Page 109 of Cursed By the Dawn

Someone was laughing now.

Laughing in disbelief. Invictory.

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, theTen—coming his way.

We rose like the dawn.

Wings unfurled from our backs, large and magnificently powerful. Erebus’s and my wings were darker than night; Mithras’s were brighter than the sun.

“Comeon!” I screamed, partially in triumph, partially in astonishment. “We’re almost there!”

We’d been freed. We had achance.

I flew harder, rising faster, faster,faster.

Erebus and Mithras were eager to follow.

Gone were our tattered clothes from the Beyond, replaced instead by finery that reflected our power. Erebus and I wore similar sets of black armor, clawed gauntlets shaped around our hands and obsidian crowns encircling our heads. And, most notably, Raelion’s mark was gone. Relishing its absence felt like breathing fresh air after a century in a putrid grave, and it was glorious. Shadows poured from us like a rising tempest, eager for justice as they fed on the darkness that had contained us.

Mithras, impossibly, was whole.

His eyes were clear of red, his hair a radiant sweep of bright honey. His armor gleamed pure white and gold, and warm, fiery light flowedfrom his body as the shadows did from ours. It churned around him like a sea, twirling against our shadows.

Beautiful.

One last surge and we were free from the Beyond. It fell behind us, feeding into our power as we rose. Part of me almost expected to see the Dream Realm already restored. That our work was already done.

But that was far from the truth.

We circled Citadel Evernight, taking in the chaos below. Shadows and light continued to surge as more demons died, their monstrous shrieks splitting the air. Metal met flesh with sickening finality, and the sharp crackle of magic echoed through the ruined citadel, reverberating in our ears. The Weavers had been unchained, their figures moving like wraiths throughout the fray as they fought for their lives by the Nocturne’s blackened waves. And beyond them—

The last of our Shadow Legion.

A sound rose from their ranks, low at first. Barely audible over the din of battle. A rhythm, pulsing and unyielding. It wasn’t random shouts or cries; it was a chant. I strained to make out the words. The cadence was familiar, yet the roar of combat swallowed the chant before I could grasp its meaning. Still, the sound pushed forward, growing louder, steadier, until at last it broke free.

“We fear not shadow nor the night! We fear not shadow nor the night!”

It was thunderous, defiant,alive.

And I nearly buckled when I saw who was at the front of the lines, leading the chant.

Ceveon, Sorren, and Silas.

They were armed to the teeth and wearing their finest armor, absolutely mesmerizing as they led the charge. Light and shadow danced across their armor, making them seem almost untouchable. Like legends stepping out of a storybook. And they were chanting for us. For the legacy we had built.

And for what we still had to protect.

Tears burned at the edges of my vision, but I reined them in. There was no space for hesitation. The battle was raging, and my part was far from over. Beyond the dreamers, the center of Evernight was in tatters. The great citadel had fractured, its jagged walls peeling apart and plunging into the infected Nocturne like a rotting flower.

My nose wrinkled as I caught the stench of decay, of something bitter and bloody.

Raelion and Estaroth towered over the wreckage, looming before us like twin gods of destruction as their bodies writhed with Corruption. Raelion had become a grotesque amalgamation of a storm cloud and a dragon, his limbs shifting and twisting as though struggling to commit to a single form. One moment, jagged wings jutted from his back; the next, they were swallowed into the roiling abyss of his flesh. Lightning sparked beneath his semi-transparent hide, illuminating veins of pulsing black, and his grinning mouth was a gruesome combination of a midnight storm and hundreds of needle-sharp fangs. Gone were his eyes; they were voids, sucking in all light.