Chapter 34 #2
Around them, the inn was a cacophony of laughter and conversation, but he scarcely noticed.
He was more focused on Esmer and her ability to create such delicious food and drink out of nothing.
She had done well—surprisingly, wonderfully well—for someone without any formal instruction.
What she had accomplished took most dreamers several years at Citadel Evernight to fully master.
It was strange to feel this way. To smile and for it to be true.
He took a long drink, longer than he should have, letting the warm, unfamiliar feeling settle back into his stomach with the rest of the wine.
Esmer had saved him.
She fought for his life and his redemption, even in the face of the demon, and had emerged victorious. He clung to her, still damp from where she had pulled him from the water. His vision was smeared, thoughts torn beyond recognition. Vaguely, he felt his hand drop into her lap.
He did not move it.
Esmer’s eyes reflected the stars.
Dark and rimmed in artful gray, they shone brightly, brilliantly—at him. Even masked, they held power.
She was stronger than she realized. The shadows listened to her, heeded her will and her spirit. Even now, the darkness inside him sang to the darkness inside her.
The Shadow Bringer danced with her as he instinctively knew how, the precise memory of lessons having long faded from his mind.
He worried that he would forget the steps, the rhythm, the sequence.
That he would forget what it was like to lose himself to music.
But their movements were natural. Easy. He could lose himself in this dance, this music, this night.
He could lose himself in her.
But as he looked back into her eyes, to that power lingering there, his wonder became clouded by doubt. She could not—would not—be his. Not in this broken world. He first had to change the future.
He had to change it for her.
The memories snapped away.
I was back in the Shadow Bringer’s arms, held high over the Nocturne.
“What was that?” I whispered. The words trembled. The emotions of his memories had overpowered me, grabbing ahold of my own with taloned claws. “I saw you—I was you.”
“That was the power of the Nocturne. Or Somnus. I don’t know why those memories were shared.
I…” His mouth worked open and shut, words failing to come just as a gentle wave of vulnerability swept in, breaking in the depths of his eyes.
“I saw you, too. Your home in Norhavellis. What happened five years ago with your sister, Eden.” He cupped my face, gently stroking my cheek.
I nearly shattered at the touch—and the compassion in his tone.
He didn’t blame me; he never would. “The elixir shortage. The Corruption of your parents and what you had to do to survive.”
We had wanted to share, I realized. Wanted to share these memories—these raw, broken fragments—with each other. Remnants of his emotions spilled over, running down my face. Loneliness, anger, desperation. But also trust. Courage. Longing. They bubbled up in my heart, sank deep into my skin.
“Then you’ll know I intend to continue surviving. And I want you to survive, too,” I said seriously, and I knew he understood. “We need to see this dream through until the end.”
“In a few moments, I will step into the Nocturne. Just as the dawn breaks, I will sink my hands into its waters,” he said, regarding me fiercely. “I will try to purify it, just as Mithras and I planned. I will try to tear away the dark, just as I did in the demon’s stomach. But I will fail.”
“And the demons will come.”
He shook his head. “The demons are already here. There were demons at the Revel.”
The green-eyed man, I realized, horrified. The Revelers with wickedness in their words and their hearts.
“Why didn’t anyone say anything—do anything? How were they roaming so freely?”
“It was all a part of my and Mithras’s plan.
We tricked powerful demons into attending the Revel in disguise, promising them a chance at humanity.
A chance to mingle with the wealthy and select their preferred hosts.
In return, the demons would abandon their war on the Weavers.
No longer would they plague the Nocturne’s dreams.” His hands tightened around me.
“It was all a lie, of course. Lies, everywhere. From both parties.” He looked away.
Gritted his teeth as he glared up at the Revel.
“That’s all the demons ever want—freedom.
They want to walk upon the earth and breathe its air, just as we do.
But that would be chaos. It cannot be allowed to happen. ”
“But it did happen. It still is happening.”
“It wasn’t intended to happen, though. There is no meaning or value to Corruption. No reason for the loss of dreams.”
“How did Mithras betray you?” I asked, wondering aloud what I’d wanted to ask ever since I’d seen Erebus and Mithras together in the coliseum. It was clear that they respected each other both as comrades and friends.
