Page 78 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

Veralin’s laughter cut through the battle like a blade.

The air shifted, subtly at first, a tremor beneath the chaos. I thought it was another of Veralin’s illusions until the rustle of boots on stone reached my ears. From beyond the shattered columns, they came. Dozens of warriors, their long white braids whipping behind them like banners of war, armor glinting with runes older than memory. Their lavender eyes burned with ancient fire, and their swords gleamed as if forged from captured lightning.

The Light Fae had come.

My chest tightened, not with fear but with hope so intense it ached. For the first time since setting foot on this cursed isle, I let myself believe we might survive.

Veralin turned, his red eyes narrowing with pure, unmasked hatred. His lips pulled back, a snarl that made him look less king and more beast.

I smiled, teeth bared, my storm still crackling at my fingertips. “It looks like your reign is over, Veralin. Stand down… or die.”

His laugh was harsh, grating, like bone scraping stone. He raised his hand, shadows thickening into a spear of darkness that pulsed with killing intent. It hummed in the air, a thing of pure death, and Kaelith’s voice ripped through my mind—hot, frantic. Ashlyn, that will kill you. Move!

I ducked, throwing myself to the side. The spear screamed past, so close it seared the air, and when it hit a broken column it dissolved instantly, leaving nothing but smoke curling from the stone.

My heart pounded as I scrambled back to my feet. Veralin’s smile spread wide, jagged, unholy.

“Let’s try that again,” he purred, summoning another spear, its edges jagged with shadow, darker and sharper than the first.

The clash of steel rang across the ruined courtyard as Light Fae warriors descended on Veralin’s dark riders. They moved like water, every strike precise, every movement purposeful. Unlike their shadow-bound cousins, their blades didn’t waver or hesitate; their discipline was terrifying in its beauty. Blood Fae fell in waves beneath their white-braided onslaught, but still, I knew the truth—these warriors could not fly. And in the skies above, our dragons were locked in a battle that couldn’t last forever.

“Destroy the chest!” one of the Light Fae bellowed, his voice carrying over the chaos.

Veralin’s head snapped toward the artifact, his eyes igniting with fury as Kaelith prowled closer, fire flickering dangerously in her throat. His hand lashed out, shadows twisting into another spear—this one longer, blacker, humming with such concentrated malice it felt like the air itself recoiled.

The weapon hurtled toward me. My stomach seized, but I didn’t panic. I pulled. Wind surged at my call, slipping under the spear’s deadly trajectory, curving it midair with a shriek of displaced air. It arced upward, swirling around in an unnatural path as Veralin’s shield flared around the chest, layers of blood wards igniting in crimson light.

He never saw it coming.

His attention was fixed on Kaelith as she reared back, her maw blazing with molten fire. He snarled, focusing everything on protecting the chest, dismissing me as nothing more than a distraction.

But Kaelith wasn’t the one he needed to fear.

I held the wind taut like reins, guiding the spear until it spun overhead. Only when Veralin saw Kaelith step back, her fire stilled in her throat, did his head jerk—too late. His eyes widened in sudden, dawning horror as the spear whistled down from above.

He spun, shadows flaring, but not fast enough.

The dark spear slammed into his chest with a crack like thunder. His scream ripped through the battlefield, high and feral, as black ichor sprayed the stone. The impact sent him staggering backward, his shield faltering, the wards around the chest shuddering as if they, too, had been struck.

The scream didn’t just tear from Veralin’s mouth—it ripped through the very bones of the island. The ground bucked beneath us, a low, unholy vibration that rattled the stones and made the air shiver. Veralin crumpled, his body slamming against the cracked flagstones as black ichor pooled beneath him.

Then the earth split.

A jagged seam yawned open at our feet, the courtyard trembling as dust and fractured stone cascaded into darkness. The rumble grew louder and louder, until the fissure spread wide enough for stairs to reveal themselves—carved, ancient, spiraling downward into a massive cavern below.

I ran to the edge, my heart hammering, and what I saw nearly stole the breath from my lungs.

Cages. Dozens of them, carved from blackened iron and ruined stone, each holding a massive black dragon. Their scales glimmered with muted shadows, their eyes dull, chained and bound by glowing wards that clung like parasites. The air reeked of despair and fire suppressed too long.

“What is this?” My voice cracked as I gripped the stone rail, staring down at them.

Around us, the battlefield shifted. The Blood Fae froze as if struck by the same shock. Slowly, weapons clattered to the ground, one after another, as they dropped their blades and bowed their heads. In the sky, the clash faltered—then ended altogether. Our dragons circled back, unharried, as the remaining black dragons broke off their attacks.

The leader of the Light Fae stepped up beside me, his white braids swinging as he peered into the abyss. His voice was heavy, edged with sorrow.

“Dragons grow stronger as they age. Stronger than the bonds that enslave them. The Blood Fae could not kill their own source of power… so they imprisoned them here, locked away until replacements could be bred. They consumed the young to sustain themselves and caged the old when they became too dangerous.”

A hiss of rage burned through Kaelith’s mind into mine, her fury vibrating in my bones.