The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 163

Chapter 163: The Eighth Grain

KIERYGAN’S POV

“Then what do we do? She’s far too weak to summon her own light.”

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Ashteryn lifted his head from where he knelt, his shoulders shaking. Not from despair this time, but from the spark that had just reignited in his chest. His sorrow, which moments ago had felt like the last breath before surrender, twisted into something fierce.

“We could make another bell,” Ashteryn said through the link.

Callum’s reply came fast, edged with frustration and worry. “We already tried that before. It didn’t work.”

Ashteryn growled, the sound deep and primal. “I don’t care if it didn’t work before.” He strode closer, fists clenched, eyes burning with grim resolve. “We’re trying again.”

Evander turned toward him, nodding once. “Alright,” he said. “Alright, Ashteryn. Let’s do it. It might actually work-the seven grains were the only ones bound to the seven bells.”

He hesitated, his voice dropping. “We just have one problem… there’s no dark metal left. The Reaper dissolved it all into shadow.”

Silence followed, thick and suffocating.

Then a deep, wheezing grunt broke through it.

Nibbles.

The massive rabbit hopped forward, his fur caked with ash and streaked with blood. He stopped beside Eirlys, those black eyes gleaming with an uncanny light. Then, without hesitation, he clamped his teeth around something on her back-her sword, forged from the fragments of a fallen star.

2

A sharp hiss split the air as he wrenched it free from its hilt.

IN

Eirlys stirred, barely conscious, her eyes fluttering aben. She blinked in confusion, watching as her rabbit dragged the sword toward Ashteryn.

The smith eyed the thing, then glanced at Nibbles. You sure about this, boy?”

C

S

The rabbit rose on his hind legs, puffed his broad chest, and stared back without flinching. Ashteryn huffed through the link. “Don’t know if thats a yes, but we’re doing it anyway.”

The sixth bell tolled-its sound cleaving through the battlefield like a death knell. Eirlys whimpered, the sound barely a rasp. Blood and tears streaked her ashen face. I drew her

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Chapter 163 The Eighth Grain

closer, lifting her limp body against me, her head resting against my neck.

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“Hold on for me, my love,” I whispered, my voice breaking apart. I stroked her back, each caress a

plea, each breath a prayer. Her faint pulse thudded weakly against my heart.

Ashteryn stooped low, his scarred hands closing around the fallen sword of starmetal. His jaw clenched, eyes blazing with grim resolve.

“I’m going to need more time,” he growled.

“We’ll help you,” Ulyanna said, stepping forward. Scylla followed close behind, eyes sharp and focused.

The two witches raised their hands. Streams of blue and violet magic erupted from their palms, swirling together until they engulfed the starmetal blade in a sphere of molten light. The air hissed, the ground cracked beneath their feet. Yet, even their combined power faltered. The metal refused to yield.

“Come on!” Ashteryn barked through the link, his voice raw with urgency. “It’s not melting fast enough!”

Ulyanna’s jaw tightened, teeth clenching. “We’re pushing it as far as we can!”

Beside her, Scylla grunted, tension radiating from every line of her body. “It needs more heat.”

Ashteryn slammed his axe into the ground, frustration ripping through him. “Then make it hotter!” he roared. “We’re running out of time!”

I lifted my hand toward them. “Let me help,” I said.

Ulyanna and Scylla didn’t hesitate. The sword floated toward me, shimmering in the air. The moment my fingers brushed the starmetal, I let the dragon heat rise within me. Almost instantly, the blade began to soften, glowing like molten glass. Still, time was slipping away-soon, the Light Reaper would strike the seventh and final bell.

I spun toward Nibbles, who was pounding the ground impatiently, ears flicking. “Can you do that thing you did in Val’Thirael?” I asked, my voice hushed but edged with desperation. “The pulse… the one that knocked the witches down?”

The rabbit’s nose twitched, his enormous eyes flicking from me to Eirlys.

The Light Reaper’s hand rose, poised to strike the seventh bell.

“Nibbles,” I whispered, pleading. “Come on.”

E

A breath before the rod met the bell, a shockwave erupted-blinding, deafening, and blue.

The world fell silent. My ears rang; the battlefield dissolved into a wash of white. For a heartbeat,

there was nothing. No sound. No breath. Only light

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Then, through the failing brilliance, I saw the imposible.

The Light Reaper and his disciples were frozen mud chant. Mirnet staggered, catching Morwenna me she fall. The corpers of Malnic and the three witches vanished into dust. And the stream of golden light the one they had been pulling from Eye-shuddered and reversed.

I began to flow back

The pure and radiant light rushed toward her, weaving over her skin like rivers of molten gold, Put her body remained limp, trembling from the agony she had just endured.

The Light Reaper’s hollow form swiveled, his shadowed face turning toward Nibbles. His voice cut through the air like a blade dragged across bone,

“You bothersome vermin, he muttered darkly

Dark wisps curled from his hands, black tendrils alive with death, snaking toward the rabbit.

“Nibbles, fun!” I roared, my voice breaking from my throat.

But Nibbles didn’t move,

He stood his ground, his fur glowing faintly blue, his round eyes fized on the monster towering above him. A deep rumble echoed from his chest. Low and defiant.

Then, with a sound like a crack of thunder, he released another pulse. It was weaker than the first,

but enough.

The blast rippled through the ash and smoke, bending the air around him. The Light Reaper’s tendrils faltered, recoiling for just a moment. And in that heartbeat, Nibbles vanished.

The Light Reaper’s hiss turned into a roar, his shadowed face twisting in fury. His form stretched and convulsed, the darkness around him seething like a living storm.

He turned his hollow gaze back to us. To me. To Eirlys,

“You think this will save you?” he snarled, his voice echoing across the valley. “You think you can keep me from my rebirth?”

Eirlys stirred weakly in my arms, and I drew her closer, feeling the fragile flutter of her breath against my neck.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, her voice raw and husky.

I cradled the back of her head, leaning close. “We’re fighting this, Eirlys,” I said softly. “We can’t let you, or anyone, just fade away”

The Light Reaper’s laughter rolled across the battlefieldcruel, hollow, endless. “Fools,” he hissed, his voice dropping into a guttural growl that shook the air. “I can always begin again. I can repeat the ritual until it is complete… until every grain of her light belongs to me.”

< Chapter 163 The Eighth Grain

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He leaned forward, shadows writhing around him, his molten eyes fixed on Eirlys. “And you, dragon ..” His tone twisted into something almost tender, poisonous. “You’ll watch her break. Again. And again. Until there’s nothing left of her to hold.”

He raised his arms, and the ground erupted. Ash spiraled upward, twisting violently in the wind.

The corpses of Malric and the three witches convulsed. Their limbs jerked and cracked as if pulled by invisible strings. Their eyes burned with the Ligh Reaper’s darkness as he raised them anew.

“Let’s start over,” the Light Reaper said, voice smooth as silk-and twice as merciless.

And the nightmare began again.

The first bell tolled.

Then came the chant. That cursed, twisting melody that clawed at my chest, sinking into every ragged breath I drew.

Seven voices rose, merging into a single, jagged chorus that carried the weight of death itself, pressing down on the battlefield, on us, like a living shroud.

In my arms, Eirlys arched in agony again, trembling, tears streaking her face.

I pressed my lips against her cheeks, her temple, her mouth, trying to chase away the agony with

every touch. “I’m so sorry, my star,” I murmured, my voice splintering. “I know you’re in so much

pain. But please… stay with me. Just a little longer.”

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