Chapter 13
I stared past my steaming bowl of porridge, scarcely able to believe what I was seeing.
The legionnaires were awake. And cheery.
They moved about the camp in an efficient morning rhythm, none the wiser to what had happened in my dream. The demonic chorus, the wail of demented release—it took most of breakfast before my stomach stopped churning. Still, the dream lingered, even with Elliot sitting next to me.
Let us out.
Let us out.
Let us out.
The Shadow Bringer’s breath against my ear, his eyes as they lit up, searching me.
Does he face those demons every night?
I took another mouthful of oats, awkwardly maneuvering the bowl in my bound hands.
Is he facing them now, alone?
All of what I knew about the Dream Realm stemmed from Weaver tales and Norhavellis’s limited collective knowledge of both demons and Corruption.
I had never been taught that the Shadow Bringer was trapped in his castle, unable to control the demons that stalked it.
Or that his body slumbered somewhere in Noctis.
I shook my head, remembering when he had called my world little.
I had assumed he mistook my small world for a ruse. That in crafting a dream of my own, complete with my home, Norhavellis, and part of the Visstill Forest, I had been hiding some covert affiliation with whatever enemies he claimed I aligned with.
But my world really was little.
And when he called it little, he had sounded haunted by a yearning I didn’t understand. There was distrust, sure, but there was something else, too. Something that betrayed the fact that he hadn’t been apart from his shadows in many, many years. I nearly felt compassion.
But he needed to die. If I was to live, he had to die.
As soon as I was guided back into the Light Bringer’s carriage, I told him everything I knew, spilling the Shadow Bringer’s secrets like a spew of sour milk. At first, he seemed amicable. Earnest, even. But when I reached the part about the tomb, his expression turned violent.
My stomach twisted. This information was all I had left to trade, and if he didn’t believe me—or worse, if he thought I was trying to manipulate him—he could see to it that I never made it to Istralla at all.
Perhaps he’d proclaim me an active threat and behead me in this carriage, my blood staining the elegant fabric crimson.
“The Tomb of the Devourer,” he murmured dreamily, surprising me. Then his eyes gleamed as a starving predator’s would. “Where the Shadow Bringer’s mortal body lies. And he told you this directly?”
I nodded, shoving aside my racing heart. “Yes. He showed me its location in a dream.”
The Light Bringer leaned forward, knocking his knees against mine.
Then he quickly wrapped me in an embrace, folding his gilded arms around my back.
The gesture was so unexpected that I stiffened, unsure of proper protocol and overwhelmed at his sudden warmth.
He smelled like honeyed wine and expensive cologne—a perfect, royal bouquet that I didn’t want to sully or offend.
“How utterly wonderful, Esmer,” he said into my hair, shuddering as he held me tighter. I couldn’t move my arms; they were pinned to my sides. “You have done such a good deed in telling me this. My blade will sing when it pierces that monster’s blackened heart.”
I shoved aside the brutal mental image of a supine Shadow Bringer getting his chest cavity ripped apart by the Light Bringer’s blade.
If I am to live, he has to die.
“That will be a good day, indeed, my lord. He is a plague upon our kingdom.”
He dropped the embrace, regarding me seriously. “If you bring me to his body, your crimes will be absolved, and Elliot will be welcomed to Istralla under my direct protection. He will be given a limitless supply of elixir and will never know pain or fear again.”
“My crimes will truly be forgiven then, my lord?”
“Yes. It is very noble to turn your affinity with the dark into something so worthy as this. It means you are still good, Esmer. Redeemable, even.” He smiled at me broadly, teeth perfect and white. “I will make good use of you.”
“I will serve however I can, my lord.” My head spun, buzzing with this new possibility for my future.
If I wanted it, I could have it. It was so close.
With the Shadow Bringer dead, I could finally live in peace with Elliot.
We could forge a new life and heal from our hurt together.
We could forget that any of this had happened at all. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Bring us to him. Bring us to the Shadow Bringer.”
We rode into the late afternoon, wandering through the Visstill in what probably seemed like aimless, looping circles.
As the sun arced above the treetops, shadows lengthened, blanketing the root-spattered ground in patches of thick darkness.
Mithras stopped the carriage on occasion, conferring with me as he would a compass.
The farther we traveled, the deeper the Shadow Bringer’s pull.
I could feel him.
Eventually, we abandoned the carriage and horses altogether, continuing instead on foot while a small group of the legionnaires remained behind.
It was now our third day of traveling in search of the tomb, of haunting fireside songs about Corruption and the Shadow Bringer, and of me strangely desperate to see him again.
I hadn’t dreamed of the Bringer since the night in his bedchamber, and it bothered me.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, running through a mental inventory of everything I knew about him. Even with his half lies and vague insults, it was becoming more and more difficult for me to perceive him as wholly evil. I found myself wondering what his true name was. Or if he even had one.
He has to die, Esmer. His name is meaningless to you.
Mila sighed, earning a few semiannoyed glances from the legionnaires. “Where is this dreadful tomb?”
“Enough with the dramatics,” Silas murmured.
“We’ve been traveling in circles for days, Silas. This tomb is a pest. Perhaps it doesn’t even exist.”
Silas looked uncomfortable. “Esmer wouldn’t knowingly misguide us.”
“There you have it,” Mila said, shaking her head.
She wore an array of small golden earrings, but they were barely noticeable in her hair.
“Knowingly.” She turned to me with a tentative smile, but doubt was clearly in her eyes.
Over the past few days, she had become more and more suspicious of me.
Why did I ever think we might be friends?
“Are you purposefully misleading us? Or did you simply forget where we are supposed to be going?”
