4 #2
“Are we so certain we even need the Weavers’ help?” Erebus murmured against my lips, hesitating. “We could find our own way. Without them.”
“When you showed us that memory—” I swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.
His memory was more than a memory—it was as though I’d lived out that moment, too.
I had felt his blood slide down his face as if it were mine, staining the stone.
His left arm snapping, crushed and useless.
His spirit splintering, then blazing in indignation.
“I know your wounds run deep, as does your rage. But we can’t let our desires blind us to what’s needed to save the world. ”
“Maybe I no longer care about the entire world,” Erebus admitted quietly, cradling my chin with his thumb. His sharp fingers followed, wrapping along my jaw. One press and they’d draw blood. “Fate has been cruel to me.”
I placed my hand atop his, fingers firm around his knuckles. Anything to bring him back to me. To remind him he wasn’t alone. “It has been cruel to me, too.”
His grip slackened, turning into a caress. “It has,” he agreed.
“But even though fate was cruel to me, it gave me parents who loved me. A sister who was my best friend. A brother who admired me—despite my flaws—with all his heart.” I paused, reflecting on the man in front of me, enraptured by my every word.
Say it, Esmer. “And it gave me you,” I said, leaning into his hand.
“There is still beauty in our world, Erebus. And it’s our duty to protect what’s left. ”
The shadows in his eyes stilled. “If you want the world to be saved, then I will hold its broken pieces together,” he said seriously. “And if the world crumbles around us, even after that, I will remain. To the end and ever after.”
“To the end and ever after, then,” I whispered back.
He brushed away a strand of my hair with a touch gentler than I thought him capable of.
“You carry so much loss, and yet you offer your light like a gift. Even in your sorrow, you glow. You speak of beauty as if it exists beyond you. But it’s in you, Esmer. It always has been.”
“When I said there’s beauty in your life, I meant more than just me,” I sputtered, shaking my head. Our shadows tangled, threading around our arms and pushing us closer.
He smiled. “I know.”
And then he lowered his mouth to mine again, shadows blanketing us. They recalled the curtain of darkness he’d summoned all those nights ago, cocooning us from the sounds of his castle breaking apart. I angled my face to better meet his, making a soft, helpless sound when he deepened the kiss.
“Erebus—”
“Not now,” he admonished. “Let the world wait.”
Everything about this felt intoxicating and right.
The swirl of his tongue as it slid against mine, possessive and searing.
The press of his fingers as they gripped my neck, my shoulders, my waist—firm but never painful.
The euphoria that sifted through my bones when his fevered touches reminded me that he desired me as much as I desired him.
But I could tell he was holding back.
There were too many layers between us, droves of satin, feathers, and metal. Sharp gauntlets, obsidian crowns, and armored chests. Thick capes. Pointed boots. Too many hard lines and odd edges. We were meticulously crafted to look like the Shadow Weavers we were, and it was positively distracting.
Dmm.
Dmm.
Dmm.
A violent quake sent us reeling; it was far more powerful than Somnus’s solitary knock.
Dmm.
Dmm.
Dmm.
Dmm.
We hurried through the castle, past where Sorren presided over the dining room.
The room had been designed to feature the best view in the domain.
Several windows, all without glass and exceptionally large, overlooked silver stars in a purple sky, a sprawl of iridescent trees, and the eternal sea of dreams, ever present, gleaming on the horizon.
A sleek table stood in the center of the room, filled with grand arrangements of food and drink.
Tart berries, formed to look like silver stars, floated around chairs shaped like clawed hands.
Roses, designed to melt like rich chocolate when bitten, sat in proud bouquets.
A fluffy white cake, layered with moving shadows that tasted like woodsmoke, was already cut into generous slices, eager to be plated.
The clawed seats, lined in thick velvet pillows, were a bit dramatic, but they were impressive.
More important, however, was that Erebus liked them—especially the ostentatious one we’d be sharing.
Two hands, carved to look more lavish and menacing than the other chairs, stood dramatically at the end of the table, each palm curved slightly inward.
Where the other chairs could be moved, ours was planted deep into the floor.
The plan was for Erebus and me to sit in each of the palms. It was a clear show of our union; there wasn’t one single Shadow Weaver, after all.
There were two.
Suddenly, the sensation of hot fire careened into our skulls. It was like a knock—if the knock was a fist made of flames and the door was our skulls.
“Fenrir,” Erebus spat, grabbing my hand and urging us forward. “Bastard.”
We were nearly through the castle entrance when the impression of frigid water rushed down my scalp, bursting like icicles behind my eyes.
“Nephthys?” I guessed, right before we were slammed with boulders reverberating into our ears. I wanted to buckle and scream, but there were too many dreamers watching us from the courtyard. I caught Ceveon’s eye; his brow furrowed in concern. “And Ceres.”
Each Weaver’s arrival knock was more insistent than the last—pounding, demanding, excruciating, and entirely unbothered by the pain they were causing us.
The bite of fire. The rage of water. The explosion of earth.
The shriek of air. Fenrir, Nephthys, Ceres, Lelantos.
Erebus and I held hands as we strode like dark rulers through our courtyard, keeping our heads high even as the pain crescendoed.
The ravenous hiss of the past.
Decay.
The brutal agony of the present.
Despair.
The all-consuming madness of the future.
Death.
Somnus, Xander, and Theia.
“To the end and ever after,” Erebus vowed, the shadows in his eyes thrashing like frenzied beasts.
“To the end and ever after,” I answered, giving his palm a hard squeeze.
Then we thinned the domain’s walls, letting our visitors in.