The Bringer’s eyes hardened. “While I was mining the dark from the Nocturne’s waves, Mithras was supposed to gather the Revelers—the demons—and lure them down to the sea. The plan was to ambush them and destroy the Nocturne’s shadows in one fell swoop, all with the Weavers supporting us.”
“But something went wrong. I saw it break apart in the memory you showed me.”
He nodded. “At my touch, the Nocturne cracked open, releasing every shred of darkness it held into the Realm, unbound. And when I turned back to Evernight, horrified at what I’d done, Mithras and the Weavers were already there, watching me.
Mithras hadn’t lured the demons down; he’d brought only the Weavers.
All so that they could witness me summoning demons like a monster.
” He looked away, noting the faint shape of Erebus on the rocks below.
“They didn’t even give me the chance to explain myself.
The Weavers attacked as one, with Mithras leading the charge. ”
My wings stretched behind me, slowly coming to life. I could feel the Bringer’s power working through me, bidding my wings to move. When they steadied at last, the Bringer let go. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t me,” he said softly. “This power is yours now, too. It has been yours from the moment we met.”
Dawn taunted at the horizon. We flew to the Nocturne, wind sweeping over our bodies and lingering between the feathers of our wings.
It felt glorious, this flight. I wanted to savor it.
I wanted to stretch my wings as far as they’d go.
I wanted to rise high above the Realm and see it all.
Every domain. Every secret. Every hidden, quiet place.
But there was no time.
Erebus was a blot on Evernight’s shore. He crouched low upon the rocks, wings draped behind him like a magnificent, snowy cloak.
He didn’t hear us coming, didn’t see us as we landed behind him.
But the skittering of rocks sent him running, sprinting to the Nocturne’s waters as if a horde of demons were at his heels. And maybe he thought that they were.
Erebus’s wings dissolved into smoke, propelling him forward. What had made us quick in the skies made us cumbersome on land, and Erebus knew this. Recognized this. The Shadow Bringer willed his wings away, too, just as I did, but he was too late. Erebus crashed into the Nocturne, arms outstretched.
And he sank them deep within the water.
“No!” the Shadow Bringer roared.
It was a nightmare replaying itself. A terrible memory unlocked, only to be relived with no salvation. The water began to bubble, boiling underneath, just as it had done in the Bringer’s memory. Then it cracked, snapping apart like an overfull vessel.
Erebus stumbled as demons swirled into life around him.
He had seemed so composed at the Revel—both commanding and strong. In control of his emotions and his path. When I looked at him now, I saw the boy back in the woods, fearing for his life. A boy doubting his purpose and his worth.
The Shadow Bringer, furious at his own failure, lurched forward.
He followed Erebus into the churning waves, thrashing against the demons as they fought to overpower him. The water was no longer clear. Instead, it appeared as ink would, opaque and endless. It rose to meet their calves, thighs, hips, chests.
Then it washed over their heads, swallowing them whole.
I halted at the edge of the rocks, stunned.
If I jumped in, what could I do? Would I lose myself in the Nocturne, just as the Bringer had warned?
Demons swarmed around the sea, crawling from the inky water.
Others flew overhead, mocking. One dipped down—too close—and clipped my hair with its claws.
When it flew away again, it was howling.
Screeching into the night with a desperation so animalistic, it made my skin crawl.
I unsheathed my blade, gripping it with no small dose of uncertainty.
Fear had made it easier to summon. But fear had loosened my hands, too.
Made them weak. Made them tremble. Made them cold all the way down to my fingernails.
The sword had worked before on one demon, but what could it do against the might of one hundred?
Another demon dropped toward me, feet skimming the Nocturne. Its wings were stunted and frail. Too feeble to hold the weight of its body. It crashed into the rocks with a pathetic cry, shivering as it tried to stand.
Do what you’re capable of. Kill it.
The thing finally managed to stand. It peered at me, eyes wide and glassy. Water dripped down its wrinkled face, dampening its fur.
Now—before it attacks.
I could feel my blade’s power. It thrummed underneath my hands, waiting to be used.
Pleading to be used. I knew what it was capable of, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Because the demon looked so sad. Fearful and uncertain, just as I was.
It continued to shiver, glancing between the sword in my hands and my stricken face.