Chapter 34 Lore
THIRTY-FOUR
Lore
I HAD NO time to react or fully absorb what was happening.
One moment, I was trying to pull my hand away from the demon standing beside me wearing Sloth’s face, its inky eyes locked on mine, and the next, he lunged at me with terrifying speed.
I just barely managed to sidestep him at the last second and felt the rush of air as he missed by mere inches.
We faced off again, only a few paces separating us, the shadows flickering wildly against the stone walls. I was breathing hard; he looked unfazed.
This was definitely not going to end well. For me.
I tried to remember the tricks Eddie the pirate had taught me. All the dirty fighting techniques that would now be very useful.
I could barely keep a thought in my head. But I remembered how much he’d emphasized the power of a well-placed kick to the groin, a subversive move that could turn the tide in my favor.
Still, I didn’t think I could bring myself to hurt Sloth.
My heart pounded wildly as he shifted his feet, lowering himself into another fighting stance. His inky gaze locked onto mine with predatory focus, and I almost felt the tension crackle in the space between us.
Clearly, he had no qualms about attacking me. But it wasn’t really the prince—the Liber Noctem must have done something to him.
There had to be some way I could wake him from this dark magic.
If our roles were reversed, the prince would never give up on me.
This was only the beginning of the ending of the Trials.
And I was not prepared to fight Blondie.
In all my musings, I never would have thought this would be the scenario I needed to train for.
“I don’t want to fight you,” I said, hoping to break through whatever spell he was under. “I think my subconscious fears somehow turned you into the sociopath I joked about.”
His expression didn’t shift from that cold, emotionless mask.
“Or maybe it’s the Book of Nightmares.”
That, apparently, was like some secret passcode that unlocked the demon.
Sloth lunged forward, then pivoted smoothly on his heel as I spun out of his grasp, stepping into the movement with a predator’s skill.
I bolted away as fast as I could, but he was immortal, and his supernatural speed left me with little chance of escape.
His fingers clamped onto my tunic, and with a swift, forceful tug, he yanked me against him.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” His voice resonated with such a deep, ancient power that it vibrated through me. “I am the Liber Noctem.”
All the fine hair on my body stood on end.
“How—”
He shoved me away from him so hard I stumbled backward. I spun around, ready to kick him where Eddie the pirate had insisted but could only stare.
Sloth spread his arms wide, and I stood frozen, unsure of what I was seeing.
His skin began to shimmer, and beneath it, words started to glow.
They hovered there for a moment, then began moving at a dizzying speed, like some unseen hand was feverishly flipping through the pages of a mystical book.
A book that lived inside his body.
That was not possible.
I staggered closer, needing to confirm whether I was sane and this was real, or if this was the mother of all mental breaks.
Maybe I was still in the Faerie forest and sprawled on the ground with a concussion. Or maybe this was one never-ending nightmare.
Words and sentences raced across his skin, giving me fleeting descriptions that I slowly pieced together.
My blood turned to ice.
It was the story the Liber Noctem and I had been crafting with my dreamweaver magic—the dragon shifter, the pirates, the vampires and horsemen of the apocalypse…
Every plot, every character, was there, vividly inked beneath his skin, alive and pulsating. I read about the moment he’d snapped the pirate king’s neck, the way he’d gone feral when he’d been bitten.
The tale was told in a voice that sounded so close to my own it was jarring.
Everything we’d been through… even our kiss was written there in his skin.
He hadn’t lied.
Somehow, some way, Sloth was the Liber Noctem.
And he’d been with me the entire time I’d been trapped in this cursed realm. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what in the hells that meant.
How it was even possible. Was he ever really the Prince of Sloth or had this all been some elaborate nightmare? A delusion I was trapped in.
He’d told me he thought the book was using a host now.
I thought back to each test, analyzing them with new eyes.
My horror grew. Every time we shifted stories, Sloth had somehow stoked my emotions.
When I thought he was about to kiss me in the cave, we’d ended up in the tavern.
When I’d almost used my power to shift us to the pirate ship, things went haywire when he’d grabbed my hand.
In every instance, his connection had caused chaos. The book hadn’t been with his master librarian or anyone else. It had always been Sloth, from the moment we’d entered this realm.
