Page 35 of Fallen Nocturne

Coral is too wild for her own good.

The training cliff rises before us, a manufactured precipice that drops thirty feet to a landing area below. Someone, probably Tarian, has filled it with sand and straw to soften a fall. For all Tarian’s severity, care lies behind every part of this place. Both he and Landon want Coral to succeed. They want her to fly.

Landon positions us near the edge. I feel the updraft from below, cool and steady. The wind here is predictable, as he explained earlier. Perfect for first flights.

“Wings up,” Landon instructs for the hundredth time. “Coral, wings up.”

Coral’s wings droop like wilted flowers. She’s been standing on the cliff for over an hour. I can see her legs trembling with effort. Every time she manages to lift her wings to the proper position, they sag back down within seconds.

“She’s trying,” I say, my own shoulders aching at the sight.

“I know.” Landon circles Coral, his trained eye assessing every angle. “Her wing muscles are weak.”

My heart is in my throat at the remark.

Landon pauses, running his hand along the delicate membrane of her wing. “The cartilage should be firm, springy.” Coral chirps softly, leaning into his touch. “Hers feels... soft. Underdeveloped.”

A cold weight settles in my stomach. “What does that mean?”

“It may mean we need to build strength. Come on, girl. One more time.”

Coral manages to lift her wings halfway. They shake with the strain. Then they drop again. She makes a frustrated sound and sits down heavily.

“That’s enough for now,” I say, moving to her side.

Landon nods. “We’ll take a break.”

Landon’s squadron practices aerial maneuvers in the sky above us. Their wyverns move in perfect formation, wings slicing through the air with powerful strokes. Coral watches them with fascination, her head tilting back to follow their movements. A sound like longing escapes her throat.

Then she turns to Landon and chirps, nudging his arm with her snout.

He looks down at her. “You want to try again?”

Coral chirps once more, louder this time, and looks toward the cliff.

Landon glances at me. I hesitate, but the determination in Coral’s eyes has returned.

“All right,” I murmur. “Let us try.”

“The goal is to get her to glide. Feel the air catch her wings. Build that muscle memory,” Landon explains as he guides Coral to the edge. She peers down at the drop and makes an uncertain noise.

“It’s all right, Coral,” I murmur, stroking her neck. “I’m right here.”

Landon positions her wings, spreading them wide. His hands are gentle but firm as he adjusts the angle. “On my count, she jumps and extends. The air should catch her.”

I move in front of Coral where she can see me clearly and lift my hands. Lady Siofra taught me the signs she used to communicate with us. Coral never had a clutch or an elder wyvern to teach her normal wyvern calls. This is the only language she understands.

I point toward the open air, then sweep both hands outward like wings. Jump. Spread. Hold.

Coral watches every movement, her bright eyes fixed on my hands. I repeat the signs more slowly, then touch my chest and point to her. I am here. You are safe.

Coral stares back at me with those bright eyes. There’s determination there, a spark of fire that makes my chest ache with pride.

Coral wants to do this. She wants to fly like the others.

“Ready?” Landon calls. “Three... two... one... go!”

Coral crouches, gathers herself and leaps from the edge.