Page 26 of Cursed By the Dawn

“We can’t control them, no,” I answered sharply.

“But they are drawn to you,” Ceres insisted. “Real demons and Corrupt dreamers alike.”

“Maker knows why they’re drawn to us,” Erebus retorted. “But if I were summoning demons with malicious intent all those years ago, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed myself to be locked here for five centuries. I would have used those demons to wage war against you all.”

There was that looming unease again, the glint of fear in their eyes.

They didn’t want to be afraid, but they were.

“Funny you say that, because wehavebeen waging war against the demons,” Fenrir said, matching Erebus’s merciless tone with the ease of a practiced duelist. “For centuries. And only recently have they gotten worse, which just so happens to align perfectly with your sudden release.” He slid his fiery glance to me. “Which was your doing, we’ve been told.”

“It was,” I said fiercely, surprising myself. “And Erebus will never be caged again.”

At this, the Weavers visibly shifted in their seats, uncomfortable. The shadows around us darkened, coating the room in a vicious haze.

“If we prevail, perhaps not.” Ceres plucked a small vial of honey from her headpiece, using it to season a bite of frothy pudding. “You are a fascinating piece of this puzzle, Esmer. You heard the dark cry out, and yet—most bravely—you did not look away. It is fitting that the Maker would choose each of you to strengthen the other. Two trees weathering a storm as your roots mingle under the sodden earth.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant about our roots tangling, but her unexpected praise fluttered in my chest like feathers.

Nephthys cocked her head at me, her dark blue hair turning greenish in the low light. “All this from such an ordinary young woman, too.”

“‘Ordinary’?” Erebus grated out. “She is nothing of the sort.”

If Ceres’s praise felt like feathers, Erebus’s praise felt like wings.

“We were all ordinary once, Erebus,” Nephthys chided. “It’srefreshinghaving her among us, truly. It makes me recall my own youth.” She coaxed a swirl of cake to her lips, eyes widening in surprise when she realized the shadow tendrils tasted like woodsmoke. “I was the best student of Caldroxis, the Water Weaver before me. I always knew I’d ascend after his death. It is curious that the Maker allowed for there to be two of you when it’s typical for ascension to occurafteran existing Weaver’s mortal death, but perhaps it makes sense given your”—she pointed at Erebus—“temper. In a way, Esmer is like a safeguard.” Erebus bristled at this, but Nephthys ignored him. She took another bite of the cake, making a musical, satisfied hum. “Maker, this tastes sublime.”

“Does it?” Ceres asked, slathering more honey on another pudding bite. “Perhaps I will soak a piece in raspberry juice.”

Fenrir groaned. “Maker be good, enough about cake. Let’s discuss strategy so we don’t have to spend one extra minute in this depressing crypt.”

Somnus leaned forward, steepling his thin hands underneath his bone-white chin. “Unfortunately, I must agree. If we know anything, it’s that the past is a punishment…”

“The present is a plague…,” Xander spat.

“And the future is a dark, clawing fog,” Theia whispered. “Fenrir speaks true. We need to strategize.”

“And I suggest we behave like allies now, however tentative this arrangement is,” Xander added. “We are no longer seven. We are nine.”

“‘Allies’?” Erebus wielded the word like a taunt. “You unleashed a vicious demon into our domain,” he continued darkly. Shadows loomed over the Weavers’ shoulders, as ominous as any monster. If the shadows had mouths, their teeth would be grazing the Weavers’ perfect necks. “An act of war.”

Lelantos nearly spit out his drink. “I would like to mention that the demon was not my idea.”

“Our test wasn’t meant to harm you,” Xander said quickly, his brow furrowing with concern. “We assumed you could cure all demons of their affliction.”

“Some demons aren’t afflicted with anything,” I said, shaking my head as a cold shiver worked its way down my arms. Demons hunted dreamers; they weren’t redeemable. There was nothing to save within their twisted bones. “It’s just what they are.”

“Ah,” Xander said, frowning into his hand. “Then the demons who contain humans within them…”

“Are humans who succumbed to Corruption,” I finished, trying my best to communicate all we’d learned these past few weeks. “The demon assumes a human’s physical form in Noctis, and the human assumes the demon’s form in the Dream Realm. From what we understand, if someone’s physical body is killed before Mithras purifies their soul, they don’t go into the afterlife to be with the Maker. They come here instead.”

“So your followers are truly not alive? They are… dead? Unable to pass on?”

I nodded. “That’s correct.”

“It’s unprecedented,” Xander murmured. “Before Corruption, the typical order was for dreamers to be trained at Citadel Evernight. After a long period of training and education as dream scholars, they were selected as acolytes. Provided they displayed the necessary talents, that is. But they were always alive. Never dead.”

Somnus gave a particularly unnerving smile. “Our Shadow Weavers are delightful anomalies, are they not?”