31 #2
A sky slowly filling with light as the spirits of our Shadow Legion rose up and away to be with the Maker.
My chest seized. I’d never seen anything so beautiful and heartbreaking in all my life.
The bare skeletons of Raelion and Estaroth sat hunched over what remained of Citadel Evernight, a stark reminder of what we’d just barely overcome.
There was no more fighting. No more screams. No more demons.
We’d won. Thousands of dreamers, those who had gathered in Istralla, stood before the bones, gaping as they beheld both the fallen demons and the shimmering Nocturne.
Nine bridges rose from the Nocturne’s depths, connecting the domains with Evernight.
Fire, water, earth, air, past, present, future, light.
And shadow.
Our domain was empty now. All our dreamers, all the spirits, had ascended to be with the Maker. All except Ceveon and Sorren. They were standing near the surviving dreamers, grinning at Erebus and me. I couldn’t believe it. They’d chosen to stay. But there was one person still unaccounted for.
Elliot.
Where was Elliot?
“Esmer!” shouted a voice somewhere below. To my left—my lower left. “Esmer!”
I was barreling to the ground before I could think twice. Elliot was taller and thinner than I’d ever known him to be, and wearing armor that marked him as a trainee Light Legionnaire, but he was still Elliot.
“Elliot,” I sobbed, squeezing him so tight that I thought I heard his armor crack. “You’re alive.”
His dark hair flopped over his eyes as he cried, voice deeper but still brimming with glimpses of that childlike wonder and inherent goodness that was so him. He held me as if I were a ghost made into flesh, and I held him as if I could stitch back every year we’d lost.
His eyes flicked up to Erebus and my stomach dropped.
Surely he wouldn’t condemn him as the Shadow Bringer?
“I saw what you and Erebus did,” Elliot said, wiping away what he could of his tears.
“We all did. We were trapped in the Beyond, but we could feel you calling for us. And when you fought those demons with the Light Bringer, we were in the Nocturne watching. It was cradling us. Letting us rest until we were ready to be free.”
Hesitant, I looked around.
But it was true.
The dreamers weren’t staring at us in fear.
No, they were looking at us in open jubilation.
My shoulders instantly relaxed. Mithras flew above us, held up by wings of pure white.
He was disintegrating slowly into soft golden threads, a mirror to how he’d looked in the Beyond.
Only this time, he was absolutely radiant.
“Thank you,” Mithras said, tears falling from his face. “Thank you for saving Noctis. Thank you for saving the Dream Realm. And thank you for redeeming me.”
Erebus flew up to embrace him; I followed closely behind.
His body melted away into golden swirls of light as he disappeared in Erebus’s grasp, finding solace in the arms of the one who was once—and always would be—his friend.
“You’re dying,” Erebus said, bewildered.
“Raelion sustained me for centuries,” Mithras said, smiling sadly.
“Just as Estaroth sustained Silas. He is already gone. It is my turn now. But I feel at peace. More so than I’ve felt in centuries.
” He looked to the sky; not to the sky we could see, but beyond it.
“I can feel my father and mother, just beyond the veil. I can feel the Maker, too. I only wish that I could stay long enough to see what you’ll build.
The world you’ll shape. How brilliantly you’ll make Noctis and the Dream Realm shine. That is my only regret.”
His face was breaking apart now. The edges were unfurling like paper left to the flame.
“You will be good for this world,” Mithras said, his body more light than man. “You and Esmer will bring a new dawn upon Noctis. One worthy of everything we’ve lost. And one day, I will see you both again.”
With that, he was gone.
Light lingered in the air, warm and incandescent, filling our arms like pillows of honey.
The sensation felt like a warm spring day.
Divine. Golden. New. Our wings moved in tandem, feathers swirling the light, keeping us aloft in the space Mithras had left behind.
I touched the unexpected tears wetting my cheeks.
We’d overcome—we’d won, despite it all—but death still lingered.
“I hated Mithras for so long,” Erebus finally said.
His voice cracked on every word. “I spent centuries making him into a monster in my head, and only the last few breaths trying to unmake the monster. But now, as I did when we were just boys, I want him alive.” He made a low, anguished sound, and I quickly cradled his hands in mine.
He looked down to where Mithras’s light still glowed in his palms. “You said once that knowing the dark doesn’t make you a monster.
” He took a deep breath, and the light around us stirred.
“It’s what you do in the dark. And whether you rise out of it. That’s what matters.”
“I did,” I said softly. “You remembered.”
He nodded. “And I believe every word. I think I always wanted to.”
“Good,” I said through my tears. “Because I do, too. I believe it now more than ever.”
His silver eyes met mine, steady now, as he threaded our fingers together. We willed our gauntlets away, seeking comfort in the alignment of our skin. Our victory had come after centuries of despair, but there was so much beauty to look forward to. So much hope.
We shared a small, knowing smile.
Mithras’s lingering light grew brighter, suffusing the violet sky.
There was neither sun nor moon; just a glorious, joyful glow of purple, orange, pink, and gold.
Erebus and I held each other as we turned to face the dreamers and the Weavers, ready to guide them through the darkness.
To lead them beyond the shadows of our past, beyond the weight of what we’d lost.
Toward a future forged by our hands, carved from the very heart of our dreams.
A future that would belong to all.
Like the rising dawn—unyielding, unshakable.
And born from the deepest night.