The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Blight

KIERYGAN’S POV

Claim

Dawn had not yet broken, and the castle still lay in slumber. The earlier I started my day, the more I told myself I could accomplish. Though truthfully, it was just an excuse I repeated to convince

myself.

My boots echoed softly against the cold stone as I stepped out of my room. Almost at once, my

gaze drifted to the door across from mine–hers.

A thin sliver of moonlight cut across the floor, reaching all the way to her threshold. I hesitated, my

hand curling and uncurling at my side.

Part of me argued that I only wanted to be sure she was safe. That I needed to know she was still there, still breathing in the quiet of her dreams. And another part reasoned that if I did, I might not

be able to turn away.

So I kept walking.

I forced my mind away from her door and descended the staircase. By the time dawn crept over the horizon, I was already beyond the castle walls, surveying the borders where my warriors kept

watch.

At the edge of the forest, I shifted into my dragon form and launched into the sky.

I flew the length of Altierra, from the craggy peaks of the east to the newly raised settlements in the west. The villages still bore the scars of war, but there was life in them again–timber frames rising, thatched roofs taking shape. I watched it all from above, the promise of renewal softening the ache in my chest.

Satisfied at last, I flew back toward Solmere, the fortress spires piercing the morning sky. As I landed in the courtyard, I shifted back, my hot breath steaming in the cold air.

Thorin, my training overseer, strode up to me, his brow furrowed. “My king,” he said, voice urgent. There’s someone from Vargheim at the gates. He says it’s important.”

Vargheim. Malric’s kingdom. Now mine.

The thought of it twisted something deep in my gut–a reminder of the lands I’d claimed in fire and blood, and the tangled responsibility that came with them.

“Who is it?” I asked, my voice cold as I straightened my coat.

I

“Some Alpha from a pack near the outskirts,” Thor replied. “He insists he must speak with you at

once.”

I nodded once and followed Thorin across the courtyard. At the gates stood a lone werewolf–tall,

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with ash–brown hair and hard, amber eyes. Beside him, his Beta, judging from the quiet deference.

in his stance, and three other warriors, all of them watchful.

As I approached, they dipped their heads. “Alpha Akhil, Your Majesty,” the Alpha said, introducing

himself.

“Alpha Akhil,” I replied evenly, drawing closer. “You’ve come far.”

He bowed his head lower still. “Your Majesty,” he said, voice tight. “I thought you should know…” He

lifted his gaze, and there was fear in those amber eyes. “There’s a sickness spreading in Silverpine Valley. It happened overnight. The plants withered first, then the animals. And now… now even my

pack members are falling ill,”

A chill coiled around my spine. “How many have died?”

“None yet,” he said, voice taut. “But they’re weakening. The forest itself is dying, and we don’t know

why.”

I folded my arms, mind already racing. “You did right to come to me,” I said. “I’ll fly there at once

and see what can be done.”

Akhil dipped his head again. “Thank you, King Kierygan.”

I turned to Thorin. “Get me Ulyanna,” I ordered. “I want her to examine this plague before it spreads beyond Silverpine.”

Thorin nodded once and turned away, already moving to find the High Witch.

The journey to Silverpine was swift and cold, though winter’s bite had begun to soften into the crispness of early spring. Snowmelt fed the rivers, and patches of green pushed through the lingering frost.

Ulyanna traveled with Alpha Akhil and his men, her magic carrying them in shimmering silver threads that vanished as swiftly as they appeared.

When I arrived, the air itself felt heavy with dread. Buds had begun to peek from the branches elsewhere, but here, at the edge of Silverpine, new life seemed to shy away. The earth was black and cracked, the faint scent of rot clinging to the thawing ground. Akhil and the others met me there as I landed, his shoulders stiff as he led us deeper into the forest.

He stopped at the border of the blight–where green turned to rot, and the early spring warmth couldn’t coax new life. “It began here,” Akhil said, voice low. “At first, it was only a patch of dead plants. Now it creeps further every hour. My people grow sick from the air alone.”

I stared at the twisted trees, their bark split and oozing black sap.

I stared at the twisted trees, their bark split and oozing black sap. My gaze drifted beyond the borders, to the distant land shrouded in black fog.

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Alpha Akhil followed my eyes. “Val’Thirael,” he said quietly. “The cursed lands. The winds must have carried whatever festers there. Now it has reached us.”

Ulyanna stepped forward, her movements deliberate, the silver–trimmed hem of her cloak whispering across the thawing earth. She lifted a hand, her fingers glowing faintly. “The air tastes of decay,” she murmured, her voice cold with something deeper than fear. “I can feel it… some

malignancy.”

I watched her intently. “Can you contain it?”

“I can try,” she said.

She raised both hands, her fingers splayed like the roots of an ancient tree. Light pulsed from her palms, weaving a shimmering dome of magic around the dying land. The earth beneath the ward recoiled, and I saw her brow crease, sweat beading at her hairline.

For a moment, the rot paused–held at bay by the silver glow.

Then I felt it too: a weight, slow and insidious, pressing against the barrier. The fog beyond the valley churned, dark tendrils writhing like serpents against the ward’s light.

Ulyanna’s breath quickened. “It’s consuming the magic,” she said, her voice taut.

She lowered her hands, the dome flickering but still holding. She turned to me and Akhil, her

expression grave.

“It will hold,” she said. “But not for long. This is no simple decay. It’s alive. A curse or blight born in Val’Thirael’s shadow. We need a cure, and quickly. Or Silverpine will fall… and then all of Vargheim

will follow.”

Akhil’s jaw tensed, but he only bowed his head in silent gratitude.

I looked beyond the fog, to the looming darkness of Val Thirael. My mind was already racing–who had unleashed this? Was it some remnant of the ancient wars, or something new, something

worse?

“We will find a cure,” I said, my voice hard as iron. “And if this sickness is the work of an enemy, we will hunt them down–and end them.”

For a moment, we stood there, watching as the ominous fog fed on the ward’s light.

“We’ll return soon to reinforce the barrier,” Ulyanna said to Alpha Akhil, then turned to me. “For now, we must head back. I need to see if there’s anything in the ancient texts that speaks of this plague.

I nodded.

Ulyanna vanished in a ripple of light, leaving me alone in the air under the darkening sky. I shifted

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Chapter 21 Blight

once more, scales crackling over my skin, wings stretching wide. The winds carried me across Silverpine’s forests and the ridges of neighboring valleys.

I flew low, eyes sweeping the land for any other signs of the sickness. The forests of Vargheim lay quiet beneath me, rivers swollen with snowmelt, fields stirring awake to the promise of green.

So far, the blight was contained within Silverpine–but I knew how swiftly rot could spread. All it would take was a shift in the wind, a careless traveler, a hungry crow. The sickness would slip its

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