And never lose him again.
I feel Bjorn’s fire coming for me like a freight train, as he finds me, as well. As we collide in the nothing-space, I feel our dragons roar and wrap around each other in the mist, snarling and tight.
The space between us explodes, blistered away in a blaze of towering light. And Bjorn is there, right before me, as he strides in.
Seizing me—and claiming his life-mate.
Bjorn kisses me like all the world’s on fire, as we find each other through the mist. As he does, a towering synergy roars through him, me, and my drakes; suddenly, all the mist surrounding us is just burning away, racing back as it’s devoured by our furious tornado of fire.
As our auric fire devours the mist, I at last see we’re inside a cavern. We’re insidethe cavern, as the last of the white-blue mist is singed away.
Leaving us in the birthplace of the Dragon of All Souls, already.
“We were here all along.” Ström marvels as we look around, amazed at the place we’ve come into. Because what we’re seeing now looks like what we saw in the Void—but also not.
As I gaze around in pure astonishment, I realize what I was seeing there was only theessenceof this place, rather than the full majesty of it, revealed to us now that we’ve come into it.
Because though the gargantuan cavern is rough, just like it was when I saw it from the Void, I see the towering columns have been carved out of it all around, ringing the space.
Though the masterful sigil remains upon the floor, flowing through with millions of rune-phrases I can’t even begin to understand, all worked in silver, gold, and an unknown metal of an astonishing bright white, it’s far more extensive here even than it was in the Void.
Because here, that incredible sigil extends not just in concentric circles along the floor, out from the very place we stand, but also winds its way up every column at the far edges of the space.
It pours through the walls as well, spilling out onto the vast ceiling far above and covering it. That ceiling has dragons flying through the runes; gargantuan, stylized beasts of our Ancestors, they roar and rage as they cavort and battle all through the skies.
Just as we saw from the Void, twelve ancient mummified brutes of those dragons ring us now, with stunning jewel tones in their ancientscales. Positioned to roar with jaws wide at us from every column, I see the silver, gold, and white sigils upon them have been carved throughout their mummified scales and flesh, the precious metals inlaid into them rather than tattooed.
It’s incredible, the entire space shining yet also dark, as those sigils seem to exude their own light, all around us. Majestic, a deep, ancient sensation of power flows through me now from this incredible space.
Thundering to the roots of my bones, and to the very last rivers of my blood.
“Well, I think we’ve found our power spot.” Mikkel chuckles as we gaze around in astonishment.
Even as we do, however, I notice something odd about the sigil on the floor. As I glance down at it, then trace it beneath our boots, I finally see that the ancient sigil we stand upon is cracked. Right through every line of silver, gold, and shining white, some terrible lance-like scar mars the beauty of what was created here long ago.
Sundering one half of the masterful sigil imbued in this chamber from the other.
“Would you look at that?” Ström notices it too now, as he bends, whispering his fingertips over the crack. “Sundered in half. Right through its middle.”
“Only a truly powerful magic could have done that,” Baldur notes as he hunkers like Ström, running his fingers over the crack also, a deep frown upon his face.
“The Black Dragon? Something to do with Hedda’s ritual when she created it?” I ask him now as I kneel to touch it with Bjorn.
“I don’t know…” Baldur says, however, as that pensive look devours his face. Frowning down at that crack more, he seems lost for a moment, as I feel him spiral part of his consciousness out to the Void. He gets no answers there, either, and at last comes back. “I don’t know what made this division, Rikyava. Truly, I don’t.”
“We’ll figure it out, if we need to,” I say now as I rise, my drakes besideme. “I think we’ve found the Black Dragon’s birthplace, though. With all the crazy power I’m feeling flowing through this chamber, right now, this has to be the place.”
“Hedda used all this to create her monstrosity,” Bjorn grumps as he looks around, golden fire flashing in his eyes. “What we need to discover now is how to kill it.”
“With power like this, here in this chamber,” Baldur says as he glances at me, “I should be able to make a Soulstone. Provided we can cast down the black veil that’s still around you in the Void, that is. So we can even speak to the Ancestors at all, much less gather imprints of the Five who made the creature.”
“Holy hells.”
As another voice joins us, I turn to find that Lærke has entered the space. Her lavender eyes are wide, her lips fallen open; shock pummels from her as she slowly lowers her massive chartreuse and white dragon-aura.
As she also lowers her hands—from what I see just now was her powering up for a fight.
“Lærke!” Mikkel moves to her, smoothing his hands down his sister’s arms, then drawing her in close to peck her cheeks. Lærke just stares at us, then all around, as she marvels at the gargantuan space, astounded.
