Because I do know.
Now is the time.
With shaky fingers, I unclasp the necklace, the jewel pulsing in my hand—as if it, too, knows something monumental is happening.
I draw on my memories of Nehvara again:The Flame-heart is not just any dragon, Starbound. The Flame-heart is the soul of Tarrakai—the most powerful dragon in history. His form is gone, but his soul lives on in the Heart of Ashara—a jewel. For Tarrakai to awaken in dragon form, he will need a worthy vessel—someone brave, who holds love for the Dravari line, loyal.
Tarrakai needs Ronyn.
I’m certain.
He’s brave. And Stars damn it, he’s the most loyal man I know.
I press the Heart of Ashara into Ronyn’s chest.
It’s burned everyone who’s tried to touch it. But with Ronyn… nothing.
I push harder, forcing the Heart to react. To do something.Anything.
“It might need a living vessel, El,” Seren’s gentle voice cuts through my focus. And I fucking hate her for it.
“No!” I resist.I refuse to accept it.
I push again, forcing the jewel to do something.Anything.
I beg all the gods, despite knowing they’re not here. They can’t help me.
I spin. “Morrathys,” I beg. “Please help him. Do not let him enter the Final Gate.”
Morrathys looks down upon me with… empathy. With a kind of kindness that surprises me.
“He has not yet arrived at the Final Gate, Elyssara. But because I did not orchestrate his departure, I cannot stop the events already in motion at the hand of someone else,” he explains.
“This can’t be it!” I cry, and a broken scream tears from my throat.
My palms feel warm, still pressing into Ronyn’s chest.
I look down, and the Heart of Ashara pulses a vibrant red-orange light.
Is it… awakening?
Ronyn’s skin blisters under the heat of the jewel, and before I can pull it away, the jewel and Ronyn’s chest begin to meld together, as if they each sense a likeness within the other and can’t bear to stay separate.
Awed sighs fill the night.
The red-orange glow beams out from his chest, a pulsing, beautiful thing that resembles a small lava lantern Revryn kept from the volcanoes of Vyrhal. A moving, living, pulsing glow. But where is the life it feeds off? Ronyn is loyal, loving and brave. He is a vessel.So, where the fuck is Tarrakai?
“We need to get to Mavyrn, El,” Seren sniffles, jostling my arm.
“They’ll be pulling soldiers from outposts as we speak. We have mere moments to get to that Gateway of Threads before we’ll have to draw our blades again,” Therion confirms.
“I’ve got him, Duskae,” Kael says, bending down to pull Ronyn into his arms, bringing the arrows with him. What did he call them?God metal?
I nod solemnly, but the cascade of recent events obliterates me.
“Wait!” I shout, as I see Correk running toward us down the causeway.
Daelen steps forward brandishing his broadsword.
