The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 89

Chapter 89: The Bloombringer

EIRLYS’ POV

+25 Points

Kierygan hadn’t put me down as we stepped out from behind the tree. His hands still gripped my

thighs, holding me up, while my legs stayed locked around his hips and my arms curled around his

neck-like neither of us was ready to let go.

I turned my head, and noticed the shift. The air feels different now. Brighter. Warmer.

Beyond the ward, the once withered ground was no longer grey and brittle. The blight was gone. In

its place, wildflowers bloomed in bursts of gold and violet. Vines curled around tree trunks that

had been stripped bare just moments ago, and fresh grass spread in lush, rippling waves of green.

Kierygan gently set me down, his hands lingering at my waist.

“Look, Eirlys,” he murmured, eyes on the transformed land. “You did it.” Then, with a faint smirk: “I

suppose I can forgive you for snapping at me earlier.”

I frowned at him. “You wouldn’t listen,” I said, still breathless.

But our moment broke as soft murmurs drifted through the clearing. We turned to find Ulyanna standing a few paces away, arms crossed and wearing a look of bemused triumph.

And behind her… villagers. Dozens of them. Watching..

They gathered in stunned silence, the clearing heavy with awe.

Ulyanna smirked, arching a brow. “Well,” she said, tone wry, “whatever the two of you were doing

behind that tree… it worked.”

My face ignited with heat.

Kierygan said nothing. He simply pulled me closer, an arm firm around my waist.

Then, with a shimmer of displaced air, two more figures appeared-King Lucius and Prince Draven, phasing in.

“I felt that familiar warmth in the air,” King Lucius said, eyes settling on me. “So I knew Lady Eirlys

had to be nearby.”

Prince Draven looked around at the renewed land, then back at me. “And look what you’ve done,”

he said, his voice full of wonder.

He turned to the villagers. “Let us give thanks to Lady Eirlys,” he proclaimed, lifting his hand. “The

Bloombringer.”

The crowd stood frozen for a breath, the silence stretched taut-then a single voice called out:

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Chapter 89: The Bloombringer

“The Bloombringer!”

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Others followed, hesitant at first, then growing in strength until the chant swelled, a wave of grateful voices rising and echoing across the once-blighted field.

I shifted instinctively, overwhelmed, beginning to draw back-but Kierygan’s hand found mine. He squeezed, firm and steady. An anchor I hadn’t known I needed.

Then, slowly, more villagers began to approach.

They came with baskets of apples, plump root vegetables, bundles of herbs tied in fraying twine. Others carried woven necklaces, handmade dolls, dried meats, fish still glistening from the catch.

One small girl shyly extended a single daisy, its stem trembling in her grip.

They had so little. The blight had stripped their land bare just days ago, and yet here they were-

giving freely. I stepped forward, hands lifted slightly

“I’m sorry, but I can’t” I began, my voice small but earnest.

Kierygan stopped me gently, pulling me close. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “If you refuse, they’ll be hurt,” he murmured. “This is their way of honoring you.”

I turned to him, torn. “But I don’t want to be honored,” I whispered. “I can’t take what little they

have. It feels wrong.”

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes searched mine for a moment, then he straightened, his voice rising like distant thunder-calm, commanding, undeniable.

HUM

“Lady Eirlys will accept your offerings,” he declared

A ripple of relief moved through the villagers-shoulders dropped, chins lowered in gratitude.

“But,” he continued, his gaze locking with mine, steady and sure, “rather than bringing these gifts back to Solmere, she wishes to share them with all of you. A feast, beneath the open sky.”

There was a beat of silence. A frozen moment where I wondered if I had offended them after all.

Then a woman near the front-her face lined, eyes rimmed with tears-pressed a hand to her chest and let out a trembling breath. “A feast… with us?” she whispered. “A magical being wants to dine

with the likes of us?”

The tension broke like a dam.

Laughter spilled into the air, light and unrestrained. Cheering followed, rising in waves.

Warmth rushed through me-overwhelming, humbling, radiant. I blinked hard, watching as the villagers bustled to prepare: clearing spaces, stacking firewood, uncorking jars of preserves they must have been saving for the colder months.

Kierygan turned to me with a wry smirk. “Was that better?”

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I exhaled slowly, the breath catching sunlight as it left me. “Much better,” I murmured, then glanced up at him, my voice softer. “Thank you.”

His smile softened. “You did this.”

“No,” I said. “We did.”

