Page 100 of The Dragonrider and the Void
As they approached the palace gates, great arches of crystallized darkness parted silently at Umbra’s gesture. Lark felt the Solarium ingot pulse against her chest. The Summer Court’s essence seemed to recoil from the concentrated Night magic surrounding them.
“Stay close,” Helianthus warned, his golden armor now painfully conspicuous. “And speak only when addressed directly.”
They passed through the gate into a courtyard where shadows moved independently of any object, dancing across the polished obsidian floor like living creatures. Lark kept her gaze forward, ignoring the whispers that seemed to emanate from the darkness itself.
Ahead, the entrance to the palace proper loomed as a vertical slice of midnight. Umbra paused before it, turning to the group.
“Summer guards, you will remain here,” she commanded. “The mortal and the deserter will come with me to Lord Noctis.”
Helianthus began to object, but Lark raised a hand to stop him. “It’s alright. We accept your terms.”
Umbra’s expression betrayed a flicker of surprise at Lark’s acquiescence. “Very well. Follow closely. The palace reshapes itself continuously. Those who stray from the path frequently never find their way out again.”
With that chilling warning, she stepped through the midnight doorway. Lark exchanged a final glance with the Summer guards, then followed. Nix drifted close beside her.
Beyond the threshold, the world transformed once more. The interior of the Obsidian Palace left conventional understanding of space behind. Corridors branched and merged randomly. Staircases led to ceilings that became floors. Doorways opened onto vertical gardens hanging in void space. Throughout it all, fae nobles moved with ease, their forms elegant and alien in the moonlight that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere.
“They know who I am,” Nix whispered, her flame barely visible now. “What I did.”
“What did you do?” Lark asked under her breath.
Nix flickered anxiously. “I’ll explain later. If there is a later.”
Umbra led them through the extraordinary corridors confidently. Each path opened to a unique geometric shape, twisting and winding into an elaborate maze. Finally, they reached a set of doors carved from what appeared to be solidified night sky, complete with moving stars trapped within the material.
“Lord Noctis awaits,” she announced, pushing the doors open.
***
The Night Court throne room stretched before them, a vast space that somehow contained its own sky. Above, constellations unknown to Lark wheeled in slow procession. The floor beneath their feet was perfectly reflective black stone, creating the disorienting impression of walking through space. Columns of twisted obsidian rose to support nothing, mere artistic statements rather than structural necessities.
And at the room’s center, upon a throne carved from a single massive black diamond, sat Lord Noctis of the Night Court.
Unlike Queen Aurelia’s radiant presence, Lord Noctis commanded attention through absolute stillness. He was tall even by human standards, with skin like polished onyx and features so sharp they seemed to cut the very air around him. His eyes were not merely star-like but actual stars. They burned with white pinpoints that held the cold fire of distant suns. He wore no crown; instead, a nimbus of darkness hovered above his head, occasionally forming subtle shapes before dissolving again.
His wings, unlike the delicate, barely noticeable appendages of the Summer Court nobles, were massive and fully extended behind the throne. The great sweeps of darkness drank the surrounding moonlight, leaving onyx shadow in its place. His horn structure spiraled up from his forehead to form a natural crown not unlike a gazelle. And behind him, a tail as thick ashis arm with scales that gave an opalescent reflection of the surrounding lights, twitched slowly at its spade-shaped tip.
Arrayed in tiered seating around the throne were the Night Court nobles, their attention fixed on the visitors with predatory intensity. Among them, Lark noticed subtle variations. Some grew bat-like wings from their shoulder blades while others proudly displayed antlers and horns from their skulls, each of them with vertically slitted eyes like a cat’s.
“Lord Noctis,” Umbra announced, bowing deeply. “I bring before you a mortal from Sataran who claims knowledge of the Void Drinker’s escape. And with her,” her voice hardened, “the deserter, Nix.”
A ripple of whispers passed among the assembled nobles. Lord Noctis remained perfectly still, star-eyes fixed on Lark. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle, like velvet drawn across stone.
“Approach, mortal.”
Lark stepped forward, conscious of Nix remaining close behind her. She stopped at what she hoped was a respectful distance from the throne, neither too familiar nor too timid.
“You claim the Void Drinker has escaped,” Lord Noctis continued. “A serious assertion, given the resources expended to bind it.”
“It’s the truth, my lord,” Lark replied, keeping her voice steady. “The Entity was imprisoned beneath a sanctuary in Sataran, but the bindings were growing weaker as the rimeshade corrupted the spells over time. I tried to mend the bindings but couldn’t reforge them. We fought briefly, then it broke free.”
“And you are?”
“I am a dragonrider from Sataran. I am known to many as Marcel Heartfell. White Eye is my bonded dragon. We share another bond,” she said, motioning to Nix. “With Nix, of your Court.”
Lord Noctis’s star-eyes shifted slightly to focus on Nix, who drifted lower in what appeared to be an instinctive gesture of submission.
“Curious,” he murmured. “The ember assigned to observe returns with the very subject she was meant to watch. And now you both seek our assistance.” He leaned forward slightly. “Why should the Night Court involve itself in Sataran’s problems? The last time we did so, we were disappointed by the outcome.”
