Page 117 of The Dragonrider and the Void
The Vaerdium glowed too brightly. The opposing magics strained against each other rather than flowing in harmony. Without a proper vessel to bridge the realms, the ritual remained incomplete.
“Where’s Venrick?” Lark gasped, the effort of maintaining the flow of magic taking its toll. “We need him here, now!”
Through their bond, she felt White Eye’s alarm, felt him calling to Ingamar. But there was no response from Venrick or the golden dragon.
“He’s not coming,” Barrik said, his voice oddly gentle. “Look.”
Lark followed his gaze upward, through the tear in the ceiling. There, silhouetted against the tumultuous sky, she saw Ingamar engaged in desperate combat with a massive rimeshade-corrupted dragon. A long-haired figure, Yarla, leapt off Ingamar’s back, falling at the enemy dragon with sword outstretched. A second wearing cobalt blue armor clung to the saddle. Venrick rode the golden dragon’s back, his form barely visible at this distance, but his purpose clear. He was drawingthe most dangerous threats away from the sanctuary, giving them the time they needed.
“No,” Lark whispered, understanding at last. “That’s not the plan. He needs to be here, to be the vessel.”
Barrik’s hand closed around her arm. “There is another option,” he said urgently. “Another vessel.”
Lark stared at him in confusion, then horror as his meaning became clear. “You? You want to be the vessel for the binding? After everything you’ve done to establish control over the Kingdoms?”
“Who better?” he asked, and for once, there was no calculation in his expression, no hidden agenda she could detect. “I’ve studied this ritual for decades. I positioned myself to be here perfectly. I understand what it requires.” He glanced at the failing matrix. “And we’re out of time.”
Before she could respond, the sanctuary gave a final, catastrophic shudder. The remaining sections of ceiling fell inward. The walls crumbled as reality itself rebelled against the forces being channeled through the chamber. The Void Drinker, partially contained but still fighting, let out a sound that was part scream, part laughter.
“The vessel,” it mocked. “Without it, your ritual is meaningless!”
In that moment, Lark understood what had to happen. The realization settled over her with awful clarity. It was both inevitable and impossible to accept. She met Barrik’s eyes and saw that he knew it, too.
“It has to be me,” she said quietly.
“No!” Nix flared in protest. “Your oath to Winter?—”
“My oath changes nothing,” Lark finished. “I was always meant to be the vessel. I’m the only one here who truly bridges both realms.”
“The dual magic flowed through her,” Barrik said. “Dragon and fae.”
It wasn’t until then that Lark realized she had been prepared for this moment since the day Nix bonded with her, since the fae’s prophecy first recognized her potential.
“A princess of the North, bonded to both dragon and fae, standing at the crossroads of realms,” she whispered to Nix.
“It can’t be you,” Nix protested weakly, her flame dwindling slightly. Simultaneously, she felt White Eye’s overwhelming protest pushing in on her emotional walls.
“It must be me,” she said aloud to Nix and internally to White Eye.
“When White Eye arrives, you need to get him to channel all the dragons’ energy directly to me.” she instructed Barrik. “He might resist you. If he does, and it comes to that, you’ll need to use your warging abilities.”
Barrik stared at her dead pan, a hint of emotion flickering on his face as quickly as it vanished. “You’ll need to let me, if it comes to that.”
She nodded.
Lark felt White Eye’s alarm, his desperate denial as he struggled to understand her intentions.
You’re going to need to trust me with this decision,she said mentally to her dragon.I have to do this.There’s no other way.
She felt his anguish, his rage, but beneath it all, his acceptance. He knew, as she did, that this was why he had brought her to the Northern Sanctuary, why he had followed the call of his ancestral memory.
We’ve been heading to this moment all along,she told him.
“Sasja, Hardin,” Lark called. “Get to safety. This chamber won’t survive what comes next.”
“But—” Hardin began.
“No arguments,” she cut him off. “Find Venrick. Tell him,” she faltered, emotion threatening to overwhelm her. “Tell him I’m sorry, and that I understand now what he was trying to tell me.”