“I’ve never ventured out this far,” I answered, bristling. “It does feel like we’re circling something, though. I think we’re close.”
“I knew it,” Mila said with a groan. Then she whispered to Silas, her voice conspiratorial, “The cross, the chip in the corner—it’s the same rock we saw yesterday. What do you suppose she’s getting at?”
“Save for finding the tomb, she’s not getting at anything,” Silas snapped, his mouth tight with exasperation. “And what makes you think you can spot the difference between one chipped stone and another, especially from a distance? They’re rocks, Mila.”
“Because I’m not spotting differences. It’s where they’re similar that matters,” she retorted. They turned to each other, continuing to bicker.
Elliot tapped my elbow. It was hard to believe he was only ten; the past few days had simultaneously aged and depleted him.
Though he was in clean clothes—the Light Legion had been considerate enough to pack a small trunk of belongings for the both of us—his brown eyes were dull and his mouth, usually quirked up in a grin, was in an emotionless line.
“I believe you, Esmer,” he whispered. “I know you can do it.”
Don’t cry.
“Thanks, Elliot,” I said, giving his hair a gentle tousle. Fortunately, the Light Bringer had decided to do away with my bindings shortly after I’d launched our hunt for the Shadow Bringer’s tomb. “How are you feeling?”
“I miss Mother and Father.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Don’t cry. “I miss them, too.”
“I miss home. How it used to be. I thought I’d be happy to leave, but I’m not happy at all. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I wish we’d said goodbye. I wish we hadn’t turned our backs on them and walked away.”
A strangled, devastated sound tumbled out of me. I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth, hoping the legionnaires hadn’t heard. “I know,” I whispered, on the verge of tears. “But we can’t change the past. Mother and Father are at peace with the Maker. We need to look ahead to the future.”
He nodded, chin quivering. “It’s hard.”
“I know it is. But soon the Shadow Bringer won’t be able to hurt us anymore. The Light Bringer is going to destroy him once and for all.”
As if the Shadow Bringer heard me speak his name, I felt a long, insistent pull in the back of my mind.
Suddenly, I could feel him everywhere: sliding over the ground, whispering through the trees, rushing through our hair, and tangling in our clothes.
His shadows—or were they our shadows now?
—sat layered on top of nature’s shadows, but they slowly crept out from their hiding spots, clearly beckoning me toward a deeper part of the Visstill.
Mithras caught my eye and raised his fist in a victorious gesture; he knew.
“Light Legion,” Mithras began, projecting his voice over the traveling party as he drew me to his side.
“We are nearly there. This tomb may contain the Shadow Bringer’s monstrous body, but soon it will merely be a husk.
We will slay the enemy. We will rise victorious and destroy Corruption once and for all. ”
The shadows beckoned me toward a nearby hill, so we walked single file down it.
My boots stuck into the hillside as we descended, squishing and pulling against mud from a recent rainstorm.
Leaves were strewn everywhere, and the early-evening air began to chill, forcing the hair on my neck and arms to rise.
He’s close.
As if on cue, a dark, towering structure emerged before us, shrouded by a copse of ancient, clawing trees.
It was difficult to tell how large the Tomb of the Devourer was; its body, which sat behind an entrance so dark it seemed partially open, was dug into the innards of a hill, obscuring its size.
And the light seemed dimmer here—the air heavier, colder.
A slow-moving mist clung to the damp earth, threading out from the shadows and clinging to the tomb’s vine-covered walls.
I fell into silence along with the legionnaires, squeezing Elliot’s hand.
The Light Bringer, mask affixed and sword drawn, approached the entrance. At first, he said nothing. Then he murmured, so softly that it sounded like a shift in the wind, a crunch of someone’s boot against the leaves, “May he rot.”
“My lord? The tomb—” Silas began.
“May he rot,” Mithras repeated, louder, stronger.
Rage and hunger burned in the Light Bringer’s golden eyes, spilling over his taut, too-stiff body and trembling in his clenched fists.
It trickled from the dust still floating from his hands.
Without warning, he tore his mask from his face and hurled it into a nearby tree.
It sank sharply into the bark, narrowly missing one of his legionnaires.
The legionnaires flinched, some taking a step or two back into the forest.
“What do you use your eyes for?” Mithras asked this question to the nearest legionnaire, but it was clearly directed at all of them. “For what do we use our senses? Our senses of taste, touch? Of scent and sound?”
“I use m-my eyes to see, m-my lord,” the man stuttered. His skin shone with sweat. “I use all m-my senses to serve the Light Legion. I use them for you, my lord.”
“And what of the rest of you? Can you sense the darkness?”
The legionnaires nodded, expressions warring between duty and discomfort.
“Can you all sense it?” Mithras implored again, louder, more insistent.
“Yes, my lord!” the legion echoed.
“And can you spot it, even if it walks among you?” He arched his hands through the air, motioning at the depths of the forest. The shadows had lengthened, drawing attention to the encroaching darkness.
“Yes, my lord!” the Light Legion repeated, their voices rising as one.
“And would you drag it out of the shadows and bring it to the light? Bring it to me?”
They nodded grimly and bowed. “Yes, my lord.”
“We must walk in the shadows,” Mithras intoned.
“To walk in the light,” they answered.
“Good. Set up camp,” Mithras ordered. “We will soon reunite the Shadow Bringer with an eternity of damnation. He has no escape.”
The legionnaires exchanged glances, clearly uneasy. Mithras’s attention, meanwhile, lingered on me. And as the legionnaires scurried away to their various duties, fading into the night, I noticed that he was the only one without terror in his eyes.