The Return of the Dragon Queen

by Farah Oomerbhoy

  “Don’t do this, Lilith,” growled my father, struggling against his bonds. “Leave her alone. It’s me you want.”

  She turned her obsidian eyes on my father. “Oh, but I want you to feel the pain of seeing your offspring tortured before your very eyes, Azaren.” She clicked her tongue and a lash of dark power speared through me. “You may have lasted through years of torture.” She struck again, and her power sliced through me. “But can she?”

  I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat as the pressure of darkness built all around me. I pushed at her magic with my own, but the Dark Queen was too strong; mage magic could barely harm, let alone kill, a demon as powerful as her.

  “Vivienne,” I pleaded, trying to get through to my best friend. “I know you are in there somewhere. Please fight it—fight her.”

  Suddenly Lilith let go. The pressure waned, and the darkness in her eyes flashed momentarily. I could see a kernel of surprise on the Dark Queen’s face. Vivienne was fighting her. She was still in there somewhere.

  I fell to the ground shaking, panting, trying to gather my strength.

  But when I looked at Vivienne again, it was only the Dark Queen who looked back. “Vivienne’s gone,” Lilith said, smiling as she curled her fingers into a claw. “And she’s never coming back.”

  Her dark power lashed out again, and a wave of blackness enveloped me. An agonizing pain whipped through my body, and I screamed. Wave after wave of darkness washed over me. I writhed on the ground. I heard my father’s voice shouting for Lilith to stop, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as the crushing darkness shattered my body and I fell back into dark oblivion.

  When I awoke, I found myself on the floor of a dark chamber.

  Burning braziers of red fire flickered menacingly on the walls over a stone altar—Dragath’s tomb. Intricate grooves ran through the floor beneath it, carved out in the runes that had helped bind the demon lord so many years ago. The Dark Lord’s evil power pervaded every stone, rotting them from the inside. The stench of twisted magic clung in the air. The cavern pulsated with dark power.

  My father was chained to the altar. Dragath was standing in front of him, reading from the Book of Abraxas, his arm outstretched, the Dagger clutched in his hand.

  Skye stood beside him, her eyes fixated on the book. The ritual had begun.

  I pushed myself up slowly. I had to get my father away from Dragath.

  But a swift kick in my ribs sent me back down to the floor.

  Lilith stood over me, her dark power pulsating dangerously as it lashed toward me, lifting me up and pinning me to the wall. “Watch!” she hissed with a hateful smile. “I want you to see Azaren die at last.”

  Bile rose in my throat, and I gritted my teeth against the pain as I tried to push her off me. But her magic was too strong. Dark spots flashed before my eyes as the pain in my chest grew.

  Just then, a blur shot past me and barreled straight into the Dark Queen.

  I fell to the ground as her dark bonds dissipated.

  I turned to see Rafe holding Lilith by the neck. Magic rolled off him in waves as he held the Dark Queen back. “Go,” he growled, and his eyes flashed like a roiling storm.

  The sounds of swords clashing filled my ears. Penelope raced toward me.

  My relief was evident when I saw her. “How did you get past the Drakaar?”

  “Tristan.”

  I nodded. It was all the explanation I needed. “We have to save my father,” I whispered. “Please.”

  Penelope’s sharp eyes took in the situation swiftly. I could almost see her mind whirling with possibilities. “Whatever magic you have left.” She flicked me a quick look. “Now is the time to use it.”

  I called forth my magic and built up mage fire within me, blasting it at Dragath. I needed to keep him distracted long enough to save to my father.

  But Dragath had created a shield around himself and the book.

  He looked up, and his eyes flashed in anger at the interruption. His gaze moved over us. “So, your friends came for you. How sweet. Now they can watch me destroy you.”

  He glanced at Skye. “Kill her.”

  Skye grinned. “With pleasure,” she murmured and stalked toward me, twirling her sword in her hands. In Elfi, Skye and I had been friends; I had trained with her almost every day. She was good, one of the best fae warriors, and I had no fae powers whatsoever.

