A dragon shifter novel Chapter 21

corridor outside Professor Hill’s office is too quiet. I lift my fist and knock on the heavy oak door. Nothing I scom and be harder. Still nothing, though 1 can feel him inside. That steady thrum of magic, sharp and coiled like storm clouds pressed against glass, tells me he’s there, just out of reach. I knock again, hard enough to rattle the wood and the door swings open a fast i nearly stumble back. Cassian Hill stands there, jaw clenched, eyes simmering with irritation. “Ms Rivers. What in the gour damer are you doing here, and what exactly do you want?” 1 freeze. My plan starts and ends with: find Hill, steal a little magic, leape, Talking on part of it. The first thing that slips out of my mouth is idiotic. “I was wondering if you’d… train me.” His frown deepens, carving lines into his face. “No.” It’s flat and final. He begins to close the door, but I shove my hand against it before it can slam shut. “That’s it? Just no?” His eyes narrow, storm–grey and cutting. “You’re wasting my time. My pulse spikes. The steady hum of his power brushes closer, just enough to tempt me. I reach, pulling a thread of it into me. It sparks under my skin/sharp and clean. don’t mean to take more than a sip, but anger burns through my restraint. He wants to be an asshole? Fine. I take more. Enough that the air between us seems to tighten. His brows draw together, not in realisation, but in irritation at my audacity, “Your arrogance will be your undoing, Ms Rivers.” I lean on the door, chin high. “Or maybe it’ll be the only reason I survive here.” His mouth curves into the barest shadow of a sneer. “You’re not worth my time.” This time, he shoves the door shut with enough force to jar my shoulder, wood slamming in my face. I stand there, heat crawling under my skin, the hum of his stolen magic restless in my veins. “Asshole,” I mutter, spinning on my heel. I’ve taken more than I intended. Enough to get me through whatever waits in

that assessment hall.

The Power Assessment hall is all stone and echoes. A round chamber with high windows and a circle etched into the floor. Symbols crawl along the edges, glowing faintly, shifting as though alive. Principal Scorched stands waiting at the far side, arms folded, his dragon aura thick in the air, pressing down like heat from a forge. His gaze pins me the moment I step into the chamber. “Ms Rivers,” he rumbles, gesturing toward the glowing circle. “Today, you will be assessed. Every student undergoes this trial during their first week. It determines not only your strength, but where you belong within Thornhill.” I move to the edge of the circle warily, my boots clicking against the stone. “Belong where?” His golden eyes gleam, as though he’s been waiting for me to ask. “In one of the Four Houses. All who study here are divided by their abilities to perform.” He lifts a clawed hand, ticking them off as he continues. “Draconis. The rare and the powerful. Students placed here are exceptional, those whose gifts and powers can bend the course of war. They are given the strictest training and the heaviest burdens.” His eyes narrow on me before shifting to the next. “Lunaris are Strategists, scholars, manipulators of magic. Cunning and sharp, they are the minds that shape the world while others bleed for it. Aureus are warriors. Shifters, fighters, those with unyielding strength and loyalty. The Aureus are the backbone of Thornhill, the ones who hold the line.” Finally, his tone dips into something edged with disdain. “Noctis are tricksters, misfits and the unstable. Powerful, yes, but unpredictable. They are… less disciplined, less useful, though not without purpose.” The weight of his stare settles on me again. “You, Ms Rivers, will be tested to see where you belong, how you will train and where you will fight.” I swallow hard, but keep my chin high. “And how exactly do you test that?” The corner of his mouth twitches, almost like a smile. “Simple. You meet someone of equal power, and we see who breaks first.”

The doors creak open behind me then, heavy and slow. “Ah. Late, as always,” Scorched says, voice laced with dry amusement. I turn as Cassian Hill strides in, ten minutes behind, jacket hanging loose, hair rumpled, looking not as polished as he was only minutes ago but more… frayed. Oops, that’s probably because of me. He doesn’t even glance at me as he steps into the circle opposite mine. My gut sinks. Equal power. Perfect. Hill adjusts his cuffs like the whole thing is beneath him, then finally he lifts his storm–grey eyes to mine. “Let’s get this over with,” he says flatly, Scorched raises a hand. The runes flaring around the circle brighten, pulse once, then settle into a steady glow. “Begin.”

Hill’s presence presses against me instantly, sharp and invasive, like icy water seeping through cracks in stone. He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t soften the blow. His magic slams straight for the core of me. I grit my teeth and shove back, throwing up the mental walls

1/2

19:37 Mon, Jul 6 TMO

Which House Will You Belong To?

I’ve been building since yesterday. His power scrapes across them, searching for gaps, testing, probing, but I’ve come prepared /The siphoned thread of his own magic hums in my veins, and I use it to reinforce every seam. His brow creases, just slightly, when her fails to break through. He pushes harder. I smile and shove back.

The world tilts for a moment as I slide past his defences, slipping into his mind with ease. The surprise in his eyes is quick, there and gone, but I feel it all the same. His thoughts flicker past me: potion formulas, lecture notes, a list of supplies. Then–What would her hair feel like, running through my fingers? Heat crawls up my neck. He isn’t looking at me, not outwardly, but the thong is raw, unguarded, impossible to ignore. Before I can push deeper, his barriers slam up with violent force, severing the connection sy sharply it makes me reel. “That’s enough,” he snaps, voice rougher than usual. Scorched’s brows lift. “Already?”

“She’s… good.” Hill grinds out. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t look at anyone. “Put her in Draconis.” Scorched’s smile sharpens.

“Draconis it is.”

The runes around the circle dim, leaving the chamber heavy with silence. Hill turns on his heel and strides out, shoulders stiff, every line of his body broadcasting irritation. Or maybe… something else. I stay where I am, heart pounding, the echo of his thought still tangled in mine. “Welcome to Draconis, Ms Rivers,” Scorched says, his golden eyes gleaming like firelight on steel. I smirk faintly, still buzzing with the rush of victory. Good? No, I’m better than that.

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Definitely better than that…. and obviously beautiful for all these guys to