Page 56 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“These are sacrifice marks,” Nix said, suddenly appearing beside them in a spiral of flame. Her usual vibrant colors were muted, as she conserved her energy. “From the old rituals when the sanctuary was first built.”
“What kind of sacrifices?” Venrick asked, his voice tight.
Nix’s flame flickered nervously. “The original Concordat used symbolic sacrifices. These were personal treasures, memories, and oaths. Magic was different then, more about exchange than domination.”
“Unlike now,” Lark murmured, thinking of all those who were hungering for total control over the magic of the various realms.
They continued down the passage, which began to slope more steeply. The air grew noticeably colder, carrying a scent that reminded Lark of the Northern Sanctuary. It was that same icy musk that had heralded the Entity’s presence.
“Lark? Venrick?”Yarla’s voice came through the communication stones, fainter than before.“Can you still hear me?”
“Barely,” Lark replied. “The signal’s weakening.”
“You must be approaching the original sanctuary core. Hardin says the older magic will interfere with the stones. Be careful. We’ve detected unusual energy fluctuations throughout the city. Something is happening.”
“What kind of fluctuations?” Venrick asked.
Static crackled through the stone, Yarla’s reply fragmented:“...rimeshade sightings...increased activity...preparations for...”Then silence.
“We’ve lost her,” Lark said, removing the now-useless stone from her ear.
Venrick did the same, his expression grim. “Sounds like the opposition is mobilizing. We need to hurry.”
The passage ended abruptly at a blank wall of stone, seemingly a dead end. But Lark’s enhanced senses detected the faint flow of air from behind it.
“There’s something beyond this wall,” she said, running her hands over the surface. Her fingers found subtle indentations. Not random imperfections but deliberately placed.
Nix moved closer, her flame illuminating the wall better than Lark’s mage light. “It’s another warded entrance, like in the Northern Sanctuary. See these marks? They’re lock points.”
Lark studied the pattern. Unlike the ward boundary they’d breached with Hardin’s help, this appeared to be a more sophisticated mechanism. “It needs both types of magic again, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Nix confirmed. “Dragon and fae, working in harmony. Just like before.”
Lark closed her eyes, drawing on her bond with White Eye. His presence was more distant here, deep beneath the Keep, but still solid and reassuring. His power began to flow to her. It wasn’t the raw, overwhelming force she had struggled to control in the Northern Sanctuary, but a measured stream that she could direct with precision.
“Nix,” she said softly, “I need your fire.”
The fae moved closer, her flame growing brighter. “Be careful, Lark. The balance is delicate.”
This time, Lark was prepared for the challenge of weaving the two types of magic together as she’d felt the harmony of their balance in the wards earlier. She focused first on establishing the flow from White Eye, letting it gather in her right hand. Then, with her left, she reached for Nix’s fae magic, feeling it respond to her call.
The true challenge came in bringing them together without allowing either to dominate. Lark visualized the patterns she had seen in the Northern Sanctuary, in the wards at the archive vault, and again here in the Keep’s wards. She focused on the way the two magics had intertwined to become one. It was a dance where neither was leading nor following.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she guided the energies into the lock points on the wall. The stone began to hum, faint lines of blue and silver light tracing themselves across its surface in the now-familiar patterns of the Concordat.
“It’s working,” Venrick whispered, watching in fascination.
The final lock point illuminated, and the wall before them shimmered like heat rising from summer stone. Then, silently, it simply ceased to be solid, becoming as insubstantial as mist.
Beyond lay a chamber that took Lark’s breath away.
The sanctuary core was a perfect dome, its ceiling lost in shadows despite Nix’s bright flame. Columns of polished obsidian supported walkways that circled the chamber at various heights, each carved with intricate runes that glowed faintly with green and silver light. At the center stood a raised dais of white marble, upon which rested a pedestal of the same strange light-absorbing metal they had seen in the Northern Sanctuary vault.
But the pedestal was empty.
“Someone’s been here before us,” Venrick said, moving cautiously into the chamber.
Lark followed, her senses alert for any sign of danger. The chamber appeared empty, but she could feel the weight of centuries pressing in around them. This place had stood when the original twelve dragons had first come to Sataran. It had witnessed the formation of the Concordat, the binding of the Void Drinker, the rise and fall of countless kingdoms.