  Instinctively I moved back, creating a shield as Penelope threw me a sword. I knew it would not help me against Skye. She was Andromeda’s daughter and a Princess of the Day Court. Even though she wasn’t fire-fae, she was a formidable warrior.

  Skye’s sword flashed as it arced toward me.

  Out of nowhere, another sword clashed with hers, pushing Skye back.

  Aiden stood before me. A shadow crossed his face as he regarded Skye. “I’ve been looking for you, sister.”

  Skye backed away. If there was anyone who could best her in a fight, it was her big brother. I could see something akin to fear flash in her azure eyes. “Aiden. What are you doing here?”

  “You took something that doesn’t belong to you.” He pointed his sword at her. “And I’m here to take it back to Elfi.”

  Skye’s eyes narrowed and froze to ice as she regarded her brother. “Still the fae queen’s loyal dog,” she spat and lunged at Aiden.

  They crashed together in a fury, both powerful fae-warriors almost evenly matched.

  Dragath looked up, his eyes glazed, still concentrating on the magic he was trying to perform. “The ritual has already begun. There is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  Dragath lifted the Dagger and sliced it through the air before him. To my horror, it cut through the very fabric of the world, creating a portal. The dark portal grew and a hideous creature stepped out of it, twisted and evil with rotting limbs and the eyes of a demon. Shadows coiled themselves around it like a second skin.

  Dragath’s eyes flashed, and his face spread into a hateful, horrible smile. “There are thousands more where that came from.” He waved his hand at his demon minion. “They are all yours.”

  The terrifying creature smelled of rotting flesh, and its eyes burned with a monstrous bloodthirsty gleam. It ran at me.

  I raised my sword and slashed at it, tearing through rotting flesh, and rolled swiftly to the side. Black blood sprayed everywhere.

  It snarled, turned, and came at me again.

  A blast of raging silver fire came out of nowhere and hit the creature, burning through flesh and monstrous bone, reducing it to ash.

  I whirled around to see Tristan racing toward me, Ashara by his side, her staff aloft and glowing in her hand.

  Another creature stepped out of the portal.

  Dragath raised the Dagger above my father. “All I need now is the blood of a Firedrake.” The Dagger made a hissing sound as Dragath sliced it across my father’s chest.

  “No!” I screamed and ran toward him. No, no, no! I was too late.

  My father’s blood dripped into the grooves beneath him and wove around the altar as if it were alive. He struggled in his bonds as the life started to slowly seep out of him, feeding the Dark Lord’s power and undoing the magic Auraken Firedrake had used to bind Dragath here.

  “You are too late,” Dragath said in a voice that was slowly changing, becoming deeper, more otherworldly.

  At the altar, tendrils of darkness had started to form, writhing out of the tomb as Dragath’s powers began to awake. He reached out his hand toward Aiden. Shadows whipped at the Prince of the Day Court, catching him and flinging him against the wall. Darkness coiled itself around Aiden’s body, holding him down and devouring him as he screamed in agony.

  The distraction gave Skye an opening.

  She raced toward Dragath, grabbed the Book of Abraxas from the altar, and shot for the cavern entrance.

  Dragath’s eyes flashed with fury at the unexpected treason, and he flung a wave of blackness outward, spearing toward Skye. But the Prin
cess of the Day Court was too fast.

  She had already disappeared.

  Aiden pushed himself up as the shadows dissipated around him. “I will find Skye!” he shouted and raced after his sister.

  Ashara’s staff glowed dangerously bright as she raised it, directing it at Dragath. She blasted a hole through his shield, breaking the bonds that held my father chained to the dark altar.

  I ran faster—I was nearly there.

  Dragath raised the Dagger again, ready to finish off my father.

  “Penelope, get him to safety!” I screamed as I lunged at Dragath, trying to grab the Dagger from his hands.

  The magic around Dragath pulsated with power as the blood in the runes shifted and squirmed. “You are too late.”

  The Dark Lord struck, plunging the Dagger of Dragath deep into my stomach.

  Dragath

  Pain seared through my body in a wave of agony and I fell to my knees, clutching the Dagger. My blood joined my father’s in the runes and splattered on the floor.

