Page 458 of Of Empires and Dust

Kallinvar nodded gently. “The Mother understands mistakes, Tallia.”

“It wasn’t a mistake.” Tallia gave one last breath and fell forwards against the bars.

Kallinvar looked down at her for a moment, pulled his sword free, and sprinted up the steps.

Candlelight flickeredacross the open chamber, augmented by the crimson glow of Essence vessels and rune markings carved into the stone.

Fane’s heart broke at the sight of Garramon floating at the chamber’s centre, bare as the day he was born, runes carved into his flesh by Fane himself. Fane had wept as he’d done it.

In his mind, Garramon had always been there at the end. The two of them, standing side by side, looking out at the world they had saved. He had planned everything so meticulously. Sacrificed so much, so many lives, and every plan had fallen perfectly into place… except for this one piece.

“I will truly miss you, my friend. It was you who kept me anchored, reminded me who I was, where I came from. You were a better man than I will ever be. Perhaps I thought your soul would save mine.” Fane drew a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled slowly. “But it is not good men this world needs right now. It needs someone who can make the choices others wouldn’t dare dream of. I will do what you never could, but I will only be able to do it because of you.”

He looked down at the five concentric circles of rune markings carved into both the ground below Garramon and the ceiling above. Fane had spent months carving those runes, taking all of Pirnil and Kiralla Holflower’s research into account and blending it with his own learnings. This place was the beating heart of Essence in the world, shielded by the mountain around it. This was where Efialtír planted his seed into the crust of the world, where his mortal body fell, and the Sea of Stone was created.

And this was the night that all of Fane’s plans, hundreds of years of waiting and weaving, would finally take their next step. He had seen the future that would come to pass without his actions, and he would not allow it. No matter the cost, for no cost could be greater.

Azrim entered the chamber from the passage on the far side, looking up at Garramon.

“It is done?” Fane asked.

“The knights will not be a problem,” Azrim answered, his voice layered over that of his host.

“Good. The others?”

“On their way.”

Fane would have rather sent every last one of the Vitharnmír to Achyron’s temple and rid himself of these knights entirely. But he could not risk losing too many. Without their strength, he could not bring Efialtír through the veil, even with the Heart.

But Efialtír had long been twisting his way into that place. The temple may yet fall. For now, all Fane needed was to keep those knights from this place. No doubt many of the Urak clans had felt the pulse of the Essence as he’d awakened the Heart and were already on their way to set the whole mountainscape aflame. Eltoar and Helios would keep them at bay.

He turned back towards where the Heart of Blood sat atop a pedestal of brown stone, red light pulsing across its surface. Fane placed his hands on the smooth, glasslike exterior of the Heart, gasping as the power within swept through him like a bolt of lightning.

The power of every soul that died at Ilnaen. The power of every dragon that fell. The power of the life Essence of every dragon that would never draw breath.

It had softened the blow, in a way, commanding the Uraks to destroy the eggs in Ilnaen while knowing that none would ever hatch anyway. He’d needed the eggs to be destroyed, forhe’d needed that blend of rage and guilt burning in the hearts of Eltoar and the Dragonguard, needed the power that Essence would bring. The Essence of Varyn’s greatest creations, the only creatures that could have stood in his way.

“All great things require sacrifice,” Fane whispered to himself, as he had done a thousand times.

Only with the Blood Moon in the sky could the life Essence be captured in such a way, and only with Efialtír’s guidance.

Eltoar had given Fane the Heart of Blood in the hopes that Fane could bring life back to the dragons of Epheria. And so it was ironic that, with that very act, he had assured the exact opposite.

Fane usually appreciated irony. He saw it as the world’s way of laughing at the living. But he found no amusement in this. Once the Essence within the Heart was used to bring Efialtír across the veil, it would be gone, spent, extinguished. And with it, so too the dragons. He held no love for the creatures, the living weapons of indomitable fury. But neither did he hate them. Their extinction was simply a necessity.

Helios and the few others that were left would be the last of their dying race now. There was no doubt their sacrifice would be the greatest of all.

As Fane stared down into the shifting light of the Heart, power surging through him, the remaining Vitharnmír entered the chamber, armoured boots clinking against the stone.

With a short exhale, Fane lifted the Heart from its pedestal and turned back to face his old friend, seeing the Vitharnmír take their places around Garramon. Forty in total, precisely what he needed.

They all stood there in their silver armour, red runes blazing with light. Efialtír’s champions, his most trusted warriors. Fane smiled as he looked at them, taking in their hubris. Theybelieved themselves above all mortal things, untouchable. They would learn better soon enough.

“It is time,” Fane called out, stepping closer to Garramon. He held the Heart before himself, tapping into its core. Every hair on Fane’s body stood on end, his robes lifting as though suspended in water. The power of hundreds of thousands of souls poured through him, the roar of dragons sounding in his mind, the screams of the dying, the crackling of flames.

Fane’s eyes wet with tears at the millions of lives lost to reach this moment, his soul held together by the billions that would be saved.

He channelled the power of the Essence through him and pushed it into Garramon. Fane drew a sharp breath into his lungs as Garramon’s eyes snapped open and the runes carved into his bare skin shone like the sun, red light blazing.

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