12 #3
“They made you soft,” she replied. “Look at where that softness led.”
“No. Their memory is why I fight so strongly. And Elliot is still out there, alive. I fight for him, too.”
She arched her brow. “Even if he’s changed? Even if he hates what you’ve become?”
“Even then.” My voice grew warm, wistful. “And Erebus has only made me stronger. I was made to be his, and he was made to be mine. He is no chain meant to be broken, and neither am I.”
Future Esmer’s expression shifted, sharpening. A promise of judgment.
“So prove it.”
We clashed, her shadows lashing out with an expertise that felt insurmountable.
Every move was a display of mastery. I struggled to keep up, my defenses crumbling under the sheer brutality of her attack.
I was fighting a reflection of my worst fears, a manifestation of everything I might become if I let the darkness consume me.
Her attacks were relentless, swift as lightning, calculated to shatter any shred of hope I might hold on to.
She was condemning me for caring. For wanting to believe in anything beyond raw, ruthless power.
And in some ways, that power was alluring.
It was safety. It was an assurance, too.
Not only would this woman effectively command the full respect of the Weavers, but she would surely be powerful enough to destroy the demons. This version of myself needed no one; she didn’t need to rely on the dreamers, on the Weavers, on Erebus.
But I wasn’t just here for myself.
I’d come to prove my strength to the dreamers, to Elliot, to Erebus—to be the leader they deserved. They needed me to be more than just powerful; they needed me to have a purpose beyond my own survival.
They believed in me.
And I wouldn’t betray that belief, not even to save myself.
I raised my hands, calling forth shadows so thick they coated the air, a tangible wall between us. My future self slammed against it, relentless, her face twisted into a scornful sneer.
“You think this will protect you?” she spat. “You’ll lose them all. And when they’re gone, you’ll see that your friendship, your love”—she gestured to the silhouettes swirling around us—“were meaningless. You must stand alone.”
“No,” I said, my voice containing a steely edge I barely recognized as my own. “I stand with them.”
I drew in a breath, focusing on that connection, on each face I’d come to care about, each life that made my abilities more than just a weapon.
My shadows pulsed, shifting from pure darkness to something richer, warmer—a tide of starlight that radiated from within.
Shadows wrapped around me, a cocoon of strength and resolve, pushing back against her assault.
She stumbled, eyes widening in surprise, and in that moment of hesitation, I struck.
My shadows shot forward, not to harm her but to engulf her, to reach out with every ounce of compassion, of hope, of trust I had cultivated in myself. She screamed, a sound that echoed like the crack of lightning, and then she cried, sobbing into her hands.
When she dissolved into the darkness, the void immediately faded.
I couldn’t believe it.
I’d won.
When I staggered to my knees, I was back in our castle’s courtyard. Dreamers began materializing one by one, rising to their feet around me. I counted the threads as they appeared, the invisible ties that anchored me to every dreamer.
They all made it.
Erebus, Ceveon, and Sorren, too.
The emotional weight of the third trial had rattled me, but I was more than I’d been before.
I was ready to lead not because I had power in my veins but because I had something worth fighting for.
I was more than my chaos, my darkness, and my selfish desire to prove myself.
I’d absolve the sins of my past. I’d rise above the darkness in my present.
And I’d rewrite my future.
Erebus strode toward me, offering me a smile so brilliant and disarming it made my face heat.
He’d grown in that dark, unrelenting place, too.
Had faced his inner demons and emerged victorious.
He started to open his mouth, looking as though he wanted to admit something vulnerable and tender.
But our dreamers were turning to face us, and this time, I could feel the strength of their conviction, the absolute trust they were placing in us.
This was what it meant to lead. Not through fear or isolation, but through connection, engaging in a shared purpose.
The other Weavers appeared behind us, nodding their approval.
We’d won.
“The trial of power is complete,” Xander announced. “You faced your past, your present, and who you might become. And you unanimously triumphed.”
Cheers of relief rippled through the dreamers. I could feel their pride, the fire that had been kindled by the series of trials. I felt ready to face whatever evil still lingered in our realm. And this time, I knew I wouldn’t be facing it alone.
“No, you won’t,” said the voice, coiling around my neck and murmuring in my ear. It felt like claws raking over an exposed nerve. “Because I will be there, too.”