22
A scream ripped me from my sleep.
For a heartbeat, I lay frozen. Listening. My palms were clammy, my back chilled with cold sweat.
I imagined it.
But a crash of breaking wood and another scream, this time high-pitched and panicked, had me scrambling.
Erebus was already moving, his form sleek and lethal in the dim light.
He dressed quickly, snatching his tunic and pants from the floor where they’d been tossed.
He didn’t bother with his armor, instead focusing on his weapons and where they would be strapped.
His movements were efficient and assured, displaying the calm of someone who had seen too much violence in a lifetime to be rattled by this.
“Get dressed,” he urged, buckling a dagger to his thigh and throwing his cloak over his shoulders. “Hurry, Esmer.”
I scrambled from the bed, body numb from the sudden rush of adrenaline.
The inn was alive with noise now: footsteps pounding below us, doors slamming open and shut, the sudden crackle of laughter.
My stomach churned violently, a knot of dread settling deep within me as another shriek tore through the air.
It was closer this time, ending in a sickening, wet gurgle.
The air smelled of smoke and something darker, the coppery tang of blood now mingling with the sharp scent of burning wood.
I grabbed the first items of clothing I could find—my cloak, stockings, and nightgown—and yanked them on with urgency.
My boots were next, but my hands shook as I reached for the laces.
My dream was still swimming in my mind, taunting me.
Had I somehow led Mithras to this village?
Was he waiting for us downstairs, with an army of Corrupt under his command?
Please don’t let this be the end.
My fingers fumbled for a moment longer, then steadied as I laced my boots tight.
Erebus’s sword was already in his hands, its cold steel gleaming even in the faint light of the room.
He was a deadly, practiced warrior—and one who was about to unleash his vengeance upon the mortal plane.
My own blade was resting against the wall where I had left it, along with a row of thin daggers.
Erebus helped me belt the three best daggers, giving me a fierce once-over before handing me my sword.
I squeezed its hilt, adjusting my fingers around its grip.
It wasn’t so different from my sword in the Dream Realm, but everything about it felt different.
It was heavier, clumsier. Without my shadows, I’d be helpless in the face of danger.
He’d have to fight for both of us.
“Stay behind me,” Erebus ordered, no shred of his softer side left. His veins pulsed visibly in his neck. He gripped his hilt so tight his knuckles were white. “We don’t have our Shadow Weaver magic; if we die here, it’s for good.”
“I hate this,” I lamented, shaking my head. “In our dreams, I could fight nearly as well as you.”
His gaze was sharp and unwavering, but there was no judgment in his eyes—only understanding. “And you think now you’re powerless?”
“Aren’t I? I don’t have real-world training like you. I don’t have the strength to—”
“You have me,” he cut in firmly. “Rely on me, Esmer. Let me protect you.”
My throat tightened. His words were both a comfort and a painful reminder of how fragile things felt outside the Dream Realm. “For once, I want to be the one keeping you safe. I want us to be able to rely on me. The way my family never could.”
He brushed a hand along my jaw, thumb tracing my neck. “You already do keep me safe. From my demons, my self-loathing, my despair. You have no idea how much.” He kissed my forehead, my lips. “Let me do what I’m trained to do. And when this is over, I’ll teach you how to fight in reality, too.”
I took a restorative breath. “Let’s go, then. We can—” I cut myself off, noting the sudden unease in his expression. How his fingers froze against my neck, then jerked away as if burned. “What is it? What’s wrong, Erebus?”
“You have a mark on your neck.” I’d never heard him so afraid. “What did he do to you?”
No.
I staggered to the room’s only mirror, ripping my nightgown from my throat.
There were two large handprints, darker than night, branded on my skin.
The mark began at my throat, ending in long, claw-tipped fingers that reached for my heart.
It was as if the demon king himself were standing behind me, resting his infernal hands on my body in a show of dominance.
The placement was deliberate—impossible to hide, unavoidable in its implication.
Situated precisely where a necklace might rest, or a noose might tighten.
I grabbed my throat, trying to tear it off, but it was impossible.
The claws were my skin, their shadowed edges flickering in time with my pulse.
I had never seen intricate markings like this, but I knew in my soul what they were.
What they meant. Still, I was in denial.
If I was Corrupt, I was already dead. There was no cure, no hope.
