First Lessons
The tonic worked.
For the first time since arriving at the Academy, Leizar woke to genuine peace. The bitter mixture Pendacore had prepared - herbs and something else he couldn't identify - had settled over his mind like a gentle fog. The sharp edges between his memories had softened, the constant buzz of half-remembered trauma muted to a distant hum.
Sunlight streamed through the dormitory windows in lazy golden bars, painting geometric patterns across the stone floor. His shadow lay properly beneath him, still and normal, responding only to the light. No writhing. No independence. Just shadow.
He stretched, feeling muscles that weren't knotted with tension for the first time in memory. The nightmares had come, but they'd been distant things - shadows of fears rather than vivid terrors. The tonic had wrapped them in cotton, made them manageable.
"Morning," Raelith said from across the room, though there was something careful in his emerald eyes. He'd been watching, Leizar realized. Waiting to see what kind of morning this would be.
"Morning," Leizar replied, and his voice sounded normal. Not strained, not hollow. Just... normal.
Severan was already up, perched on the edge of his bed with a notebook balanced on his knees. "Sleep cycle analysis: eight hours uninterrupted rest. Statistical probability of nightmare-induced awakening based on previous nights: ninety-four point six percent. Actual outcome: peaceful slumber. Conclusion: pharmacological intervention successful."
"The tonic worked," Sylas observed quietly, his seafoam eyes reflecting something that might have been relief. "Your shadow is still. Your breathing is even. Whatever Isaac gave you, it's holding the chaos at bay."
Leizar sat up, running a hand through his silver hair. The fog in his mind wasn't unpleasant - more like the gentle haze of a summer morning, where thoughts moved slowly but clearly. He could still access his memories, but the jagged edges that usually cut him when he touched them had been smoothed away.
"I feel..." he paused, searching for the right word. "Quiet. Inside, I mean. Like someone turned down the volume on everything that was screaming."
A soft *crack* echoed through the room.
All four boys turned toward the fireplace, where WindRaven's mysterious object had spent the night among the warm coals. The stone-like surface, which had been smooth and metallic yesterday, now showed a hairline fracture running along its length.
"Did you hear that?" WindRaven whispered, sitting up in bed with sudden alertness.
Another *crack*, louder this time. The fracture widened, revealing a glimpse of something moving within.
"Severan," Raelith said quietly, "what was your assessment of that object again?"
"Composition analysis: indeterminate. Thermal requirements suggest incubation parameters. Probability of organic origin: seventy-three point six percent." Severan's voice carried a note of anticipation. "Current evidence indicates hatching imminent."
The object shifted among the coals, rolling slightly as whatever was inside pressed against its confines. More cracks appeared, spider-webbing across the surface in an intricate pattern that seemed too deliberate for mere breaking.
WindRaven was on his feet now, approaching the fireplace with careful steps. "Venus said to keep it warm," he murmured. "She said it was very important. But she never said what would happen if I did."
A small section of the shell fell away with a soft *tink* against the stones. Through the opening, they caught a glimpse of something that gleamed like polished obsidian, moving with fluid grace.
"Oh," Leizar breathed, the tonic's peaceful fog suddenly shot through with wonder. "Oh, it's beautiful."
More shell fragments fell away, revealing glimpses of what lay within. Dark scales that shifted with rainbow iridescence. A wing, translucent as stained glass, unfolding with delicate precision. An eye that opened to regard them with ancient intelligence, despite belonging to something that had just been born.
"A dragon," Sylas said softly, and there was reverence in his voice. "You've been incubating a dragon egg."
The creature inside gave a small chirp - not the roar one might expect from a dragon, but something surprisingly musical. Like wind chimes made of crystal, sweet and pure. It struggled against the remaining shell, tiny claws scrabbling for purchase.
Without thinking, WindRaven knelt beside the fireplace and carefully began helping, picking away larger pieces of shell to free the small dragon within. His movements were gentle, instinctive, as if he'd been born knowing how to care for such a creature.
"Careful," Raelith warned, though his voice was soft with wonder. "Even baby dragons can be dangerous."
