Page 93 of The Dragonrider and the Void
Lark frowned, as the path through the crystal forest defied her expectations at every turn. What had appeared to be trees from a distance revealed themselves to be impossibly slender columns of translucent mineral, each one catching and refracting the ambient light in ways that created the illusion of leaves and branches.
“No,” Lark said, reaching to touch one of the branches. The surface rippled like water yet remained solid beneath her fingertips.
“Don’t linger,” Nix cautioned, her flame-bright form gliding ahead. “The forest responds to curiosity. Show too much interest, and it might decide to keep you.”
Lark withdrew her hand quickly. “You could have mentioned that sooner.”
“There are countless such rules here,” Nix replied without slowing. “I’ll make sure to call them out as we go.”
They continued, following a path that appeared with each step and instantly vanished behind them. Colors shifted in the grass as it extended through the crystal columns, occasionallysprouting what Lark took to be flowers, though these opened and closed in response to their footsteps rather than sunlight.
After what felt like hours of walking, Lark paused, frowning at the spires that still loomed in the distance. They were no closer than when they’d started walking.
“Are we making any progress?” she asked.
Nix’s expression held a hint of amusement. “Distance doesn’t work the same way here. We’re not traveling through space as much as through intention.”
“Meaning?”
“The Summer Court will be reached when it decides to be reached. Or rather, when those within decide we should be permitted to arrive.”
Lark sighed in frustration. “We don’t have time for games. Every moment here is?—”
“Different from moments in Sataran,” Nix finished. “Time flows differently between realms. What feels like days here might pass as minutes there. Or the opposite. It’s fluid.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Lark muttered, but continued walking.
She reached for her bond with White Eye again, feeling that impossibly stretched connection. If she focused completely, she could almost sense his emotions: concern, determination, rage at their separation. But attempting to communicate was like trying to shout across a vast canyon; the distance swallowed her words.
“Tell me about the Summer Court,” she said instead, needing distraction from the worry gnawing at her. “What should I expect?”
Nix’s flame flickered thoughtfully. “The Summer Court is the most approachable for outsiders. They govern growth, transformation, abundance. Their power waxes whenpossibilities expand.” She gestured to the vibrant landscape around them. “Much of what you see here bears their influence.”
“And the other courts?”
“Spring oversees beginnings, birth, inspiration. Winter rules endings, wisdom, preservation. And Night,” Nix’s flame dimmed slightly. “Night governs secrets, dreams, the spaces between certainties.”
“Your court,” Lark observed.
Nix nodded, her fiery hair rippling. “Once. Though I doubt they still claim me.”
Before Lark could ask more, the landscape shifted dramatically. The crystal formations parted like a curtain, revealing a sweeping vista that hadn’t been visible moments before. The floating spires of the Summer Court now loomed directly ahead, no longer in the distance but immediately present, as if they’d suddenly been permitted to arrive.
The structures defied gravity and conventional architecture. Towers of golden amber and rose quartz spiraled upward, connected by bridges that seemed formed of pure light. Gardens bloomed on platforms that hovered without support, cascading waterfalls flowing upward instead of down. And moving throughout were figures that shimmered like Nix, though in greens and golds and vibrant blues rather than flame colors.
“The faerie folk,” Lark breathed.
“Some of them,” Nix corrected. “The summer variants, at least.”
As they approached, Lark noticed details she hadn’t been able to discern from afar. Many of the fae appeared nearly human, though taller and more ethereally proportioned. Others bore features that marked them as distinctly otherworldly: gossamer wings, antlers sprouting from brows, skin that shifted between opacity and transparency with their movements.
Two guards materialized before them, seeming to step out of empty air. They wore armor that resembled interlocking leaves forged from gold, and carried spears tipped with crystals that hummed with contained energy.
“Halt,” the first commanded, voice melodious despite the harsh word. “Identify yourselves and state your purpose.”
Nix stepped forward, her flame burning steadier. “I am Nix of the Night Court, the fire fae who bonded to Lark, human of Sataran and dragonrider of the dragon White Eye.”
The guards’ expressions registered surprise, followed swiftly by suspicion.
