10
The next morning, Erebus and I immediately went to visit the dreamers’ quarters.
They were already awake and practicing their flight maneuvers, soaring around the castle and diving between the trees.
Small ribbons of shadow trailed them as they flew, eagerly lapping at their feathers.
The dreamers who had failed the first trial were awake, too, albeit shaken from the memories of their deaths.
My brow furrowed as I observed them.
Do they blame Erebus and me? Do they wish they had never come here?
The threads between us weren’t clear; their emotions were murky.
“The sensation of death will fade,” Erebus assured, sensing my apprehension. “It may feel visceral when it’s happening, but the resulting memory will be hazy. If I retained every memory about my five-hundred-year imprisonment, I’d be unable to even speak. The pain would be too much.”
The horrors of his imprisonment washed over me like an icy wave, reminding me of the few days and nights I’d spent locked within his castle walls.
I’d survived; I’d persisted. But I didn’t know who I’d have become after five more centuries of that.
I admired his resilience. That he could be who he was now—empathetic, passionate, merciful—spoke to the contents of his heart.
Even if he sometimes reserved those qualities just for me.
“Except for the dreamers who actually did die,” I noted somberly. “They didn’t even have a chance against that demon.”
The two dreamers lost to the Weavers’ “gift” had yet to return.
Their fates were unknown, but I hoped their souls had ascended. I hoped they were laughing, lounging in fluffy clouds as they basked in the Maker’s warm light. The ugly alternative—that the demon had dragged their souls to the Beyond—was too painful to dwell on.
To my surprise, their deaths made the dreamers hungry.
Hungry to learn, hungry to fight, hungry to conquer.
It reminded me of Erebus’s rage when I’d first met him; he had starved for freedom, no matter the cost.
“Yes,” hissed the voice inside my head. “Show them your power. Show them everything you can do.”
My face paled. Something about the voice was beginning to feel wrong, slithering against every instinct honed for survival. But part of me warmed at the suggestion of power. Of more.
The hunger whispered, soft and poisonous: “Imagine what you could become.”
My hands curled into fists. I needed to tell Erebus.
He would know what to do. He’d help me cut this thing out before it took root, even if it meant staring into the most shameful parts of me.
But not here. There were simply too many eyes, too many ears.
If I voiced my fears, if I faltered for even a moment, our dreamers would see weakness where they expected strength.
They would see a leader unfit to rise. A mortal playacting as a Weaver.
But Erebus had to know.
He had to.
Yet even as the decision formed, fear twisted sharp in my chest. What if Erebus doubted me?
What if he looked at me as though I was something broken?
Something dangerous? Uncertainty gnawed at me, whispering that even Erebus could falter, could see me differently once he knew.
I swallowed hard, forcing my panic to retreat behind a mask of composure.
No.
Erebus was stronger than that. Better than that. He wouldn’t turn away. Not from this, not from me. I would tell him about the voice after the second trial, no matter the cost.
Erebus’s jaw clenched, perhaps mistaking my discomfort for sorrow.
“Those dreamers may be gone, but the dreamers who remain are strong. You heard Xander yesterday—when he admitted they had far less success with their own dreamers than we do with ours. Let’s show them what we’re capable of.
That we won’t let even a single dreamer perish under our leadership. ”
His words struck something deep inside me, an ember flaring to life. I lifted my chin, the weight in my chest easing as it was replaced by a fierce, sudden clarity. I wanted to prove we could be more. That we could be better. That our darkness could protect instead of destroy.
I loved that idea.
But more than that, I was beginning to realize that I loved him—the way his mind worked with ruthless clarity, the way he carved a path forward no matter how dark the road became.
Where others might have faltered or doubted, Erebus stood fierce and unshakable, his will a flame I found myself drawn to again and again.
He trusted in himself and in me, even when I doubted myself.
“Then we won’t,” I agreed. “Let’s show them how strong our shadows can be.”
I held his gaze a moment longer, just enough to spark something heated between us. Erebus’s expression softened, and he leaned in, making to press a kiss to my brow. But at the last minute, he hastily straightened, lips grazing my hair instead.
A group of dreamers were giving us tentative, hopeful smiles.
“Look at them. They believe in us,” I said, unable to help smiling back. I tipped my head, feeling the truth of what I was about to say settle comfortably in my chest. “I think I believe in us, too.”