But as more of the creature was revealed, danger seemed the furthest thing from its nature. It was small - no bigger than Thalawen - with scales that seemed to drink in the firelight and reflect it back in shades of deep purple and midnight blue. Its wings were gossamer-thin, catching the morning light like soap bubbles. When it finally freed itself from the last of the shell and stood on unsteady legs, it looked up at WindRaven with eyes like liquid starlight.
The dragon chirped once, urgent and desperate, then launched itself at WindRaven's throat. Before anyone could react, tiny fangs pierced the skin of WindRaven's neck like a vampire's bite. WindRaven gasped but didn't pull away, some deep instinct telling him this was necessary, vital.
The bite lasted only seconds, but when the dragon released him, something fundamental had changed. A golden light pulsed briefly between them, sealing something ancient and permanent.
"What just happened?" Raelith asked, staring at the golden scars already forming on WindRaven's neck where the tiny fangs had pierced.
"I... I don't know," WindRaven said quietly, touching the marks. "But it felt... necessary. Like he had to do it."
Severan was scribbling frantically in his notebook, trying to document what they'd witnessed, but his expression showed confusion rather than understanding. "Statistical probability of immediate post-hatching aggressive behavior: minimal. Dragon behavioral patterns suggest... I have no data for this."
WindRaven touched the small golden scars on his neck, which had healed instantly. "Hello, little one," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry I didn't know what you were. I would have sung to you, or... or told you stories while you were waiting."
The dragon seemed to approve of his voice. It climbed into his cupped palms and settled there with a satisfied sigh, wings folding neatly against its sides. Its presence filled the room with something indefinable - not just warmth from the fire, but a sense of rightness, of something long awaited finally coming to pass.
Leizar found himself smiling, the tonic's gentle peace combining with this moment of pure wonder to create something approaching happiness. "What will you call him?"
"Him?" WindRaven looked down at the small dragon, who had begun to purr like the world's most exotic cat. "How do you know it's a him?"
"I don't know how I know," Leizar admitted. "But he is. And he's going to be magnificent when he grows up."
The dragon turned those starlight eyes toward Leizar and chirped approvingly, as if he understood and agreed with his assessment.
"Ulric," WindRaven said suddenly, his voice filled with certainty. "Your name is Ulric."
The dragon - Ulric - made a sound of approval, as if he recognized something true in the naming. Severan began scribbling frantically in his notebook, muttering calculations about dragon growth rates and dietary requirements.
"Ulric," Raelith repeated, nodding with understanding. "That's... that fits him perfectly."
"It came to me the moment I looked at him," WindRaven said, his voice soft with wonder. "Like he was telling me his name himself."
Ulric chirped again and nuzzled deeper into WindRaven's palms, clearly satisfied with his proper identification.
A bell chimed somewhere in the Academy's depths, calling students to breakfast. The five roommates looked at each other, then at the tiny dragon now sleeping peacefully in WindRaven's hands.
"This is going to make breakfast interesting," Sylas observed.
Leizar laughed - actually laughed, the sound surprising them all with its genuineness. The tonic's peaceful fog made everything feel manageable, even the prospect of explaining a newly hatched dragon to the Academy faculty.
"Come on," he said, moving toward his wardrobe to select fresh robes. "Let's go introduce Ulric to everyone. I have a feeling today is going to be a very good day."
As he dressed, Leizar caught sight of his reflection in the small mirror beside his bed. For the first time since arriving at the Academy, the boy looking back at him seemed genuinely happy. The dark circles under his eyes had faded, his silver hair caught the morning light pleasantly, and his smile was real.
The tonic had given him this - this moment of peace, this ability to enjoy simple wonders like a dragon hatching in their dormitory. Whatever Pendacore had mixed into that bitter draught, it had worked exactly as intended.
His shadow fell normally beneath him as he moved around the room, docile and ordinary. The constant whisper of darkness that had haunted his thoughts was muted to barely audible static. For the first time in weeks, his mind was his own.
Ulric chirped from his perch in WindRaven's hands, a sound of pure joy that seemed to capture exactly how Leizar felt in this moment. New beginnings. Wonder. The possibility that things might actually turn out all right.
They made their way downstairs together, five friends and one tiny dragon, ready to face whatever the day might bring. And for the first time since the nightmares began, Leizar found himself genuinely looking forward to finding out.
