Smoke & Shadow Book 1: Alpha Julian

I barely slept last night. Between the excitement and the nerves, I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, running through every scenario in my head.

Now, as the first rays of dawn creep through the window, I throw off my blanket and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

Across the room, my sister, Addison, stirs but doesn’t wake. Typical.

I grab the closest pillow and launch it at her head.

“Up. Now,” I say. “Bus leaves in an hour.”

She groans, flailing as the pillow bounces off her face. “Five more minutes.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Sleep through the most important day of our lives. No big deal.”

That gets her attention. She sits up, hair a tangled mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. “I hate you.”

I smirk. “Love you too.”

Addison grumbles something under her breath, but she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and rubs her eyes.

I don’t wait for her to fully wake up. Instead, I grab my toiletries and head toward the bathroom at the end of the hall.

I turn on the light and step in front of the mirror.

Staring back at me is a slim but athletic girl with long, dark hair that falls past my shoulders in loose waves.

My green eyes—bright, sharp, and restless—are the only thing that set me apart from Addison, whose deep blue gaze always carries an edge of calm I’ll never have.

We’re identical in almost every other way. Same sharp cheekbones, same full lips, same stubborn tilt of the chin.

But people never mix us up for long. Addison moves like she’s always in control, unshaken and composed.

Me? I’ve been told I’m all fire and wind, fast to act, fast to react.

Maybe that’s because we were raised among the Windbreaker Clan, living in the high cliffs of our territory our entire lives.

It was home, perched high above the world, where the wind was a constant companion, and the sky felt endless.

Our small town is nestled in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee. It wouldn’t seem like anything special to those passing through, but our town holds a secret.

We are full of dragon shifters.

Most people think dragons are the stuff of fairy tales—myths spun from ancient stories. They’re wrong.

Dragons have existed since before humans even took their first breath.

There are four great clans, each tied to one of the elements—Fire Breathers, Water Dragons, Earth Dragons, and Windbreakers.

Each has its own strengths, its own purpose. We’re in four small towns within miles of one another.

But not all dragons are the same.

Some, like the Alphas, can shift into their dragon forms at will, powerful and untouchable.

Others, like my sister and me, carry the dragon trait in our bloodline but cannot shift.

We’re just as much a part of this world, but to some, we’ll never be enough.

Not to King Atlar.

The Shadow Dragon. The one who once ruled over us all.

He wasn’t just a dragon—he was something more. A being who could command all the elements, a ruler who saw himself as untouchable.

He believed those who couldn’t shift were weak, too human, too close to the creatures he feared most.

His greatest fear?

That the ones without the ability to shift would grow in number, that their human side would push them toward war, toward control, toward wiping out the ones who could shift.

Fear. That’s what always drives humans.

It’s what drove Atlar too.

And fear makes monsters.

In the end, the clans had no choice. They weren’t warriors, they were just people trying to protect their families.

So, they did the only thing they could—they trapped him.

They lured him into the Abyssal Caves, a place so deep, so laced with ancient power, that no dragon could escape.

And to make sure he never did, the Fire Breathers took up the responsibility of guarding it.

But legend says a new Shadow Shifter will rise one day as our next king.

That he’ll be born among us, that he’ll awaken Atlar’s power, challenge him, and that he will rule over us all.

Some fear it. Others prepare for it.

That’s why the academy exists.

Because if war comes, if the prophecy is real… we won’t be caught unprepared.

I push the thought away and splash cold water on my face, watching as droplets run down my skin.

No use thinking about prophecies now.

I had an amazing day ahead of me.

By the time we’re packed and dressed, anticipation hums beneath my skin.

Today, we leave home and head to the academy. The place where riders are forged and where the Alphas of the four dragon clans train together.

It’s not just a school—it’s a proving ground.

Downstairs, our parents linger near the door, their expressions torn between pride and unease.

Dad clasps my shoulder, his grip firm. “Remember, discipline over instinct.”

I nod, though my heart pounds a little harder.

Mom tugs my sister into a tight hug before turning to me. “And if anything feels wrong—”

“I know, Mom,” I say, gently cutting her off. “We’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but there’s no time for second-guessing. The bus is waiting.

Outside, the others are already gathered in the town square, some laughing, some looking like they might throw up.

We sling our bags over our shoulders, exchanging quick goodbyes before stepping onto the large transport bus.

The doors shut behind us with a hiss.

And just like that, we’re on our way.

The drive is long, winding through dense forests and jagged cliffs.

The closer we get, the more the landscape shifts—wild and untamed, perfect for dragons.

I stare out the window, my nerves building. My sister nudges me. “You’re quiet.”

I shrug. “Just thinking.”

She doesn’t press, but I know she’s just as on edge as I am.

None of us really know what to expect. We’ve trained, we’ve studied, but the academy is something else entirely.

A few seats ahead, some of the others are chatting.

“So, what do you think it’s gonna be like?” a guy asks, throwing his arm over the seat.

I shrug. “People say it’s hell.”

Someone laughs. “Yeah, but no one ever quits.”

That’s the thing—no one quits because you’re not allowed to quit. You either survive training… or you don’t.

The bus smelled of old leather and nervous energy.

Every seat was filled with recruits—some excited, some tense, all waiting to be thrown into a world where failure meant death.

I shifted my bag onto my lap, my fingers tightening around the strap.

This was it.

No more pack rules. No more limits. No more safe, predictable life.

I glanced at my sister, who sat beside me, practically vibrating with excitement.

“We’re finally going,” she murmured, leaning in. “No more being stuck in the same old routines.”

