Page 105 of The Dragonrider and the Void
Then, to her amazement, the tree flowered. Tiny blossoms of both flame and ice appeared among its leaves, neitherconsuming nor extinguishing the other but existing in perfect harmony.
A collective gasp rose from the assembled Spring Court. Lady Viridian clapped her hands together in evident delight.
“Most illuminating!” she exclaimed. “You’ve chosen the seed of balance, of coexistence rather than dominance. And your magic has nurtured it into a representation of what could be. It’s fire and ice in harmony, neither consuming the other.” She circled the miniature tree, examining it from all angles. “This is precisely the potential Spring values most highly. Not the victory of one force over another, but the possibility of something greater emerging from their union.”
She returned to her flower throne, which opened wider to receive her. From a branch beside the throne, she plucked what appeared to be an unripe fruit. As it fell into her hand, it transformed, solidifying into a small ingot of metal the color of new leaves. Unlike the Solarium’s radiance or the Umbrium’s absorption, this metal seemed to pulse with its own internal rhythm, as if constantly on the verge of becoming something else.
“Verdium,” Lady Viridian announced. “The essence of spring’s potential and renewal.” She held it out toward Lark. “Take it, with the understanding that in accepting this gift, you commit to nurturing the new beginnings that will emerge from your quest. The gateways you establish must not merely connect our realms but allow them to grow together in ways neither could anticipate.”
Lark accepted the Verdium, feeling its strange, shifting weight. Unlike the consistent properties of the previous essences, this metal seemed to change as she held it, becoming lighter or heavier, warmer or cooler, as if testing her ability to adapt.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lark said, carefully securing the third ingot alongside the others. “I accept this responsibility.”
Lady Viridian nodded, satisfied. “Three courts now stand with you, dragonrider. Only Winter remains, and they are the most difficult to persuade. They value endings, preservation, the wisdom that comes from completion. They will judge not only your intentions but the worthiness of your cause.”
“Where can I find them?” Lark asked.
“At the edge of all things,” Lady Viridian replied cryptically. “Where the fae realm thins to meet the void between worlds. Thalia will guide you to the boundary.” She leaned forward, her ancient eyes suddenly serious. “But be forewarned. Winter gives nothing without taking something in return. Be certain you’re prepared for that exchange before you seek their counsel.”
With those ominous words, the audience concluded. As they were escorted from the living throne room, Lark felt the weight of the three ingots against her chest, physical reminders of how far they’d come, and how far they still had to go.
“Three down, one to go,” she murmured to Nix as they followed Thalia back through the ever-changing forest.
“Winter will be the most difficult,” Nix warned, her flame dimming slightly. “They see all ends, all conclusions. They’ll know whether your quest ultimately succeeds or fails before you even ask for their help.”
“That doesn’t sound encouraging,” Lark admitted.
“It’s not meant to be,” Umbra interjected, having overheard their conversation. “Winter doesn’t care about encouragement. They care about necessity, about what must be preserved and what must be allowed to end.”
Helianthus nodded in agreement. “If your cause is truly necessary for both realms, they will recognize it. If not, there will be consequences.” He stared off into the distance, leaving the details unspoken.
As they left the verdant heart of the Spring Court behind, Lark reached once more for her bond with White Eye. The connection remained frustratingly thin, but she again sensed the growing urgency from the other side. Time was running out on Sataran. The Flashover approached, bringing with it the Void Drinker’s opportunity to tear down the barriers permanently.
“How much farther to the Winter Court?” she asked Thalia.
The Spring sentinel gestured toward the horizon, where the perpetual twilight faded into something cold and stark. “We approach the boundaries of our domain. Beyond lies the Frost Reaches, Winter’s territory. I can take you no farther than the border.”
“Thank you for your guidance,” Lark said.
As they walked, the landscape gradually shifted. The riotous growth of Spring gave way to more measured, mature forests. Trees stood fully grown rather than in constant cycles of renewal. Flowers bloomed fully instead of perpetually budding. The air grew crisp, carrying a first hint of autumn chill.
“We near the transition,” Thalia explained. “Spring gives way to Summer, Summer to Autumn, Autumn to Winter. Though the courts maintain their distinct domains, the boundaries between them blend naturally.”
Ahead, a line of ancient standing stones marked what appeared to be a formal border. Beyond them, the world changed dramatically. Trees stood bare, their branches reaching toward a sky heavy with snow clouds. The blanket of pristine white that covered the ground sparkled with an inner light that seemed to come from within the snow itself rather than reflecting from above.
Thalia halted at the boundary. “This is where I leave you. Follow the path of stone arches through the snow. It will lead you to Winter’s Heart, where the Frozen Court convenes.” She turned to Lark, her expression solemn. “Remember what LadyViridian told you. Winter takes as much as it gives. Be certain of what you’re willing to sacrifice.”
With those words, the Spring sentinel faded back into the mist, leaving them at the threshold of Winter’s domain.
Lark took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill her lungs. “Onward,” she said, stepping across the boundary.
The change was immediate and profound. Where the previous transitions had been gradual, this was absolute. The temperature plummeted, though Lark found she could bear it, perhaps protected by the magic of the three essences she carried. Sound dampened, creating a deep silence broken only by the crunch of their footsteps in the snow.
Most striking was the quality of light. Gone was the golden radiance of Summer, the perfect darkness of Night, or the verdant glow of Spring. Here, light seemed crystallized, emanating from the snow and ice itself in cool, blue-white tones that threw everything into sharp relief.
“Winter’s clarity,” Nix explained, her flame burning brighter against the cold. “Where all illusions are stripped away, and truth stands bare.”
They followed the path of stone arches, each one more heavily laden with intricate formations of ice than the last. The structures seemed to watch them pass, though no faces could be discerned in their frozen surfaces.
