"Hey!" Cassian elbowed his way to the middle of the circle, snatching the envelope off the table. "This letter was not given to the squad, let's not gawk as if it belongs to us–" 

He saw the seal and broke off mid word. Then, he too gawked at the envelope as if it belonged to him. 

 "Fuck me," he breathed. "Fowler... Fowler has come out of retirement."

The letter was simple, only containing a time, date, and location. I glanced up from the messy black script to find the entire table watching. Judging by their awed expressions, this was the announcement of the century. The gods had descended the heavens to shake my hand.

"Uh," I said, rubbing an eye. "Who?"

A chorus of groans went around the table. Some of them even started booing me. 

"Liam Fowler is the best instructor to have ever graced Skydescent's halls," Cassian said. "He hasn't taken on a new pupil in over a decade. For him to choose only you –"

The back of the mess hall burst into applause. Edmund stood on top of the Balthasar's table, the torches highlighting his icy blond hair and the new button fixed on his riding jacket. He must have been recently appointed as captain, because his new button's design looked exactly like Cassian's. The same dragon eye close up, except his was gold where Cassian could only afford bronze. 

But the real prize was the letter Edmund clutched over his head. His squadmates cheered fiercely for him, but there was something off about their energy. All of them had strained eyes and tight shoulders, like each was afraid to be the first to stop cheering. They might have kept at it indefinitely, if not for squad Steward.

The Steward table formed a line around their new captain – Atlas – and as they swayed to the beat of their chants, they looked directly at the Balthasars in challenge, making sure to cheer even louder. Grinning, Atlas held an envelope of his own, raising his brows at Edmund in taunt.

Sensing a pattern, I turned across the mess hall until I found the Windsor table. Grace Midlands sat alone at the very edge of the bench, facing the wall ahead as she tucked a letter into her pocket. 

Even though only her side profile was visible from this angle, I could tell that she was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, like a princess ripped straight from the pages of a story book  – skin fresh as a raindrop, hair black as the night.

"So Fowler chose four new pupils," Cassian amended, clapping my shoulder. "That is still a remarkable –" 

His face froze, honing in on something over my shoulder. I turned around to find another messenger crossing the mess hall with two letters in his hand. Every Tudor instantly went dead silent, holding their breath as the messenger boy walked closer and closer – except for Gordo. 

Smirking smugly, Gordon stood up and extended his hand. I thought it was impossible for anything to make Bianca look more annoyed, until the messenger boy handed Gordo a letter. The second and final one went to Elio – a recipient no one had expected. 

"So I guess they just let anyone in," a new pledge snickered under his breath, only to get elbowed by the Tudors sitting next to him.

But to me, even though I've never even met this Fowler guy, everything he did seemed calculated, from the manner he sent his letters to the rookies that received them. There was a reason behind all of Fowler's selections, whether that be their dragon, divine, or political power, but if anyone could be picked purely based on merit, it would be someone as conniving and well-studied as Elio. 

An uneasy feeling pricked the back of my throat. As if to sense my stare, Elio glanced in my direction, but I was already looking away.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN,

WESTERN WOODS,

WATERFALL, MIDNIGHT

– L.J. FOWLER

At half an hour to midnight, Gordo leaned against Bianca's bedpost, snacking loudly on an apple. Of my three roommates, only Bianca had not received an invite, but to be fair, neither had the rest of our year. 

"Don't worry, 'yanca." Gordo smacked his lip, dribbling soggy apple mush down his double chin. "Not everyone can be hot shit. Some of you –"

Then he squawked like a pelican, for Elio and I both took a cheat shot as we passed him – Elio between the legs, and me in the back of the knees.

Then the three of us trekked through the woods by lantern light. As we navigated through the dense branches and up a series of hills, the boys painted a picture of Fowler, and why everyone and their mothers coveted the grounds he walked on. 

"If you admire power, you admire Fowler," Gordo said. "He's responsible for some of the greatest graduates to come out of Skydescent."

"The king was going to make Fowler an honorary duke for his services," Elio added. "But just before the deal was struck, Fowler disappeared, to never be heard from again. That is, until now."

"Until now," Gordo confirmed, his eyes gleaming by the lantern's light. 

As we climbed another hill, the rush of the waterfall grew louder, and once we stood at the top, it could be seen in full. It was small, as far as waterfalls go, three ledges of black rock feeding into a stream. 

Edmund and Grace stood high at the top, casting long shadows over the ground below as they murmured back and forth in low tones. Meanwhile, Atlas looked bored as hell as he sprawled by the stream, skipping stones into the water. He spotted us first.

"Tudors!" he shouted, lifting his hand in greeting.

Edmund and Grace turned. I stiffened, my breath catching in my chest. In the mess hall, I had only seen her side profile. This was the first time I was seeing her in full since she took me captive. 

Grace summoned the wyvern in hopes of becoming its rider, but instead of choosing her, Toh flung her head first into a tree – an event that she had evidently not escaped unscathed. One half of her face was smooth. The other was a jagged quilt of scars, as if her face had been shattered like a vase and stitched back together. 

Grace stiffened, too. Then her lips pulled into a sneer, fire sparking in her eyes. Call me crazy, but I was beginning to suspect she might not be as quick to reconcile as Elio. 

Suddenly, Atlas cut in front of my line of sight, crushing me into a hug. I didn't push him away, but I didn't hug him back, either. Considering the ongoing negotiations for ownership of the wyvern, I could not afford to alienate any of the Houses by having such an obvious favorite. Anymore than I have already, that is. 

But while Atlas had missed that fact, Grace hadn't. 

