Page 121 of The Dragonrider and the Void
The hatchling, meanwhile, underwent its own transformation. As it accepted the role of vessel, its form shifted, condensing, becoming more defined even as it merged with the binding spell.
The sanctuary shuddered one final time, then stabilized. The chaotic reconstruction settled into purposeful reformation, stones flowing into their final positions with fluid grace. Pillars rose to support a domed ceiling, an oculus forming at its center to reveal the sky above the Vermillion Keep, now clear of the auroras that had marked the Flashover’s peak.
Barrik staggered back, his ability to manipulate the earth failing under the demands of the sanctuary. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” he snarled. “That power could have been ours?—”
“That kind of magic was never meant to be controlled by mortals like us,” Lark cut him off, her strength returning as she became whole again. The stars beneath her skin faded, but did not disappear entirely. “The Void Drinker feeds on essence. It would have consumed you the moment you attempted to harness it.”
“You do not know the extent to which I prepared for that moment,” he spat, but his confidence was clearly shaken. He glanced toward the exits.
“It was never going to be enough. You know you would’ve failed,” Venrick replied, stepping forward with his brismil sword drawn, skin now flecked with the same starlight as Lark’s. “You’ve lost, Barrik. The binding is complete, but not as you intended.”
Barrik’s expression hardened, but before he could respond, the air shimmered beside the central well. A tear opened. This was not the jagged rupture caused by the Void Drinker, but a perfect archway of light that shimmered with the combined essences of the fae courts.
Four figures emerged, each bearing the distinct characteristics of their respective domains. First came a woman of living gold from Summer, next a man of perfect darkness from Night, then a child-like being of constant renewal from Spring, and finally, an ancient, ice-sculpted figure from Winter.
“The Concordat is honored,” the Summer representative declared, her voice resonating like struck crystal. “Though not in the manner we anticipated.”
“The binding holds,” the Night emissary added, star-filled eyes scanning the chamber. “The vessel serves.”
The hatchling, now permanently bonded to the Vaerdium matrix, acknowledged them with a slight dip of its head. And in that moment transformed physically from dragon into a blossoming tree surrounded by a glossy reflective pool. It’s bowing branches filled with green leaves, its blooms fully flowered in a beautiful hue of pinks, whites, and reds. Lark sensed the dragon’s essence still inside. Though physically merged with the ritual, it retained consciousness, awareness, a living anchor rather than a sacrifice.
“And the debt?” Lark asked, her voice steady despite the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her newly reconstituted form.
The Winter representative fixed ancient frozen eyes upon her. “Altered, but not erased,” he stated. “The gateways must still be maintained. Representatives from both realms must ensure the balance that prevents further weakening.”
“I will honor that obligation,” Lark promised, feeling White Eye’s agreement rumble through their bond. “But not as a prisoner between realms.”
The four emissaries exchanged glances, some silent communication passing between them. Finally, the Spring delegate spoke, her childlike voice carrying surprising authority.
“The form of service matters less than its substance,” she declared. “If the balance is maintained, the manner of its maintenance is yours to determine.”
Relief washed over Lark. She would not be trapped in the fae realm for centuries as Winter had initially demanded. Instead, she could serve as guardian while remaining on Sataran, perhaps traveling between realms as needed to ensure the gateways’ stability.
Barrik, seeing his opportunity, began to edge toward the staircase that would lead him back to the upper levels of the Vermillion Keep.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Venrick snarled, moving to block his path. “Not until you answer for your attempts to manipulate the binding for your own purposes.”
“My purposes?” Barrik laughed, though it held no humor. “I sought knowledge, boy. Understanding of powers beyond mortal comprehension. The same understanding you’ll need if you hope to maintain what you’ve created here.” He gestured to the hatchling and the Vaerdium matrix. “This binding is temporary at best. The Void Drinker cannot be contained forever. Andwhen it breaks free again, as it inevitably will, you’ll wish you had the knowledge I sought.”
“If that time comes,” Lark said firmly, “we’ll face it without compromising what we are. Without sacrificing others for power.”
Barrik’s expression hardened. “Such nobility,” he scoffed. “We shall see how long it lasts.” With a sudden movement, he drew a copper dagger from his belt and slashed it through the air. A tear opened before him, smaller than the fae gateway, rougher in its formation, but sufficient for his purposes. “Until we meet again, my former apprentice.”
Before any of them could react, he stepped through the portal, which sealed itself instantly behind him.
“He can create gateways?” Hardin asked, incredulous.
“Not gateways,” the Night emissary clarified, his star-filled eyes fixed on the spot where Barrik had vanished. “A temporary tear with unfortunate timing with the Flashover, unstable and dangerous.”
“Hopefully he expired,” Sasja muttered, sheathing her daggers. “And if not, I hope he’s been barred within another realm.”
The fae representatives moved to the cardinal points of the sanctuary, each placing a hand on the stone floor. Power flowed from them, stabilizing the chamber’s final formation. Where they touched, smaller archways formed, four in total, each leading to one of the fae courts’ domains.
“The gateways are established,” the Summer emissary announced. “As was promised.”
“Balance must be maintained,” the Winter representative reminded them. “Guardians appointed. The binding monitored.”
“We understand,” Lark assured them, removing the brismil scale from her side to dispel her armor. Without the armor’senergy, exhaustion pulled at her with increasing intensity. The effort of fighting the binding ritual, of pulling herself back from the brink of dissolution, had drained her to the point of collapse.
