Chapter 23 Night Court
NIGHT COURT
The procession departed from the Summer Court’s floating citadel as the impossible sky above shifted to the deep amber of sunset.
Queen Aurelia’s guards, Helianthus and Solstice, led the way, their golden armor catching the last rays of light.
Lark and Nix followed, behind them a small retinue of Summer Court attendants bore provisions and gifts meant to smooth the diplomatic passage.
“The Night Court lies at the far edge of the realm,” Helianthus explained, his musical voice calm and formal. “We must traverse the Twilight Expanse to reach it.”
As they descended from the floating structures, the landscape transformed. The crystal forest thinned, giving way to rolling plains where the grass shimmered with a metallic iridescence. In the distance, Lark could see the horizon darkening, as if night was both a time and a place in this realm.
“The Twilight Expanse marks the boundary between the courts’ territories,” Nix explained, her flame burning stronger now that they were away from the Summer Queen’s presence. “It belongs to no court and every court, a neutral ground where all fae may travel freely.”
“How long will the journey take?” Lark asked, acutely aware of time’s strange flow between realms.
Solstice laughed, the sound emitting as wind chimes in a strong breeze. “Time is a mortal concern, dragonrider. Here, the journey takes precisely as long as it must.”
Lark frowned at the non-answer but kept pace. The golden ingot of Solarium weighed against her chest, its warmth a constant reminder of her purpose.
As they walked, the grass beneath their feet gradually changed from its metallic sheen to a deeper, more muted blue.
The air cooled, and the ambient light dimmed until Nix’s flame became their primary illumination.
Overhead, stars appeared, only they were not arranged in the constellations Lark knew from Sataran.
These stars moved with purpose, occasionally swooping down like fireflies before rejoining their celestial patterns.
“Living stars,” Helianthus noted, seeing Lark’s directed attention. “Messengers of the Spring Court. They watch all who cross the Expanse.”
Hours or perhaps days passed as they journeyed. Time stretched and compressed unpredictably. Lark tried repeatedly to reach White Eye through their bond, but the connection remained frustratingly thin, offering only the faintest impressions of his presence.
They stopped occasionally at waypoints that materialized just as fatigue began to set in. These small pavilions of woven moonlight offered food and drink. Lark ate cautiously, remembering the warnings about accepting fae hospitality, but Nix assured her these provisions were safe.
“The waypoints are neutral ground,” she explained. “What is offered here creates no obligation.”
After resuming their journey, Lark noticed the landscape growing increasingly strange.
The previously uniform plains gave way to scattered formations that were contrary to natural laws.
Floating boulders emerged, trees grew upside-down from mid-air, pools of water stretched vertically hanging like liquid mirrors.
“The Expanse grows less stable the farther we travel from Summer’s influence,” Nix warned. “Reality here is, negotiable.”
“Negotiable?” Lark asked.
“Perception shapes what you experience,” Nix replied. “Focus on your purpose, not your surroundings. The Expanse can distract the unwary, sometimes fatally.”
As if to emphasize her point, a chasm suddenly yawned, opening before them into a vast, bottomless gulf that hadn’t existed moments before. The Summer guards halted, exchanging concerned glances.
“The boundary frays,” Solstice murmured. “The Flashover’s approach uncovers unexpected affects even here in our realm.”
Helianthus studied the chasm, then turned to Lark. “Your dual nature may be of use here. The gap exists because the path to Night cannot decide what it wishes to be. Perhaps you can remind it.”
Lark looked to Nix, who nodded encouragingly. “The fae and draconic energies together might stabilize the pathway. Just as they did for the gateway in your cell.”
Taking a deep breath, Lark called upon both bonds. The connection to White Eye remained stretched thin, but enough of his essence flowed through to blend with Nix’s fire. The dual energy manifested between her palms, its purple light illuminating the chasm before them.
As the light touched the edges of the gulf, the emptiness shimmered. Reality seemed to reconsider itself, folding inward from the brink. Gradually, the chasm narrowed, earth and stone filling in until only a shallow depression remained where the bottomless void had been.
“Impressive,” Helianthus acknowledged. “The Expanse recognizes your authority to pass.”
They continued on, the landscape growing darker with each step.
The iridescent grasses faded to silver, then charcoal, then black.
