Page 54 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

T he next afternoon, Emmery and Vesper set out for the last two items for Izora’s spell. With only four days until the Fallen Equinox, they opted for a shortcut through the mountains.

Assaulted by flurries that camouflaged and froze them to the bone, they clung to their steeds as they navigated the narrow, winding path, Balthasar’s form a shadowy beacon in the white blustering haze.

Vesper huddled under his cloak, grumbling softly to himself.

Between the howling winds tearing off her hood and stealing her chapped lip curses, Emmery’s teeth chattered so violently they threatened to shatter.

She envied Aera, tucked in her warm bed at Castle Dusk. But with the retrieval of dragon essence—whatever that was—it was surely too dangerous for the spoiled little thing.

They both stiffened as they neared the infamous mountain passage—Arkon’s Spine. Fluffy flakes snagged her eyelashes as she dismissed Juno, her numb legs sinking to mid-calf in the snow. Dread slithered up her spine and she shivered, but this time not from the cold.

No, it was the vast darkness stretching endlessly from the cavern mouth and jagged rocks fringing the ceiling like hungry teeth.

And there was something inside that cave. Something that hummed magic into her veins.

Something ancient and powerful and equally terrifying. And impossibly sad.

Nonetheless, Emmery unsheathed her dagger and removed her glove to draw blood for the spell. She hissed as it slipped in her clumsy, frozen fingers and gouged her palm.

Shit—well, that was one way to do it. She bit back the deep sting.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she pressed her hand to the barrier, unseen to the naked eye, like searching for a wall in a dark room. The khaos flame purred as she imagined it sparking, cracking tiny fissures in the invisible obstacle. It roared—hungry, joyous, monstrous.

But it didn't frighten her. And when the faceless, consuming thing stared, she stared back.

The oxygen depleted as the barrier fell, a fine ashy mist raining down accompanied by golden, flaming stars. It was nothing like the time in the meadow when the khaos flame had fought back. There was no fear now. No doubt. Only power.

Emmery’s eyes sprang open, the scent of soot and crackling embers in her nose.

Vesper crossed his arms and grinned. “I’m impressed. That was flawless.”

“Yes, well”—her cheeks flushed, though they were already pinked from the cold—“Briar is a good mentor.” Emmery winced at the warm blood dribbling down her wrist. She must have cut deeper than she thought. The crimson dripped, tainting the fresh snow.

“Here, let me.” Vesper produced a cloth from his pack and took her hand.

Even his gloves were frozen. “It’s the least I can do.

” He bound the wound and yanked the knot with his teeth.

Giving her hand a quick pat, he turned toward the cave.

“Well, this place is bound to be a shithole after being locked up for so long.”

“Can’t wait,” Emmery murmured, joining at his side. “After you. I insist.”

Vesper took the lead, and they tread into the dark.

As they slunk through the tunnel, rats skittered at their feet—not toward their destination, but for the exit.

And whatever they fled from brought a nervous twist to her gut.

Emmery lit the way, her khaos flame contained in her palm, but there wasn’t much to see besides glowing cave moss and blank beige walls.

Only the staccato drip of water broke their mutual silence, as if their voices would betray them to some unknown presence.

But a mix of relief and nerve shredding anxiety struck Emmery as white light emerged at the tunnel’s end.

The faint glow beckoned like a lifeline through the swallowing darkness.

Their pace quickened.

With the scattered light came the stench—a mix of putrid rot, sulphur, sickening sweetness like decaying fruit, and something darker. Sinister. Magical.

Emmery’s hand flew to her face. “What kind of magic is this?”

She gagged and swallowed her nausea. Vesper shook his head, his nose wrinkling but expression hard. He drew the sword from his back. Holding her breath, Emmery unsheathed her daggers, clutching them until her knuckles whitened.

She squinted through the invasive brightness, and her stomach lurched.

Corpses, suspended in a state of rot, desecrated the large chamber.

Bloated insects endlessly feasted, and Emmery swatted the drunken buzz grazing her ears as they bumbled through the tainted air.

Engorged rats larger than her boots stumbled past and acid choked her throat.

Rusty reds, mottled pinks, and tangled browns slathered mismatched entrails, mangled bodies, scattered limbs—

She had felt Death’s presence before; the slick blood and the hum of fleeting life but this ...

This was unholy. Sickening.

Every shred of her soul screamed to run. To hide. To shield her eyes from these obscenities. It was Vesper's fumbling hand finding hers, seeking comfort of his own, that kept her from fleeing with those rats.

