9 #3
The Nocturne bubbled and boiled; inky water splashed onto the citadel’s glassy walls, painting it midnight blue.
Demons crawled from the waters, scaled Evernight’s walls, and flew around its spires.
The maw of a great storm slowly enveloped it, stretching across the sky as if it was sentient.
It was impossible to look away. The barest glint of bright red eyes burned from the center.
The thing inside the storm peered around the citadel, assessing the demons, but then something caught its attention.
As if it knew we were watching. As if it knew I was watching.
Impossibly, its eyes slid from Weaver to Weaver at our table, but they did not seem affected.
Could they not see it? Did they not know it was him?
Raelion.
Under the table, my hands trembled. The eyes widened, moving to my right—then gleamed when they beheld Erebus.
Erebus tensed, instinctively pulling me closer.
I shuddered, about to scream. I hated how he was looking at Erebus.
It was a hungry look, as if he wanted to feast on Erebus’s blood and lick his bones.
Stop looking at him!
In a quick, brash movement, I threw shadows across Xander’s vision, ripping it apart as knives would canvas.
“Terrible, isn’t it? That vision was a depiction of how Citadel Evernight appears now,” Xander intoned coolly, as if I hadn’t just destroyed his demonstration in a panic.
“Infested with demons. Thousands of demons. The citadel sinks into the Nocturne more and more each day; soon it will be gone—the anchor that unites our domains.” He continued swiftly, “It is our theory that with Evernight destroyed and the Nocturne fully turned, we will cease to be Weavers. There shall exist only demons, Corrupt souls, and mortals in the midst of Corruption.” He finished primly, the words catching ever so lightly in his fine throat, “Ourselves included.”
“The storm above Evernight is Raelion, then,” Erebus noted seriously, his deep voice easily commanding the attention of every person in the room. “His face is that of a storm, and his eyes burn like fire. It is he who we must hunt.”
Somnus nodded. “Yes. Raelion would be our target. It is our understanding—and hope—that he truly is this ‘god among demons.’ That his destruction would end our demonic infestation and the plague of Corruption for good.”
“In other words, our combined goal is to purge Evernight of its demons and kill Raelion,” Xander added.
I shuddered again, still feeling Raelion’s fire-hot eyes peering down at me.
“We’ve tried defeating the demons on our own,” Fenrir said dismally.
“But we’re useless against them compared to you.
” He gritted out those words as if they hurt to say.
“Especially without our legions of dreamers. Our armies are only fabrications from our minds, but your dreamers are real. You stand a chance.”
“But perhaps, as we have theorized, the creatures at Evernight aren’t all demons,” Ceres offered.
Theia nodded. “And perhaps these demons could be changed—transformed back into their human forms. There needn’t be as much death as we’re anticipating. What do you think, Esmer?”
I was startled by her sudden question. “I’m not sure. It’s difficult to tell if they are demons or dreamers who’ve been Corrupted. Until we get closer, they all look the same.”
“Unfortunate,” Fenrir muttered.
“Unfortunate?” Erebus echoed, lip curling. “What’s unfortunate is your training and trials. We should be planning to go to Evernight now, not wasting our days on your meaningless tests.”
For once, Fenrir looked contemplative. As though he secretly agreed.
Xander sighed. “As you can now see, Shadow Weavers, the first trial was important. As there are no bridges spanning to Evernight, it is imperative that all functioning dreamers can properly fly there. The second trial, led by Nephthys and Fenrir, will teach dreamers how to silence their internal turmoil so as to focus on a single, external goal, whereas the third trial, led by the time triumvirate, will challenge the scope of their powers.”
Put that way, it made perfect sense. Though our dreamers were largely untrained, this regimen would be the best we could do given the circumstances.
“And we will need every ounce of their power if we hope to survive,” Lelantos said grimly.
“Indeed,” Somnus declared, his dark eyes flashing. “And the final test will re-create what we expect to face upon reaching Evernight. A simulation of its conditions—and our goals. It would be helpful, however, if we could communicate with Mithras before then. Alas, he is—”
“Still unreachable,” Theia finished, pale eyes downcast as white lashes fanned against her ghostly cheeks. “As Citadel Evernight sinks into the Nocturne, the status of Noctis grows uncertain. I will continue my efforts to reach him.”
My stomach twisted; I tried to shove the feeling down, but it was insistent, clawing up my throat and clamoring for attention. Without Mithras, there was no Elliot. I couldn’t beg Mithras to free Erebus and me from the tomb, couldn’t so much as bargain to even see my brother again.
Elliot, where are you?
Tears burned at the edges of my vision, threatening to spill down my face. I tried to remember the exact shape of his smile, the precise sound of his laugh. But I couldn’t. He was already blurring in my memories.
I miss you. I miss you so much.