Chapter 21
A gentle wind lapped against my cheek, bringing with it the deep, lingering scent of a forest at midnight.
It swept along the curves of the pillows under my head, stirring up notes of juniper and rain.
I sighed in contentment, happily stuck in the in-between of wakefulness and sleep.
It wasn’t often that Elliot allowed an open window while we slept—something about his fear of birds—but he must have decided that the fresh air was worth the risk.
Mother must be burning a fresh candle. Or mixing some new curative, perhaps.
I breathed deeper, trying to decide what the scent reminded me of. The Visstill? No, it was too complex, too dusty. It smoldered with something like incense, something similar to old wood, and twisted itself around a mist-covered field brimming with wild, beautiful things. It was divine.
Elliot curled up next to me, his breathing even and slow.
I smiled to myself as I listened to him breathe, reminiscing about the days when he’d pile all his blankets and stuffed animals onto my bed so that he’d be protected from all sorts of things: winter winds that leaked into the creaking walls of our attic room, loneliness, or even the watchful eyes of a monster in the shadows.
He was braver than he realized, my brother. Though he never quite understood why.
I reached out to tousle his hair, finding instead the stiff, cold skin of his neck.
“You’re freezing,” I said, tossing him one of the blankets that towered over me. I adjusted my reach, curling a hand in his hair. It felt softer than usual—not tangled and coarse. “Mother finally got you to brush your hair, huh?”
Elliot didn’t answer, so I cracked open an eye.
And nearly jumped out of my skin.
Sleeping next to me, nestled deep in an extravagant pile of pillows, was the Shadow Bringer.
Black armor clung to his half-blanketed body, darker than ink and lustrous with newness and quality.
Not a single piece was out of place; gone was any trace of the tattered, injury-soaked material of his earthly attire.
And he was back to his true form: mouth irritatingly tempting, skin clean and bloodless, and moon-white hair pooling over the velvet beneath him.
The only flaws were in his helm; one horn was still missing, and the lower half of his face was no longer caged in metal.
His lips, now freed from their iron bars, were unsettlingly close to mine.
I was still studying them when his silver eyes flicked open.
“This is simply the way I am,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “Cold.” He gestured to where my hand still clung to his hair, and I choked on my response, scrambling to the farthest edge of the bed.
A strange half smile ghosted his lips as he settled back into the pillows.
“It’s good to see you, Esmer.”
“You tricked me,” I ground out, embarrassment shifting into something coherent and sharp. My new weapon prickled under my skin, dancing with anticipation. “You put me on that stone so that I would replace you here.”
For a moment, he looked ready to deny it. Then he said, fixing me with a bright, unbreakable stare, “I did.”
I was not expecting a confession.
Nor for him to look like he did, lips caught in an earnest expression.
“What have you been doing all this time? Spreading Corruption, growing your army of demons?” I asked.
At his silence I barreled on, grabbing his shoulder without thinking. Even over his armor, his body was so cold. It felt as if I were touching a corpse, not a man with blood running through his veins. “Who have you killed? What evil acts have you—”
“I have done unspeakable evil,” he interrupted, mouth slanting into an expression that showed part of his teeth.
“In one year, I razed Noctis to the ground and forced all of humanity into chaos and war.” Shadows rippled from his eyes, spinning like smoke.
“All but those I deemed worthy are Corrupt.”
“You’re mocking me,” I seethed, moving to swipe at the rising shadows. He caught me before I could. While he felt cold, his body was solid, a weapon meant for battle and bloodshed. “I’ve only been here a few days. A year is impossible,” I said.
“One year,” he confirmed, his smile growing wider. “Haven’t you figured out that the Dream Realm works differently than the mortal world?”
As he moved to still my thrashing, blankets shifting down from his body, I suddenly realized that the scent of juniper, night, and rain was him. Against my better judgment, a warm flush raced across my skin. The effect he had on me was becoming difficult to ignore.
“A year has passed, and my demon army is infinite, nourished by Corrupt souls. We are thousands strong, and I’ve returned to the Realm as their king,” he explained.
“Liar. How can you command your demons if they’re gone?”
His eyes flashed, revealing the smallest shred of disbelief. Had he finally noticed the silence beyond his chambers?
I continued, imagining the rage that was surely churning within him. “They escaped off your balcony—they’re free. If you hadn’t left, they’d still be contained.”
