Chapter 1 - The Empty File
Commander Grayson Ashbourne had gotten used to doing one thing every single time new applicants came his way.
He went through every single one of their files.
Every page.
Every record.
Every note.
Nothing was overlooked.
The people who joined the Dominion would eventually become soldiers, scholars, dragon riders, healers, strategists, or something else entirely.
Some of them would fight beside him.
Some of them would fight against him.
And some of them would not survive long enough to become anything at all.
Grayson preferred to know exactly who was coming through the gates before they arrived.
Which was why, when the newest applicants had been approved to join the Dominion, he had received their files a week before their arrival.
They would arrive in exactly seven days.
He had already gone through every file.
Twice.
Some of them three times.
He sat behind his desk, surrounded by papers, maps, and reports, with only a single candle burning beside him.
Ten years of commanding the Dominion’s forces, and new applicants still made him anxious.
If anything, he hated surprises.
Surprises were unpredictable.
Unpredictability got people killed.
So he made sure every inch of every file was looked at.
He finished one and placed it neatly on the completed pile.
He reached for the next.
The office door opened.
Grayson didn’t look up.
His brother walked in.
The door closed again.
“See? You don’t have any manners,” Grayson murmured as he continued reading.
Cassian gave a quiet laugh.
“How many times are you going to go through all of those files?”
Grayson turned the page.
“As many times as necessary.”
“You got the new recruits a week ago.”
“I know.”
“And every night since then, you’ve looked through them.”
“I know.”
Cassian crossed the room and dropped into the chair opposite his brother’s desk.
“You’re obsessed.”
“I’m thorough.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“I’m prepared.”
Cassian smiled.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Grayson finally looked up.
His younger brother looked as though he’d spent the entire day doing precisely what Grayson would have preferred him not to do.
His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and the black uniform of the Imperial Legions was still fastened across his broad shoulders.
Cassian had always been less concerned with rules than Grayson.
Less concerned with consequences, too.
They were brothers.
They had grown up together.
They had lost their father together.
But the same tragedy had shaped them in completely different ways.
Grayson had become a commander.
Cassian had become a weapon.
“Don’t you have more Vale family members to kill or something?” Grayson asked.
Cassian’s expression changed.
The amusement disappeared.
Their father’s death had happened ten years ago.
Brutally.
Violently.
It had forced Grayson into command before he had been ready.
Cassian had responded differently.
He had sworn that every single person carrying the Vale name would pay for what Theodore Vale had done.
And he had kept that promise.
His wife.
His four sons.
Every known member of the Vale family.
Cassian had hunted them down.
One by one.
Grayson had never shared his brother’s hatred.
He had made his own promise to their father.
He would never punish someone for something they had never done.
“Actually,” Cassian said, “that’s why I’m here.”
Grayson lowered the file slightly.
Cassian leaned forward.
“The son of a bitch apparently had a daughter.”
Grayson’s eyes lifted.
“Who?”
“Theodore Vale.”
The name immediately changed the atmosphere in the room.
Grayson’s expression hardened.
“Theodore Vale?”
Cassian nodded.
“Apparently.”
Grayson stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
“Theodore Vale had four sons.”
“That’s what we thought.”
Grayson’s eyes narrowed.
“Where did you hear this?”
“We found a reference to her.”
“Where?”
“Old records.”
“How old?”
“Old enough that most people probably assumed she didn’t exist.”
Grayson sat back.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
Cassian shook his head.
“We don’t know.”
“Age?”
“Unknown.”
“Where is she?”
“Unknown.”
Grayson’s jaw tightened.
“Then how do you even know she exists?”
“We have evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“Enough.”
Cassian’s tone made it clear he wasn’t going to elaborate.
Grayson knew his brother too well.
If Cassian believed Theodore Vale had another child somewhere, he would find her.
And if he found her...
Grayson already knew what Cassian intended to do.
“Don’t.”
Cassian raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t what?”
“You know exactly what.”
“She’s a Vale.”
“She hasn’t done anything.”
“Neither did the rest of them?”
Grayson’s expression hardened.
“Don’t start.”
Cassian leaned back.
“Your compassion is going to get you killed one day.”
“Maybe.”
“Or someone else.”
Grayson said nothing.
Cassian watched him for a moment before standing.
“You really don’t want anything to do with this?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to know where she is?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to know whether she’s alive?”
Grayson looked at him.
“That’s your problem, Cassian.”
His brother’s jaw tightened.
“Fine.”
Cassian turned toward the door.
“Just don’t pretend you weren’t warned.”
“About what?”
Cassian looked over his shoulder.
“The Vales aren’t finished with us.”
Then he left.
The door shut.
Grayson stared at it for several seconds.
He hated conversations like that.
Hated the way Cassian allowed the past to dictate everything.
Their father had been dead for ten years, yet his death still seemed to live inside Cassian like an open wound.
Grayson had learned to live with his grief.
Cassian had turned his into vengeance.
And Grayson couldn’t change that.
If there really was another Vale daughter somewhere, Cassian would search for her.
Grayson just hoped he never found her.
He turned back to his desk.
There were more important things to worry about.
The new applicants.
Grayson reached for the next file.
He opened it.
And paused.
Ophelia Lyra.
He frowned.
