The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 78

Chapter 78: Phased and Fractured

EIRLYS‘ POV

“I… I think we need to go back. I… I feel like someone’s watching us.”

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For a beat, I thought Prince Draven would dismiss it as all in my head. He glanced around, eyes scanning the street. Nothing looked out of place.

Then his gaze narrowed, lips parting slightly as he inhaled through his nose. His amber irises darkened, glowing faintly crimson. Without warning, he vanished–phasing out of sight.

I clutched Nibbles tighter, my heart hammering in my chest. The street felt emptier without his presence, the shadows stretching longer around me.

In the blink of an eye, he was back. His eyes were sharp and cold.

“It’s gone,” he murmured, his tone clipped. “But you were right. We need to return. I have to tell my father.”

He stepped closer, and for the first time, I saw something almost… protective flicker in his gaze.

“It’ll be faster if we phase.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes wide. “Phase?”

I had always wondered how it would feel. A dozen times. Without thinking, I whispered, “Alright.”

“Hold your rabbit tight,” he said. “Support his body and neck.”

I obeyed, cradling Nibbles securely against my chest. Before I could brace myself, Prince Draven moved behind me, his cold arms snaking around my shoulders. He pressed my head firmly against

his chest.

“Don’t move,” he murmured in my ear.

Then the world blurred.

My stomach lurched as the ground disappeared beneath my feet. Colors and shadows streaked

past too fast to comprehend. Cold wind whipped against my skin, burning my eyes shut as I clutched Nibbles tighter, terrified he might slip from my grasp.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

Solid ground returned beneath me. Air flooded my lungs. Prince Draven loosened his grip and

stepped back with calm indifference.

But before I could take another breath, my stomach twisted violently.

I stumbled to the side, dropping to my knees as everything I had eaten burned its way back up. I

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retched onto the polished stone floor, the bitter taste of chocolate and bile filling my mouth.

Tears blurred my vision as I wiped my lips with trembling fingers. Nibbles wriggled in my arms,

unharmed, licking chocolate off his whiskers–utterly unbothered.

Prince Draven chuckled softly, his eyes returning to their usual amber, glittering with dark

amusement. “Takes some getting used to.”

But when I lifted my head, I didn’t see Prince Draven

I saw a furious dragon striding toward us, his eyes dark with murderous intent.

“What did you do to her?” Kierygan growled, his voice vibrating with barely restrained rage.

KIERYGAN’S POV

The archives of Obsidia were more a cathedral than a library.

Endless aisles of shelves rose far above my head, vanishing into vaulted shadows lit only by flickering lanterns. The scent of old parchment, aged leather, and dust mingled with the faint chill

of obsidian stone walls.

Evander was right–many of these tomes were so ancient they could be considered relics. Some

were bound in cracked leather, others etched onto thin sheets of hammered gold or rolled woven

silk sealed with melted wax.

I sat at a long carved table, the candles burning low around us. Ulyanna pored over a series of spell

manuscripts on one end, while Evander eagerly flipped through a compendium of fae courts and

dominions. I focused my attention on a heavy volume bound in grey leather, its spine lined with

runes that pulsed faintly in my hand.

The Beginning, the faded title read.

Page after page chronicled the birth of the Stellar Fae–the first children of the dying star. It spoke of how their light ignited life itself in Val’Thirael. How they wielded cosmic energy, tending the

threads of creation and nourishing the lands with warmth, radiance, and rain.

But as more creatures and lands were born under their glow, the Stellar Fae splintered into other

dominions. I read how they taught incantations and spells to humans. How some fae married

humans, giving rise to witches. How remnants of that first star’s dying magic birthed dragons,

werewolves, orcs, and countless other magical creatures–echoes of a cosmic legacy refracted

into mortal forms.

I ran my thumb over a depiction of a Stellar Fae–luminous face, crowned in swirling golden light.

Eirlys…

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But despite the lore, there was no mention of a valley where the skies danced.

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Hours passed unmarked. The silence was broken only by the rustling of pages, Ulyanna’s quiet incantations murmured under her breath, and Evander’s occasional hum of fascination.

Then, the ironbound doors of the archives swung open. Cold air curled inward as King Lucius stepped inside.

“Still at it, Your Majesty?” he drawled, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

“We haven’t found a single mention of this place,” I replied curtly, closing the tome with a muted thud. “Nothing about a valley where the skies dance.”

His lips curved faintly. “Perhaps you were looking in the wrong place.”