Shadows rioted around his arm and swept over the skin where my sword hid. I dug my fingernails into my palms, readying myself for the fight that was surely about to begin. I could still smell the blood of Elliot’s demon on my weapon; I had reduced it from a colossus into nothing at all.
Use what you were given, and conquer all that you face.
The Shadow Bringer had tricked me. Baited me into taking his place. I had felt sympathy for him before. Fascination, even. But maybe that had all been for a reason—to get me here where I was at this moment, his exposed throat a mere breath from my hidden blade.
He sat up straight, smile vanishing. “Esmer, I never left the tomb. I tried for days, but the stone wouldn’t move.”
The blade in my palm felt distant. It slid away, no longer interested in a fight. “It’s becoming difficult to tell when you’re lying or when you’re telling the truth,” I said.
“I haven’t been lying. I assumed you knew I was teasing you.”
“No one in my position would have assumed you were teasing,” I snapped, incredulous.
My pulse was racing; I didn’t know why. “In case you’ve forgotten, it’s only acceptable to tease someone if you like them—and if they like you back.
You betrayed me and left me here to rot, so you can’t possibly like me, and I feel nothing but hatred toward you. ”
“I don’t blame you for hating me,” he breathed, turning his back to me and putting his feet on the floor. “But if I remember correctly, we held no alliance. I wouldn’t call it betrayal if we were never truly on the same side.”
He had a point.
“Still, I—”
“And you tried to kill me. Several times, I should add,” he said, turning to look at me. “You likely still wish to kill me.”
He had another point.
“You can’t blame me for feeling that way,” I said.
He shook his head. “I don’t. As you shouldn’t blame me for taking measures to ensure my freedom, even if it meant that others might suffer. Others who tried to kill me. Betrayal is an act reserved for family, comrades, or lovers. We are none of those three things.”
“And yet you came back,” I snapped.
Above us, I could hear his chandeliers swaying softly. It was a sound I had never heard before, likely because there had never been true silence in his castle. There were always screaming demons or unsettling sounds from the hall. The lack of sound was strange. Strange and unexpectedly peaceful.
“They really are gone, then? The demons have escaped?” he asked, feeling their absence as much as I did.
“I couldn’t contain them. I had no chance,” I confessed.
“Then I need to find a way to call them back, or else Corruption will spread ruthlessly throughout the Dream Realm. It will be worse than ever before.”
A resounding crack thrummed from the ceiling, sending a web of hair and a massive chandelier crashing to the ground.
Dark stones ricocheted across the floor, cracking against the bed, and an obsidian statuette the size of my forearm slammed into the Bringer’s back as Somnus unfurled from the rubble.
“Your escalating personal drama, enthralling as it may be, is distracting.” Somnus plucked one of the chandelier’s arms from where it tangled in his hair, eyes narrowing in distaste. “Your castle is a wreck, Shadow Bringer. Have you not had enough time to get your affairs in order?”
“Somnus,” the Bringer snarled, shadows writhing about his shoulders and down the length of his hands. The room darkened, shadows deepening and drawing near.
“Shall we talk, or do you insist on violence?” the Weaver said, baiting the Bringer.
“I have no words.” The Bringer let loose a primal, gut-wrenching roar as he leapt into Somnus.
Shadows tore over them like a crashing wave, and they both fell through the front of the bedchamber, tumbling down to the floor below.
I staggered from the canopied bed, glancing at the hole where the chandelier once hung.
A wisp of a blanket, one of the Bringer’s silk-lined ones, hung by a corner in the rafters, the only evidence of where Somnus had made his perch.
Had Somnus slept there?
“I have spent centuries imagining how I’d kill your kind!” the Shadow Bringer bellowed, snarling again as a massive crash echoed up through the chamber. Somnus’s laugh rang out, clear and full of mirth. “You are not allowed to come here”—Crash! Bang! Crack!—“and tell me what to do.”
Somnus released another mirthful laugh, forcing another roar from the Bringer.
I ventured to the stairs leading from the Bringer’s room, tucking back into what was left of the wall, and watched as the shadows poured below, seeping from cracks and corners and under the edges of furniture.
They billowed out from holes in the walls and floor, swept out from the underside of my hair.
All rushing, desperately, to the Shadow Bringer’s aid as he raged.
And rage he did.