Both Xaden and Travis oversee new recruits crossing the bridge for their first exam. Travis attempts to lighten the mood with jokes while Xaden remains stern, the river below already claiming numerous candidates. As another recruit approaches, Travis signs papers and signals them to start.

"See you two, come forward!" Travis calls over his shoulder with an excited grin before stepping onto the parapet, arms spread wide toward the bridge. "Ready for the next one. Xaden, did you write the name of the second?" asks the rider with ripped sleeves.

"Are you ready for this?" Rhiannon inquires, moving forward beside you. Xaden, the black-haired rider, snaps his gaze toward you, turning fully. A rebellion relic curves in dips and swirls from his bare left wrist, disappearing under his black uniform to reappear at his collar and stretch up his neck, stopping at his jawline. His eyes narrow as if he can hear your thoughts over the howling wind that tugs at your secured braid.

"Sorrengail?" Xaden steps toward you, and you find yourself looking up—way up. He towers over you by more than four inches above six feet. You feel fragile, just as Mira had called you, but nod once. The onyx shine of his eyes transforms into cold, unadulterated hatred. The loathing seems to waft off him like a bitter cologne.

"General Sorrengail's youngest," Rhiannon states from beside you, her voice carrying unspoken judgment as she moves forward to sign in.