When her question did not gain her a response, Jazelle glanced to Wyrm, wondering if she needed to speak up. But Wyrm had seemed capable of hearing well enough only a moment ago. She scowled, but her attention swiftly returned to the wyvern as its body shifted beneath them, readying to take flight.
	Jazelle leaned forward and gripped the saddle tightly, her heart pounding in her chest. For the first couple seconds, she kept her eyes scrunched shut against the unfamiliar movements of Tyro taking to the air, her grip on the saddle turning her knuckles white. She ran what little she knew from movies and books about riding a horse, hoping it would help with not falling off a flying dragon.
	Once the wyvern’s flight evened out, she dared to open one eye, then the other. She inhaled at the view before her. Though the fog still clung to the treetops like a massive, misty ghost, the sun had burned enough of it away for her to make out bits and pieces of the expanse of trees and fields stretching far beneath them. Smoke from fireplaces rose from a few cities and towns further off, rising to join what remained of the morning’s fog in a swirling dance.
	For the first while, Jazelle’s gaze darted from one thing to the other, awestruck. She shifted as far over in the seat as she dared, trying to get a better look at the world she had been thrust into.
	After about an hour, the shock-and-awe of it began to wear off, and her rear started to feel a bit sore from sitting on the saddle. She tried to make conversation with Wyrm, to get any further information she could, but gave up with an irate growl when the woman refused to speak.
	When they passed between two mountains into an eerie valley about an hour and a half later, its atmosphere alone made her skin crawl. She cast a quick glance down, wondering what would possibly live in such a place, glad when the wyvern dove to quicken their passage. Only once they had cleared the area with its foreboding fog and mysterious figures, did she dare try speaking again.
	“What [i]was[/i] that place?” Jazelle looked back toward the mountains with a shudder. But yet again, she received no reply. She gave Wyrm an annoyed look. “Fine. Don’t talk.” She looked away from her with a [i]humph[/i].
	 When a half-hour that felt more like half an eternity passed and the massive castle came into view, Jazelle’s jaw dropped. She took in its three stories, and the surrounding lands, wondering if the king was home. After all, this world was rather medieval-esque. Why would they [i]not[/i] have a monarchy?
	Then, the wyvern began to descend toward the castle in a spiral. Jazelle’s brows furrowed, and she glanced back the way they had come, thinking of how close that eerie, otherworldly field had been, then toward the mostly barren land with its withered trees she had seen looming on the horizon.
	[i]This [u]can’t[/i] be a smart place for a school…[/i] she thought as she realized that the castle had to be Whitehall.
	She gripped the saddle harder when the wyvern spread out its wings, jerking them to a halt and renewing her fear of plummeting to the ground. Then, they were landing in front of the grand entrance of the castle.
	Her attention snapped toward the doors when a man threw them open. She stared at him a long moment, his voice too aged for his otherwise fairly youthful appearance. Only when she noticed both he and Wyrm were staring, did Jazelle realize his last statement was directed at her.
	“Oh. Right.” She muttered. Gripping one of the straps of the backpack she had the feeling Sunder’s tailors had made, she slid carefully from the saddle to the cobblestone path beneath them.
	“Ja—” she started answering his second demand, but caught herself with an irritated huff. A name. In the last three hours, she had devoted little, if any, time to thinking of a name to use. The moment she tried to think of something to give him, her mind went frustratingly blank. “Yeah, I’ve got nothin’.”
	[i]Look for one I can steal in the library or something… if they have a library…[/i] She looked up at the monstrous building. [i]They’d [u]better[/u] have one.[/i]
	She raised an eyebrow at the man’s flourish to the entryway extending beyond the doors. “Sure...” She watched him cautiously as she stepped toward the stairs leading to the door.
	Jazelle cast a quick glance back at Wyrm and Tyro, before shoving her hands back in the muff of her hoodie, and warily ascending the stairs, keeping a fair distance between the man and herself.
	“Don’t suppose [i]you[/i] have a name, do you?” she asked once on the same stair as him.