“Look at us now,” he murmured playfully, a smile tugging at his lips. He gave my hand a firm squeeze as he threaded his fingers through mine. Warmth bloomed in my chest at the gesture. “Shadow Weavers truly using our darkness for good. What else might we be capable of?”
We remained with our dreamers, eager to begin, until the Weavers arrived.
Let’s show them our might.
The second test was a trial of restraint.
We stood on a floating circular platform, jostling into one another as we avoided the edge.
Flames, forming inside the abyss below the platform, licked the sides, desperate to taste us.
Fenrir and Nephthys, holding hands before us on a small dais, were granted just enough control to command the illusion.
The remaining Weavers floated behind them, eagerly watching.
“Dreamers,” Nephthys announced coolly, blue hair cascading down her arms. She wore sapphire bracelets, pearl epaulettes, and a gown that dipped in strategic places, revealing glimpses of her flawless deep bronze skin.
Seashells, crushed into thin shards, covered her dress, reminding me of stained glass.
“You will soon learn what it is to experience the combined might of water and fire. It will be overwhelming, but you must restrain yourselves to achieve a specific goal.”
Fenrir, garbed in silky robes the color of blood, straightened. The fabric hung loosely from his powerful frame, revealing his bare shoulders and tattoos. A few rubies, burning with an internal fire caught within the stones, marked various points within the inky designs.
“Outside of the Dream Realm, fire dances at the water’s edge; the most fearsome flames are quenched by the water’s cool embrace,” Fenrir said.
A few flames burst from his fingers, but they were instantly doused by a wave of Nephthys’s hand.
His lips chased the steam, landing on Nephthys’s neck in a smoking hiss.
He grinned, eyes sparkling as if he’d expected this effect.
“That will not be possible in this trial, however. You are also not allowed to fly—with wings or otherwise.”
Nephthys gave Fenrir a fleeting look so full of longing that my own face grew warm. “Master your composure, dreamers, even when challenged with fear or desire. Any individual lapse in judgment will endanger the entire group. You must work as a team. Together.”
“Good luck, dreamers,” Fenrir intoned flatly, lip curling as he looked down at Erebus and me. “And to you, Shadow Weavers. You will need it.”
That didn’t sound promising.
The platform beneath our feet began to violently shake, sending several dreamers sprawling on their hands and knees.
A dreamer near me tripped, slamming her forehead into the elbow of another.
Blood streamed down her chin as she struggled to stand.
Sorren, already irritated, scowled as a dreamer stepped on his cloak.
It was an exquisite piece, lined with feathers and silver embroidery, but it was also quite distracting.
“I knew I shouldn’t have bothered with this,” he grumbled, making it disappear with a wave of his hand.
Ceveon snorted. “At least you look like one of us now. Albeit less fashionable.”
“Mm,” Sorren grumbled, twisting one of his many silver rings. For this trial, he had decided to wear them over a pair of skin-tight leather gloves. “Yes, we all match now. How quaint.”
The platform’s edge suddenly began to crumble, forcing us to stand uncomfortably close to one another.
By now, the fire was nearly to our necks; I flinched as a lick of heat, bright and dangerous, came within inches of my collarbone.
Erebus drew a protective arm across my shoulders, switching our positions.
If the flames dared to touch me again, he’d be in the way.
“Do you want to catch fire?” I snapped, trying to twist out of his arms. “You’re putting yourself at risk.”
“You heard Nephthys. We must work as a team,” he said, nonchalantly lowering his mouth to my ear. His cool breath tickled my neck. “Here I am, working as a team.”
“This isn’t t-teamwork,” I stammered. I tried again to slip from his grasp, but his hold only tightened. The heat was pressing in, our shadows flickering wildly against the inferno. The other dreamers were condensing inward, fleeing from the edge. “This is stupidity. You’re going to get hurt.”
“Protecting you is not stupidity.”
A lick of flame neared us—
—just as I twisted again, accidentally pushing him toward it.
His hair sizzled.
A sharp, acrid scent filled the air. Erebus jerked sideways, smacking at the ends of his locks with a glare, his composure momentarily obliterated. He swore under his breath, shaking out his singed hair. Ceveon and Sorren snorted, then quickly suppressed their laughter.
“I warned you,” I sighed, brushing some soot from his shoulder. “That’s what you get for trying to be a human shield.”