The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91: Dark Summons, Bright Hearts

MALRIC

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Morwenna sat cross-legged on the cavern’s cold stone floor. Her spine was straight, her hands resting lightly on her knees, palms up in silent offering. She hadn’t spoken in hours.

A perfect circle of salt enclosed her-a blade-thin ward of old magic, drawn meticulously.

Twelve candles ringed the boundary, their flames tall and still. Wax pooled at their bases,

undisturbed by the breeze or time.

Malric lounged on a settee a few paces away, arms crossed over his chest, gaze fixed on the

flickering light. He knew better than to interrupt when Morwenna was deep in her witch’s work.

Suddenly, the candles began to flicker. No-not flicker. The flames bent inward, as if recoiling. For

a moment, Malric assumed it was Morwenna’s doing.

Then came the weight in the air. Thick. Suffocating The world seemed to dim around them,

shadows pressing in-followed by the slow, sickly creep of decay.

Morwenna’s eyes snapped open. Her breath hitched.

“He’s here,” she whispered, her voice raw with awe and dread.

Malric’s head lifted, every muscle drawn tight. He felt it now-the shift, the wrongness in the air. The salt circle trembled, as if the line of white powder feared what approached.

From the deeper dark beyond the cave’s reach, tendrils of shadow slithered forward. They twisted, thickened, took shape-until a cloaked figure emerged, its form draped in moving darkness.

The Light Reaper.

He hovered closer, stopping just short of the salt’s edge. For a heartbeat, the circle held.

Then the powder scattered-lifted in a silent swirl, gone.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

The voice was not spoken aloud, but it filled the chamber, echoing not in the air, but in thought-

cold, clinging, inescapable.

Malric’s hardened expression flickered, just for a moment, before he pushed off the settee and dropped to his knees on the cold, unforgiving stone Morwenna mirrored him, her skirts pooling

like shadows at her feet.

“How… how did you find us, my lord?” Malric asked, aiming for composure but landing far from it.

His voice wavered like brittle glass.

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< Chapter 91: Dark Summons, Bright Hearts

Dark wisps coiled around him.

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The Light Reaper chuckled, low and amused. “It was easy, really,” he said. “I simply followed the

stench of failure.”

Morwenna lifted her head just slightly. “We were close, my lord. We almost had the girl last time. If not for-”

“Almost,” the Light Reaper echoed, his voice a cold scrape across stone. “And yet… you didn’t.”

The shadows shifted as he moved-or perhaps the cave itself bent around him. The flickering candlelight was swallowed whole, retreating into corners as if unwilling to witness what came

next.

“It’s time for me to feed,” he said, soft and lethal. His eyes-if they could be called that-glimmered like collapsing stars. “Perhaps I’ll start with this little sanctuary you’ve built for yourselves.”

A gust of black wind spiraled from his outstretched hand, and the salt circle shuddered. The candles hissed out one by one.

“No!” Morwenna cried, panic cracking through her voice. She dropped into a full bow, palms flat

against the stone. “Please, just give me a little more time.”

The darkness stilled. “I’ve given you two more than enough time,” he said, each word cutting like a

blade. “I’m beginning to think I made a mistake choosing you. Perhaps it’s time I unmake that

choice… and the both of you with it.”

“My Lord, taking the girl requires more than brute force,” Morwenna said quickly. “It demands

precision. But… I’ve found a way in-a perfect pawn

She lifted her head, just enough to glimpse the Reaper’s outline, rippling like heat through a mirage.

“A witch,” she breathed. “One of the Dragon King’s own. She’s not powerful, but she’s clever… and

she’s beginning to bend. I’ve been whispering-carefully, patiently. It won’t be long before she

delivers the girl to us herself.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any spoken threat.

“This is your final chance,” the Light Reaper said, his voice like ash on the wind. “The next time I

come, I will not ask.”

The Dark Lord lifted a hand, and tendrils of shadow coiled through the air-tightening around

Malric and Morwenna’s throats like nooses spun from smoke.

“I can feel her awakening,” he said, his voice low and cold. “She’s almost ready.”

The pressure around their necks pulsed, a warning. When the time comes… she will be in your hands. And you will place her into mine.”

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Chapter 91. Dark Summons, Bright Hearts

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A final gust swept through the cove, thick with the stench of rot. It snuffed out the last flickers of

candlelight.

When it passed, the Light Reaper was gone.

EIRLYS’ POV

I untied the dark, glittering ribbons with careful fingers, my heart fluttering-just as it always did

whenever I opened the little velvet bag.

It was the same one Kierygan had left on my nightstand a week ago while I slept.

I remembered the rush of excitement that bloomed in me when I opened it for the first time the

next morning. Tucked inside had been a small note written in his crisp, angular hand: Wear it on the day of the festival.

That day had finally arrived.

I pulled out the deep violet dress, sheer and lined with silk. Thousands of tiny sparkling stones were embedded in the fabric, like stars scattered across a midnight sky.

I have never tried it on. Every day, I’d only held it against my body in front of the mirror, imagining how it might look. I’d never dared to slip it over my skin-afraid I might snag it, ruin it, or somehow prove myself unworthy of its beauty.

But today, I will finally wear it.

I was spinning around the room with the dress when a sudden knock startled me. I froze mid-twirl just as the door creaked open and Emma and Grace peeked in.

Caught red-handed, I quickly hid the gown behind me, as if I’d been doing something wicked.

“You’re not dressed yet?” Grace gasped, clearly horrified. “Gods, we don’t have much time!”

Emma stepped inside, hands planted firmly on her hips. “What are you waiting for? Put it on!”

She clapped her hands once. “Come on. Arms up!”

In a flurry of hands and hushed giggles, they slipped the robe off my shoulders and eased the gown over me. The fabric glided against my skin-weightless, cool, luxurious. When the final clasp was fastened at my back, I turned slowly toward the mirror.

It fit perfectly.

The sleeves draped elegantly off my shoulders, and the skirt rippled like a quiet river every time I

moved.

“You look like a dream,” Emma breathed, her hands clasped as she took in the sight.

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I ran my fingers over the skirt, the neckline, the delicate short sleeves. The material felt impossibly

light. “Shouldn’t I be wearing something thicker?” I asked, glancing toward the window where

amber leaves danced on the wind. “It’s the start of the cold season.”

Grace smirked and gave me a playful wink as she smoothed a wrinkle at my waist. “You’ll be

standing beside the king, won’t you?” she said. “He’ll keep you warm.”

Next, they brushed my hair until it gleamed, weaving the top into a delicate braid. Then Emma

carefully placed a thin, jeweled circlet upon my head. The moment light caught the gems, it

shimmered like a halo.

Grace dabbed a soft tint onto my lips and cheeks, then nudged me to my feet. “You’d better get

going,” she said with a knowing smile. “He’s waiting by the staircase.”

I stepped out of my room, heart fluttering against my ribs. The corridor was quiet, save for the soft

rustle of my skirts with each step.

Just as Grace had said, Kierygan stood at the top of the staircase-a tall, commanding figure

cloaked in black. But tonight, deep violet trimmed the edges of his coat, the exact shade of my

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