Page 119 of The Dragonrider and the Void
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THE VESSEL
Lark was dissolving.
The sensation wasn’t painful, quite the opposite. As her physical form began to fade, merging with the Vaerdium matrix, a peculiar serenity washed over her. The binding ritual pulled at her essence, unraveling her being thread by thread. She was being woven into the ancient magic that would contain the Void Drinker.
So, this is what it means to be a vessel,she thought, watching her brismil armor fade and her hands become translucent. Light seemed to pass right through them, fracturing as light would when passing through fine crystal.
As her body weakened, her consciousness expanded. The sanctuary around her collapsed in violent spasms. But through it all, she could perceive the currents of magic flowing through the once-sacred space. She witnessed and could discern the history magically etched into its stones, the remnants of centuries of dragonrider energy layered one atop another like sediment on a riverbed.
Time stretched; a single heartbeat extended into what felt like hours. In this expanded state, Lark saw the tear in realityabove the well where the Void Drinker had been forced back, still struggling against its confinement. The Entity’s star-flecked form twisted and writhed, its rage palpable as it sensed the binding taking hold once more.
But there was something else. Something she hadn’t noticed before in the chaos of the ritual. As the Void Drinker fought, tendrils of its essence reached out, seeking any weakness, any imperfection in the binding spell. And as they stretched, they seemed to recoil from specific points in the chamber.
Barrik,she observed dispassionately, seeing him standing near the forge, dark armor shimmering and copper cloak rippling behind him. He was manipulating components of the ritual as if he’d been waiting until now to do so.He’s directing the binding. This is how he planned to manipulate the Void Drinker’s power… He’s not trying to contain it. He’s trying to guide it.
With her expanded perception, she saw the subtle alterations he made to the ritual’s flow, the way he diverted rivulets of power into secondary patterns. He wasn’t ensuring the Void Drinker’s imprisonment, he was creating backdoors, access points that would allow controlled communion with the Entity.
Ash, he still means to harness it,she cursed.
A shadow passed over the sanctuary as a massive, winged form plummeted through the broken ceiling. White Eye, his midnight scales gleaming with reflected magical light, dove toward the center of the ritual. The raw emotion pouring from him threatened to overwhelm Lark even in her increasingly detached state. His grief, rage, and denial, all compressed into a primal roar that shook the reforming stones of the sanctuary.
Then Lark again noticed Ingamar, the golden dragon’s wings spread wide as he and Venrick neared the void. Lark saw Venrick’s face with perfect clarity; saw the moment he realized what was happening to her. The shock, the rejection, thedesperate determination that replaced both. It all flashed across his features in the span of a heartbeat.
And in that same stretched moment, Lark became aware of yet another presence entering the sanctuary, smaller but somehow equally significant. The cream-white hatchling that Hardin had rescued from the corrupt dragon egg in Carbella moved down a half-formed staircase, its eyes, identical to White Eye’s in their cream-white color rimmed with gold, fixed on the central well with unwavering focus.
Those eyes. In her expanded state, Lark finally understood their significance. The color wasn’t coincidence, yet, neither was it the effect of corruption.
It’s lineage.
Suspended between realms, she could see it now. The hatchling and White Eye shared the same ancestral connection.
For them to have this knowledge through family bonds, it would have had to come from a dragon who was there in the beginning. From one of the original twelve …
Their white eyes,she realized.They aren’t a marker of having the rimeshade’s touch on their eggs. Theirs is a marker of a descendant of one of the original twelve.
And there was something else about the hatchling, something that had been hidden from her until this moment of perfect clarity. Unlike the others touched by the Void Drinker’s corruption, the hatchling hadn’t been tainted by exposure, it had been born through corruption. Its entire being had formed within it, adapted to it, become immune to its influence, and hatched before a newly bonded rider.
This dragon was never meant to bond with a rider, just as I am not meant to be this vessel. It’s him.When the thought came it was with absolute certainty.
White Eye landed beside the central well, his massive form creating an impact that sent cracks racing through the floor.He lowered his head to Lark, her body now more light than substance, more magic than matter. His cream-white eyes met hers, and in them she saw a desperate plea.
“It doesn’t have to be us,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if the words formed or merely existed as intention in her increasingly dispersed consciousness.
Venrick slid from Ingamar’s back, stumbling across the unstable ground toward her. The corruption in his blood was visible now, black lines traced with silver light pulsing beneath his skin in rhythm with the binding ritual. As he neared, something strange happened. The corruption responded to her, reaching out like tendrils toward her fading form.
“Lark,” he gasped, reaching for her with corrupted hands.
To her surprise, they didn’t pass through her translucent form. Instead, they connected, creating a bridge between their beings. Through it, she felt him. She felt his fear, his determination, his refusal to accept what was happening.
But more importantly, she could communicate.
“The hatchling,” she pushed the thought through their unexpected connection. “It’s the true vessel. Born through corruption, immune to it.”
Confusion flickered across Venrick’s face, followed swiftly by understanding. His gaze darted to the small dragon making its way steadily toward them. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she replied, the certainty flowing through their linked consciousness. “Barrik is altering the ritual. He wants to control the power, not contain it.”
