. She was one of Mystic's oldest friends, and someone who everyone knew that even the Red Mage saw as a force to be reckoned with.

"Kenia and her friends, they want to bond, isn't that correct?" Mystic asked.

The little spark of unease grew into a flame. Myia narrowed her eyes at her friend.

"Where are you going with this?"

Mystic smiled. It was the sort of smile that Myia had seen many times before. Typically right before they launched an insanely dangerous maneuver against the hydras or skirted regulations to get their way on a foreign policy. It was a dangerous smile, and it always led to greater headaches for Myia. She had never seen it used on her behalf before.

"I think I may have a solution for you. If you trust me that is." Mystic waited a moment, but when Myia didn't immediately protest, she pressed on. "I'll need to speak to the parents of our intrepid little group."

***

The next day, K'lter found a new missive from the desk of the High Princess waiting for him on his desk first thing in the morning. He set down his cup of coffee, broke the seal on the note, and gave it a quick scan. A short chuckle followed the last word on the page.

K'tler put the note aside and looked to the top of the new applicant stack. He'd received an absolute flood of rider children eager to take advantage of the eased registration requirements, but there were a few specific names he hadn't seen, and now he was curious.

::Lane was in your office yesterday,:: Penorith said, unprompted.

The blue lay atop the Warren in his favourite basking spot. A steady stream of warm, happy thoughts mingled with the pale iridescence of his mental threads.

::Was he now? What was he up to?::

::He bribed me with some spicy treats to not tell you that he was sneaking in a roster of candidates for the Healing Den. Specifically the Healing Den. They wanted to make sure they all went together.::

::You're excellent at keeping secrets, Pen.::

::I know, right? I'm surprised I don't get bribed more often.::

K'lter sighed and rifled through the stack of applicants until he found the Healing Den docket. He kept separate dockets for each clutch he tracked in the Nexus. Typically he sent a handful of people to each location to spread out Tris'Hath representation. The Healing Den list had so many names on it, Lane had drawn on a few extra spaces in order to include everyone. Including himself.

K'lter lifted the missive from Mystic and read it over again. Lane hadn't been included in her scheme, but no reason he couldn't do some scheming of his own.

A student exchange program, according to the note. Baeris would take on a few of the Warren's students for a few months to teach them about the Nexus, and in exchange, the Warren would take on a few of Baeris' kids. It seemed innocent enough, but K'lter had memories of Baeris interacting with the more difficult candidates of his clutch way back in the day. He respected the Master Healer. Admired her even. He would never in a million years dare think of crossing her. He wondered how long it would take for Lane to learn that lesson too.

"I hope they pack extra underwear," K'lter muttered to himself as he signed off on the Healing Den docket. There were bound to be some rude awakenings once the Elite Five (and Lane) realized what they'd actually signed themselves up for.