6 #2
“Maker knows why they’re drawn to us,” Erebus retorted. “But if I were summoning demons with malicious intent all those years ago, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed myself to be locked here for five centuries. I would have used those demons to wage war against you all.”
There was that looming unease again, the glint of fear in their eyes.
They didn’t want to be afraid, but they were.
“Funny you say that, because we have been waging war against the demons,” Fenrir said, matching Erebus’s merciless tone with the ease of a practiced duelist. “For centuries. And only recently have they gotten worse, which just so happens to align perfectly with your sudden release.” He slid his fiery glance to me.
“Which was your doing, we’ve been told.”
“It was,” I said fiercely, surprising myself. “And Erebus will never be caged again.”
At this, the Weavers visibly shifted in their seats, uncomfortable. The shadows around us darkened, coating the room in a vicious haze.
“If we prevail, perhaps not.” Ceres plucked a small vial of honey from her headpiece, using it to season a bite of frothy pudding.
“You are a fascinating piece of this puzzle, Esmer. You heard the dark cry out, and yet—most bravely—you did not look away. It is fitting that the Maker would choose each of you to strengthen the other. Two trees weathering a storm as your roots mingle under the sodden earth.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant about our roots tangling, but her unexpected praise fluttered in my chest like feathers.
Nephthys cocked her head at me, her dark blue hair turning greenish in the low light. “All this from such an ordinary young woman, too.”
“‘Ordinary’?” Erebus grated out. “She is nothing of the sort.”
If Ceres’s praise felt like feathers, Erebus’s praise felt like wings.
“We were all ordinary once, Erebus,” Nephthys chided.
“It’s refreshing having her among us, truly.
It makes me recall my own youth.” She coaxed a swirl of cake to her lips, eyes widening in surprise when she realized the shadow tendrils tasted like woodsmoke.
“I was the best student of Caldroxis, the Water Weaver before me. I always knew I’d ascend after his death.
It is curious that the Maker allowed for there to be two of you when it’s typical for ascension to occur after an existing Weaver’s mortal death, but perhaps it makes sense given your”—she pointed at Erebus—“temper. In a way, Esmer is like a safeguard.” Erebus bristled at this, but Nephthys ignored him.
She took another bite of the cake, making a musical, satisfied hum. “Maker, this tastes sublime.”
“Does it?” Ceres asked, slathering more honey on another pudding bite. “Perhaps I will soak a piece in raspberry juice.”
Fenrir groaned. “Maker be good, enough about cake. Let’s discuss strategy so we don’t have to spend one extra minute in this depressing crypt.”
Somnus leaned forward, steepling his thin hands underneath his bone-white chin. “Unfortunately, I must agree. If we know anything, it’s that the past is a punishment…”
“The present is a plague…,” Xander spat.
“And the future is a dark, clawing fog,” Theia whispered. “Fenrir speaks true. We need to strategize.”
“And I suggest we behave like allies now, however tentative this arrangement is,” Xander added. “We are no longer seven. We are nine.”
“‘Allies’?” Erebus wielded the word like a taunt. “You unleashed a vicious demon into our domain,” he continued darkly. Shadows loomed over the Weavers’ shoulders, as ominous as any monster. If the shadows had mouths, their teeth would be grazing the Weavers’ perfect necks. “An act of war.”
Lelantos nearly spit out his drink. “I would like to mention that the demon was not my idea.”
“Our test wasn’t meant to harm you,” Xander said quickly, his brow furrowing with concern. “We assumed you could cure all demons of their affliction.”
“Some demons aren’t afflicted with anything,” I said, shaking my head as a cold shiver worked its way down my arms. Demons hunted dreamers; they weren’t redeemable. There was nothing to save within their twisted bones. “It’s just what they are.”
“Ah,” Xander said, frowning into his hand. “Then the demons who contain humans within them…”
“Are humans who succumbed to Corruption,” I finished, trying my best to communicate all we’d learned these past few weeks.
