26
We crept back to Citadel Firstlight under a moonlit sky, vowing not to fall asleep.
It was too dangerous to dream; no Weaver wanted to risk returning to Raelion’s nightmare. And so, the eight of us—everyone except Theia—vowed to stand together until the bitter end. We’d return to the quarters Silas had prepared for us, dress for the Revel, and claim our fates.
Wind whipped against our faces, sharp and salt laden, tugging at our clothes and tangling our hair. Waves churned and hissed in the darkness, their edges frothing white under the faint glow of moonlight breaking through scattered clouds. I licked my lips, tasting the subtle briny tang.
Once upon a time, not so long ago, I had yearned to live in Istralla.
I had dreamed of this exact sea—how it would feel against my face, how I’d splash in its waters.
I had also dreamed that being in a grand seaside city would finally bring my family happiness.
There would be no frantic elixir distributions, no fingers scrambling for every last drop we could manage to disperse.
There would be no Corrupt prowling in the woods, no need to sit guarding our porch until dawn.
There would be only love, laughter, and adoration for a golden king who would keep us safe.
To a girl who’d spent most of her life without dreams or prospects for a better future, Istralla once symbolized the beginning of everything.
I curled into myself, clutching my elbows. I would not cry.
Mother, Father, Eden, Elliot.
If only you could see me now.
My feet sank into the damp ground. Sand clung to my boots and the edge of my cloak, but I didn’t mind.
A little salt and sand were luxurious compared to the stench of dried blood, sweat, and ash.
Nephthys had encouraged Erebus and me to use her reflection pool as a makeshift bath, offering us the finest in soaps, lotions, and perfumes to cleanse the dried demon blood that had still clung to our hair and clothes.
She’d even offered me one of her lovely sleeping gowns, its amethyst neckline rippling like a seashell upon my throat.
Erebus, on the other hand, had borrowed black leather pants and a fur-lined tunic from Lelantos’s wardrobe.
Though Lelantos and Erebus were of similar heights, his clothes fit Erebus snugly, exposing part of his chest and revealing every rise and curve of his muscles.
It was impossible not to stare.
My fingers found Raelion’s mark. I had scrubbed my neck and chest until the skin was raw, but the marking would not fade. No matter what I did, no matter how forcefully I scratched, it remained emblazoned on my body like a sinister necklace.
Even now, I felt as if it were choking me.
Bitter anticipation, much like a rising tide, swirled around us as we neared the citadel.
The fate of our kingdom was at our fingertips; and so was a collection of weapons and clothes suitable for revelry.
We’d decided to arm ourselves to the teeth with weapons from the tombs, unable to rely on the unstable dream magic that occasionally flickered among us.
When we neared Firstlight’s hidden entrance, we took a moment to pause.
The Weavers tilted their heads to look at the midnight sky, throats bared in silent reverence as a crisp, salty breeze sifted through their hair.
I’d nearly forgotten they were all experiencing reality for the first time in centuries.
The Dream Realm was extraordinarily realistic in the sensations it evoked, but there was still something perfectly wonderful about everyday scents, sights, tastes, and sounds.
Erebus and I joined them, relishing in this final moment of peace.
Beyond the crashing waves, all was quiet—no echoes from Istralla or the citadel, no other signs of life at all.
Erebus found my hand, brushing his thumb across my wrist.
My gaze snagged on him, drawn not to his face but to the way his hair moved across it. The wind tugged at it with wild fingers, sending strands flowing and twisting like threads of moonlight unraveling into the night. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anything so beautiful in all my life.
He brought his lips to my ear. “I love you.”
It was so quiet that the wind and sea would have muffled it for anyone listening.
“I love you, too,” I whispered back, eyes welling with unshed tears.
He smiled softly, just for me. As if he’d never heard such a moving phrase. “One day, we will see all this kingdom has to offer. Then we’ll go beyond it—see everything in the world.”
Maker, my heart is breaking.
Corrupt girls didn’t go on adventures. They didn’t watch the moon and stars flit between their fingertips.
Didn’t relish the salty tang of the sea.
They didn’t get to have lovers or family or friends.
They were alone, and they were cursed, and they would die before they ever had the chance to live again.
But I didn’t say any of this.
I merely smiled through unshed tears, indulging in this final fantasy.
