18
A thin layer of dust adorned my face.
Chalky, earthen, ancient.
I tried to wet my lips—a mistake—and winced as cough after cough sputtered out of me.
Ouch. I sat up in a hurry, trying to get my bearings.
My skin was cold, stiff, and dusty like that of a corpse.
But my heart, frantically beating with the kind of life that was impossible in the Dream Realm, spoke a different story.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I noted my clothing.
Another impossibility.
I was wearing a dusty burgundy cloak with a tattered hem, a black traveling dress with long sleeves, and worn leather boots. The very outfit in which I’d entered the Tomb of the Devourer, the eternal resting place of the Shadow Bringer.
As if on cue, Erebus’s tomb flickered to life.
There were several candelabras set deep into the crumbling walls, and they began to glow weakly with dark, magical fire.
But from what I could tell, that was the only magic left in this place.
Shadows, once swirling around the room in long, caressing sweeps, were now crawling across the floor, shriveled like worms. I tried to immediately close my eyes and drift back into the Dream Realm, but it was as if a boulder had been placed in front of its only entrance. I couldn’t go back.
And where was Erebus?
Despair clawed its way up my throat, threatening to pour from my mouth in a hysterical scream.
Not only was the Dream Realm inaccessible, but Erebus’s body was gone.
I was alone on the slab he’d once used to lull me into the Dream Realm.
White dots sparked across my vision. I was nearly gasping now, trying to control my breath.
The tomb was a labyrinth of dark, windowless tunnels; logically, it made sense that Erebus might be near the entrance, devising our escape.
I need to find him.
Before I could so much as plant a foot on the tomb’s ancient floor, a pair of strong arms wrapped me in an embrace.
“You’re awake,” Erebus said into my hair, crushing me to him. “Thank the Maker.”
For a blissfully foggy moment, I melted into his affection, turning so that I could see him better.
He was clothed in a variation of his attire in the Dream Realm, albeit far more battle-worn and tattered.
His black armor, once magnificent, was smeared with dirt and blood, and the heavy cloak around his shoulders was now more “shroud” than it was “cape.” His draconic helmet was discarded, cast aside at the foot of the slab, leaving his face and hair unmasked.
It suited him. He deserved to be unmasked.
My magnificent, beautiful prince of darkness.
Except he’s no longer safe to be mine.
I pushed out of his arms, feeling a stab of remorse at the hurt in his eyes.
“I tried to kill you,” I said hoarsely. He reached for me again, but I hit his hands away, vehemently shaking my head.
“No. No. I let that—that thing—into my head and into our domain. I let Raelion wrap his power around my sword and our shadows. Allowed him to make you bleed until life drained from your eyes. He said it would be permanent, Erebus. He said your death would be permanent and I still let it happen.”
“Esmer—”
“Don’t give me any pity,” I cried out, interrupting him.
“I don’t deserve your grace.” Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I held them in.
He didn’t need to see me cry—didn’t need to feel compassion for me when I didn’t deserve it.
“Mithras may have forced you into a five-hundred-year prison, but it was I who almost killed you.” He tried to interrupt again, tried to touch my shoulders, but I barreled on, pushing myself away.
“I who led humanity’s last hope into a doomed battle against Raelion.
I who let the Weavers get chained to Raelion’s infernal body.
I who left Ceveon, Sorren, and our dreamers to their fates.
I might as well have killed them all with my own blade. ”
A cold, dawning horror gripped my skull.
Something I didn’t think I’d ever shake, no matter how long I lived.
“I didn’t just fail, Erebus,” I continued, gripping the edge of the platform that had held my body for Maker knew how long. “What I did was unforgivable. And the world will burn for it.”
My chest heaved; I was weeping now, unable to stop the tears pouring down my face, but I refused to break Erebus’s stare this time. Let him see me now. Let him see me fully for the wickedness I was.
“The Maker made a mistake when He chose me to be your equal,” I sobbed. “I am anything but.”
“You’re right,” Erebus finally said, clenching his fists.
His stare had become a glower. I was a three-headed monster; he was the hero sent to behead me.
“You did almost kill me. I could feel my spirit leaving my chest, cold and brittle.” He stepped closer, holding himself tall.
If he wanted to dispense justice now, I’d let him.
I’d bare my neck to him without a second thought.
“And you did lead a legion of dreamers and Weavers into a doomed battle. A battle without my presence.” His lip curled at this, as though he scented something foul.
“And we can’t go back. I’ve tried, but our tether is already cut.
Perhaps the Dream Realm is already destroyed. ”
“I left everyone to die.” My voice faltered. Cracked. “And you were dragged down with me.”
He stepped closer, the echo of his boots against the stone floor punctuating the silence. “‘Dragged’?” His tone was low, measured, carrying the dangerous edge of the darkness he wielded. “Do you truly think I am some hapless victim of your choices?”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” I insisted. My shoulders stiffened, but I didn’t turn away.
I didn’t deserve the right to run from him.
“I’ve destroyed everything I’ve ever touched.
My sister. My parents. My village. Our dreamers.
The Weavers, for Maker’s sake. I brought this evil upon them. I’m a monster, Erebus.”
