CHAPTER 15 - MEDRA

Two Weeks Later

Bloodwing Academy was a beautiful enigma.

The more I wandered through its maze-like halls, the more I felt as if I were falling in love with the old castle's strange allure. Many of my fellow students were brutal, but there was somehow serenity here, too.

Passing through a corridor, I could glance out a tall, arched window and be greeted by the sight of the sea, wild and silver under an autumn sky.

On my way to class, I might pass through a courtyard filled with towering trees, like none I'd ever seen before in Aercanum, their branches twisted and ancient, creating canopies of gold and red against the sky. I'd already come to love walking beneath those trees, smelling the crisp air that carried the scent of damp earth, wood smoke, and fallen leaves, each step crunching pleasantly under my boots.

The castle's nooks and crannies seemed endless. But it was this very quality I was coming to adore. Though the academy's size was intimidating and I'd run across more than one fellow First Year looking lost and wild-eyed, I was starting to take an odd comfort in its labyrinthine nature. It was as if the building itself was inviting me to unravel its mysteries.

Two weeks had passed since my arrival in Sangratha. Two weeks since I'd become a student at Bloodwing.

I'd made some notes for my essay on dragons, but hadn't really started writing yet. Still, the more I learned about the ancient beasts, the more grateful I was that there were none left alive.

Dragons had a reputation for brutality. Left unchecked, they would kill and feed as voraciously as a highblood, if not more so. Their appetites were vast. Keeping dragons had been an expense only the most elite houses could maintain.

The relationship between dragons and their riders seemed precarious to me. The dragons were possessive and passionate about their riders. But they could also turn on them in an instant. The death of a rider was as likely to happen at the hands of their own dragon than another. Dragons were prickly creatures, easily offended, selfish and demanding.

The relationship between riders, dragons, and highbloods was similarly fraught. Riders tethered the dragons to the vampires. They were the only thing that had kept the dragons in check. When a rider fell, their dragon's loyalty to a highblood house could not be guaranteed until the dragon had agreed to bond with a new rider of the same house.

There were many stories of highblood houses having to fight and kill their own dragons that had gone berserk.

And still other stories of highblood houses that had fallen entirely because they'd been unable to overcome their own dragon's might. Those were my favorite.

As for my sessions with Professor Rodriguez in thrallguard, it turned out that learning how to block thrallweave was as exhausting as a combat class. If not more so.

"You've been granted the right to train in something most vampires themselves never master," Professor Rodriguez had explained at our first session. "Most highbloods assume the ability to block is innate. Some are capable of it, some are not."

His dark hair fell across his brow as he leaned forward, his eyes sharp and focused. "The art of thrallguard has ancient roots. Some historians claim the skill originated with mortals in the first place and not vampires at all. That's the most believable explanation to me."

I shifted in my chair, feeling anticipation and trepidation. "What do you mean?"

"Mortals have always had the most to fear from vampires, no?"

"I'd say so," I muttered.

He smiled slightly. "We're weaker in most ways. But even so, every mortal has the potential for magic, no matter how miniscule. At some point, a mortal developed their defenses and was able to block thrallweave."

"I expect the vampires didn't like that," I speculated.

"No," he agreed. "The mortal who first discovered how to block thrallweave may have been severely punished. But not before they passed on the skill to someone else."

"And eventually the vampires took credit for it entirely?" I suggested.

He nodded.

I suspected this was heresy. Something Rodriguez wouldn't dare to say to a highblood's face. But here he was, daring to say it to me.

"Eventually, vampires made the skill their own. Dragon riders were the only mortals permitted to learn it."

"Why?" I demanded, leaning forward. "Why them?"

"I should think it would be obvious. Because they held the key to the realm's most valuable weapon. A weapon that the highbloods themselves were never able to wield, to their perpetual frustration and fury. Dragons. A vampire could never control a dragon."

"But if a vampire could control a rider, they essentially had a way in," I guessed.

"Exactly. Now, you might think this would be an excellent thing. A way for a house to control a dragon via their rider. But the houses have long been in bloody competition with one another. So having a rider open to the coercion of other houses was a weakness. Imagine a rider soaring above on an incoming attack, only to be turned away because someone down below was powerful enough to enthrall them. So, long ago, it was agreed that those chosen to ride would be trained to shield their minds, in order to protect their mounts and their Houses." Rodriguez passed, watching me. "The mind is a delicate thing. Even vampires with all their power and skill can be vulnerable to thrallweave."

"How vulnerable?" I demanded. "Can it kill them?"