The Great Hall welcomed them with its usual morning chaos - hundreds of students finding seats, servants weaving between tables with platters of bread and fruit, the comfortable cacophony of young people starting another day of learning and discovery. But today, something was different.
In the corners where shadows gathered softest, tiny figures moved like whispers made visible. The Luminari had returned in force, their feathered hair catching the light as they drifted between tables. But unlike yesterday, when they'd seemed cautious and wary, today they moved with something approaching celebration.
As the boys found their usual table near the tall windows, a cluster of Luminari materialized around them, their small orbs pulsing with gentle curiosity. They seemed particularly drawn to Ulric, humming in harmony as the tiny dragon chirped responses from WindRaven's shoulder.
"They like him," Leizar observed, watching as one brave Luminari approached close enough to offer Ulric what looked like a flower made of pure light. The dragon accepted the gift with obvious delight, his scales shimmering as he held it delicately in one tiny claw.
"Statistical probability of Luminari positive response to dragon presence," Severan began, then paused, pen hovering over his notebook. "Actually, insufficient data. This is unprecedented."
Other students began to notice the commotion at their table. Whispers spread like ripples across still water as word of the dragon spread from table to table. Unlike the cautious distance they'd maintained around Leizar lately, the response to Ulric was immediate and positive.
"Is that a dragon?" asked Elena Brightwater, leaning over from the next table. "A real dragon?"
"Just hatched this morning," WindRaven replied proudly, allowing Elena to see Ulric more clearly. The tiny dragon preened under the attention, his scales catching the light in dazzling displays.
"He's beautiful," breathed Lyra, the memory-worker. "I've never seen scales that color. They're like... like captured starlight."
More students gathered, drawn by curiosity and wonder. For the first time since arriving at the Academy, Leizar found himself part of something purely positive - not the center of fearful whispers, but part of a group that everyone wanted to approach.
Dale Hendricks remained conspicuously absent from the admirers, sitting at his usual table across the hall with his small group of followers. Leizar caught sight of him scowling in their direction, clearly displeased by the positive attention they were receiving.
"Jealous," Sylas murmured, following Leizar's gaze. "He can't stand that you're part of something wonderful."
But even Dale's disapproval couldn't dampen Leizar's mood. The tonic's gentle peace wrapped around him like armor, deflecting negativity and allowing him to focus on the joy of the moment.
Professor Aldrich appeared at their table, her steel-gray hair neatly arranged and her expression curious rather than concerned. "Mr. WindRaven, I understand congratulations are in order. Dragon hatching is traditionally considered quite auspicious."
"Thank you, Professor," WindRaven replied, carefully shifting Ulric to show him off properly. "He hatched just as the sun came up. Perfect timing."
Professor Aldrich studied the tiny dragon with professional interest, her experienced eyes noting details that escaped the students. "Obsidian Drake, if I'm not mistaken. Quite rare. They're known for their intelligence and their loyalty to their chosen companions." Her gaze shifted to Leizar, including him in her assessment. "And they have excellent instincts about character. If he's comfortable around all of you, it speaks well of your nature."
The words were clearly intended to counter any negative rumors that might have been spreading about Leizar. He felt a rush of gratitude toward the professor, who had found a way to publicly vouch for his character through Ulric's acceptance.
"What do Obsidian Drakes eat?" asked Bennett Wright, practical as always.
"At this age, mostly affection and small amounts of crystallized honey," Professor Aldrich replied with a slight smile. "Though as he grows, his dietary needs will become more complex. We'll need to adjust your meal plans accordingly."
The conversation continued as more faculty members stopped by to admire Ulric and offer advice. Master Kaelen suggested exercises that would help develop his flying muscles. Master Thorne provided historical context about dragon-human bonds. Even the kitchen staff sent over a small dish of the crystallized honey Professor Aldrich had mentioned.
Through it all, Leizar felt himself relaxing in ways he hadn't thought possible. The tonic had given him this gift - the ability to be present in moments of joy without the constant undercurrent of anxiety and darkness that usually plagued him.
Ulric seemed to sense his mood, occasionally turning those starlight eyes in his direction and chirping soft sounds of contentment. The Luminari continued to hover nearby, their presence adding to the atmosphere of celebration and wonder.
