25 #2
“Raelion and Mithras are maggots feeding on the corpse of the kingdom,” Xander said, cursing violently under his breath. It was the first time I’d seen him so discomposed. “They didn’t just trap us. They used us. Manipulated our power to shape the Dream Realm to their whims.”
“What of our dreamers?” I asked, dread coiling hard in my stomach. “What of Ceveon and Sorren?”
“Surely some were able to escape back to our domain,” Erebus added, knuckles white atop his knees.
The Weavers looked nauseated.
“The Shadow Legion suffered immense losses,” Somnus said gravely.
“Many appear to have perished at the hands of Raelion, Mithras, and their demons.” This wasn’t a shock to me; I had seen many dreamers fall during that terrible fight.
“I cannot say if any made it safely back to your domain. Nor can I speak for Ceveon and Sorren.”
Erebus and I shared a haunted glance. It was as if all the air had left our lungs.
“They could still be alive,” Erebus said, slowly shaking his head. “Our dreamers are resilient. So are Ceveon and Sorren. They’d find a way.”
Fenrir jumped to his feet. “Of course they’d find a way. And so should we. I say we leave these tombs immediately. Our return will be celebrated across the kingdom; we can use that momentum to overtake Mithras. I’ve rallied armies for our cause before. I can do it again.”
“It’s been over five hundred years since we last set foot in Noctis,” Nephthys said softly, coaxing him back into a sitting position. “The mortals likely won’t even recognize us.”
Xander grimaced. “Nephthys is right. We cannot be too rash.”
“But we can still fight,” I said firmly. “Mithras is directly tied to Raelion, so if we can kill him in reality—”
“We sever one of the demon king’s anchors,” Erebus finished. “Before Mithras was overtaken by Raelion, he pleaded with Esmer in a dream to kill him in Noctis.”
“He also begged us to stay away from Evernight,” I added, fighting the urge to curl within myself.
There was no place for pride now. “But I fought for us to go anyway.” I looked down at my hands in shame, half expecting them to be stained with the blood of every dreamer I’d failed.
“I thought he was lying. But it turns out he was telling the truth. Or part of the truth, at least.”
The weight of this revelation sank in deep, digging its talons into our shoulders.
“Then we go to the Revel and kill him,” Fenrir said, breaking the tension. “It’s that simple. After that, we return to Evernight and defeat the beast in his stolen lair.”
Somnus smiled, ever eager for some opportune violence. “You’ll have to compete against Esmer and Erebus for the honor of taking Mithras’s heart.”
Fenrir crossed his arms, smirking. “Oh, they can have him. They’ve earned that right.” He then leveled that grin at Erebus and me. “Take your pick of the weapons in my chambers. They are all perfectly equipped for killing vile traitors.”
“A gracious gift,” Erebus said, offering a rare smile of his own. Fenrir, likely stunned to see Erebus showing his teeth in such a friendly way, grinned even wider.
“You favor swords, don’t you?” Fenrir asked, excited. “What about one with—”
Ceres cleared her throat. “Before we discuss the details of Mithras’s disembowelment, can we clarify what happened to Theia? We don’t think she woke up on her own and took matters into her own hands, do we?”
“Of course not. There’s no way she woke up on her own,” Fenrir snapped.
Ceres frowned. “And why not?”
“I tried everything in my power to wake up. If I couldn’t do it, she wouldn’t have been able to,” Fenrir said, lip curling.
“If I had successfully woken up on my own, Mithras would already be felled by my blade. We wouldn’t be here in this blasted tomb planning his execution, we’d be half-drunk on wine and planning a feast celebrating our victory. ”
“Is that right?” Nephthys said, offering Fenrir a sweet smile. “A feast sounds perfect right about now. I’m famished.”
But Ceres wasn’t deterred by talk of food or drink. “Somnus, Xander. You were closest to Theia in your positioning atop Evernight. Could you see her from your vantage point? Did she manage to escape her chains before we woke up?”
Xander and Somnus shared a look.
“Dear Ceres, I was not particularly lucid when Esmer and Erebus tore us from the Dream Realm,” Somnus admitted, giving an elegant shrug. “I could not say if she was tethered when I woke.”
Xander nodded. “I also wasn’t fully conscious when we were awoken. I do not know what befell her.”
“Then Mithras took her. Or Raelion, rather. Perhaps she’s being used for some greater plot at the Revel.” Ceres fidgeted with her hair, adjusting the pine cones. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much use in speculation.”
Lelantos let out a long, tense breath. “None of this bodes well. It’s been centuries since the last Revel. Do we know what the dress code is? At the very least, we have to attempt to blend in.”
Nephthys gave a pained sigh, pointedly glancing at Theia’s multiple wardrobes. “What a dreadful thing it is to blend in. Alas, we must. I’m assuming the dress code will be gold and white given the Revel’s moniker.”
“It is an odd title, isn’t it? The Revel of Dawn. Especially coming from the demon king himself,” Lelantos mused. “The concept of dawn is not some frivolous designation. Especially in times such as these.”
“It could simply mean a new beginning,” Ceres offered. “But a new beginning for what? The end of the world? Unleashing thousands of dreamers into a demon-infested Dream Realm will have grim consequences.”
“It’s a mockery of how dreams are designed to function.
Dreams are not mere fantasies, nor are they fleeting illusions of the mind,” Somnus said.
His voice, usually a silken purr, had become a vicious blade.
“They are the very essence of what makes humans whole. An untapped wellspring of creation and memory.” His words grew in fervor and pitch; he was positively furious.
“Without them, the world withers. Without them, the world dies. We cannot allow dreams to be overtaken by Raelion.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to take a slow, grounding breath.
“Dreams are the threads that bind us to the past, present, and future. They hold our deepest fears…”
“Our most brilliant hopes…,” Lelantos added.
“And the power to carve a destiny for ourselves,” Fenrir finished.
Xander nodded. “When Raelion twisted the Dream Realm to his whims, he didn’t just cast us into darkness. He severed the pulse of humanity as we understand it.”
“He’s had his claws in our world for too long,” Nephthys said, shaking her head.
Her eyes were shining again; she was close to crying.
“You all remember that terrible night five hundred years ago. How Mithras condemned Erebus with a viciousness I’d never seen in him before. Who’s not to say that was Raelion?”
“I am beginning to suspect as much, too,” Somnus mused. “Raelion wants you dead, Shadow Weavers. So he did everything he could to—”
“No,” I interrupted. “No, he doesn’t want us dead. He wants our power.”
A shiver worked its way around the room.
“Your power?” Somnus asked quietly. “How do you know this so assuredly?”
Erebus tensed, ready to defend me.
“It’s okay,” I said to Erebus, giving him what I hoped was a confident smile. “I need to tell them.”
I forged on, explaining in vivid detail my visions of Mithras and Raelion. At first, the Weavers looked stunned. Horrified, even. But I left the worst detail—the thing that made me want to curl into a ball and scream—for last.
My markings.
I pulled off my scarf with trembling fingers, baring my neck for them to see.
“Maker help us,” Nephthys whispered. “You poor girl.”