Page 22 of Cursed By the Dawn

Scum wielding claws and teeth, wearing costumes of human skin.

“Shadow Weavers,” Xander, Weaver of the Present, finally proclaimed, speaking on behalf of the Seven. His regal voice was loud enough to be plainly heard by everyone in the clearing. Flanked by seven floating swords, he was armored and crowned in iron. “Somnus has endorsed both your innocence and usefulness, so we have graciously agreed to visit your… domain.”

The condescending pause wasn’t missed.

“Thank you for coming,” I offered grandly, ignoring Erebus’s quiet scoff of irritation. As though he couldn’t believe we were actually doing this. “Dinner has been prepared inside our castle,” I continued, unsure of proper protocol. Did the Weavers expect us to welcome them differently? Were we already doing something wrong? I straightened my spine, preventing my shoulders from trembling. It was growing difficult not to cower. “We’re honored to host you at our table so we can discuss the future of Noctis and the Dream Realm.”

Sensing Erebus’s uncomfortable silence, I gave his hand a meaningful squeeze.

If Mithras were here, Erebus would have exploded already. But by some Maker-blessed miracle, his arrival was apparently delayed.

“Yes,” Erebus added stiffly, his upper lip curling in a display of contempt that rivaled the Weavers’. His look of disgust was, however, farmore lethal. It exuded a cold violence that was unmatched by anyone in our domain. Anyone in the entire world, for that matter.“Welcome.”

The Weavers glanced at one other, expressions inscrutable.

“We have agreed to come,” Xander said slowly, “but we are not ready to sit at your table.”

My stomach twisted; if they weren’t prepared to dine with us, why bother coming? My sword buzzed underneath my palm, itching to be released. Surely they weren’t here for a fight.

“Bastards,” Erebus muttered darkly, just to me. “Coming all this way just to mock us. Branding their powers into our skulls like they own us.”

“Erebus—” I began, but it was no use. His anger was past its breaking point.

“You say Somnus has endorsed our ‘usefulness,’” Erebus said loudly, leveling his gaze on Somnus as the shadows around him began to surge and hiss. Mine followed suit, eager to tangle with his growing fury. Somnus did not react; his bone-white face was impassive. “We are not shadows to be cast beneath your dying light.”

“Perhaps not,” Xander agreed. “Though you have yet to prove yourselves.”

“You doubt that we are Weavers, then?” Erebus asked icily. “Not exceptional enough to be a part of the glorious Seven?”

“We have good reason to doubt.” Xander motioned to Ceres, the Earth Weaver, and Lelantos, the Air Weaver. A tall, misshapen figure appeared between them, bound by white cloth and thick chains. The figure thrashed, but Ceres and Lelantos held firm, manipulating it into submission with their elemental magic. “So, we’re here to offer you a gift. A simple test to decide if what you declare is true.”

“We require no gift,” I said, shaking my head. Their offering made my stomach churn. It was far too large to be human. “Your presence at our table is all we ask. If it is proof you require, please look around you.” I gestured to the dreamers in the courtyard and the castle that sprawled behind us, its many spires reaching like claws into the sky. “We createdevery structure in our domain. And these dreamers are our devoted acolytes. Is that not proof enough?”

Xander’s eyes narrowed, his judgment determined. The other Weavers were silent; it was clear they had already decided our fate before even setting foot in our domain. “We cannot acknowledge you as Shadow Weavers until you demonstrate your Maker-given power. Transform this demon as you’ve done to the others. That is all.”

My stomach dropped.

What?

Ceres and Lelantos loosened their grip.

The cloth-wrapped figure crashed into the edge of the forest, toppling the tree it landed in with a vicioussnap. It broke its chains as it rose, squirming out of its cloth with a triumphant roar. At first, the demon seemed to be about the size of a horse, a distorted blend of scales and corded muscle. But then its spine unfurled, revealing legs made of bone. It stretched tall, spiderlike, its grinning skull bearing long pointed teeth. Its eyes, eerily similar to Raelion’s, gleamed a wet, bloody red.

“They brought ademonhere?” I gasped.

Erebus snarled, incredulous. “Utter fools.”

It lunged toward the courtyard before we could react.

The demon pinned two dreamers with its legs, piercing clean through an abdomen and a thigh. The dreamers—both new to our domain—shrieked in pain, wriggling in an attempt to escape. I screamed for the other dreamers to run, but many stood frozen in place. Erebus and Ceveon had instructed the dreamers on basic combat strategies, but there hadn’t been enough time to prepare for true threats. Never mind organizing them to actuallyconfrontthose threats. Many dreamers simply weren’t ready for it. They had centuries of rage and power boiling in their eyes, but they weren’t fully equipped to wield that potential in a controlled way. Without control, they were dangerous. But without access to their power, they were even worse. They wereweak. Which meant Erebus and I were weak, too.

The Weavers knew it.

This demon knew it, too.

Quickly, the demon hooked its first victim by the stomach and flung him into a tree with a sickeningcrack. When his body hit the ground, it melted into a puddle of shadow. Then, without hesitation, the demon cut the second victim’s body from calf to hip, wielding its legs like knives as the woman screamed louder. Louder.Louder.A brutal crush of the demon’s leg and the woman was silent; her body, like the man’s, slid away in a cloud of shadow.

A powerful blast of darkness, hurled from Erebus’s hands, sent the demon reeling.