"You know," Raelith said quietly, leaning close so only their group could hear, "I think this is exactly what we all needed. Something purely good happening, with no complications or hidden darkness."
Leizar nodded, watching Ulric accept another light-flower from a particularly bold Luminari. "It feels like a new beginning. Like maybe things are finally starting to go right."
As if in response to his words, Ulric spread his gossamer wings wide and gave a small trill of pure joy. The sound carried across the Great Hall, drawing smiles from students and faculty alike.
For the first time since the nightmares began, Leizar allowed himself to hope that his friend might be right. Maybe this was a new beginning. Maybe the tonic would continue to work, keeping the darkness at bay. Maybe they could have this - friendship, wonder, simple happiness - without the constant threat of something terrible waiting just beyond the edge of perception.
After breakfast, they made their way to their first class of the day. Basic Magic Theory with Professor Aldrich proved to be Ulric's first real test as part of their Academy life.
"Now then," she announced to the assembled students, "today we'll be practicing simple levitation exercises. Partner work - one student attempts to lift a feather, the other observes and offers feedback."
Leizar found himself paired with Bennett Wright, a practical boy who approached magic like a mathematical equation. But before they could begin, Ulric chirped from his perch on WindRaven's shoulder and glided over to land on Leizar's desk.
The tiny dragon studied the white feather with obvious curiosity, then looked up at Leizar with those ancient starlight eyes.
"Go ahead," Bennett said, amused. "Let's see if having a dragon audience improves your concentration."
Leizar focused on the feather, trying to channel his energy into lifting it from the desk. For several minutes, nothing happened. The feather lay stubbornly still despite his efforts. Around them, other students were achieving varying degrees of success - some managing to make their feathers twitch, others lifting them several inches into the air.
That's when Ulric did something unexpected.
The little dragon chirped a soft, complex series of notes - not random sounds, but something that felt almost like instruction. As the musical tones washed over Leizar, he felt his magical focus clarify in ways he'd never experienced before.
The feather rose smoothly into the air, floating at eye level with perfect stability.
Professor Aldrich appeared beside their desk, her eyes wide with interest. "Fascinating," she murmured, studying the hovering feather and the purring dragon. "Mr. Leizar, have you been practicing levitation before today?"
"No, Professor. This is my first time."
"Then what changed between your initial attempts and your success?"
Leizar looked down at Ulric, who was watching the floating feather with obvious satisfaction. "I think... I think Ulric helped somehow. When he chirped, everything became clearer."
Professor Aldrich knelt to study the little dragon more closely. "Obsidian Drakes are known for their magical sensitivity, but this is remarkable. It appears he's naturally harmonizing with your magical frequency, creating a resonance that amplifies your abilities."
She straightened, addressing the class. "Students, please observe. This demonstrates an advanced principle we won't normally cover until third year - magical partnership between species. The dragon isn't casting the levitation himself, but his presence is creating optimal conditions for Mr. Leizar's magic to function."
Other students gathered around to watch as Leizar, with Ulric's musical guidance, managed to lift multiple feathers simultaneously, then small books, then a glass of water without spilling a drop.
"Show-off," Dale muttered from across the room, but his usual venom was dampened by obvious fascination with the dragon.
After class, Professor Aldrich pulled them aside. "I'd like to document this partnership for the Academy's research records," she said. "Dragon-human magical resonance is extremely rare. You may be witnessing the formation of a true familiar bond."
"What does that mean exactly?" WindRaven asked, though his tone suggested he might already understand.
"It means that as you both mature, your magical abilities will become interlinked. Ulric will be able to enhance your spellwork, while your magical energy will help him develop abilities beyond what most dragons achieve. It's a profound connection - one that typically lasts a lifetime."
Ulric chirped approvingly from WindRaven's shoulder, as if he fully understood and endorsed this arrangement.
History of Magical Institutions proved equally eventful, though in unexpected ways.
Master Thorne was discussing the founding of various academies when Ulric suddenly became agitated. The little dragon's head snapped up, his gossamer wings fluttering as he stared intently at something none of the humans could see.
"As I was saying," Master Thorne continued, "the Academy of Whispered Sorrows was established to help students whose magic manifested through trauma. Unfortunately, it was closed after incidents involving—"
Ulric let out a sharp, warning chirp that cut through the lecture like a blade.
