Page 89 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

The pendant.

No longer resting against her phantom form, it hung in the air before me, suspended by threads of light, pulsing with the rhythm of a heartbeat that was both my mother’s and mine. It called to me, insistent and alive, as though it had been waiting, hidden and guarded, for this exact moment.

My breath caught, a prayer, and a curse tangled on my tongue. This was it. The choice. The hope. The burden.

Kaelith, I thought, clutching at our bond like a lifeline. Are you ready?

Her voice answered, steady and fierce, searing through the blinding brilliance. Always.

The Hollow shivered, shadows peeling back to reveal another vision—one that twisted my insides.

Veralin stood within a chamber of black stone, his red eyes glowing like embers. At his feet, a silver hatchling squirmed, its wings pinned by thick iron chains, its cries high and desperate. His hand rested on the chest—that cursed artifact—the other pressed to the baby dragon’s head. His lips moved, dark syllables dripping like poison.

The hatchling’s silver scales rippled, then dulled, bleeding into black. Its bright, frantic eyes dimmed to lifeless crimson. Its cries cut short, and it slumped against the chains.

My knees nearly buckled. No.

Kaelith’s grief struck through me like a blade, intense and raw. I placed my hand against the cavern wall to steady myself. Why are we seeing this? I whispered to her through our bond.

It must have something to do with the price, she answered, her voice ragged, almost breaking.

A new presence filled the Hollow then—massive, radiant, ancient. The surrounding light coalesced into the form of a gold dragon so vast he made the cavern seem small. Siergen. His scales burned like molten sunlight, but I knew this wasn’t truly him. Only an echo. An illusion woven by the Hollow.

Still, when his voice entered my mind, it carried the weight of eternity. To obtain the necklace, you must prove your dragon trusts you with not just her life—but her soul.

The breath caught in my chest. “What does that mean?”

I already showed you.

Kaelith hissed inside me, her voice biting with fury and fear. He wants you to bind me.

My heart lurched. “No. No way. I don’t want to turn dark, and I don’t want to live forever.”

It doesn’t work that way, she said, her tone quieter now, steadier. Not when an adult dragon chooses to bind its soul to its rider. What Veralin did was unnatural. But the first riders—their bonds were chosen. They shared their souls. It made them stronger. It slowed the aging process. But when a rider reached the end of their natural lifespan, the dragon rescinded the bond. The rider simply… slipped away.

My throat tightened. “But what if one of us died before the other?”

The dragon can rescind the bond at any time, Kaelith explained. If death is imminent, the dragon lets go. That is the choice we hold. Always.

I shook my head, fighting the hot sting of tears. “Why haven’t you done this since the first riders?”

Her answer came like a whisper of smoke in the back of my mind. Because the bond is strong. And it is usually the dragon who is left behind… to recover after their rider’s death. To share one’s soul, and then learn to live without it—it is nearly unbearable.

My chest caved inward. “I don’t want to put you through that. I can’t.”

But Kaelith’s voice was firm now, filled with conviction that seared through me like violet fire. And if we don’t, Ashlyn, then all the black dragons die needlessly. There are over fifty of them. They were innocent. Victims forced into slavery.

I closed my eyes, tears burning down my cheeks. What do you want to do? I asked her. My voice was hoarse, breaking.

Her presence coiled around mine, unshakable, proud, and strong. I want to choose you.

A single tear slid down my cheek, hot against my skin as I whispered into the Hollow, I choose you, too. My chest ached, but it wasn’t pain—it was the immensity of what I was about to give, and what Kaelith was about to share.

Then speak the words after me, she said, her voice low and ancient, carrying the weight of generations.

Soul to soul, flame to flame.

Let storm and scale entwine,