Page 29 of Cursed By the Dawn

Ceveon and Sorren were halfway down the hall, nearly to the stairwell, when Sorren added: “Oh, and Shadow Weavers? Don’t forget about tonight’s entertainment.”

“‘Entertainment’?” Erebus asked, confused. “The Weavers already left.”

“Do me a favor and go witness it before it disappears, will you?” Sorren asked, pointedly evading Erebus’s question. “The view should be just fine from the roof.”

Sharing cryptic chuckles, Ceveon and Sorren left us alone.

Interesting.

Perhaps Sorren had found a dreamer or two who could sing or play instruments. But why would they be singing on the roof?

“I suppose we’re flying, then,” I mused aloud. Our bedchambers were dimly lit; only a few scattered candelabras emitted a soft bluish glow. “Should we go up from the balcony?”

“I had something else in mind,” Erebus said, concentrating on an empty corner of the bedroom.

At Erebus’s urging, a glass staircase burst from the ground, sprouting like a crystalized flower. We climbed as it grew, and when we reached the top, part of the ceiling unfurled, revealing our domain’s amethyst sky in all its glory.

I gasped in delight.

Not singers, not instruments—art.

The stars had become ribbons of silver paint, transforming the landscape into a kaleidoscope of darkness and light. The constellations shifted like brushstrokes upon an endless canvas, rotating, dragging, falling, rising. Constantly in motion. A ripple passed through the sky, and suddenly, new colors bled into existence. Molten golds, spectral blues, vivid purples. I instinctively reached out, as if my fingers could graze the celestial ribbons and feel their texture. The forest mirrored the sky’s fluctuating colors, reflecting the dreamscape above.

We were suspended between two endless worlds. One above, one below.

And us—just the two of us—caught in their mercurial balance.

“I think we gave Sorren a bit more power than he needs,” Erebus noted, commenting on the degree of magic we let flow toward Sorren. But despite his complaint, his eyes couldn’t leave the scenery. It truly was splendid, and we marveled at the beauty as our shadows unfurled before our eyes and joined the constellations. A symbol of unity, wonder, and even hope. The earthbound and the divine, dancing as one.

“Maybe we should give himmorepower,” I said with a laugh. “It’s perfect.”

The roof’s various stone slabs moved for us as we sat, arranging themselves around our legs as if they didn’t want us to fall. I chanced a look over the edge, nearly gasping at how high we were. It seemed to defy the number of stairs we climbed to reach the castle’s peak. A sudden wind, cold and fierce, hissed through the stars, making my arms erupt in goose bumps.

“Careful,” Erebus warned, pulling me into his chest. Our closeness abated some of the sudden chill, but not all. “I think we both remember the last time you tried jumping over a ledge.”

I shivered, recalling Lelantos’s Revel of Rebirth. I was so desperate to help Erebus in our desire to discover the truth about Corruption, its origin, its hunger. I’d jumped after him without hesitation, even though I hadn’t yet mastered my wings. He caught me. Helped me land. And then he rushed to the Nocturne to stop his past self, only to witness theend of an era as the demons crawled from the sea regardless. We’d failed to stop the past; now all that remained was the future. Ours to shape, ours to lose.

“You’re cold,” he noted. “I’mcold,” he added, as if that surprised him. “Becoming Weavers has sharpened our senses, it seems. One could almost mistake this for reality.”

“As near to reality as it gets,” I said, laughing again as I shivered. “It feels like we’re on the cusp of winter.”

“I can warm the domain if you’d like. Halt the breeze and still the sky.”

I frowned, considering his proposition. Part of me liked the chill on my skin, a constant reminder that I wasalive. But Erebus had once warned that confusing the Dream Realm for reality was deadly, that one could get lost in the Realm forever and never want to wake up. It was why he was so accustomed to wearing gauntlets and covering himself head to toe in obsidian armor. One can never confuse a dream for reality if they’ve cut off physical sensations.

But thiswasour life now. Our home.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing as a stab of sorrow plunged like a dagger into my chest.

Home.

Elliot was out there somewhere without me. Was he cold, too, tossing and turning on a thin bed in some decrepit cottage? Or was he sleeping in a warm, luxurious bed somewhere in Istralla, hugging one of his stuffed animals? I wondered if he even knew I was alive. I wondered if he thought I abandoned him.

“No, keep the cold. It makes our domain feel more alive,” I said, opening my eyes again. “But I have an idea for how we can warm ourselves.” I was desperate to chase away the ache that was churning hard and heavy in my chest. I needed to replace it with something else. And quick. “It can be our small respite before the Weavers’ training starts tomorrow,” I added.

He pursed his lips, slightly tilting his head. “What do you have in mind?”

“A hot bath,” I suggested, folding my hands over my knees and forcing back another shiver. “I’ve been craving one.”