Page 99 of The Dragonrider and the Void
Taking a deep breath, Lark called upon both bonds. The connection to White Eye remained stretched thin, but enough of his essence flowed through to blend with Nix’s fire. The dual energy manifested between her palms, its purple light illuminating the chasm before them.
As the light touched the edges of the gulf, the emptiness shimmered. Reality seemed to reconsider itself, folding inward from the brink. Gradually, the chasm narrowed, earth and stone filling in until only a shallow depression remained where the bottomless void had been.
“Impressive,” Helianthus acknowledged. “The Expanse recognizes your authority to pass.”
They continued on, the landscape growing darker with each step. The iridescent grasses faded to silver, then charcoal, then black. The air grew chill, carrying scents of midnight gardens and autumn decay. Above them, the stars disappeared one by one, replaced by a canopy of absolute darkness pierced only by a single, impossibly large moon that shed silver light over everything.
“We approach the Night Court’s domain,” Nix whispered, her flame dimming significantly. “From here, we must proceed with utmost caution.”
The Summer guards, whose golden armor now looked starkly out of place in the darkness, grew visibly tense. Their hands never strayed far from their weapons as they scanned the shadows that seemed to move independently of any light source.
“The Night Court does not appreciate uninvited guests,” Helianthus warned Lark. “Especially those accompanied by Summer Court representatives.”
“Our courts have differences,” Solstice added diplomatically.
“Age-old grudges,” Nix clarified, her voice barely audible. “Stemming from the original binding of the Void Drinker and what came after.”
Before Lark could ask for elaboration, the shadows ahead coalesced. Three figures emerged, tall and elegant, clad in armor that seemed to be crafted from solidified darkness. Unlike the Summer Court fae, these beings moved with absolute silence, their features sharp and severe beneath crowns of midnight thorns.
“Halt,” commanded the central figure, a female whose skin was the blue-black of a moonless sky, her eyes twin points of starlight. “You trespass on Night Court territory.”
Helianthus stepped forward, bowing formally. “We come under Queen Aurelia’s authority, escorting a visitor from Sataran who seeks audience with your sovereign.”
The Night Court guards exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Then the female’s gaze locked onto Nix, whose flame had diminished to little more than a flickering ember.
“You,” she hissed, her voice suddenly charged with emotion. “The deserter returns.”
Nix drifted forward, her form wavering uncertainly. “Greetings, Umbra. It has been a long time since our paths crossed.”
“Not long enough,” Umbra replied coldly. Her attention shifted to Lark. “And you bring a mortal bearing Summer Court magic. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t cast you both into the Void right now.”
Lark met the guard’s starlit gaze unflinchingly. “Because the Void Drinker has escaped its prison on Sataran, and without the Night Court’s assistance, both our realms will fall to its hunger.”
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then Umbra laughed with a sound like glass breaking in the distance.
“The Void Drinker? That ancient threat was contained centuries ago by the Concordat. It cannot simply ‘escape.’”
“Yet it has,” Lark insisted. “I’ve faced it myself. It possesses the Realmstone and plans to use the coming Flashover to tear down the barriers between all realms permanently.”
The Night guards stiffened at the mention of the Realmstone. Umbra’s expression shifted from disdain to calculation.
“These are serious claims,” she said finally. “Lord Noctis should hear them, even if only to dismiss them.” She fixed Nix with another cold glare. “And he will be most interested to see what has become of his wayward ember.”
She gestured for them to follow, turning without waiting for a response. The other Night guards fell in beside the group, creating an escort that felt more like a death march.
As they walked deeper into the Night Court’s territory, the landscape transformed dramatically. Gone was any pretense of natural terrain. Instead, they traversed a world of elegant, impossible architecture. Spires of obsidian rose from perfectly still pools of liquid shadow. Gardens bloomed with flowers that existed only in silhouette. Waterfalls of dark mercury cascaded upward into a sky dominated by that single, oversized moon.
Throughout it all, Lark noticed eyes watching from the darkness. Countless fae nobles observed their procession with undisguised curiosity and obvious disdain.
“They hate us,” she whispered to Nix.
“Not hate,” Nix corrected quietly. “Fear. The Night Court has always feared the power of dragons. It’s why they were so reluctant to participate in the original binding. And why they feel betrayed by what came after.”
“What did come after?” Lark asked, but Nix merely shook her head, unwilling to explain further in the presence of their escort.
The path widened, leading them toward a structure that seemed miraculous even by fae standards. The palace was constructed entirely from shadows and moonlight, constantly shifting yet somehow solid. Its spires pierced the dark sky like needles, and its walls rippled as if underwater.
“The Obsidian Palace,” Nix murmured. “Heart of the Night Court’s power.”