"It can kill a mortal, certainly. It's rare for a highblood to be able to kill another highblood with thrallweave alone. But there are legends where it happens. Whether there's any truth to those stories..." He shrugged. "We're not here to practice thrallweave. We're here to protect your will. Thrallguard is a grueling skill to hone. There will be moments when you want to quit, when it feels like your mind is splintering from the strain. But you will endure."

"I will," I agreed, gritting my teeth.

Rodriguez looked amused. "You're eager to learn. That's understandable. I was as well."

I suddenly thought of something. "Did you attend Bloodwing, too? When you were young? Who taught you how to use thrallguard?"

He smiled pleasantly. "We aren't talking about me today. This is about you, Miss Pendragon."

Still, I wondered if he had, wondered if Rodriguez had been bullied by highbloods just like what was happening to me. That would explain why he'd worked to hone his ability in thrallguard.

"Unlike in a combat class, thrallguard is not about physical strength," Rodriguez went on. "It's about mental resilience which is, arguably, even more important. You need to be warned–the process can be...invasive."

I nodded, feeling a tremor of unease.

"I'm going to test your defenses today. The process isn't particularly gentle. But I'll try not to push you too far." He rose and stood in front of me. "We'll start now."

Before I could even formulate a reply, I felt it–a sharp, sudden pressure against my mind, like someone forcing open a door I hadn't realized I'd left unlocked.

Panic washed over me. Regan. It was happening again.

My thoughts scattered as I instinctively tried to pull away. I gripped the armrests of my chair and leaned as far back as I could get, as if hoping that would be enough to stop the sensation.

But Rodriguez didn't stop. He pushed again and a wave of focused energy brushed up against my memories from earlier that same day–eating breakfast in the refectory, walking down the hallway towards class.

My heart raced as I suddenly realized what he might find if he looked a little longer. I scrambled, desperately trying to erect barriers, but his presence slipped through the cracks like smoke.

The pressure grew more invasive, more threatening, and I felt panic rise within me.

He was going through my memories. So far he had only sifted through recent ones. I felt him pushing through my days at Bloodwing, felt him peering into my memory of standing atop the black stone dragon, felt him feeling my fear, my terror.

"You're letting me in too easily," Rodriguez said. His voice sounded as if it was coming from far away. "You have to push back. Your mind is your own. Guard it with your life."

"I thought I was pushing back," I said through clenched teeth.

He sighed and I felt the mental pressure ease, disappearing as suddenly as it had begun. "Blocking someone from entering your mind isn't like swinging a sword or using brute force. It's about control. Subtle, precise control over your own thoughts. Think of it as the gradual building of a fortress. But this fortress can't be made of rigid stone. It has to be adaptable, flexible. Eventually, it can become impenetrable."

That was what I wanted. To become a fortress.

I frowned, curling my fingers in my lap. "But how? How do I even start?"

Rodriguez's expression softened slightly as if he sensed my fear. "It's going to take time. We'll start with a tactic I first learned. It's called mental partitioning. You'll learn how to separate your mind into different layers, creating barriers between your surface thoughts–between the ones you're okay with others seeing...."

I winced. There wasn't really anything in my head I wanted a stranger to see.

He saw my expression and smiled slightly. "I know. But just think how much worse it could be if I were someone else." He let the suggestion hang there.

I nodded firmly. "Right. I understand. I don't want you to go easy on me."

"That's the spirit," he said with a small smile. "Anyhow, mental partitioning. Creating a barrier between your thoughts. The ones you don't mind revealing and the ones you need to keep hidden." He shrugged. "We all have those, right? Eventually I might let you see what I had for breakfast, too, Miss Pendragon."

He grinned and I smiled weakly.

I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but I hadn't anticipated it being this difficult. This... invasive. I could still feel the echo of Rodriguez's presence in my mind, a reminder of how easily he'd been able to slip past my weak defenses.

My non-existent defenses.

My stomach churned. What if this wasn't training? What if this was real? If it was someone trying to harm me or, worse, trying to force me to harm myself or someone else again? My mind flashed back to Regan, to how helpless and violated I'd felt.

A tremor of resentment flared through me. I knew Professor Rodriguez was doing this for my own good, but the potential he had to tear through my mind, to search for every vulnerable thought, left me feeling raw and exposed. I hated it. I hated how easily my weaknesses could be discovered, no matter how I tried to hide them.

Rodriguez had been waiting. When I nodded that I was ready to continue, he gestured for me to close my eyes.

"Imagine your mind as a space. An open field, let's say. Now start constructing layers. These will be the partitions. The first layer should hold nothing of importance. Your recent thoughts, trivial memories. These are the decoys. Eventually, I'll only sense what lays behind them if you want me to."

