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The barracks are colder when you're alone.
I lay on my back, but I don't sleep. I can't. How can I close my eyes when all I see when I do are the disappointed faces of everyone I care about? How am I supposed to rest easy when I've failed to do the one thing I've worked towards for my entire life? Am I really supposed to just get back up and do it all again, when the outcome will more likely than not be the same next year, too?
I did the math. I memorized every name, every trait, everything it takes to be a rider. I know the exact number of living cadets and those of the dragons willing to bond. I had every chance to bond and to prove myself, and I can count the number of dragons who approached me at first on both hands. I had a perfectly good probability of making it out of there on dragonback. I could've, if I tried a little harder.
You're supposed to just know when you find your bonded. There's supposed to be this spark, a loose thread that tightens to the brink of snapping while another presence takes front and center within your own mind and becomes a part of you. Two souls, melded into one. That's how it's meant to go.
I never felt a spark. In all honesty, I can't tell you what I feel.
Maybe that's because I can't feel anything at all, besides the sting of gauze on my back and a boatload of shame. Or is it disappointment, that I didn't make the cut? Dread, that I'll have to cross the parapet again in ten months' time? It could very well be resentment. Whether it's towards myself or the dragons, I can't tell.
It's resentment all the same.
And it burns.
Hotter than any flame, stronger than the magic that commands our world, it burns.
When they gathered the unbonded into a group, some were already itching to kill. Some howled their anguish into the stormy skies above. Some cried into the mud.
Me?
I just stared at my feet, because I knew if I dared to look over at my squadmates who bonded, I'd feel the stab of bitterness that had already begun to worm its way through my gut. We celebrated last night. We all had an animated, excited conversation about which dragons we'd bond, about what our signets would be, and how we'd celebrate tonight, too. We were going to drink. We were going to pass out on someone's bedroom carpet and then gaslight our squad leader into letting us miss formation. We were going to walk into physics hungover and happy and ridiculous.
We did it together.
And now I'm alone.
Alone, except for maybe seven or eight other guys in here who were also unfortunate enough to be rejected by the most powerful beings in The Continent. But they're no friends of mine — I know exactly the types of things people are willing to do in order to get their so-called happy endings here, and if they have to resort to murder, they'll absolutely give it a shot. Unbondeds don't have friends, anyway. Allies, maybe, but not friends, and certainly not squadmates. You lose that privilege the moment you're deemed unworthy.
I am unworthy.
And, gods, it hurts more than I ever thought it could to think that. I've tried to be the best I could for my entire life — a good son, a good brother, a good student, a good soldier — but the message is clear: No matter what, I will never be good enough when it really matters most.
I can't even begin to consider the other implications of my failure. I'll have to do everything again. Cross the parapet, retake every class and exam, train for the Gauntlet, go through Presentation…and then the shitshow that is Threshing. I don't have a choice. You either bond here, or die trying.
Not to be dramatic, but Malek sounds like a very pleasant god right now.
I sigh roughly and slide a hand through my hair, frustration simmering low within me. How will I explain this to my family? They'll know something is up right away when I don't write back to them. Fuck, I promised my sisters that I'd write, and now I won't be able to send a missve back home for almost two years.
In the end, it's not the fact that I didn't bond that gets me. It's not the resentment, or the shame.
It's the look of disappointment on my little sisters' faces when they realize I might not be home as quickly as they'd like. Meridyth's shoulders sinking, the usual little grin on Anni's face falling.
I can't stop the few tears that slide from my eyes and sideways off my cheeks. I haven't cried in gods-know how long, but they're inevitable now. I deserve it, anyway, for the pain that I'm about to cause my family. I'm doing this for them, and I'm failing all at once. Talk about skeletons in the closet.
I groan and roll onto my stomach, groaning quietly. What's the worse title: An unworthy cadet, or a shitty brother?
"Oi!" From across the room, someone knocks against their cot with a sharp clang. "Just because there's less of us, doesn't mean you can start jacking it whenever you want now. Shut the hell up, man."
I resist the urge to chuck a throwing knife and instead bury my head under my pillow. I'll never make it out of these fucking barracks.