He handed me a small bundle tied in midnight–blue silk. Its weight felt delicate in my hands. I untied it carefully, unrolling the contents across the table.

It was a map.

A map so old the parchment crackled under my touch, the ink faded to faint silvery strokes that shimmered in the candlelight.

At its centre sprawled Val’Thirael, drawn in sweeping cartographer’s script–peaks and valleys, forests and river basins, kingdoms long forgotten. Lucius tapped a spot near the northern edge.

Vallea Illura.

“In the old fae tongue, Illura meant ‘northern light‘ or ‘aurora,” Lucius said softly, his gaze flickering between us. “I believe… this is where your answers je.”

King Lucius rolled the ancient map with deliberate care, tying the midnight–blue silk back around it before handing it to me.

“You may borrow it,” he said softly.

I took it with a curt nod, gripping the fragile parchment as though it held the last threads of hope I had left. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice rough with restrained gratitude.

Lucius dipped his head, shadows gathering beneath his golden gaze. “Now that your mystery is solved,” he drawled, pivoting gracefully, “the hall awaits your long–delayed lunch.”

With that, he swept away between the shelves, his black robes billowing behind him.

A hollow ache twisted in my chest. Lunch. Eirlys.

She hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Without another word to Ulyanna or Evander, I strode from the archives, my boots echoing against the polished obsidian floors. The corridors blurred past me, my thoughts narrowed to a single

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point of focus.

I reached her chamber door and rapped sharply against the wood. No answer.

“Eirlys?” I called, pushing the door open.

Empty.

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The bed was still rumpled where I had left her, but she was gone. Even Nibbles‘ cage was empty. My gut clenched in frustration, a burn spreading through my chest.

She was told not to go anywhere without me.

Grinding my teeth, I stalked back into the corridor. “Have you seen Lady Eirlys?” I barked at a passing maid.

The servant shook her head frantically, bowing low before scurrying away. I asked another, then

another, but none had seen her.

My pulse roared in my ears as I pushed open the palace doors and stepped into the courtyard. The late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, staining the towers with hues of bronze and vermillion.

Then, out of nowhere, the air shimmered with a rippling distortion.

Someone had just phased in.

My eyes narrowed dangerously, every muscle coiling with tension as the blur solidified into shapes.

I saw her first–Eirlys–clutched tightly against a taller figure. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed a sickly pale. And then I saw the arm wrapped around her, the black uniform, the smirking

mouth.

Prince Draven.

Before I could take another step, Eirlys choked on a gasp and crumpled, falling to her knees. Vomit splattered onto the stone courtyard, her entire frame trembling.

My chest twisted with worry, eclipsed instantly by molten fury.

I stormed forward, grabbing Draven by the collar of his tunic and slamming him back against a stone pillar so hard that fine cracks splintered outward.

“What did you do to her?” I snarled, my voice vibrating with lethal rage.

Draven merely raised a brow, unbothered, though his amber gaze flickered with annoyance. “Easy there,” he drawled. “I didn’t do anything–just showed her around while you forgot about her.”

My grip tightened, claws threatening to burst from my fingers. I bared my teeth, every muscle in my body screaming to tear him apart. But then, behind me, I heard a soft voice.

“Kierygan,” Eirlys called out weakly. “He didn’t do anything. I’m fine. I just… got sick from phasing.”

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With a growl, I shoved Draven away, ignoring his quiet, mocking laugh as I turned to her. She was standing now, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while cradling her rabbit against her chest.

Without a word, I grabbed her free hand and walked away, almost dragging her down the hall toward the dining room. She had lost whatever little she had eaten.

“Didn’t I tell you to always stay close, Eirlys?” I demanded, my voice sharp with anger and something dangerously close to fear.

She panted, struggling to keep up. “Yes, but-”

I cut her off with a hiss. “Now look at you. You got sick.” I glared at her, my chest tight with anger and worry. “Why did you even let him phase you?”

“We needed to get back quickly,” she said, her voice small. “Because… I felt that presence again. Someone was watching.”

I froze. “What?”

“It’s true,” she insisted. “Nibbles felt it too. And the prince… he smelled it.”

I gritted my teeth. Whoever was following us was either unbelievably bold… or had a death wish to dare stalk us here in Obsidia, where vampires were merciless to intruders.

I let go of her hand and draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer. “Don’t worry,” I said

quietly. “We’re going back home tomorrow.”