Corruption happened quickly—and with Raelion as the demon who Corrupted me, it would likely happen even faster.
He was simply too powerful. Would I even make it a week before I succumbed? A day?
“He actually marked me,” I cried out, growing hysterical. “He wants me Corrupted—”
The door to our room shuddered violently.
Something heavy was hitting it over and over and over.
Erebus tried to push me away, shielding me with his back, but he was too late.
The door exploded, cracking apart in hundreds of sharp wooden pieces.
A splinter slashed his cheek; blood instantly welled up, sliding down his skin in bright red rivulets.
A figure stood in the dust-filled doorway, licking its thin lips.
Then, with an animalistic squeal, it sent something flying.
I yanked on Erebus’s hand, pulling him sideways.
One more breath and he would have had a wooden spike through his neck.
As the dust cleared, we both held our swords high.
The thing that stood in our doorway wasn’t human anymore.
It had been, once. I could see that in the twisted remnants of its face, its pale eyes rolling oddly in their sockets.
But its skin was gray and cracked like dried mud, and black veins spidered across its flesh.
Its mouth hung open unnaturally wide, teeth broken and stained, and the sound it made—a wet, gurgling growl—set every nerve in my body alight.
Corrupt.
This creature was in the worst shape I’d ever seen.
The Corrupt lunged at us, faster than I expected for something so distorted.
Erebus moved like a shadow, stepping into its path and driving his sword through its chest in one smooth motion.
The creature staggered but didn’t fall, clawed hands swiping wildly at him.
Erebus snarled, furious, twisting the blade before ripping it free, and the Corrupt collapsed in a heap.
“This is what a Corrupt looks like now?” Erebus asked, utterly disturbed. “They look no different than the demons haunting the Dream Realm.”
I shuddered, stepping around the Corrupt as its thick blood leaked across the wooden floor. I wanted to vomit. “They didn’t used to look like this. Five years ago, they looked a lot more human.”
I tried not to think of my family.
Of Eden, blood crusted underneath her cracked fingernails.
Of Father, dark lines webbing from his eyes to his beard.
Of Mother, her strong face contorted by bloodthirsty fury.
Of myself, with the markings of Corruption now on my neck.
If what the gatekeepers said was true, the local Corrupt were supposed to be locked away in holding cells, awaiting their journey to Istralla. But now they were free. And judging by the sounds of chaos echoing through the inn, there were many of them.
Another scream rang out, this one from the hallway. A child’s scream.
I didn’t think; I just moved.
Pushing past Erebus, I ran out, sword raised.
The hallway was bathed in flickering orange light, air thick with oily smoke and the stench of blood.
A man lay sprawled near the stairs, his throat torn open, crimson pooling beneath him.
At the far end of the hall, a woman clutched a small boy to her chest, backing away from another Corrupt.
It stalked toward her on all fours, its head tilted at an unnatural angle, saliva dripping from its mouth.
“Esmer!” Erebus barked, but I was already sprinting.
The woman screamed as the Corrupt pounced.
I wouldn’t make it. I quickly threw a dagger, aiming as best I could.
The blade spun clumsily through the air, but it sank into the creature’s shoulder, tearing through its flesh.
It hissed, jerking back with a furious howl.
And then it poised itself as if to strike again.
Oh, no you don’t.
I lunged, putting myself between the Corrupt and the woman with her child.
“Run!” I shouted, motioning at the stairs.
“Th-there’s nowhere to run,” the woman cried, retreating toward the other end of the hallway. “Th-they’re everywhere.”
The Corrupt turned its empty gaze on me, and a shiver ran down my spine. Its movements were jerky, inhuman, like a marionette controlled by unseen strings. It lunged forward, raking its claws over the floorboards as it licked its lips, almost grinning at me as it widened its jaws.
As it aimed for my throat.
Erebus exploded across the hallway, slamming into the Corrupt with the force of ten men.
The Corrupt thrashed as Erebus pinned it against the wall with his bare hands, screeching and then gurgling as its head was severed.
Blood spewed from the stump atop its shoulders, splattering onto Erebus’s boots.
With a sound of disgust, Erebus dropped the body.
Erebus whirled on me, expression furious. “I told you to stay behind me,” he snapped, plunging his sword into the creature’s chest for good measure.
“And let a mother and child die?” I shot back.