  “Aurora,” bellowed Rafe. But his voice seemed so far away.

  He was battling Lilith, but his shield was wavering, and she had him backed up against the wall. I could do nothing to help him.

  “No,” I whispered as I frantically tried to gather the remnants of my magic, which was slowly but surely flickering out. Faces swam before my eyes as my vision started to blur.

  “Tristan,” I rasped, slowly bleeding out onto the ground. “The portal.”

  Tristan’s face betrayed his horror as he beheld the Dagger, its blood-red stone glinting on its hilt, slowly draining my life away. He could not help me. No fae could touch the Dagger without being pulled inside. Composing himself, he raced toward the dark portal, facing it to meet whatever came through.

  Penelope had reached my father and was helping him up. If she could get him to safety, she could heal him—Dragath’s first cut had been shallow in order to prolong the flow of blood into the runes. She looked back at me and hesitated. I could tell she wanted to help, but she could not touch the Dagger without being pulled inside.

  “Go! Please,” I pleaded. I was going to die here, but at least I could save my father. “Penelope, please! Take him and go!”

  But my father was having none of it. He leaned on Penelope, still weak from the loss of blood and years of torture. Determination shone in his eyes as he faced his captor and tormentor. “You dare to harm my daughter, Dragath.” He raised his hand and lightning sizzled out of it, hot and alive, slamming into Dragath.

  Dragath stumbled back, his expression stunned. He didn’t expect my father to still have power like that.

  None of us did.

  Azaren slumped against Penelope, his use of such magic after so long weakening him considerably. He was injured on top of that, and although the gash on his chest was not a mortal wound, he was losing too much blood, and Dragath’s powers were still growing.

  Dark shadows whipped toward Penelope and Azaren. Her power flared, creating a shield, but it didn’t stop the shadows. They tore through Penelope’s magic.

  Ashara came between them. All seven of the stones on her staff came to life, creating a stronger shield over them. Dragath’s magic slammed into it but couldn’t get through.

  A wave of gratitude washed over me as I tried not to pass out from the pain. I trusted Ashara would do what she could to keep them safe. At least if they could get my father to safety, I had done something right.

  I was losing blood, and the more that flowed into the runes, the more shadows were released from within the tomb, winding themselves around Dragath.

  Dragath turned his attention to me slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Darkness seemed to seep out of his very pores, eating up the magic from my blood. Strengthening him. “Give up, Dawnstar. Your end is near. My army is already preparing to enter this world.” He held up his hand in a fist. “Once you are dead, all my powers will finally be restored.”

  I put up a weak shield around myself, and his sinister magic, evil and twisted, wound tentatively around it, growing more insistent every second. Darkness continued to snake around me, battering at my defenses, shadows that devoured souls feeding on my life-force.

  I could barely focus through the pain.

  Tristan was guarding the portal, battling a monstrous creature with eight legs that had emerged while Penelope and Ashara protected my father.

  Rafe and Lilith were still locked in a magical battle. The Dark Queen’s eyes flashed dangerously as she flung out her hands, throwing Rafe across the room. His sword clattered away across the floor as his head hit stone and he fell to the ground.

  “Rafe,” I gasped. I tried to push aside the pain and reached for my magic again in a last attempt.

  Rafe pushed himself up, but before he could find his footing, Lilith pounced on him.

  A sword flashed in her hand, the three red rubies smoldering in the firelight.

  Dawn! She had my sword.

  Lilith raised her arm and plunged the sword into Rafe’s chest.

  A horrified scream tore from my throat. “Rafe!”

  With the last of his strength, Rafe pulled a dagger from his boot and stabbed it into Lilith’s neck. The Dark Queen fell as Rafe collapsed on the floor beside her, blood pooling out of his wound as his life slowly slipped away before my very eyes.

  “No!” My voice was only a whisper as I tried to push myself up, to go to him, help him, but I had no strength left.

  Seeing Rafe lying in a pool of blood, my will collapsed. All hope left me. The darkness threatened to swallow me whole.

  This was the end of the road. We would all die here today.

