Page 112 of The Dragonrider and the Void
The Void Drinker raised its hands, and the tear in reality expanded further. Through it, Venrick glimpsed multiple realms simultaneously: a golden court of eternal summer, a grove of trees in perpetual spring, a palace of perfect ice, a citadel of shadows and starlight.
“For too long, I have been contained,” the Entity continued. “Forced to feed on scraps, to work through proxies and partial manifestations. But no longer.” It gestured to the forge and the half-formed Vaerdium. “Your pitiful attempt to recreate the binding is laughable. The original required power you cannot hope to match.”
“You’re wrong,” Venrick stated, stepping forward despite Yarla’s warning hand on his arm. “We know what’s required. And we’re not alone.”
The Void Drinker’s star-flecked form rippled with what might have been amusement. “Ah yes, your allies. The dragons circling impotently above. The rebels fighting in the streets. The Ward Walker beside you.” It focused those void-like eyes onHardin. “Did you think I was unaware of your talents? Your abilities are mere echoes of the power I command.”
It turned its attention to Venrick, those terrible eyes seeming to peer directly into his soul. “And you, half-breed. The corruption in your blood calls to me. You feel it, don’t you? The hunger. The potential is so much more than the pure-blood elves. Imagine what you might become if you embraced it fully.”
Despite himself, Venrick felt the corruption respond, cold fire racing through his veins with renewed vigor. The whispers returned, promising power, understanding, transcendence.
“Don’t listen,” Yarla urged, grabbing his shoulder. “It’s trying to turn you.”
The Void Drinker laughed harshly. “I need not turn what already leans in my direction. The corruption marked you, half-breed. Changed you. Made you a bridge between realms, just as I am.”
“You’re nothing like me,” Venrick growled, fighting to silence the whispers.
“No,” the Entity agreed. “I am what you might become, given time and proper nourishment.” It spread its arms wide. “Behold what centuries of consumption have wrought. I have harvested the essence of dragons, fae, mages. All of which was to prepare for this moment, when the Flashover allows me to tear down the barriers permanently.”
The tear in reality pulsed, widening further. Through it, Venrick caught a fleeting glimpse that made his heart stop. He saw Lark, moving between worlds, carrying what looked like metal ingots against her chest.
Before he could process this, the Void Drinker unleashed a wave of corrupting energy that filled the chamber. The dwarven smiths collapsed, their bodies twisting as darkness invaded them. Sasja was thrown against a wall, momentarilystunned. Barrik alone seemed prepared, a shield of copper light surrounding him as he backed toward the forge.
“It’s using the Realmstone!” Hardin shouted over the rising magical tempest, pointing to a rectangular object in the Entity’s chest, now pulsing with nauseating rhythm.
The walls of the sanctuary began to crack; reality strained against the Void Drinker’s power. Venrick fought to remain standing as the corruption in his blood responded to the Entity’s call, threatening to overwhelm him from within.
Through the chaos, he held onto that single image: Lark, moving between worlds, carrying the components they needed. She was alive. She was coming. And if they could just hold out a little longer, they might have a chance to stop what was happening.
But as the sanctuary began to collapse around them, the Void Drinker’s laughter filled the chamber and the tear in reality grew ever wider. Venrick felt the crushing weight of doubt. They were out of time, out of options, and facing a power beyond anything they’d prepared for.
26
BOUND
The tear between realms snapped shut behind Lark with a thunderous clap. The four metal ingots burned against her chest with newfound urgency upon being thrust into this new reality. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear as her senses were bombarded with the violent transition from the fae realm to Sataran.
I can’t breathe,she began to panic, her focus tunneling down to only the most basic instincts.
Then Nix’s flame flared into being beside her. The fire fae’s pinwheel of sparks transformed into a beacon of light that glowed amidst a scene of pure chaos.
The sanctuary beneath the Vermillion Keep was coming apart. Massive cracks spider-webbed across the domed ceiling, raining debris onto the mosaic floor. Lark inhaled deeply as a burst of air swelled her lungs.
Hovering over the center of the chaotic chamber loomed a figure that made her blood run cold.
“Ash,” Lark exhaled.
King Agadorn was gone. In his place floated a being of living darkness, its form constantly shifting like smoke in the wind.Silver starlight flecked its body, concentrated in swirling vortices where eyes should have been. The Void Drinker in its true form.
“Lark!” a voice called from her left.
She turned to see Venrick sprawled against a fractured column, his face drawn with pain. Around him, the stone floor was stained with a darkness that matched the corruption spreading across his exposed skin and racing up his neck toward his face. The blue brismil sword in his hand pulsed with visible draconic energy, as if the magic within the blade was fighting the advance of the Void Drinker’s corruption.
“Venrick,” she paled, her instincts to protect him taking over.
Before she could reach him, though, a wave of force rippled through the chamber. Reality buckled, the walls briefly turned transparent to reveal other worldly vistas. She saw golden courts, midnight palaces, icy citadels that couldn’t exist within this chamber.
“The Flashover quickens,” the Void Drinker’s voice scraped across her mind like frost on glass. It turned those terrible star-filled eyes toward her. “The dragonrider returns, bearing gifts from courts that should know better.”