“Are you? From where I stand, you’re anything but.
” His laugh was humorless. “I’ve spent my centuries-long life around demons—hunting them, fighting them, trying to rid our world of them—and I know what they look like.
How true monsters act. And they are neither you nor me.
I know that now. And you’re the one who taught me that, Esmer. ”
“Then you’re not seeing clearly,” I said seriously, begging him to understand. To see me for the evil I was. “I shouldn’t be pitied by anyone, least of all you. The first and only man I’ve ever…”
Ever loved.
Another hot tear slid down my face. Something tender and miserable was coiling in my chest, demanding me to take note, but I clawed it back down.
Erebus stepped closer still, his voice a low, velvety snarl.
“Do you think I am so fragile, so weak, that your faults would break me?” The ghostly light from the candelabras gleamed in his eyes, shadowy pools that seemed to devour everything around them.
“I would gladly spend another five hundred years in that prison if that meant I could stand by your side at the end of it.”
My breath caught as he caged me in against the stone slab, deadly still as he looked me in the eyes.
“If you think the darkness could frighten me, then you have forgotten who I am.” His voice softened, though it lost none of its power.
“What makes you think I fear the cracks in you, when those are where your light spills through?” He ripped off his gauntlets and reached for me again, his right hand cradling my face.
“Why do you fight your demons alone when I am here to command them into submission? Wasn’t it you who once told me to fight for a better world?
To fight for our kingdom and do right by my darkness, even if I didn’t believe I could make a difference?
” His lips trembled slightly, parting as if he was preparing to confess his most dire, beautiful sin.
“I love you, Esmer. I will always love you. Your shadows will never change that.”
“Erebus, I…”
He leaned closer, forehead resting against mine, voice dropping to a murmur that was more plea than command. “Say it, Esmer. Say it again now that I am awake to hear it.”
My walls crumbled.
“I love you,” I choked through my sobs. “I love you more than words can hold, more than my heart can possibly bear—”
His lips claimed mine before the words had fully left my mouth, fierce and unyielding.
They spoke of every promise he would make, every battle he would fight by my side.
And I kissed him back, grabbing for his dirt-streaked face and tangled hair.
The tomb’s air seemed to vibrate, rich with the scents of stone and earth.
The chill of the tomb wrapped around us, but our shared warmth bade it away.
It was more intimate, somehow, than every kiss we’d shared in the Dream Realm.
In dreams, our intimacy had felt dangerously close to real.
But here in Erebus’s tomb, those dreamy kisses felt like a memory half-recalled.
I savored every detail now: the slight roughness of his expressive lips, the warmth of his uneven breaths against my cheek, the tension in his hand as it cupped the nape of my neck.
Our teeth bumped together, a soft clink that made us both falter for a breath—then laugh, quietly, against each other’s mouths.
The warmth of it, the flawed reality, made it feel truer than anything conjured by sleep.
Dreams were delicious silk and fiery smoke.
But this was real.
I shivered, not from the cold but from our shared vulnerability.
I was still sitting atop the slab, appreciating its grounding contrast to the intense press of Erebus’s armored body.
I relaxed my legs and he drew closer, angling his hips into mine.
Shadows started to curl around us, softly awakening.
The world had narrowed to the growing heat of his mouth and the thunder of my pulse.
Erebus pulled back, just enough to search my face.
“It feels different,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp so full of wonder and yearning that it sent a jolt of heat through my stomach.
His thumb cradled my jaw with a tenderness that made my heart stutter, as if he was still learning the weight of me in his hands.
“I had forgotten that reality could be so much more.” My hands grasped at his layers—his cloak, his pauldrons, his metal chest plate.
He kissed me a final time, this time with a desperate, almost somber edge. “More of everything.”
When we finally broke free, we were both breathless.
I ran my fingers through his moon-white hair, marveling at the solidity of him.
The tomb was darker than before, shadows wavering as the candelabras dimmed.
But I felt no fear—only the unshakable certainty that this was real.
Our love was real. And it was mine to protect until I last drew breath.
For a fleeting second, I let myself fantasize that we were safe here, all alone in this quiet tomb.
But then Erebus shifted, close enough that I could feel the tension ripple through him.
“The tomb was tampered with while we were dreaming.” His voice was no longer soft with longing but sharp with resolve. “The entrance was unsealed as well.”
I blinked, confused. Mithras had sealed the entrance when he’d trapped us here. Me, Erebus, and the corpses of his loyal dead. “Are you sure?”
He nodded grimly. “I do not know who did it, or why, but we need to be alert. We’re exposed here without our full Weaver magic. Outside of this tomb, we have only our humanity to rely on.”
I stood, pulse thudding in my throat. Whatever safety I’d imagined had vanished.
Now came the reckoning.
Erebus pulled his gauntlets back on and drew his sword from its sheath, careful to keep its blade away from my unarmored skin.
It had weight and presence, its blackened steel gleaming even in the dim light.
There was nothing dreamy or imagined about it.
Only purpose, forged into an ancient blade that had likely tasted death before.
“Just stay close to me. Whoever opened the door intended for us to be free, but that does not mean they want us alive.”