  Through the blinding pain, a voice reached me. Strong and unyielding. A command. “Get up, Aurora!” said Abraxas in my mind. My ring started to glow. “You can save Rafael—you can save everyone. The battle isn’t over yet; you are needed. Your magic is in the Dagger, just waiting to be summoned back. If you can hear me, then all is not lost.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

  “You are the Dawnstar, Aurora, and you always were, even without your magic,” said Abraxas, stern and unyielding. “After five thousand years of lying dormant, the magic of Illaria Lightbringer chose to manifest itself in you. There is no one else who can wield the magic as it was meant to be wielded. You were born in this age for a purpose; you were born to stand against the darkness when no one else could. But you must believe without a shadow of a doubt that this was meant to be. You must have full faith in who you are; you are the light that fills this world with magic! Believe it. Believe in yourself!”

  Through the pain, I tried to concentrate and tried to remember what the druids had said about taking my magic back from the Dagger. In my mind’s eye, I could see a thousand tiny sparks, the magic of all who were imprisoned within. I knew my magic was here somewhere, but I could not get to it. I kept searching, and the tiny lights swirled around in a frenzy. I went deeper, sifting through the powerful magic I found inside until I saw it. My power, shining brighter than all around it—the magic of the Dawnstar!

  But I still could not reach it. The Dagger was resisting me.

  “Your belief is still not complete, Aurora,” said Abraxas. “That is why the magic doesn’t heed your call.”

  Dragath struck again, and darkness speared through me, ripping, shredding my soul. A shattered scream tore from my throat. I shook my head as excruciating pain lashed down my spine.

  “Get up, Aurora,” said Abraxas, but his voice already seemed farther away.

  I shook my head helplessly, trying not to pass out from the agony. Once I did, it was all over. “I can’t!” I cried to Abraxas, throwing the thought out as the last vestiges of strength left me. “I have failed everyone. I am not the warrior everyone expected me to be.”

  This was the end. I had nothing left.

  I looked on in horror as Joreth’s body started to distort as more of Dragath’s power filled him. His face
lengthened, and black horns started to grow out of his head. His body grew in stature, and his skin turned a burnished red. His arms and legs grew as thick as tree trunks. He flexed his clawed hands as his massive presence seemed to fill the cavern. This was the demon lord I had seen in all the books and cave frescoes. This was Dragath at full power.

  “Now,” the demon lord said, “I will finally get the chance to kill the heir of Auraken Firedrake.”

  I heard the others screaming as the Dark Lord’s power enveloped the whole cavern, devouring, shredding, ripping through their minds and bodies. Evil rose to its full potential, powerful and ancient, a soulless pit of darkness that threatened to swallow the world.

  Pain lashed through my body and the world swam before my eyes. It was too much, too much pain. I wanted to drift off in the ball of light that had started to form before my eyes.

  The sounds of the cavern and the battle fell away.

  A shimmering form stood before me, a form only I could see. Her alabaster skin shone with an ethereal light.

  Illaria Lightbringer!

  “Be strong, my child,” said the Ancient Fae queen, her voice soft and otherworldly. She bent down and brushed her hand across my cheek, and a new strength spread through my body. “You were born to save this world. You are its guardian. Fight! I am with you. I have always been with you.”

  It was then that something inside me shifted, and I understood what Abraxas had been trying to teach me for so long. My magic was not a weapon as I had once been led to believe. It was a beacon, a ray of hope. It was light, and love, and faith—faith the world put in me. Now I had to become what I was always meant to be. Not queen nor ruler, but protector and guardian of Avalonia and its people.

  I reached for my power, which I could see in the distance, far within the Dagger and burning brighter than a thousand stars. With my last bit of strength and an unshakable faith, I commanded it to return to me.

  “Come!” I said and opened myself to it.

  It was as if the floodgates released, and my magic rushed into me in a great tidal wave of unfettered power, washing over my whole body as it all returned. It was powerful and ancient, a great white light against which no darkness could stand. I pulled out the Dagger and stood up, my whole body glowing with an iridescent radiance as it healed itself.