Page 86 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

“Indeed,” Leyriam said softly. “But she meant to give them back what he had stolen—to break their chains, to return them to the wild, not to keep them bound to his will. She wished to see them live again as they were meant to, not as commodities of war.”

My chest ached at the thought, fury and pride warring in my heart. She tried. Even when he caged her, even when she knew she’d die, she still tried. My fingers curled into fists. “And instead, he twisted her vision into another tool for his empire.”

Leyriam inclined his head. “He feared her, Ashlyn. More than you will ever know. And now it falls to you to finish what she began.”

Zander’s hand found mine, steady and warm despite the storm burning in his eyes. “Then we find it,” he said firmly. “And we use it for what she intended.”

I nodded, blinking against the sting in my eyes as Kaelith’s voice coiled through me, quiet but resolute. Her blood runs in your veins. Her strength is yours. And this time, Ashlyn, we will not fail.

Leyriam’s gaze lingered on the still, slumbering forms of the black dragons in their cages, his expression one of reverence and sorrow. The cavern still trembled, the aftershocks of Veralin’s death rippling through the earth. His voice was low, carrying a weight that stilled even the scrape of our boots against stone.

“They can be returned to the horde,” he said at last, as if speaking the words aloud bound him to the truth. “Their souls are not lost. The stasis holds them as they are—bound but not broken. But the tether must be unraveled in a place that can absorb their corruption and feed their renewal. That place is the Hollow.”

My head snapped toward him. “The Hollow? Like the one outside the walls of Warriath?”

He turned to me then, his pale eyes focused. “Yours is but an echo. A lesser fracture of the original, formed when the dragons of color spilled their blood into your land to protect it. The Hollow that exists here is far older… and far darker. This isle has been steeped in Veralin’s corruption for centuries. Every stone, every tree, even the sea air—poisoned. The Hollow here is stronger than yours, but it is… tainted. It will exact a price for what you ask of it.”

I felt my pulse spike. “What kind of price?”

“Life,” Leyriam said without hesitation. “Blood. Perhaps even the bond between rider and dragon. No one knows. None has ever dared to tempt it with such a request. But if the Hollow accepts your offering, the dragons, their fertility, their true bond with the land, can be restored. They would no longer be Veralin’s creatures. They would be free.”

Zander shifted beside me, his jaw tightening. “And if the Hollow rejects Ashe?”

Leyriam’s eyes closed for a long moment. “Then she and her dragon could die.”

Silence blanketed the cavern. The sound of the black dragons’ labored breaths filled the space like the ticking of a clock, each inhale and exhale a reminder of what was at stake.

Kaelith’s voice coiled through my mind, heavy with an ancient resonance. The Hollow does not give without taking. But it is a risk worth taking. Better to try and fail than to watch them waste away in chains.

I bit down on my lip, the metallic taste of blood bitter on my tongue. “If we do this,” I whispered, “we might be trading one death for another.”

Zander’s hand closed around mine, firm, grounding. “But it could save them. All of them.”

Leyriam inclined his head slowly, watching us with something that looked dangerously close to hope. “It will take centuries to cleanse this isle of Veralin’s poison. To see it bloom again as it once did. But the Hollow is still the Hollow. It answers only to truth and sacrifice. If you are willing… it may listen.”

I straightened, my decision made even as fear twisted inside me. “Then take us to the Hollow.”

For the first time since we’d met him, Leyriam’s solemn face cracked into the ghost of a smile. “So be it.”

The cavern seemed to exhale around us, the dragons’ restless movements stilling as if even they understood the weight of what had just been decided. Zander’s thumb brushed over the back of my hand, and though neither of us spoke, I knew we both felt the same thing.

The battle wasn’t over. It had only shifted. And the Hollow was waiting. We turned and joined our squad waiting by their dragons.

Zander’s voice cut through the air like steel drawn from its sheath. “Stay here,” he told the others firmly, his gaze sweeping over Jax, Ferrula, Naia, Tae, and the gathered Light Fae warriors. “Guard the chest. Guard the dragons. No one follows us into the Hollow.”

Jax frowned, his massive arms folding. “You’re gonna walk into gods-know-what without backup?”

“Yes,” Zander said without hesitation. His tone was final, and Jax pressed his lips together and fell silent. Then Zander softened, just barely. “Protect them. That’s the only way this works.”

Ferrula glanced between him and me, her green eyes fierce. “Fine. But don’t take too long, Rayne. You’re no use to us dead.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

Kaelith and Hein fell into step behind us, their claws crunching against the shattered stone of the cavern floor. Their presence was a living wall at our backs, an unspoken vow that whatever lay ahead, we wouldn’t face it alone. Yet even they seemed subdued, their heads lowered, their tails dragging slightly as though the weight of this place pressed against their scales.

Leyriam moved ahead of us, his white braids swinging as he strode with the unerring certainty of one who had walked this land before the illusions cloaked it. His steps were steady, purposeful, but I noticed the tightness in his shoulders, the way his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword as if even he did not trust what might linger in Veralin’s ruin.

As we left the ruins of Veralin’s castle, the truth of the Blood Isle unfurled around me, and my breath caught.