When at last we entered the citadel, creeping through its labyrinthine halls with careful footsteps, we were expecting the worst. Light Legionnaires, wandering nobles, or even Mithras himself.
It felt wrong to be inside a place that held equal parts glory and rot.
But the halls were silent, void of life.
Somnus shuddered. I’d never seen him so disturbed.
“You look like you’ve seen death,” I said quietly, lingering by his side. “Are you okay?”
Somnus’s lips paled. I thought he might be sick.
“I keep thinking the walls will descend on us. That stone and pillar will become arm and leg, and Raelion will embody Firstlight as he did with Evernight.” He eyed the old paintings that hung from the walls, acting as though he wanted to either observe them or rip them apart with his bony fingers.
They depicted royalty, often featuring a man, woman, and boy with hair like spun gold.
“I never had reason to fear this place before; but what was once a haven has become a grave.”
“I still remember the retinue that followed each of you Weavers,” Erebus said, joining us. “You were never without at least two dozen guards.”
“King Gabriel did everything in his power to ensure we were safe. A pity we are no longer revered in such a way.” Somnus’s lip curled. “I believe this is the first time I have walked these halls without accompaniment.”
When we reached our room, we froze at the door.
Someone was pacing inside.
Erebus and Fenrir nodded at each other, some unspoken sign passing between them as they raised their swords. The door slid open under their careful touch. We followed closely behind, ready for anything.
“You came back,” Silas said, letting loose a heavy breath. It sounded as though he’d been holding on to it for hours. “Welcome, Weavers. Please, come in. Quickly now.”
Before us was a feast: meats, cheeses, breads, fruits, and plenty of wine.
My mouth watered at the sight. How long had it been since we’d last eaten?
Against the farthest wall glimmered a mountain of gold-and-white clothes, likely for us to wear at the Revel. But the clothing wasn’t just for Erebus and me. The feast wasn’t scant, either. It had surely been prepared with us all in mind. But how?
Soon all became clear.
Theia stepped from behind one of the partitions. Her silver hair was neatly brushed and adorned with jewels that resembled stars, and her white dressing robe was covered in gold embroidery.
“Theia?” Ceres gasped, covering her mouth.
Xander and Fenrir spun on Silas, pointing their blades at his chest. Silas backpedaled, tripping over a plush rug and nearly falling into the fireplace.
“Don’t move even a single finger,” Xander bit out. “You have much to answer for.”
“Did this man seize you?” Fenrir demanded, glancing over his shoulder at Theia. “Are you hurt?”
Theia blanched. “Calm yourselves, Weavers. No. While Raelion was torturing us, the Maker sent me a vision.”
Xander frowned. “A vision? We haven’t had Maker-crafted visions since before Corruption.”
“It showed a brave man holding nine swords.” She gestured at Silas, giving him a meaningful look.
“That man was he. Silas, commander of the Light Legion.” At Theia’s encouragement, Xander and Fenrir begrudgingly lowered their blades.
“In the dream, Silas threw all nine swords at Raelion’s body, severing his limbs and rendering him useless.
Each sword glowed in accordance with our colors, so it was clear they represented each of us.
After this dream, I woke up in my tomb. I tried to reach you all, but…
” She trailed off, eyes pained. “The doors would not open for me. So I hid myself as best I could and searched the citadel for the man in my vision. When I finally found him, he welcomed me with open arms.”
“I am as eager to deliver the world from Raelion’s evil rule as you are,” Silas said, placing his hand over his heart. “In this you have my eternal devotion.”
Erebus’s gaze raked over Silas from toe to brow. “But why would an esteemed commander from the Light Legion wish death upon his king?” Erebus challenged darkly. “You had no qualms about him killing an entire squadron during that fight in my tomb. Where was your noble heart then?”
Silas shook his head adamantly. “I was a weaker man then. I wanted, more than anything, to keep living. And to keep believing in Mithras. I valued my life above honor, bravery, and human decency. Even if it meant becoming the confidant of a devil.”
Erebus scoffed. “And now that your devil is poised to destroy the very balance of our world, you wish to side with us? It sounds like you’re merely choosing the side that will result in you breathing.”