The file was thin.
Very thin.
He flipped to the first page.
Seventeen years old.
His eyes lingered on the number.
Seventeen.
He looked at it again, as if the number might change if he stared at it long enough.
It didn’t.
He continued.
No listed family members.
No recorded education.
No military experience.
No previous employment.
No notable achievements.
No disciplinary history.
Nothing.
Grayson turned the page.
Still nothing.
He turned another.
Nothing.
His brow furrowed.
“What the hell?”
He went back to the first page.
There was a small photograph attached to the corner.
A young girl stared back at him.
Brown hair.
Soft features.
Grey-blue eyes.
She looked...
Ordinary.
Completely ordinary.
Grayson glanced down at the application.
Then back at the photograph.
“She looks like a perfectly ordinary seventeen-year-old.”
He turned the page.
The age was confirmed again.
Seventeen.
The original paperwork had apparently contained an error, which had since been corrected.
Grayson sighed.
“At least they corrected it.”
He continued reading.
Nothing.
The girl’s entire life appeared to consist of almost nothing.
No family.
No schooling.
No connections.
No history worth mentioning.
Just a name.
Ophelia Lyra.
And an application to join the Dominion.
Grayson didn’t like it.
Not because she looked dangerous.
She didn’t.
That was the problem.
People left traces.
Everyone did.
A person went to school.
Had friends.
Had family.
Worked somewhere.
Lived somewhere.
Made mistakes.
Built relationships.
Something.
Yet this girl’s file contained almost none of it.
He reached the final page.
There was a brief assessment written by the person who had reviewed her application.
Grayson read it.
His expression darkened.
Marked as a mistake to society.
He stared at the words.
His thumb pressed against the edge of the paper.
“I hate it when people mark applicants as a mistake to society.”
Cassian’s voice came from the doorway.
Grayson looked up sharply.
He hadn’t heard him return.
Cassian was leaning against the doorframe.
Grayson looked back at the file.
“Ophelia Lyra.”
Cassian stepped farther into the room.
“That’s the one?”
“Seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“She’s a child.”
Cassian shrugged.
“She’s old enough to train.”
“That’s not the point.”
Grayson flipped the page.
Nothing.
No family members.
No education.
No previous military experience.
No substantial history at all.
Just a few sparse details.
He turned another page.
His expression darkened.
Status: Unknown.
Then—
Social classification: Mistake to society.
Grayson stared at the words.
His jaw tightened.
“What the hell is this?”
Cassian stood and walked around the desk.
He glanced over Grayson’s shoulder.
“Ophelia Lyra.”
“Seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“She’s a child.”
Cassian shrugged.
“She’s old enough to train.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Cassian rolled his eyes.
Grayson looked at the photograph again.
“It matters because someone wrote that about a seventeen-year-old.”
“Maybe she deserves it.”
“Do you know her?”
“No.”
“Then don’t judge her.”
Cassian scoffed.
“You really do have a problem with people making decisions.”
“I have a problem with people making decisions without knowing the facts.”
Cassian glanced toward the file.
“What’s so interesting?”
“Her file is practically empty.”
“Then reject her.”
Grayson looked at the photograph again.
“No.”
Cassian raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
“She passed the preliminary assessment.”
“So?”
“So someone saw something worth accepting.”
Cassian shrugged.
“Or someone made a mistake.”
Grayson closed the file.
“Then we’ll find out.”
Cassian studied him.
“You actually care?”
“I care about everyone who enters my fortress.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Grayson gave him a look.
Cassian smiled.
“Relax, Commander.”
He pushed away from the desk.
“I’ll leave you to your paperwork.”
Grayson waited until the door closed again.
Silence settled over the office.
The candle beside him flickered.
He looked down at the closed file.
Ophelia Lyra.
He opened it again.
There was something wrong here.
Not wrong with her.
Wrong with the absence of her.
Seventeen years of life couldn’t simply disappear.
Even the most secretive person left evidence behind.
A school record.
A physician.
A neighbor.
A guardian.
A family member.
Someone.
Something.
But Ophelia had none of it.
Grayson turned the photograph over.
Nothing was written on the back.
He stared at her face again.
She looked young.
Too young.
Too young to be thinking about becoming a soldier.
Too young to understand what joining the Dominion could mean.
Too young to understand what it meant to become a dragon rider.
He leaned back in his chair.
“What sane person sends their seventeen-year-old here?”
No answer came.
Of course it didn’t.
The girl wasn’t even there yet.
Seven days.
Seven days until the new applicants arrived.
Seven days until he could ask her himself.
If she was willing to answer.
Grayson reached for his pen.
At the top of the page, he wrote one word.
Investigate.
He closed the file.
Placed it separately from the others.
And for the first time that evening, Grayson stopped thinking about the hundreds of applicants arriving at Ashbourne Fortress.
He thought about one.
Ophelia Lyra.
The girl with no education.
No family.
No references.
No history.
Just a name.
And an application to become a dragon rider.
Grayson didn’t know why someone had sent her.
He didn’t know where she’d come from.
He didn’t know what she’d survived.
And he certainly didn’t know that the girl whose empty file had caught his attention was carrying a secret that could shake the Dominion to its foundations.
He didn’t know who she really was.
And, for now...
Neither did he.