Master Thorne stopped mid-sentence, his gaze finding the dragon with sudden attention. "Interesting. What has caught your attention, little one?"
The dragon chirped again, this time a complex sequence that seemed almost conversational. To everyone's surprise, Master Thorne nodded as if he understood.
"Ah," he said quietly. "You sense the connection, do you? Very perceptive."
"What connection?" Severan asked, his analytical mind clearly working through possibilities.
Master Thorne studied the dragon for a long moment before responding. "Dragons, particularly young ones, are sensitive to what we might call 'magical echoes' - residual traces of powerful magic that occurred in places or connected to objects. Ulric appears to be detecting echoes from the Academy of Whispered Sorrows, which suggests..."
He trailed off, clearly reconsidering how much to reveal to a classroom of students.
"Which suggests what?" Sylas prompted, his seafoam eyes holding depths of knowledge that seemed to match the instructor's hesitation.
"Which suggests that some of the Academy's founders had connections to institutions that dealt with traumatic magic manifestation," Master Thorne said carefully. "Nothing concerning, mind you. Simply historical links that a dragon's magical sensitivity might detect."
But Ulric continued to watch something invisible to human eyes, his tiny claws gripping WindRaven's shoulder with protective intensity.
After class, Master Thorne approached their group. "A word of advice," he said quietly. "Dragons see magic differently than we do. If Ulric seems concerned about something, it might be wise to pay attention. They often perceive threats or connections that escape human notice."
"What kind of threats?" Leizar asked, the tonic's peaceful effects suddenly feeling fragile.
"The kind that hide in plain sight," Master Thorne replied cryptically. "The Academy has many secrets, young man. Some protective, some... less so."
By lunch, the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement about the dragon, but Ulric seemed overwhelmed by the attention. The little creature pressed close to WindRaven's neck, his usual confident demeanor replaced by obvious anxiety.
"Too many people," Lyra observed, watching the dragon's distressed behavior. "He's still very young. This much stimulation might be frightening."
But it was Elena Brightwater who provided the solution. The girl with plant magic carefully approached their table, her fingertips showing their characteristic tiny thorns.
"May I?" she asked WindRaven, gesturing toward Ulric.
When WindRaven nodded, Elena gently extended one thorn-tipped finger toward the dragon. Instead of backing away, Ulric leaned into her touch, his scales shimmering as he came into contact with her plant-based magic.
Immediately, tiny flowers began blooming along Elena's arms - not the carnivorous varieties she usually manifested, but delicate blossoms that released a calming fragrance into the air around their table.
"Plant magic and dragon magic have natural synergy," Elena explained as Ulric's anxiety visibly decreased. "The earth energies help ground him when he's overstimulated."
Soon a small garden had bloomed around their lunch table - Elena's flowers providing a peaceful sanctuary that shielded Ulric from the overwhelming attention of the wider hall. Other students could still see the dragon, but the magical barrier created a sense of privacy and calm.
"That's incredible," Bennett Wright said, studying the phenomenon with obvious appreciation. "You're creating a micro-environment that regulates magical stress."
Elena blushed at the praise. "I've been working on therapeutic applications of plant magic. Ulric is the perfect test subject - young dragons are sensitive enough to show immediate responses to environmental changes."
The Luminari, who had been keeping their distance during the morning's excitement, now approached in greater numbers. They seemed drawn not just to Ulric, but to the magical harmony being created between dragon, plant magic, and the boys' friendship.
One particularly bold Luminari landed on Elena's flower crown, its tiny orb pulsing in rhythm with the blooming flowers. Soon others joined it, creating a living constellation of light and blossoms that drew admiring gasps from across the hall.
"Now this," Professor Aldrich said, appearing beside their table with obvious delight, "is exactly the kind of magical cooperation we hope to foster at the Academy. Multiple students, multiple magical traditions, working together to create something beautiful and beneficial."
For the rest of lunch, their table became a peaceful oasis. Students would approach quietly, admire the magical display, and leave feeling somehow refreshed by the experience. Even Dale Hendricks, despite his obvious jealousy, couldn't seem to stay away entirely.
"I suppose it's... adequate," he admitted grudgingly when pressed by his followers to comment. "Though I don't see why everyone's making such a fuss over a lizard."
