The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 121

Chapter 121: The Last Piece

MIRAEL

Never in her life had Mirael imagined she would set foot in Val’Thirael-let alone in the one place even the fae themselves dared not tread.

The Void.

With every step she and Morwenna took, the black haze thickened, swallowing the air and clinging to their skin. The silence was suffocating. No bird dared sing. No branch stirred. Even the grass was brittle husks underfoot.

Everything here was dead-or worse, waiting. And with each breath, it grew harder to breathe, as though the Void itself sought to leech the life from their lungs.

Morwenna strode ahead with unshaken poise, her crimson cloak hissing across the ash-stained earth. At her side, Mirael kept her gaze lowered, every step cautious, as though the ground itself might turn against her. She clutched the wooden box tighter to her chest, as if her very life depended on its hold.

The blight stirred around them-coiling, writhing-its shadows licked at their heels like wolves

drunk on the scent of blood.

With a flick of her wrist, Morwenna raised her hand. Green fire kindled in her palm, searing through the haze. The light crackled, unnatural, and the mist shrank back as though scorched, curling away just far enough to leave a narrow path before them.

“How much farther?” Mirael asked, forcing her voice steady, masking the irritation gnawing at her exhaustion.

Morwenna did not answer. Her stride remained unwavering as they pressed deeper into the lifeless land. The darkness thickened until the darkness was so complete that no trace of moonlight dared reach them.

At last, Morwenna halted. She spread her arms wide, her presence commanding against the silence, and her voice rang out like a blade striking stone.

“My Lord,” she called into the abyss, each syllable reverberating as if the land itself were hollow. “We bring what you asked for.”

At first, there was nothing, only the hollow echo of Morwenna’s voice drifting through the desolate dark,

Then, the shadows stirred.

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Chapter 121: The Last Piece

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A chill older than time itself slithered across the blight. The mist shivered, and the very air bent, as though some unseen veil were being pulled aside. The void pulsed, heavy with a presence that seemed to gnaw at the world around it.

Mirael’s heart hammered, breath trapped in her throat. Morwenna had warned her of this moment, had spoken of the weight of his presence, but no warning could prepare her.

This was not simply darkness. This was a force that threatened to eclipse all light.

And then he came.

The Light Reaper.

He loomed above them, cloaked in a shifting blackness that never stilled, as though the void

itself had taken form.

Mirael’s breath hitched. Her knées gave way before her mind had time to decide, and she crumpled to the ground, bowing her head low to hide the tremor in her lips. The very sight of him hollowed her chest, emptied her thoughts, until only raw terror remained.

Beside her, Morwenna had already fallen to her knees, her forehead nearly brushing the dead earth. She flicked a sharp glance at Mirael, then at the wooden box clutched to her chest.

With hands that trembled despite her effort to still them, Mirael extended the offering to the

dark lord without daring to lift her head.

The box lifted from her palms as if guided by invisible strings, drifting through the thick, oppressive air until it hovered before the Light Reaper. Shadows coiled around it like smoke before the lid creaked open.

Inside, seven small bells rested, unassuming yet alive with a dark shimmer. Even glimpsing them from the corner of her eye made Mirael’s stomach churn. They were strung on a frame of the same strange, blackened alloy, each etched with ancient symbols she could not decipher.

Morwenna lifted her head slightly. “We followed your instructions to the letter, my Lord.”

A low, resonant sound escaped the Reaper-part chuckle, part sigh, echoing like the collapse of a cavern. “You have done well, Morwenna.”

Morwenna responded by bowing her head lower.

The Light Reaper’s towering, horned silhouette swayed again, his attention shifting back to Mirael. His presence pressed down heavier, like a tide threatening to drown her.

“And this,” he said, his voice coiling with something unreadable, “is your novice?”

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Morwenna’s lips curved into a faint, serpentine smile. “Yes, my Lord. She has proven useful more than once,” she paused, letting the words linger, “and her fury burns hottest toward the fae girl.”

A ripple of sound rolled from the Reaper’s chest-laughter, though it held no mirth. It scraped like broken glass, echoing outward until even the mist seemed to shudder.

“Ah. Nothing feeds the fire like jealousy,” he mused. His swaying form warped, horns stretching impossibly high before snapping back into place.

He flicked a hand. At once, the ground heaved and a chest materialized from the void, ancient and iron-bound, its surface crawling with shifting runes. It creaked open. Inside rested two bands of dark metal, polished and cruelly smooth. They were shaped like manacles, almost twins to Eirlys’ bracelet, save for the absence of crimson gems.

The bells floated from his hand, slipping into the chest. The lid slammed shut, swallowing their faint glimmer. In the next instant, the chest sank back into the mist as though it had never been.

His voice thundered once more, low and resonant. “One more remains,” he declared. “The final piece of the puzzle. The key to my rebirth… to the world remade.”

A pause, heavy with promise. Then, with reverence and hunger entwined, he named it: “The

Arcana Omnia.”

Mirael could not contain herself. Anticipation throbbed through her like a second heartbeat, every nerve alight. Her lips parted before caution could reign in her curiosity.

“My Lord… what is the Arcana Omnia? And… how do we obtain it?” she asked, her voice low, trembling with hunger and awe.

The Light Reaper’s horns tilted toward her, a shadow of amusement curling through his form. “It is a tome unlike any other,” he said, his voice sliding through the marrow of her bones like smoke. “Written by the first Stellar, it holds the sum of all magic-every root, every flame, every fracture of power the realms have ever known. It contains every chant, every spell, every secret of the cosmos.”

“Only one copy exists. It was entrusted to a Thornwyck witch,” he added, the words rolling like a dark echo.

“Thornwyck…” Mirael breathed, the syllables escaping her lips like a prayer. Her eyes widened as realization struck-Ulyanna. The High Witch. Of course.

“It will be… difficult,” she murmured, her voice gaining steel as her mind turned to plotting. ” After my escape, Kierygan-the Dragon King-will surely have doubled his security. The

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<Chapter 121: The Last Piece

wards, the enchantments… doubled, tripled even by now.”

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The Light Reaper’s shadow swayed, a hiss of mockery curling from the abyss of his throat. Slowly, he raised a long, clawed hand, and the weight of his command pressed down like iron.

“Rise.”

Both Mirael and Morwenna obeyed, lifting their heads. Power surged through them at once- dark, heavy, intoxicating. It slithered into their veins, staining their very marrow. Mirael’s breath caught as it seared into her, burning and binding in equal measure. She knew then, without question: this was his gift.

“Use it well,” the Light Reaper intoned. “You will need it to fetch me what is mine.”

His voice dropped lower, darker, each syllable scraping against their very souls. “But be wary. The Arcana Omnia is not so easily claimed. The Thornwyck witch holds only half of it. The other half remains hidden. It is your task to find it.”

Mirael’s heart thundered, questions clawing at her tongue, but his presence crushed any thought of interruption.

“And,” the Reaper continued, his tone coiling like smoke, “the book itself is warded. Enchanted so that only its guardian may draw it from its vault. Attempt to take it by force, and the pages will burn.”

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