“The demon assumes a human’s physical form in Noctis, and the human assumes the demon’s form in the Dream Realm.
From what we understand, if someone’s physical body is killed before Mithras purifies their soul, they don’t go into the afterlife to be with the Maker. They come here instead.”
“So your followers are truly not alive? They are… dead? Unable to pass on?”
I nodded. “That’s correct.”
“It’s unprecedented,” Xander murmured. “Before Corruption, the typical order was for dreamers to be trained at Citadel Evernight. After a long period of training and education as dream scholars, they were selected as acolytes. Provided they displayed the necessary talents, that is. But they were always alive. Never dead.”
Somnus gave a particularly unnerving smile. “Our Shadow Weavers are delightful anomalies, are they not?”
“But what about the Corrupt who are still alive?” I asked, wondering something that had been gnawing at me.
Corruption was worsening, and there was only one Light Bringer.
The Corrupt would be kept imprisoned in each village, but they’d still be alive; and if they were still alive in Noctis, their souls would be in the Dream Realm, too, likely wandering in the bodies of the demons that Corrupted them.
“Where do they go in the Dream Realm? Some find their way here, to our domain, but not all. Surely there are hundreds.”
Xander’s mouth tightened. “If not thousands. Though it’s difficult to say.
The Nocturne is riddled with demons and their Corruption; our access to ordinary dreamers is all but gone.
But as for the Corrupt who are still alive, we have reason to believe they are now being held at Citadel Evernight. It has become infested with demons.”
“And some of those demons could be the missing dreamers,” Theia noted.
“If demons are flocking to Citadel Evernight, then—” I stopped, sharing a quick meaningful look with Erebus. He nodded, encouraging me to go on. “Then Raelion might be there as well.”
“Raelion?” Theia questioned, pursing her lips.
“The demon who haunts Erebus and me,” I said nervously, all too aware of the colossal monster that could seemingly appear at any moment. I wondered if Raelion could tell when we used his name. “He claims to be a god among demons.”
A slow beat passed as the Weavers took this in. Some appeared eager. Others looked ill.
“Perhaps this creature is the key we’ve all been searching for,” Lelantos finally offered. “The messy beating heart that reigns over Corruption.”
“A heart. I like that,” Fenrir said with a dazzling grin. “A fleshy organ just waiting to be ripped to shreds when the timing is right.”
“It is certainly a fascinating theory,” Somnus offered, shooting a vague look of revulsion Fenrir’s way. “It would be all the more useful if we had a better understanding of the situation at Evernight and Noctis’s Corruption levels. But alas, our Light Bringer is unreachable.”
Theia’s bright, discerning eyes met mine. “Out of everyone at this table, you were the last to see Mithras, weren’t you, Esmer? What did you notice?”
The Weavers all turned to me.
As if I held the answers they so desperately sought.
My breath caught. For a moment, I was no longer the cursed girl clawing her way through shadows to survive.
Now I was something more. Something that could be powerful.
And yet, beneath their expectant stares, doubt curled like smoke in my heart.
Their ancient eyes, heavy with hope and history, pinned me in place.
I wanted to rise to meet them. To be the leader they sought.
But a sad, hateful part of myself whispered that I was still just a broken girl pretending to be important.
A girl who couldn’t stop her mother, father, and sister from falling into Corruption.
A girl who was too weak to prevent her brother from being taken and who still mourned parts of the life she once had.
Erebus dropped a hand to my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Come on, Esmer. They’re waiting.
I gave them as many details as I could remember, starting from the beginning.
The deaths of Eden and my parents. Corruption in Norhavellis.
Dreaming about the Shadow Bringer. Mithras’s pursuit of Erebus’s tomb.
The protection Mithras promised me if I kept Erebus locked away.
For the most part, they seemed to believe me, though I couldn’t be sure if that was simply because Erebus scowled whenever someone tried to interrupt.
When I reached the part where Mithras slaughtered his own legionnaires, however, the Weavers looked visibly disturbed.