Ulric's response was to chirp once, sharply, and suddenly all of Elena's flowers turned to face Dale in perfect unison. The effect was so startling and vaguely menacing that Dale actually took a step backward.
"Right," he muttered. "Point taken."
Afternoon classes proved to be Ulric's true introduction to Academy life.
During Practical Applications with Master Severus, the dragon perched on a specially conjured stand and watched every exercise with intense focus. When students practiced basic ward creation, Ulric would chirp approval or concern based on the strength of their magical constructs.
"He's evaluating their work," Master Severus observed with fascination. "And his assessments are remarkably accurate. Students whose wards he approves of are consistently demonstrating superior technique."
When it was Leizar's turn to create a protective barrier, Ulric's involvement became even more pronounced. As Leizar focused his energy, the dragon began humming - not the random sounds of a young animal, but a complex harmonic structure that seemed to weave itself into the magical working.
The resulting ward was not only the strongest in the class, but it shimmered with an iridescent quality that none of the students had achieved before.
"Extraordinary," Master Severus breathed. "The dragon is providing harmonic enhancement to your spellwork. I've read about such partnerships in historical texts, but I never expected to witness one forming."
Other students began requesting Ulric's "assistance" with their exercises, but the dragon was selective about when and how he helped. He seemed to evaluate each student's intentions and effort, providing aid only to those who approached their magic with genuine respect and curiosity.
Dale, predictably, was not among those who received help.
"Why won't it help me?" he demanded after several failed attempts to gain Ulric's attention.
Master Severus studied the boy's frustrated expression. "Dragons are excellent judges of character, Mr. Blackwood. Perhaps the question isn't why Ulric won't help you, but what about your approach to magic he finds... concerning."
The evening meal brought another revelation about Ulric's unique nature.
As the boys settled at their usual table, Ulric suddenly became very alert, his head turning toward the Great Hall's main entrance. A moment later, Master Pendacore entered, accompanied by a visitor none of them recognized - a tall woman in traveling robes, her face drawn with worry.
Ulric chirped once, a sound of recognition and concern.
"He knows her," WindRaven murmured, watching the dragon's behavior with growing curiosity.
The woman's gaze swept the hall until it found their table, and specifically Ulric. Her expression shifted from worry to wonder, and she began walking in their direction.
"Excuse me," she said as she approached, her voice carrying the accent of the northern provinces. "But is that... could that possibly be an Obsidian Drake?"
"Yes," WindRaven replied carefully. "He hatched this morning. Do you know about his kind?"
The woman's eyes filled with tears. "Know about them? Young man, I've been searching for one for over a year. My daughter... she was born with a magical condition that only dragon magic can treat. The healers told me to find an Obsidian Drake, but they're so rare..."
She looked at Ulric with desperate hope. "Would he... could he possibly help her?"
Ulric chirped softly and extended one tiny wing toward the woman, a gesture of unmistakable compassion.
"Where is your daughter?" Leizar asked, the tonic's peaceful effects making him feel generous and helpful.
"In the Academy's healing wing. Master Pendacore was kind enough to let me bring her here when we heard about the dragon, but I didn't dare hope..."
"Take us to her," WindRaven said without hesitation. "If Ulric can help, he will."
Master Pendacore, who had been watching the exchange with growing interest, nodded his approval. "The healing wing is this way."
They found the girl - perhaps ten years old - lying in a bed surrounded by magical monitoring devices. Her skin held an unhealthy grayish tint, and her breathing was labored. Most alarming were her eyes, which seemed to see things that weren't there, tracking invisible movements with obvious distress.
"She's caught between magical dimensions," her mother explained quietly. "Born during a magical storm, the healers said. Part of her exists in our world, part in the shadow realm. She can see and hear things from both places, but can't fully exist in either."
Ulric took one look at the girl and immediately flew to her bedside. He landed gently on her pillow and began to sing - not chirping or humming, but actual song, with melodies that seemed to bridge the gap between worlds.
The effect was immediate and profound. The girl's labored breathing eased. The grayish tint began to fade from her skin. Most remarkably, her eyes focused on Ulric with clear, present awareness for the first time in months.
"Hello, little dragon," she whispered, her voice stronger than it had been in ages.
