Page 107 of Cursed By the Dawn

His legionnaires’ fear. Their wonder. Their hope.

They saw him as untouchable, as a god. And if their god needed to cull the weak and the unworthy, then it would be done. He’d cry out to the Maker, but he wasn’t worthy of being saved. Not anymore.

Five Years Ago: Havenfall Home, Near the Village of Norhavellis

Centuries later, Mithras had become a shell of a ruler. A shell of a man. The seven Weavers were hidden away, tucked inside their various domains as a final protection against thedemons. Some helped him, scouring the corners of the Dream Realm for signs of powerful demons. Most just wasted away in their fantasy lands, with only armies of their own imaginations for company.

There were no dreamers anymore.

No Evernight scholars. No Weaver acolytes.

It was a pathetic state of affairs, and time was running out.

Corruption was worsening across the land; Norhavellis was no different. Dozens of Corrupt festered in their cells, awaiting an absolution that wouldn’t come quickly enough. But when the Corrupt attacked both his legionnaires and the Havenfall home as a unified horde, Mithras thought all was lost. He was only immortal so long as he was kept physically safe, but this was difficult when there was an entire village of Norhavellians waving pitchforks, knives, and hammers in his face.

He put them all to sleep easily enough, sifting through their subconscious minds and preparing them to meet their Maker. But then he saw her in the Dream Realm.

Esmer, the Havenfall daughter.

As well as the man he’d been desperate—terrified—to see again.

Erebus.

They wielded shadows together as though they were destined for it, built for it, and Esmer didn’t even understand how well the shadows listened to her. How strongly they echoed in Erebus because of her. How Raelion shuddered whenever she drew near.

This was too dangerous. It was too much.

His mind raced, even as he tried to slam Raelion back inside. He’d need to protect her, as he protected Erebus. He needed to find a way no matter what.

The visions faded, spiraling away like dust in the wind.

Mithras’s body, more akin to liquid gold than flesh and bone, rippled. He tried to look away, to bury his face as though he was bracing for a blow, but he couldn’t manage the movement. Instead, with trembling courage, he lifted his chin. Waiting for us to say something.

Daring us.

Begging us.

“These visions,” Erebus finally began, his voice hoarse. “Are they true?”

Mithras nodded, slow and broken. “They are. I do not want your pity. Or your forgiveness. I have hurt you beyond what is fathomable.”

Mithras had caused a landslide of unspeakable events: the worsening of Corruption, the deaths of Ceveon and Sorren, the fall of dreams, and Erebus’s torment. His actions had spurred agony in my life, too: my imprisonment in Erebus’s tomb, Elliot’s capture, and the deaths of those I loved most in all the world.

But would I have done anything differently in his place? Would I not have offered myself to a monster if it meant someone I cherished would be kept safe? And Mithras’s father had forced his hand—he had conspired with Theia to save Noctis no matter the cost. Even if it meant shackling his only child to the king of demons.

I was trembling with anger, rage boiling under my skin.

Raelionwas the cause of this.

Raelionhad created this misery.

“You should have freed me,” Erebus said bitterly, any lingering grief twisting into frustration. He was still hunched over Mithras, gripping what was left of his shoulders as they melted into the golden pool around us. “I would have helped you. Instead, you left me to rot. Alone. Forcenturies.”

“You think I didn’t want to free you?” Mithras asked. “Raelionhadme, Erebus. There were some nights I couldn’t even see the stars without him peering through my eyes. He wouldn’t have stopped until he had you. Until he became you.” Mithras’s voice collapsed into a whisper. “I mourned you. I grieved for you. The worst moment of my entire life was the night I had to appear like I was betraying you. Your blood was on my hands, and every day I had to live in a world where you no longer existed.”

This admission caught Erebus off guard. He stilled for a moment, peering into the face of the man who’d once been a cherished friend. “As Evernight scholars, we were forbidden from getting too close to the Nocturne,” Erebus began suddenly, eyes half closing as he reminisced. “They said if we waded into its depths, we’d become lost within a dream forever. That a nightmare would grab us by our ankles and never let go.”

Mithras’s face scrunched up. “But not if you—”