30 #4
Erebus and I shared a meaningful glance.
His silver eyes were shining, I realized.
Mithras’s emotions had settled into our bones, as real as anything we’d felt ourselves.
Tentatively, our shadows began to float from our shoulders, nestling against Mithras’s pooling light.
At first, they seemed opposed to each other: ink and oil.
But then they started to dance.
“I forgive him,” Erebus wondered aloud, spinning to face me. As if he wasn’t sure he’d actually said the words out loud. “I forgive him.”
“I forgive him, too,” I whispered hoarsely, tears falling freely down my face. It was so beautiful—so heartbreaking—that they’d find peace now after all the centuries, all the pain, that spanned between them. “What else is there to do? Raelion made demons out of all of us.”
Erebus’s jaw clenched, but his eyes were softening.
“I wanted a better world,” Mithras said. He was sinking quickly now; his face was barely above the golden water. “A world without demons. A world where people could dream without fear and live how they were meant to live. I’ve always wanted that.”
“Then stop melting and let’s build it,” Erebus said fiercely, squeezing Mithras’s dissolving hand. “We can’t save the world if you’re reduced to a pile of melted gold.”
Mithras laughed weakly. “I cannot stop my fate, Erebus. But maybe there is still hope for yours.” Tears trickled down his face. “I want that for you. My… friend.”
Something pulled at us then, shaking the void as if something larger than the Beyond itself was squeezing its walls, commanding us to take note. A swell of hope—of power—burst within me, filling me with a sense of wonder.
Of purpose.
Our shadows began to build, crest, multiply, swirling with Mithras’s golden light.
They became a whirlpool with the three of us at the center, steadily yanking at the Beyond as if it were made up of millions of dark threads.
We huddled close to Mithras as our combined power grew, colliding with the Beyond’s emptiness.
There was an explosion of pure light and shimmering, star-flecked shadow.
It rose over our heads, burying us in its embrace.
Underneath the golden pool, an oval of light in an endless sea of darkness, Mithras was merely a body of light.
He wrapped his arms around our backs, anchoring us.
Visions came quickly. Visions that I could feel—to my bones—were sent by the Maker.
Visions of the future and what was to come.
A flash of the seven original Weavers, heads bent in agony.
Of Theia, sobbing into her near-translucent sleeves.
She’d done what she could. Her intentions had been noble, but she had done too much, tried to intervene with fate even when it wasn’t her purpose.
More scenes appeared, of the demons, destroyed.
Of the Beyond, eradicated from existence.
Of the Nocturne, glistening pristinely under a purple sky.
Of dreamers attending classes at Citadel Evernight, shouting with glee as they flew around its numerous towers.
Of something beyond Noctis and the Dream Realm—of heaven.
Or what felt like heaven.
There were visions of broken and long-dead souls finally reuniting with the Maker.
Hundreds of souls—thousands of souls—free to finally live in paradise.
I saw members of our Shadow Legion there, embracing their loved ones.
I saw my parents, smiling and laughing. I saw Eden, eyes sparkling and arms outstretched as she ran toward Mother and Father.
My chest felt unbearably full. I let out a sob, unable to contain my fears, or my relief, any longer.
Erebus’s arms tightened around me. Mithras’s did, too.
Erebus’s parents were also there, in paradise, happy and whole.
Embracing each other as they beheld a brilliant sunset.
I noticed another man and woman who were a mirror to Mithras—beautiful honey eyes, blond hair, and noble features.
They were lounging together near a shimmering river, hands splayed behind their heads in a childlike fashion. Content. Happy. Free.
Them all.
A deep, indecipherable voice echoed in the three of our minds, impossible to describe. It gently cradled us; it fiercely emboldened us. It told us of every quiet, hidden thing. It commanded us to rise. To claim the future promised to us. The future promised to us all:
Noctis, without Corruption.
The Dream Realm, restored.
Mithras, fading into gold as he died.
Erebus, healing from his mortal injuries in reality.
Erebus and I, overseeing it all with the Weavers.
Together.
A king and queen using their darkness for good.
The Beyond collapsed around us, ripping apart as demons poured in, shrieking as our combined magic simultaneously stole their power and destroyed their monstrous bodies.
We began to rise, leading the banished dreamers out of the dark, even as more demons fell around us, screaming as they shattered.
Some tried to lunge for us, teeth snapping and claws flashing, but they broke apart before they could.
Someone was laughing now.
Laughing in disbelief. In victory.
I realized with a start that it was us all. Erebus. Mithras.
Myself.
We were coming for Raelion.
And he had the might of the Seven—no, the Ten—coming his way.