I closed my eyes, trying to picture my mind the way he described it. It felt strange, unnatural. But as I focused, I began to form a mental wall. It was thin, like a piece of paper, hardly a wall at all. But it was a start.

"Good," Rodriguez said. He was trying to be encouraging. "Now, I'm going to attempt to push past that first layer. When you feel me approaching, I want you to reinforce it. Don't just let me through."

I tensed up. There it was again. Like a soft knock against the edge of my mind. His presence was there, probing, but not forceful. Not yet. It was a gentle push, like someone testing the strength of a door.

I flinched, instinctively wanting to pull away, but instead I focused on my wall, adding another piece of parchment, then another. I imagined it thickening, reinforcing it with iron bars, holding it firm.

"That's it," Rodriguez said. "Keep building your wall. Feel the pressure. Don't let it crack."

The pressure increased slightly, but the wall held. My heart was pounding but I also felt a small bloom of pride.

Rodriguez spoke again. "Good. We'll stop there for today." He paused. "I could push your wall down if I tried, but I'm not going to do that."

My sense of pride plummeted. "Okay. Thank you...I guess?"

He nodded. "I'm not going to take it easy on you. But this is just the beginning. It takes time and practice. You'll need to learn to disguise the partitions. After all, if someone senses a wall, they'll know there's something behind it you don't want them to see."

"So what do I do?" I asked, opening my eyes, and feeling frustrated once more.

"You need to appear ordinary. Your thoughts should seem like an open book–but only the pages you want someone to read. Everything else should be hidden, masked by false thoughts." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "It's about constructing a new reality. A new you. A believable one. You'll need to practice disguising your true intentions. Sometimes, it's not just about stopping someone from entering your mind but about making them think there's nothing worth searching for in the first place."

This was another level of thrallweave's power I hadn't even considered before. Regan hadn't been interested in my memories. She'd just wanted to control me. But if she'd gone searching? There was no way I'd have been able to stop her.

Right now, I was an open book.

Just like all of the other blightborn students.

But I doubted any of them had come here from another world.

"I know what you're thinking," Rodriguez said, watching me. "We'll work on the compulsion aspect of thrallweave, too. That's what Miss Pansera used with such blunt force the other day. But let's start slow. Thrallguard training can be, well...intense."

My stomach tightened. This was more complex than I could have imagined. Yet deception was my forte, wasn't it? After all, I was here. They didn't know what I truly was, not who I truly was, not really.

"What do I do next time?"

"You'll start by practicing simple distractions. Next time we meet, I'll push harder, and you'll need to throw some false memories and thoughts in my path. Anything to divert attention. It's like leading someone down the wrong corridor in a maze." He paused. "But for now, let's just work on building that first layer. Keep it firm, focus on controlling what I see."

I nodded and stood up. I felt weak and shaky. And Rodriguez hadn't really even let loose on me. Not like he could have.

"This is going to take time," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But you have potential. I wouldn't have offered to teach you if I thought you didn't. Once you truly master this, no one will be able to touch your mind again. Unless you want them to."

I couldn't imagine ever wanting that. I nodded my thanks. But as I left the room, my mind was racing and the feeling of vulnerability lingered.

The more we practiced, the more of a chance Professor Rodriguez would have of seeing my most painful, private memories.

And if he got too close, if anyone did, I wasn't sure what would happen.

The following weeks were grueling. Professor Rodriguez didn't ease up. Each session, his attacks grew a little stronger and my wall fell over and over.

The only good thing was that he seemed to have forgotten about the essay I was supposed to be writing. Maybe he'd taken pity on me. Though I was sure it was temporary.

Some nights, after a particularly intense session, I'd lie awake, thinking about how easily Rodriguez could get into my mind. Or any other highblood, for that matter.

It was like my grandfather all over again. Reaching for me, grasping, taking from me what didn't belong to him. My memories. My life.

Eventually a night came where I was exhausted. But there was only so long I could stay inside.

Brooding and melancholic, I paced the First Year common room, trailing my finger along the window ledges.

Back in Camelot, I'd have gone for a ride with Odessa. I'd have galloped my horse hard, felt the wind in my hair. But here, I had no horse. Nowhere to go. So far as I knew, even the exits to Bloodwing were guarded. We weren't permitted to visit the city.

A spark of light down below the castle caught my eye. A fire, down on the beach.

Theo's party.

I glanced across the room at where Florence sat scribbling on parchment. Books lay open in a semi-circle all around her and she seemed to be reading from two or three simultaneously. Naveen had gone to bed already.

But I was restless. There was a fire in my blood tonight and I couldn't seem to quell it.

I glanced down at the bonfire again, then made up my mind.