“He has proven his worth, Erebus. And he has vowed to ensure the safety of your brother, Esmer.” Theia added softly, “Silas was frantic when you escaped your room, Shadow Weavers. But I knew you were merely off to gather the rest of us.” She smiled, the expression serene and full of light. “How fortuitous that I was right.”
“Rest. Feast,” Silas offered warmly, motioning at the spread in front of us. “And when you are finished, there is one final labor Esmer and Erebus must do.”
“What is it?” I asked, trying to be brave. Maker knew how long I had before Raelion sank his teeth in me, bidding me to do his will. “I’ll do anything.”
“We need you to dream,” Theia said seriously, motioning toward the canopied bed in the corner of the sprawling room.
My heart sank. Dream? “The Weavers’ escape from the Dream Realm will have made Raelion furious.
You must try to access your domain one final time, gathering however many allies you can, and call upon Mithras. ”
“To kill him?” I asked.
“No,” she whispered, eyes burning with sudden ferocity. “To beg him to relent.”
I tucked my head under Erebus’s chin, holding in an audible sigh when he wrapped his arms around my back.
The rest of the Weavers were still enjoying the last dregs of food and wine, trading old stories among themselves on the other side of the room.
Erebus and I had moved to the bed, drawing the canopy across its frame for privacy.
One final dream.
One final dream to force Mithras’s mercy and determine how we might kill Raelion for good.
Erebus smelled of rich, roiling darkness. Something masculine—and something freeing.
A scent that was perfectly him.
His chest rose and fell as he threaded his fingers through my hair, falling into a slow, melodic rhythm as he held me. Maker knew why I’d resisted his pull for as long as I had. We were made for each other.
But why is everything I love always taken away from me?
I turned around, squeezing the silk sheets with all my strength.
Everything in Citadel Firstlight was either white or gold.
Our silk sheets were white, the canopied four-poster bed a triumph of gold filigree, and our golden bedclothes, given to us by Silas, made us look like shadows trying to drape themselves in sunlight.
In the dim candlelight, all the gold had reflected deep within Erebus’s eyes, appearing almost red.
I squeezed harder.
“Close your eyes, Esmer,” Erebus encouraged, his breath tickling my neck. “Unless you’re trying to dream with your eyes open.”
I took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Help me. Please.”
Gently, ever so gently, he slid his long fingers across my brow, urging my eyelids down. I tried to relax. Truly, I did. I tried relishing the weight of his hand on my face, how his thumb slowly stroked my temple, eager to shatter my dark thoughts. But soon a lump rose in my throat.
My eyes popped open.
Erebus made a perplexed sound, removing his hand.
“Let me go alone,” he offered seriously. “You’ve been through so much—”
“You’ve been through so much,” I corrected. I swallowed hard, unable to look at him. “If anyone should be going alone, it’s me.”
I was the one who damned Ceveon, Sorren, and our legionnaires to their grisly fate. It should be me who faced their judgment.
If they’re even still alive.
“We’ve been over this before,” he said, his tone brimming with equal parts frustration and tenderness.
He coaxed me into his chest, wrapping his powerful arms around my waist. “I am in love with you, Esmer. If we were separated again, I could not bear it. I will be with you until the bitter end.” He paused, making a soft, vexed sound.
“I wish I could more eloquently tell you my heart. If you could see inside my chest, my veins—if you could peer inside the shadows that have become me—you’d see yourself everywhere. ”
“I know,” I whispered back, tears stinging my eyes. “I’m just…”
I cut myself off, digging my fingers into the bedsheets again. I wanted to say a million things.
I’m just scared.
I’m just anxious.
I’m just angry.
But I didn’t have to say any of those things. Because he was already kissing me, letting our lips quietly communicate what our words could not.
“I know,” he murmured into my hair. He kissed my temple, my cheek, my lips. “I know.”
I parted my lips, urging him closer.
“Follow me into the Dream Realm. Just like how we used to,” he urged, kissing me again. His lips were warm and soothing, a steaming bath after being caught in freezing rain. “Let your mind follow my lead. I will do everything in my power to guide us true.”
We curled into each other, chests flush and legs tangled. I slowed my breathing, timing it to match his.
In, out.
In, out.
Our subconscious minds intertwined, eager to seek out their home. Their people. Their domain.
In.
Out—
“Esmer,” called a grating voice, snapping my connection and sending me spiraling.