"I am ready, Rhydian," Lyra declared, her voice firm, her hand reaching for his. The touch was immediate, electric. A surge of golden energy flowed from his palm into hers, intertwining with the pulsing light of the Heartstone. The crypt, already trembling from the Ash-Eater's rampage, began to shake more violently.
Thorne, who had been stirring, let out a groan. The shadowy entity, weakened but still present, pulsed erratically, sensing the shift in power. The Ash-Eater, now a colossal, skeletal horror, turned from its assault on the crypt walls, its burning eyes fixing on Lyra and Rhydian. It let out a deafening shriek, a sound of pure, ancient rage, sensing the threat to its existence.
"It knows," Rhydian gritted out, his hand tightening around Lyra's. "It will try to stop us."
"Then we must be faster," Lyra replied, her gaze unwavering. She closed her eyes, focusing on the vision of her ancestor, on the dance of power, on the perfect harmony.
"Unleash it, Rhydian," she whispered, her voice a command and a plea. "Trust me."
Rhydian took a deep breath, his body tensing. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest, growing in intensity. His form began to ripple, his skin shimmering. Scales, iridescent and obsidian, erupted across his face, neck, and hands, spreading like a second skin. His teeth elongated, his eyes blazed with a fierce, molten gold, and his frame seemed to expand, radiating an immense heat. He was not fully transforming into a dragon, but his draconic power was unleashed, raw and magnificent.
The shadowy entity shrieked, launching itself at them, but Rhydian, now a force of pure, elemental fury, merely roared. A wave of golden fire, not destructive, but pure and cleansing, erupted from him, slamming into the shadowy entity and scattering it into motes of desperate darkness.
The Ash-Eater lunged, its skeletal claws reaching. But Lyra and Rhydian were already moving. Their hands, clasped together, became the conduit. Lyra, drawing on her Star-Born lineage, channeled the Heartstone's power. Rhydian, a conduit of raw draconic fire, poured his essence into her, into the Heartstone.
A blinding column of golden-white light erupted from the dais, piercing the darkness of the crypt. It was not a destructive blast, but a pure, cleansing energy, humming with the combined power of ancient magic and draconic fire.
The light slammed into the Ash-Eater. The creature shrieked, a sound of pure agony and defiance. Its shadowy form began to crack, to fray at the edges, as the pure energy assaulted its very being. It struggled, tearing at the light, but it was relentless, consuming it, pushing it back into the void from which it came.
The crypt shook violently, the walls groaning, cracks appearing in the ancient stone. Dust and debris rained down. Thorne, regaining consciousness, stared in wide-eyed horror at the spectacle, his mad ambition crumbling before his eyes.
Lyra felt the immense strain, the raw power threatening to tear her apart. Rhydian's hand was a vice, his draconic essence pouring into her, a roaring inferno that she had to contain and direct. Their breaths mingled, their wills intertwined, a single, unified purpose.
The Ash-Eater shrieked one final, ear-splitting scream, its form dissolving into nothingness, pulled back into the void, sealed by the combined power of the Heartstone, the Star-Born, and the Dragon.
The blinding light faded, leaving behind a silence that was deafening. The crypt was still, save for the heavy breathing of Lyra and Rhydian, their hands still clasped, their bodies trembling from the immense effort. But the air was clean, the stench of the Blight gone. The Ash-Eater was banished. The world was saved. But at what cost? And what would become of their fragile, fated union now?