Page 38 of Cursed By the Dawn

“We just did what we could to help them survive,” I supplied.

Somnus flipped some of his inky hair over his shoulder. “Personally, I believe it to be a particularly useful skill. Especially since we are dealing with so many unrefined dreamers.”

“You did what was right,” the voice in my head purred, tickling the inside of my skull.

Are you the Maker?I asked.

But the voice was silent, unfurling itself from my mind like smoke chasing the wind. I quickly raised my goblet to my lips, hoping to shake myself back into reality.

If you’re not the Maker, then who are you?I tried again.

Silence.

You are imagining things, Esmer. Stay focused.

The starlit drink tasted like a fantasy given life. Dark purple liquid,infused with roses and elderberry, caressed my tongue, each star dissolving into a small shadow; it was like sipping on the essence of night itself. Its subtle sweetness lingered, the aftertaste of dusk. Crisp evening air before a midnight storm.

It almost drowned out the visibly disturbed expressions of the Weavers around us.

All disturbed, except Somnus.

Somnus waved his fingers as though the Weavers’ concern were a foul odor that could be fanned away. “We are running out of time, Weavers. Andoptions. If the Shadow Weavers can freely speak to their acolytes and use that connection to their advantage, why shouldn’t they? It’s not so different from the dreams we once gave humanity. In dreams of our own creation, such communication wasn’t impossible. Merely rare.” His thin lips broke into a smile. “We just need to make the next trial more difficult.”

Theia slowly nodded. “You have a point, Somnus. And the situation at Citadel Evernight is growing dire.”

“Precisely,” Somnus agreed. “We don’t have the luxury of time to argue over proper training protocol. Nothing about this crisis is proper. It is fitting that their methods are unusual.”

Xander steepled his fingers in front of his nose, glaring at the obsidian table as though it were telling him some dreadful secret. And then, with a surprisingly dramatic sigh, he took several long drinks from his goblet. “Fine. We make the next two trials more challenging. And make haste to secure Evernight.”

“How much time do we have?” Lelantos queried, glancing at the Weavers who oversaw the past, present, and future.

“Until?” Erebus pressed.

“Until Citadel Evernight perishes beneath the Nocturne’s poisoned waves,” Theia said grimly. “Evernight anchors our domains. Without it, the Dream Realm will become unstable.” She added softly, pale eyes darkening, “It would make Corruption inevitable.”

Fenrir crossed his arms. “No amount of elixir could stop thedemons then,” he said, scoffing. But despite his arrogance, part of him seemed a bit shaken. Sad, even. “If Evernight is lost, we’re damned.”

“It isn’t like you to be so pessimistic,” Nephthys noted, walking her nails down one of his exposed biceps. When she reached the crook of his elbow, where one of his powerful hands rested, he locked their fingers together.

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Fenrir snapped, but his anger wasn’t directed at Nephthys. “For centuries we’ve slowly lost entire legions of dreamers to the demon rot. And the villain supposedly behind it all was a Weaver in disguise, hidden from us in his crumbling castle. We were wrong.Allof us were wrong.” Fire burned in his reddish-brown eyes, mirroring the rubies that dripped from his crown, ears, and fingers. “Maker save us,” he grumbled, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to Nephthys’s hand before downing his drink in one impressive pull.

Ceveon and Sorren briskly joined us, conjuring seats to my left.

Sorren immediately made some adjustments to the table fare—more variations of the starlight drinks, puffs of shadow that tasted like chocolate, and a spread of various meats and cheeses that were eagerly tasted despite the Weavers’ initial hesitation.

“Whatisthe full situation at Evernight, then?” I asked carefully, aware of the sudden shift the room had taken. The Weavers’ gazes had turned haunted. Pained. “You know something we don’t. What is it that we’re preparing our dreamers for?”

The Weavers directed a pointed glance at Ceveon and Sorren.

“They can hear whatever it is we can hear,” Erebus said, irritated. “Ceveon and Sorren are worthier allies than many of you.” Ceveon snorted mid-drink; Sorren’s calculating eyes simply lit up with amusement. Fenrir, on the other hand, cursed. “I take that back. They are worthier thanallof you.”

Thisruffled a few feathers.

Some rose to stand, but Xander impatiently waved them to sit back down.

“If you so believe,” Xander said. “We are in your domain, after all.”

“That you are,” Erebus said icily. “Let it not be forgotten.”