The air grew chill, carrying scents of midnight gardens and autumn decay.
Above them, the stars disappeared one by one, replaced by a canopy of absolute darkness pierced only by a single, impossibly large moon that shed silver light over everything.
“We approach the Night Court’s domain,” Nix whispered, her flame dimming significantly. “From here, we must proceed with utmost caution.”
The Summer guards, whose golden armor now looked starkly out of place in the darkness, grew visibly tense. Their hands never strayed far from their weapons as they scanned the shadows that seemed to move independently of any light source.
“The Night Court does not appreciate uninvited guests,” Helianthus warned Lark. “Especially those accompanied by Summer Court representatives.”
“Our courts have differences,” Solstice added diplomatically.
“Age-old grudges,” Nix clarified, her voice barely audible. “Stemming from the original binding of the Void Drinker and what came after.”
Before Lark could ask for elaboration, the shadows ahead coalesced.
Three figures emerged, tall and elegant, clad in armor that seemed to be crafted from solidified darkness.
Unlike the Summer Court fae, these beings moved with absolute silence, their features sharp and severe beneath crowns of midnight thorns.
“Halt,” commanded the central figure, a female whose skin was the blue-black of a moonless sky, her eyes twin points of starlight. “You trespass on Night Court territory.”
Helianthus stepped forward, bowing formally. “We come under Queen Aurelia’s authority, escorting a visitor from Sataran who seeks audience with your sovereign.”
The Night Court guards exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Then the female’s gaze locked onto Nix, whose flame had diminished to little more than a flickering ember.
“You,” she hissed, her voice suddenly charged with emotion. “The deserter returns.”
Nix drifted forward, her form wavering uncertainly. “Greetings, Umbra. It has been a long time since our paths crossed.”
“Not long enough,” Umbra replied coldly. Her attention shifted to Lark. “And you bring a mortal bearing Summer Court magic. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t cast you both into the Void right now.”
Lark met the guard’s starlit gaze unflinchingly. “Because the Void Drinker has escaped its prison on Sataran, and without the Night Court’s assistance, both our realms will fall to its hunger.”
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then Umbra laughed with a sound like glass breaking in the distance.
“The Void Drinker? That ancient threat was contained centuries ago by the Concordat. It cannot simply ‘escape.’”
“Yet it has,” Lark insisted. “I’ve faced it myself. It possesses the Realmstone and plans to use the coming Flashover to tear down the barriers between all realms permanently.”
The Night guards stiffened at the mention of the Realmstone. Umbra’s expression shifted from disdain to calculation.
“These are serious claims,” she said finally. “Lord Noctis should hear them, even if only to dismiss them.” She fixed Nix with another cold glare. “And he will be most interested to see what has become of his wayward ember.”
She gestured for them to follow, turning without waiting for a response. The other Night guards fell in beside the group, creating an escort that felt more like a death march.
As they walked deeper into the Night Court’s territory, the landscape transformed dramatically.
Gone was any pretense of natural terrain.
Instead, they traversed a world of elegant, impossible architecture.
Spires of obsidian rose from perfectly still pools of liquid shadow.
Gardens bloomed with flowers that existed only in silhouette.
Waterfalls of dark mercury cascaded upward into a sky dominated by that single, oversized moon.
Throughout it all, Lark noticed eyes watching from the darkness. Countless fae nobles observed their procession with undisguised curiosity and obvious disdain.
“They hate us,” she whispered to Nix.
“Not hate,” Nix corrected quietly. “Fear. The Night Court has always feared the power of dragons. It’s why they were so reluctant to participate in the original binding. And why they feel betrayed by what came after.”
“What did come after?” Lark asked, but Nix merely shook her head, unwilling to explain further in the presence of their escort.
The path widened, leading them toward a structure that seemed miraculous even by fae standards. The palace was constructed entirely from shadows and moonlight, constantly shifting yet somehow solid. Its spires pierced the dark sky like needles, and its walls rippled as if underwater.
“The Obsidian Palace,” Nix murmured. “Heart of the Night Court’s power.”
As they approached the palace gates, great arches of crystallized darkness parted silently at Umbra’s gesture. Lark felt the Solarium ingot pulse against her chest. The Summer Court’s essence seemed to recoil from the concentrated Night magic surrounding them.