Ulric continued singing, his melody weaving between dimensions in ways that human magic couldn't replicate. As he sang, the girl became more solid, more present, while the invisible terrors that had plagued her seemed to fade.
"How is he doing this?" the girl's mother asked, tears streaming down her face.
"Dragons exist partially outside normal dimensional boundaries," Master Pendacore explained quietly. "An Obsidian Drake's magic can serve as an anchor, helping someone caught between worlds find their way back to stability."
The healing session lasted nearly an hour, with Ulric never wavering in his musical intervention. By the end, the girl was sitting up, her skin holding healthy color, her eyes bright and focused.
"I can't see the shadow things anymore," she said wonderfully. "And I can hear properly again. Everything sounds right."
Her mother collapsed beside the bed, sobbing with relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she kept repeating. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
But Ulric wasn't done. The little dragon flew to WindRaven's shoulder and chirped a series of complex notes that somehow conveyed very specific instructions.
"He wants me to give her something," WindRaven said, reaching into his pack. He pulled out one of the dragon egg's shell fragments - a piece of iridescent scale that still held traces of hatching magic.
"Keep this with you," he told the girl, pressing the fragment into her small hands. "Ulric says it will help maintain the dimensional anchoring even when he's not here."
The fragment glowed softly in her grasp, and her smile was the brightest thing in the room.
As they prepared to leave the healing wing, Master Pendacore pulled them aside. "What happened here tonight was extraordinary," he said quietly. "That kind of dimensional healing magic is beyond what most adult dragons can accomplish. Ulric is... special, even among his rare kind."
"What does that mean for us?" Sylas asked, though his ancient-looking eyes suggested he might already know.
"It means you're partners with something much more significant than a simple magical familiar," Pendacore replied. "And it means there may be others who will seek him out - not all of them with benevolent intentions."
Back in their dormitory room, the five friends settled in for their first night with a dragon in residence.
Ulric had claimed the mantelpiece above the fireplace as his sleeping spot, but before settling down, he made the rounds to each boy. He chirped goodnight to Severan, who was cataloging the day's magical observations in his ever-present notebook. He nuzzled against Sylas's hand, earning a rare smile from the mysterious boy. He perched briefly on Raelith's shoulder, the two of them sharing a moment of mutual respect.
But it was his interaction with Thalawen that surprised everyone most.
The jet-black cat had been watching the dragon's evening ritual with obvious curiosity from her usual spot on Leizar's pillow. When Ulric flew over to her, the two creatures regarded each other for a long moment - ancient feline wisdom meeting ancient dragon intelligence.
Then Thalawen did something unprecedented. She began to purr, a deep rumbling that seemed to harmonize with Ulric's own contented sounds. The little dragon settled beside her, curling his gossamer wings around himself like a blanket, and Thalawen gently groomed his starlight-colored head with obvious affection.
"Well," Raelith said softly, "I think that settles any concerns about whether they'll get along."
The sight of cat and dragon curled together in peaceful companionship was so endearing that even Severan paused in his note-taking to smile.
Finally, Ulric came to Leizar.
The little dragon landed on his pillow and fixed those starlight eyes on Leizar's face with surprising intensity. For a moment, they simply looked at each other - boy and dragon, both carrying more than their apparent ages should hold.
Then Ulric chirped once, softly, and somehow Leizar understood the message: *You're not alone anymore.*
"Thank you," Leizar whispered, gently stroking the dragon's gossamer wings. "For everything today. For making it... bright."
Ulric purred in response, a sound of pure contentment. Then he flew back to his spot beside Thalawen, the cat and dragon settling together among the warm coals, and began the soft humming that would serve as a lullaby for all of them.
As the other boys settled into sleep, Leizar lay in his bed feeling more at peace than he had since arriving at the Academy. The tonic's effects were still strong, keeping his anxieties muted and his shadow docile. Ulric's presence added another layer of comfort - the knowledge that something pure and powerful was watching over them.
For the first time in weeks, Leizar fell asleep easily, without nightmares, surrounded by friends and protected by dragon song.
Outside their window, the Academy's wards hummed their eternal protective melody. In the corridors, Luminari drifted peacefully, their small lights creating patterns of safety and comfort. All was well.
But tonight was theirs.