Page 10 of Cursed By the Dawn

“Oh, yes,” Somnus answered, as if casually remembering something vital. “When your castle is rebuilt and your domain suitably stabilized, I will summon the Light Bringer and the other Weavers to gather around your table. Fenrir, Nephthys, Ceres, Lelantos, Xander, Theia—we must all discuss what needs to be done to save Noctis and the Realm. The Shadow Weavers shall host a civilized banquet.” He cast a withering look at each of us in turn. “Emphasis oncivilized.”

“It will be our honor,” I said with what I hoped was a confident smile, ignoring the glare Erebus shot my way.

“One of you, at least, shows promise,” Somnus sighed. Then he glanced at the stars as if ascertaining what time it was. “Oh, and you have one month. Perhaps less if the Dream Realm shatters and the demons overtake us before then. Good luck, Shadow Weavers.”

Somnus quickly disappeared into a swirl of black.

“Smug bastard, isn’t he?” Ceveon quipped.

And then the hundreds of dreamers erupted into chaos.

Arock slammed into Erebus’s shoulder, narrowly missing my face.

Without warning, the dreamers surged. Some scattered into the woods, while others raced toward the demon-infested dream sea just beyond the castle. The Nocturne’s powerful waters had receded slightly, no longer threatening to devour the castle whole and lock us in the Dream Realm for eternity, but it was a terrifying reminder of what had almost befallen us. I felt the blood rush from my face as I was overwhelmed by the dreamers’ conflicting emotions. They knotted around me like a fearsome net, impossible to untangle.

Fear.

Fury.

Rage.

“Enough!” Erebus roared, shielding me as a second rock bashed his chest. The domain shook with the sheer force of his voice. Dreamers stopped in their tracks, his command dragging them back to the courtyard. Erebus’s chest heaved, silver eyes blazing as he beheld our new acolytes. “I know what it is you feel. Your resentment. Your sorrow. Yourrage. I, too, was sacrificed. I, too, suffered, just as you did. We cannot continue in chaos.”

The dreamers’ frustration swelled; they were not sated. I anxiously considered what any other Weaver might do in our situation. Would they demand loyalty in a show of power? Or would they be empathetic, seeking to understand what drove their dreamers to hysteria in the first place? I bit the inside of my cheek, considering. Maybe it was pointless to hypothesize. Our situation—as confusing as it might be—was our own. Erebus and I were in uncharted waters. We had only each other to rely on.

I stepped past Erebus, lowering his arm even as he tried to urge me back.

“Tell us your grievances,” I pleaded, hoping the dreamers would recognize the sincerity in my voice. “I understand you might be angry that I’m a Weaver now, since Erebus has been with you for much longer, but—”

“We are not angry with you, Esmer,” a girl, similar to me in age, supplied. The other dreamers nodded, agreeing. “Our rage belongs to him.”

My stomach dropped.

Him?

Erebus’s lips parted, a hasty retort silenced on his tongue.

“Why?” I pushed, cautious of the dreamers’ rising anger. “What has he done to you?”

“Erebus did not suffer as we did,” the dreamer continued. “His soul was not caged inside the filthy body of a demon.”

“He didn’t experience the horrors of Corruption,” another dreamer, a woman, cried.

“He kept us here against our wills,” a third dreamer, an older man, grated out. The dreamer’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. As though he wasn’t used to evenhavinghands after being locked in the body of a demon for so long. “We begged him to let us out every single day.”

“Our hearts and minds wasted away in the woods, the water, and the halls of your castle,” a fourth snarled, baring his chipped teeth.“You should have freed us. You should have recognized we were more than mere demons.”

A fifth acolyte took a few steps forward, shoulders straight and face raised. Her wrinkled chin trembled; she was struggling to remain upright. “We screamed and begged, and yet he did not listen, he did not see—”

“We all presented as demons! Or have you already forgotten that?” Sorren snapped, interrupting the dreamers’ tirade. “What would you have had him do? Unleash you upon the Dream Realm simply because you begged? Most of us couldn’t eventalk. Our minds were too fractured.” Sorren shook his head, placing his fingers over his temples. “I, too, felt as you did. I wanted out; my captive existence was utter hell. But it is not Erebus’s fault that our voices were taken from us.”

“You’re channeling your rage into a man who does not deserve it,” Ceveon added. “A man who would brave the depths of the Beyond to avenge what was taken from him. Taken fromus. This man is your protector now. Not your enemy.”

For a moment, the dreamers were silent. Weighing what they’d been told.

Then one finally spoke, his voice like the crack of a whip. “Then who deserves it? Against whom do we rage?”

Every dreamer looked at Erebus and me, expectant.