Page 108 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“My future,” Lark replied simply. “After the binding is complete, I must return here to serve as guardian of the gateways.”
Nix’s flame dimmed with shock. “For how long?”
“Until Winter deems the debt paid.”
Understanding dawned in Nix’s fiery eyes. “Oh, Lark.”
“It was the only way,” Lark said firmly, touching the four ingots now secured against her chest. “And it will be worth it if we succeed.”
They were escorted to Winter’s Edge, a chamber where the ice palace’s walls faded into misty uncertainty. Here, the boundary between realms became visible as shimmering distortions in the air.
“You must combine the essences,” the Winter guard explained. “Not fully into Vaerdium. That can only be done during the ritual itself. But enough to create a passage back to Sataran.”
Lark nodded, removing the four ingots and holding them in her outstretched hands. She felt their contrasting energies: Summer’s warmth, Night’s mystery, Spring’s potential, Winter’s preservation. Four parts of a whole, like the aspects of her own divided nature.
Drawing on her dual magic once more, she channeled power through both her bonds. The purple energy surrounded the ingots, causing them to rise slightly from her palms. They began to orbit each other, moving faster as the magic intensified. Where their paths crossed, streams of energy connected them, forming a complex pattern of intersecting forces.
“Focus on where you need to return to,” the Winter guard instructed. “Visualize it clearly.”
Lark closed her eyes, picturing the Vermillion Keep. The sanctuary beneath it. The central chamber where the Void Drinker had emerged. Where Venrick had escaped with the ritual pages, where this chapter of her quest had begun. Where, she hoped, her friends were now gathering to attempt the binding.
The four essences spun faster, their energies merging in a brilliant flash of light that illuminated the misty chamber. Before them, reality split open, revealing a glimpse of stone walls, torchlight, and figures moving urgently about a circular chamber.
“Now,” the Winter guard urged. “The passage won’t hold for long.”
Lark turned to her companions. “Thank you for your guidance,” she said quickly. “All of you.”
Helianthus and Solstice bowed. “Summer awaits news of your success, dragonrider.”
Umbra merely nodded, her dark eyes revealing nothing. “Night will be watching.”
Lark looked to Nix. “Are you ready?”
Nix’s flame brightened with determination. “Always.”
Together, they stepped through the shimmering passage, leaving the fae realm behind. As they crossed the threshold, Lark felt the weight of her promise to Winter settle over her like a cloak of ice. Whatever happened next, her own fate was sealed. She would either fail to bind the Void Drinker, dooming both realms to its hunger, or succeed and surrender her future in Sataran as payment.
The passage collapsed behind them with a sound like shattering ice, and the reality she was familiar with reasserted itself. They stood in the sanctuary beneath the Vermillion Keep. Before them, chaos reigned.
25
OUT OF TIME
The world shifted beneath Venrick’s boots as he crouched at the edge of a steep-tiled roof overlooking the western approach of the Vermillion Keep. Beside him, Hardin and Yarla froze, gripping the weathered chimney to steady themselves as reality flickered. For a heartbeat, the colors drained from the city spread out below them; buildings turned transparent before snapping back to solidity.
“The Flashover is beginning,” Yarla whispered, her knuckles white against the brick.
Venrick’s reply died in his throat as the taint of corruption he’d been bearing since the King’s attack triggered a response within him. The scent of smoke in the air faded, the sounds of the city faded, and he became acutely aware that the layer of power separating their world from other realms was growing increasingly thin. The sensation was less a thought and more a cold burning in his veins. Not painful exactly, but something he felt. The prospect of seeking other realms suddenly hungered within him. Venrick blinked the irrational and alien sensation away. His eyes drifted to the black lines still faintly tracing hisveins. He pulled his sleeve down to cover them and squelch the irrational desire he’d just felt.
Below, Astral City had become a battleground. The market square, normally bustling with merchants and festivalgoers, now witnessed a different kind of chaos as rebel forces clashed with the King’s loyalist guards. Barricades fashioned from overturned carts and furniture blocked major thoroughfares. Smoke rose from scattered fires, and somewhere distant, a bell tolled in irregular, frantic peals.
“Look,” Hardin pointed toward the central fountain where water suddenly reversed its flow, streaming upward in defiance of natural law. Nearby, a flock of birds froze mid-flight, and remained suspended motionless for several heartbeats before continuing as if nothing had happened.
Venrick’s gaze lifted to the sky above Vermillion Keep. Impossible colors twisted there, hues that had no names, auroras that writhed like living things against the afternoon sky. And circling through that spectacle of light, dragons. He counted six, then seven, their forms dark against the unnatural brilliance.
“Ingamar is up there,” Venrick said, the assuredness of it surprising him. He shouldn’t have been able to identify the golden dragon at this distance, yet somehow, he knew with certainty. “With White Eye and Quinthara. They’ve gathered others.”
Hardin gave him a searching look. “You can feel Ingamar now?”
