Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Xaden Riorson, the powerful leader. Rhiannon Matthias, the clever friend. Dain Aetos, the dutiful rule-follower. Liam Mairi, the kindhearted protector. Ridoc Gamlyn, the jokester. Sawyer Henrick, the underdog. Garrick Tavis, the dependable aide. Imogen Cardulo, the impulsive fighter. Bodhi Durran, the second-in-command. Mira Sorrengail, the fearless rider. Brennan Sorrengail, the brilliant tactician. Aaric Graycastle, the restless royal. Sloane Mairi, the determined sister.
On Threshing Day, there’s only one rule: don’t die.
The Empyrean series is best enjoyed in order.
Reading Order:
Book #1 Fourth Wing
Book #2 Iron Flame
Book #3 Onyx Storm
Though Threshing Day can be enjoyed as an introduction to the series, due to contained spoilers, it is best read after Onyx Storm
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Brennan
Today is the day I make my parents proud, the day I become a rider like my mother and her parents before me.
Or I could die and become the greatest disappointment in the Sorrengail line.
Damn, I really hope not.
Somehow, dying is preferable to Mom feeling like she needs to change my last name on my headstone because I didn’t live up to it. Her familial line is so legendary among riders that Dad took her last name when they married, even though his was equally powerful among scribes.
“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Flynn Ennis asks as first-years scatter into Threshing Valley. The muscular brunet clutches the pommel of his short sword as if the weapon has a chance of protecting him from a dragon.
Unlike Ennis, I grew up close enough to Aimsir—Mom’s dragon—to know that if a dragon wants to kill you, you’re already dead. They couldn’t care less about any weapon smaller than a crossbolt, and raising a sword will just piss them off.
“I’m sure.” I give him a curt nod and a quick half smile to assuage the fear shining in his eyes. We spent a night together a few weeks ago, but I can’t let anything I feel for him sway me from my years of preparation for this moment. Especially when he’s making a stupid choice. “See you on the flight field, Ennis.”
“See you on the flight field, Sorrengail,” he replies, a barely noticeable tremble to his mouth. He turns back to a handful of my squadmates, and the group takes off together into the forest of enormous trees.
Gods, they’re foolish.
I watch as they disappear, and my heart clenches. It’s likely the last time I’ll see some—if not all—of them. They’re making a mistake, choosing the perceived safety of numbers and ignoring Professor Kaori’s advice to conquer this challenge on our own, but nothing I’ve said in the past few days has swayed them. Trying to convince them now would only be an exercise in futility, and today is not the day to expend needless energy or waste time.
The only decisions I can impact are my own. I need to find the highest, most central tree in the valley, then keep watch as dragons move below until I feel the one who’s meant for me. It’s a simple and, hopefully, effective plan. I should be landing on the flight field in the next hour.
A shape moves in my peripheral vision, and my stomach dips as I pivot toward the threat, my head whipping to the right as a figure in the cream uniform of the scribes steps out from behind a wide tree trunk a dozen feet away.
“Dragons loathe crowds. Good choice to handle this on your own,” Dad says with a nod of approval, the dappled sunlight catching the gold threads of the major rank stitched onto the shoulder of his tunic as he walks my way, opening his arms.
“Dad?” There’s barely time to pick my jaw up off the ground before he pulls me into a hug, his hand thumping my back. I grasp on to him, breathing in the soothing scent of parchment that clings to his uniform, and something rights deep within me, steadies me. Mom may be the rigid spine of our family, but Dad is the heart. “What are you doing here?”
“Here as in Basgiath?” He pulls back, gifting me with a wide grin my mother has always sworn we share. We also have the same reddish hue to our hair, though his is slowly turning silver in streaks and mine is given to curl, and identically straight noses. The older I get, the more I look like him, which doesn’t bother me in the least. “Or here as in the valley?”