"That is bold work, raider." Grace wouldn't come down from the top of the waterfall, forcing me to crane my neck back to look at her. "Too bold. If you've already decided which House to whore the wyvern to, at least have the decency to send a raven before flaunting your selection."

"I have not made my choice yet," I replied tonelessly, reciting the standard line I had prepared in case anyone pressed me on the issue. "And when I do, I will consider all Houses fairly and impartially."

"You know what?" Edmund said. "I actually believe that statement. Or, half of that statement."

I glanced at Edmund' eyes, and he met my stare boldly. An unspoken challenge passed between us. He knew I had his father's soul stone, just as I knew that since Sammy went missing in his lands, he would most likely find Sammy before I did. 

Both of us possessed the thing the other desired most – a stalemate that would either end in our mutual benefit, or, more likely, mutual destruction.

"Yes, who knows what will happen?" Atlas cut in. "Our fortunes could shift on the eye – oops, I mean, on the fly."

Edmund's eyes darkened – an odd reaction to Atlas' taunt. 

Over the summer, Bianca routinely sent ravens to update me on the latest gossip and politics, and according to the rumors, Edmund scoured every foreign kingdom within a thousand mile radius until he found a surgeon that could recover his dragon's eye. Despite Atlas' poison and my arrow, his dragon had recovered its vision in full. 

"I tire of these children," Edmund said, turning back to Grace. "Will Fowler be here within the next century?"

"Doubtful," she replied. "No Skydenscent instructor would be this late, especially meeting with pupils like us. Instructor Fowler must have meant the same time on a different day. We'd be better served leaving now and returning tomorrow."

"Yes," Elio agreed. "Waiting any longer is pointless."

Gordo started to walk away, only to realize none of us had moved so much as an inch. He took one look at the tense shoulders and locked jaws and threw his head back, blowing out a long breath. It was clear that no one wanted to be here. It was also clear that no one was willing to risk losing an advantage to the others and would wait all night, if that is what it took.

And so all night, we waited.

As the hours bled on, Atlas, Elio, Gordo, and I sat by the stream while Edmund and Grace stayed perched above us. I swore to stay on guard and watch them both like a hawk, only for Elio to nudge my shoulder. I blinked, peeling my face off my arm to realize I had fallen asleep, and the first streaks of dawn were beaming through the trees. 

Along with the new day came a skinny old man. The rising sun sat over his shoulder as he limped up the hill, leaning on a maroon cane with each step. One of his eyes was a shade darker, fixed on the path ahead. The other was lime green and lulled at the base of his waterline, seeing nothing. I glanced at Elio, and he nodded. 

The man, the legend, the myth. 

Fowler.

"How many?" Fowler barked.

Gordo and Atlas startled, awake at once. Edmund and Grace hurried down from the waterfall. Fowler looked frail enough to snap at a gust of wind, but his voice came like a crack, sharp enough to stir the dead.

"How many of you are here?" Fowler demanded.

"Six, sir," Elio said.

"Six, eh? You all stayed?"

We all chorused our agreement.

"Then forgive me, because five of you have wasted your night for nothing. You see, I have been burned in the past and am no longer willing to take a chance on untested pupils. Some quality about you has struck my notice – whether by destiny, circumstance, or fluke." 

With every category, his lime green eyes shifted to a different focus, from the House heirs, to Gordo and Elio, to me. Meanwhile, the dark brown stayed in place, almost as if one eye was for seeing and the other was for Seeing – Seeing with a capital S. 

"But now it is up to you to keep my notice. With each subsequent meeting, I will eliminate one of you, until only the worthiest remains and becomes my pupil."

"How?" Atlas said.

"A tournament," Fowler replied. "How else?"

"That sounds like a lot of work for an old man's favor," Edmund said. "How do we know your teachings are worth all that effort?"

"Who said that?"

"Atlas Steward," Edmund replied instantly.

"Wha –" Atlas spluttered. "That was Edmund!"

"Yes, Edmund was the one that pointed out your most distasteful comments, Atlas," Grace said.

"No," I started, only for Fowler to raise a bone thin hand, stopping everyone in their tracks.

"Tensions are high," Fowler said. "A demonstration is in order." 

His Seeing eye glowed, then a flash of green overtook my vision. With one blink, I was plummeting through the clouds at a hundred miles per hour. With another, I was leaning into Atlas' chest, gasping for breath as he held me up by the waist.  

With wild eyes, I whipped around my new surroundings, so disoriented that I could not fix the time or place. The group stared back at me, none knowing how to react. Even Edmund and Grace looked more surprised than malicious. 

None of us had ever seen the divine used like this. Fowler hadn't just broken the rules -- he full-on decimated them. 

"It seems I have a joke to tell," Fowler mused. "The dragon rider afraid of heights. Life is full of these little ironies."

Slowly, the group's attention shifted back to me to check the truth of his statement. My face burned. I pulled away from Atlas to stand on my own, but did not deny it, which was as good as confirmation. Slowly, Edmund's face lit up, and his mouth curved into a grin. 

"Remarkable, sir," Edmund said. "Tell another."

Fowler's eye flashed again, and the next thing I knew, all six of us were lying on the ground, groaning.

"I am no puppet," Flower said dryly. "I do not dance at your beck and call. But since you asked so nicely, I will give you one more demonstration – a prophecy. Of the six of you present, one of you will die before the year's end."

We all stared up at him in shock. None of us had ever been so quickly, thoroughly, and easily incapacitated. And Fowler had struck all six of us at once, without even raising a finger.

"Until next summons," Fowler said, limping away.