3 #3
It told of a broken hero trying to save the Dream Realm. A frantic plan made with Mithras to purge the Nocturne of its shadows once and for all. A plan ending with shocking betrayal. The Weavers painted Erebus as a villain, a scourge who summoned demons as his playthings.
The injustice of it all was nauseating.
“I meant it when I said I would never forgive them. I am not the only one at risk from their deceitful ways this time. It’s all of you, too.
” Erebus stood and walked to the open window, beholding the dreamers in the courtyard, the forest, and their new dwellings.
“And the hundreds of dreamers who now rely on Esmer and me for their safety. We’re all they have left. ”
“Indeed,” Sorren agreed. “Outside of the Dream Realm, we’re just bones growing brittle in the dirt or collecting dust somewhere infernal like your tomb.”
“The bones in my tomb could belong to anyone,” Erebus said, shaking his head.
I remembered Erebus as I had first seen him in the Tomb of the Devourer, kneeling over two skeletons.
He’d been genuinely surprised to find the bones there, I realized.
And then Mithras had mocked him. A flicker of rage danced behind my eyes, eager to blame the Light Bringer for yet another grievance.
I couldn’t imagine being forced asleep for centuries, only to wake and be utterly alone, with nothing but my two dearest friends dead at my feet and my enemy peering down at me with contempt in his golden eyes.
“Who else would defend your tomb to the death?” Sorren inquired, twisting his silver thumb ring, shaped like a snake, impatiently. “If you had looked closely enough, you’d likely have found my jewelry.”
Erebus’s mouth tightened. I could tell he’d known all along, but the confirmation hurt.
“The bones in your tomb are none other than ours, my friend,” Ceveon said gently.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad my eternal resting place is in your tomb,” Sorren offered, his earlier impatience shifting into light humor. “I’d imagine a worm-infested coffin would be far more stifling.”
“How did you die?” I asked, curious why these two warriors died in a dark, windowless tomb in the middle of the Visstill Forest. It was impossible to tell how they’d perished by the sight of their bones alone.
Ceveon and Sorren shared a look.
“By a blade,” Ceveon finally said, shuddering as he took a long drink.
Perhaps he was recalling where the sword had pierced him.
“Centuries ago, Mithras ordered a secret dwelling to be built for Erebus. A magical tomb that would ensure he remained in immortal sleep. Sorren and I planned to rescue Erebus during the burial process before he was sealed away.”
“But when we tried to retrieve him from the tomb, we were cornered,” Sorren added.
“Who cornered you?” Erebus pressed. “In fact, I believe you’ve been purposefully omitting it.
” Shadows rippled from his shoulders in an ominous cloud.
They became a kaleidoscope of threatening things—swords, snakes, clawed arms—as though he couldn’t decide how he wanted to use them.
Or who to use them against. “Name them.”
“It was—” Ceveon began but was interrupted by a quick palm over his mouth.
“Don’t—” Sorren insisted. “We can mull over the past after the demons have been defeated.”
“Mithras,” Ceveon said angrily, ripping Sorren’s hand away. “It was Mithras. He gutted us like we were swine.”
Erebus’s shadows raged, darting toward the ceiling. They wanted to strike, to hurt, to kill. I could feel it in my bones. My shadows wanted what he wanted. They craved vengeance; they craved vengeance now. It took everything within me to shove the scornful impulse back down.
“Mithras is unforgivable for what he did,” I said, shaking my head. “But we cannot harm him until I know Elliot is safe. And after I have my brother back, we will do what needs to be done. You can have your revenge.”
Erebus’s shadows faltered. The fight in his eyes still fumed, but he was stifling the worst of it.
Ceveon slumped, some of his own rage dissipating. “I know we’re in charge of something far greater than ourselves now,” he said. “Our individual needs—including putting that golden bastard’s head on one of these fine chandeliers—must come second to what’s better for the whole of our kingdom.”
Sorren gave a wry smile into his drink. “Good boy. You’re learning.”
“And just for that—” Ceveon yanked Sorren by the elbow so forcefully he dropped his cup.
“We may be dead in Noctis, but Sorren and I are still here. And so long as the Maker grants us that gift, we will fight by your sides,” he continued seriously, wrapping the three of us in a crushing hug.
“We’ll get back Elliot, save the world, and then take our revenge as the ultimate reward. ”
“I have greatly underestimated the spectacle we must put on to convince Mithras and the Seven we don’t intend to sever their heads from their pretty necks,” Sorren said with a bemused sigh.
We all melted into laughter, conjuring more spiced wine as we finished our plans.