For all we knew, his master librarian had never even made it to this world. If the Liber Noctem had taken over Sloth back in the temple in Bellington, then everything that happened after was brought into question.
Not once had we ever considered the dark book was already with us, watching our every move, plotting our demise.
It felt like the floor beneath me fell apart and I went careening into the abyss. My knees hit the cool stone. I was still here. Still reeling.
Was it possible this was all just a vivid dream?
When he’d first told me about the Liber Noctem, he’d warned me it was far more cunning than anything we’d ever encountered before.
Maybe I was still lying on that mountain where we’d been attacked by the spiders. Maybe I’d been bitten and was trapped in my own dreams. Or maybe we’d never left Bellington.
Beware of waking the gods, beware of waking the gods…
I glanced around sharply. It sounded like a chorus of voices had whispered those warnings.
Maybe I really was losing my mind.
Beware of waking the gods, beware of waking the gods.
The chanting was getting louder now, the shadows along the walls seeming to pound to a beat I couldn’t hear but almost sensed.
I thought of the robed figures carved into the bronze bowls. The Temple Knights.
Had they somehow cast a spell and trapped us here? Was Nyantha about to rise and strike us down?
Sloth watched impassively, his arms and chest still flickering with the pages of my story. The phoenix on his chest was now as bright as the rising sun.
I shielded my eyes with my hand.
The dark prince was still staring coldly at me, his fathomless eyes still black as night.
My hands curled into fists, my nails digging little crescent moons into my skin. I felt the urge to scream rising in my throat and choked it down.
Beware of waking the gods, beware of waking the gods.
The chanting echoed through the hallowed chamber, a dire warning continuously punctuated by the rhythmic stomping of feet.
Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over.
The temple throne loomed before me, seemingly vacant, but it felt occupied by an unseen presence.
Someone was there.
Someone with the power to cloak themselves from view.
Beware of waking the gods, beware of waking the gods.
My attention darted around the chamber as the voices grew louder.
I was desperate to find the source of the haunting chant, but there was still only me and the dark prince and the last threads of my sanity snapping.
Goose bumps prickled across my skin.
Beware of waking the gods, beware of waking the gods.
My stomach churned violently, a visceral manifestation of the terror that gripped me in its fist.
All of a sudden, I understood why this was happening.
I was in the heart of the Court of Fear, and this was the power that fueled it. It wanted my terror; it needed it. And the chanting was absolutely haunting.
Beware of waking the gods, beware of waking the gods.
The chanting and stomping were both demanding now, a primal beat that was starting to do… something to me.
My chest felt strange. Like there were now two heartbeats in place of one.
I gasped, my throat constricting with each shallow breath I took.
My lungs felt like they were wrapped in bands, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fill them completely.
Beware of waking the gods, beware of waking the gods.
Every stomp, every pounding, every word, was hammering away at some invisible wall I hadn’t sensed before. Behind it, I was terrified of what I’d find.
There was something there, something I’d locked away. Or something that had been locked away, something that was banging to get free.
I didn’t want to open that door. I silently begged for someone to help.
The chanting seemed to sense this shift; it grew louder, stronger, the stomping vibrating up through the soles of my boots, rattling my bones.
Beware of waking the gods, beware of waking the gods.
I wanted to fall back to my knees and cover my ears.
My legs gave out and I dropped to the stone floor, but even the coolness couldn’t ground me from whatever was unraveling in me.
I cried out, my voice lost in the growing cacophony of voices that belonged to the ghosts of Temple Knights or my own imagination.
This wasn’t real.
Please, I begged silently, please, someone, help. I was lost in darkness. I couldn’t breathe. And that wall, that cursed wall inside me, was crumbling.
A shadow fell across me and I prayed that the prince had returned.
I glanced up and that little spark died as Sloth or the Liber Noctem moved into my field of vision. His mouth twisted into a cruel smirk as he stood over me.
“I like you on your knees.”
His fathomless gaze glittered darkly as he seized my chin and tilted it up.
For a second, I couldn’t tell if he wanted to kiss me or wipe my existence from this realm once and for all.
I should fight back but couldn’t muster the will to do so. I was outmatched. If the Book of Nightmares wanted me dead, I had no hope of surviving.