Page 28 of Cursed By the Dawn

Silence followed, thick and uneven.

There was no spark in Erebus’s eyes, no relief. Just a vast, echoing hollow where fury once lived. The apology skimmed over wounds too deep to reach.

Too little.

Too late.

The Weavers entertained peace only after banishing Erebus for several lifetimes, and they hadstillbrought a demon to our door. A cold ache settled over me—not the kind that hurt, but the kind that anchored. Deep and permanent, like frost over a grave. Next to me, Erebus did not speak, but I noticed that his legs were jittery under the table. His footjostled against mine, making my own legs quiver. I repeated his gesture from earlier, lightly squeezing one of his knees in a show of silent support. His leg instantly relaxed under my touch, no longer twitching.

“‘A villain’? You made me into amonster,” Erebus finally said, voice low. “I begged. I bled. And I became the beast you feared because you gave me no other shape to wear.” He leaned forward. Not threatening, exactly, but unshakable. “You don’t require our forgiveness? Good. Because there is nothing left for us to give.”

“We realize this. And as a result, we’re more desperate for your help than you might realize, Shadow Weavers,” Somnus responded quickly, adjusting his crown. It was sleek and made of bones. “You are the only Weavers who can hypothetically leave your tomb, the only Weavers who possess human dreamers in your legion, and the only Weavers who have the Maker-given power required to vanquish these demons once and for all.”

“What are you proposing, exactly?” I asked, instantly wary.

“Your Shadow Legion must be the might the Dream Realm needs. Fearless, intuitive, and faithfully acting as our last and best hope as we overtake Citadel Evernight,” Somnus explained. “All other nonessential Weaver duties can wait. We will educate you on those miscellaneous and fascinating tasks once our world is no longer on the verge of collapse.”

“And?” Erebus and I prodded at the same time.

“The Weavers’ focus will be intense instruction. An abridged version, of course, given our unfortunate time constraint. We cannot have the entire kingdom falling into Corruption while we take eons to train, after all.” His serpentine smile turned absolutely feral. “We will guide your dreamers in the ways of the Realm—by way of movement, restraint, and power. Three skills, three trials. And then we shall stretch your abilities with a culminating test.” Somnus’s eyes flashed eagerly. “I do love a good old-fashioned labyrinth,” he added.

Fenrir barked out a laugh, leaning back so far in his chair that I thought it might tip over. “Finally.I was wondering when there would be entertainment.”

After dinner, the Weavers retired to their various domains, promising to return tomorrow at dawn for training. If Erebus would let them back in, that is.

Heavy emphasis on theif.

The three trials Somnus had in mind—testing movement, restraint, and power—followed by the culminating labyrinth, would be a mere glimpse into the rigorous training scholars once received at Citadel Evernight, but it would have to be enough. If what the Weavers said was true, there was no time to waste. Evernight needed to be purged of its demonic infestation and Raelion needed to fall before Corruption overtook the entirety of our kingdom. And if the trials went well, our dreamers would become true legionnaires. Talented, rage-filled members of the elite Shadow Legion, wielding shadows as if it was their Maker-given birthright. And perhaps it was.

Perhaps their pain had a purpose after all.

A wisp of shadow curled around my wrist and palm, giving them a gentle squeeze. I squeezed back, trying not to recall the guilt I’d felt when I first understood the shadows listened to me. That they linked me to my greatest enemy, Noctis’s most reviled villain.The Shadow Bringer.Butnow the shadows were as much a part of me—and a part of Erebus—as the blood in our veins. A mysterious magic as deadly as it was healing. And now that it was mine, it was becoming difficult to ignore its beauty.

And its power, too.

Ceveon and Sorren were waiting for us outside our bedchamber, shoulders slumped and mouths tight.

“The dreamers are finally calming down,” Ceveon began dutifully, stifling a yawn. “The Weavers’ special gift”—his lip curled in disgust—“upset them, but the general consensus is that they are eager to learn. They want to know how to better protect themselves.”

There was so much to do.

So much for them tolearn.

Would I be a good teacher? Someone worthy of my title? Or would I crack under the pressure and damn us all? My hands clenched. Shadows at my fingertips twitched, as if they, too, sensed my uncertainty. Once, I’d taught Elliot how to read, our fingers tracing worn letters as we shared stories of the Weavers in whispered fragments. He’d listened with wide eyes, asking me questions I didn’t always know how to answer.

Questions I’d once asked Eden.

But teaching the dreamers would be no ordinary lesson in reading. No quiet moment beneath a padded quilt sewn by my mother. This was war. I’d be helping to train a legion in the ways of shadows, under the scrutiny of seven immortals and the weight of impending doom. The stakes weren’t Elliot’s frown when he stumbled over a word. They were Corruption, death, and the loss of what little hope remained.

“Good,” I answered, plastering on the most convincing smile I could muster. “We want that for them, too. I’m sure the demons we’ll encounter at Evernight will be even more powerful than our little ‘gift.’?” I added with a grimace, “Not to mention Raelion. We’ll need our dreamers powerful if we hope to defeat him.”

And because what happened with the Weavers’ demon shouldneverhappen again. Widespread fear and a primal desire to protect themselves would motivate the dreamers to master the skills quickly; if theyweren’t motivated, training would be a disaster. And we had no time for error. If we moved swiftly, infiltrating Citadel Evernight and killing Raelion, perhaps Corruption would end for good. No more demons, no more unjust deaths. I’d have my revenge.

And then Elliot can finally live the life he’s always deserved.

Ceveon finally gave in to the yawn he was suppressing. “I’m sorry,” he said, yawning a second time. That made Sorren yawn, too. “Today has been exhausting.”

Erebus gave their shoulders firm pats, guiding them away from our bedchamber doors. “Both of you need to rest,” he said, leaving no room for argument. “You’ve done more than enough today.”