From the impossibly high cracked ceiling, revealing slivers of sky and snowy flurries, the colossal iron chains suspended a dragon the size of a ship.

Hooks penetrated its spidery veined wings—larger than life but atrophied.

Devoid of colour except for the deep, hollow black, the creature's massive scaly face and body hung.

Limp. Still. A morbid portrait of death.

Scarlet splattered the damp cave floor below it.

The creature was bleeding and had been for some time.

“ Fuck ,” Vesper choked, his voice hoarse. His sword tip dragged along the soiled ground with a grinding metallic ring. He covered his mouth, a slight tremble to his hand.

The dragon gave no indication of their presence, but its chest inflated with ragged breaths. Its palpable pain skated her skin—a sharp sorrow accompanying the prison of chains. Not only its wings were bound, but raw bloody bands circled the shackles at its legs.

Who would do this? A shiver wracked her body, and she gaped, a weight stifling her chest. “This is ... cruel.”

Vesper paled as if he may vomit. “I—I didn’t know—”

The dragon opened its blood-red eyes and fixated on Vesper. Emmery’s breath hitched as it sized him up, blinking like a feline assessing its shiny, new toy.

“Ah. Rare visitors. What a delight ,” the dragon’s rough voice boomed through the chamber, lifeless yet potent. Its lips peeled back revealing fangs capable of devouring a man in a single bite. Vesper shoved Emmery behind him. “You broke the barrier. Very good.”

“Not for your escape,” Vesper replied, a quake to his voice.

“Naturally,” the dragon purred. “Have you come to relish in my torment? Or have you come to ask for something? Perhaps take. Kenna always do.”

Vesper’s throat bobbed. “We’ve come to collect dragon essence.”

The dragon’s lips pulled back into a sneer. “A bold statement coming from the same blood that imprisoned me here.”

“I’m sure you’ll be disappointed to hear my father has passed.” Vesper cleared his throat. “And I’m not like him.” Emmery blanched, her gaze locking on Vesper’s profile. His father did this? But he said his father was a good man. And this—

“No, it seems you are not. He would never step foot inside this cave,” the dragon said and cocked its head to the side; a predator playing with its food. “What makes you think I would offer my essence willingly?”

“Are you not Arborius, Keeper of the Holy Flame? Is it not your sworn duty to aid the children of the goddess?”

The dragon blinked. “No one has spoken that name to me in nearly a century. I fear you are brimming with false hope. That name and title were lost long ago, along with my duty.”

Vesper clenched his jaw. “We’re asking, Arborius. Not taking.”

The dragon inhaled sensually. “You smell different. Familiar. You are—” It tasted the word, “ Other .” Its lips curled up in a menacing grin.

“What are you, child? Are you a friend to dragons? Your familial reputation would tell me differently, Vesper Merikh.” It released a decayed breath and Emmery’s stomach clenched as she fought a losing battle to nausea.

Vesper didn’t waver. “You don’t know me.”

Arborius emitted a wicked titter like Vesper’s Kaida. “I am sure I know more than you know of yourself. I asked what you are. Not who.” The dragon licked its lips. “I do believe you are Shadowhearts . How ... deliciously interesting. It seems the world is righting itself again.”

“ You have a chance to do right by the world,” Vesper pressed. “By helping us.”

“Nonsense!” Arborius growled. “You know nothing of the world and its cruelties.”

Emmery sighed. This was going nowhere. Her heart pounded, knees wobbling as she stepped out from behind Vesper. “What would it take for you to give us your essence, Arborius?”

Vesper’s head snapped toward her; his shock mixed with pride and fear.

The dragon drew a sharp breath, his gaze drinking her in, but Emmery’s stare held as he scrutinized her. “You look just like her.”

Heartbeat resounding in her ears, Emmery tilted her head. “Like ... who?”

“The Fallen star that started it all.” He chuckled, the sound unearthly. Predatory, yet overflowing with intelligence. “The beginning and the end of all things.”

Her breath caught. Arborius could only mean one person. Emmery had seen her image in that stained glass window and the statue by the Whispering Spring. The similarities were uncanny. “Goddess Kahlia? The Goddess of the Fallen?”

“Very good.” The dragon’s teeth pulled back again, blood dripping from its gums. “And do you know why I am here, Fallen Star?”

Emmery grappled for words but settled for shaking her head in response.