I exhaled, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. “No, just a bunch of dragons that could kill us if we make one wrong move.”

She rolled her eyes. “You always look at the worst-case scenario.”

That’s because the worst-case scenario was real.

The academy didn’t take just anyone. You had to be born into this life—dragon blood running in your veins, even if you couldn’t shift yourself.

But just because we belonged didn’t mean we’d survive.

Outside the window, the forests blurred past, dark pines twisting into the looming mountains. Drakenhold Academy lay beyond them, carved into the cliffs like an ancient fortress.

I exhaled slowly. Whatever awaited us, there was no turning back.

The bus lurched as we hit a rough patch of road, jostling me against the seat. Addy and I sat near our best friends, Shawn, Isaac, Gemma, and Courtney.

“Alright, spill it,” Shawn grinned from the seat in front of us, twisting to face me and my sister. “Are you ready for this?”

Gemma, sitting beside her, smirked. “You mean, ready to get eaten alive by a dragon?”

“Only if you screw up,” Isaac shot back.

I sighed. “I don’t think any of us are ready. But we don’t have a choice.”

Courtney leaned in. “I heard the Elite Squad is watching the new arrivals.”

The Elite Squad. The best of the best. The Alphas of the four dragon clans, the strongest shifters alive.

And Julian was their leader.

“They say Julian doesn’t bond,” Courtney whispered. “He thinks riders are a joke.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Everyone had stories about Julian—that he was ruthless, that he didn’t trust riders, that he had never let a single one near his dragon.

It didn’t matter. I wasn’t here for him.

I was here to survive.

The tension in the bus thickens as we climb higher into the mountains. Then, suddenly, the road ends, replaced by a wide stone clearing overlooking the valley.

We’re here.

The academy is carved into the cliffs, massive stone towers connected by bridges, the sound of dragons echoing through the air. Instructors wait at the entrance, their expressions unreadable.

I take a deep breath.

This is it.

The moment we stepped off the bus, the air changed. The scent of pine and stone mixed with the undeniable presence of dragons. A roar echoed across the cliffs, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated in my chest.

The academy loomed before us, carved into the mountainside, banners of the four dragon clans whipping in the wind.

And at the far end of the training grounds, they stood waiting.

The Elite Squad.

Four figures, each unmistakably powerful, stood near the stone arch that marked the entrance to the academy. But my eyes locked onto the one in the center.

Julian.

Even among the strongest dragon shifters, he stood apart. He was tall, broad-shouldered, built like someone who was used to winning—used to dominance. His black Henley fit snug across his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal tattoos winding down his forearms, sharp lines and intricate symbols inked into golden-bronze skin. His black hair was slightly tousled, as if he hadn’t bothered to tame it, and his dark eyes held the quiet, lethal confidence of a predator at rest.

Because that’s what he was. Not just a man. Not just an Alpha.

A dragon.

Even in human form, it clung to him—the raw power, the quiet, controlled menace of something ancient and untouchable. His presence felt like a storm gathering on the horizon, unseen but impossible to ignore.

The other Alphas smirked, nudging each other as they watched us, but Julian didn’t smirk. He didn’t speak. He just stood there, arms crossed, utterly still. Watching. Judging.

His gaze flicked over the crowd. Over me.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

Dismissed.

A sharp, unexpected sting tightened in my chest. Stupid. What did I expect? Recognition? Interest? But the way he barely acknowledged me sent unease crawling up my spine.

Julian wasn’t just the strongest of the Elite Squad. He was the deadliest.

And I wasn’t sure if I wanted his attention—or to avoid it at all costs.

Something cold curled in my stomach, but before I could dwell on it, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“Step forward, recruits.”

Commander Ren strode across the training yard, her long coat snapping behind her. “Before you set foot inside the academy, you will witness your first lesson.”

A murmur rippled through the group as the crowd shifted.

At the center of the yard, a rider stood before a dragon.

The beast was enormous—deep crimson scales, wings half-unfurled, golden eyes flickering with challenge. The rider, a boy no older than me, stood rigid, one hand raised, trying to command it.

“Every rider must earn their dragon,” Ren continued. “Some bonds form instantly.” She turned, her sharp gaze locking on the struggling recruit. “And some fail.”

The boy took a step forward. The dragon snarled.

His voice wavered. “I command you—”

The dragon lunged.

Faster than I could process, the beast lashed out, knocking the rider off his feet. He hit the ground hard, coughing, scrambling backward as the dragon snapped its teeth just inches from his face.

The recruits gasped, some stepping back instinctively.

The Elite Squad didn’t move.

They watched, unconcerned, as if they’d seen this a hundred times before.

The boy panted, eyes wide, his entire body trembling. The dragon bared its fangs… then turned away.

Ren’s voice was cold. “Rejection.”

The dragon stalked off, disappearing behind the training grounds. The rider stayed on his knees, humiliated, shaking, broken.

“This is your reality,” Ren said, scanning the crowd. “Dragons do not obey weakness. And failure?” She turned back to the boy on the ground. “Failure means you don’t belong here.”

The boy looked up, his face pale. “W-what happens to me?”

Ren didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into fists. This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t training. It was survival.

And if we failed?

We wouldn’t get a second chance.

Instead, two instructors stepped forward. One hauled the boy to his feet while the other grabbed his discarded bag. The recruits around me tensed, a silent understanding passing between us. No one needed to explain what was happening.

If you failed, you didn’t get a second chance.

Survive or not, failure meant the same thing.

You were sent home in disgrace.

Dead or alive.