KIERYGAN’S POV

Preparations were in full swing. Tables, chairs, and iron pots were dragged out from nearby homes. Blankets were spread over the fresh grass. Near the well, someone strummed a stringed instrument, offering a soft melody as men and women stirred pots and peeled vegetables.

Ulyanna stood and brushed the dirt from her long skirts. “I’ll scout the village’s edge,” she said.” Just in case the blight tries to slither back.”

I gave her a curt nod. “Be quick about it.”

She winked. “I’ll be back in time for the feast. Wouldn’t miss it.”

With a swirl of purple smoke, she vanished, leaving me and Eirlys seated in the grass, watching the

village come alive.

I turned to her. She was still clutching the bouquet someone had pressed into her hands, holding it like it might crumble. Every person who passed received the same wide-eyed thank you-earnest, soft-spoken, slightly overwhelmed. There was a nervous energy in her shoulders, a tension she

hadn’t yet learned to hide.

She didn’t know what to do with their admiration. With herself.

Then, a small voice chirped through the bustle.

A girl no older than six, her cheeks streaked with dirt and her curls wild from the wind, trotted up

and tugged at Eirlys’s sleeve.

“Wanna play tag with us?”

Eirlys blinked down at her, baffled. “Tag?” she echoed. “But I’ve never played before.”

The child nodded solemnly. “It’s easy. You just run and chase people. I’ll teach you.”

Before Eirlys could decline, I cut in. “She’ll play with you.”

Her head snapped toward me, uncertain.

I softened my voice. “Go. It’ll be fun.”

There was a beat of hesitation. Then the girl tugged harder, and before Eirlys could protest, she

was pulled into the chaos with a startled gasp and a laugh.

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I remained where I was, arms crossed, watching.

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At first, she stumbled-tripping when she turned too fast, tagging the wrong child, laughing too

long and getting caught again. But the children didn’t care. They pulled her in effortlessly, their

rules fluid, their joy boundless.

Soon, she was shrieking with laughter-pure and unguarded. Her braid came loose. Her cheeks

flushed pink. And she glowed, faintly, softly, the shimmer curling off her skin like morning mist. The

children cheered at the sight, delighted by her magic.

I hadn’t realized I was smiling.

There was something sacred in the way she threw her arms toward the sky and spun-like she’d

only just discovered she was allowed to.

All around her, the villagers continued preparing for the feast, but I couldn’t look away.

For all our efforts to protect her, to teach her, to train her-none of it had given her this.

In Solmere, she was surrounded by adults. Ancient ones, at that-Evander and I included. She’d

been forced to grow up too fast after the tower. Forced to keep up.

She needed this.

And gods help me… I needed to see it.

It was only a few hours before sundown when a small silver bell rang out from the heart of the gathering, signaling that the feast was finally about to begin.

Children scattered, dashing back to their families, and I watched as Eirlys made her way toward me, her steps a little unsteady from all the running.

Her braid had been redone by the younger girls-loose, lopsided, and threaded with wildflowers in every shade. Some blossoms had already begun to fall, caught in the folds of her sleeves and the curve of her collar. She looked like something out of a summer tale.

“I know, I look like a vase,” she said, cheeks still pink from play.

I chuckled. “I like it,” I said at last. “It suits you.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled.

Ulyanna returned soon after, dust on her boots and the wind still playing in her hair. “No sign of the blight. Not even a whisper,” she said, brushing her hands together. “It’s holding.”

I gave a single nod, a wave of relief washing through me.

Then came the wagon-laden with casks of wine, platters of roasted meats, and sweets that sent the children into gleeful squeals.

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Chapter 89 The Bloombringer

“From the palace kitchens,” King Lucius announced “Enjoy.”

The villagers wasted no time. Neither did we.

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Plates were passed, mugs filled, laughter bloomed across the clearing like the very grass beneath

our feet.

As the celebration swelled and slowly waned, bellies full and cheeks flushed, conversations

dwindled into low murmurs. Even the bonfire had begun to flicker, its once-vigorous flames

reduced to a soft, pulsing glow.

It was time to call it a night.

Eirlys had fallen asleep on my lap-utterly drained from running, dancing, and, of course, saving an

entire village.

I gathered her gently into my arms, careful not to wake her. Then, without ceremony, I shifted.

Gasps rippled through the villagers as scales overtook my skin, wings unfurled, and the earth

trembled beneath the colossal beast I had become

She remained safe-nestled in the cradle of my talons as I rose into the sky, carrying her home.

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