As the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon, Rexan awoke to a sharp rapping at her door. The events of the previous day swirled in her groggy mind—the Council's cryptic warnings, the dragon's trust, and the weight of responsibility placed on her shoulders.
Lacy was already awake, perched on her bed and flipping through a leather-bound textbook. She glanced up, eyebrows raised. "Expecting someone?"
Rexan shrugged. "Not really."
The knock came again, more insistent this time. Rising from her bed, she opened the door to find a messenger—a young boy in a simple uniform, holding a sealed scroll.
"For you, Miss Meadows," he said, bowing slightly before scurrying off.
Rexan broke the seal and unfurled the parchment. The elegant script read:
Rexan,
Report to the training grounds immediately. Bring nothing but yourself.
—Mistress Elara
"What now?" Lacy asked, craning her neck to read over Rexan's shoulder.
"Apparently, I'm needed at the training grounds."
"Sounds ominous."
