Page 43 of Cursed By the Dawn

The cavernous expanse, vast and silent, had a domed ceiling and faraway walls glistening as though they were coated in pitch-black blood. Every faint noise dissolved into the void around us, swallowed by the water that had replaced the fire below. An ancient-looking gate loomed at the far side of the chamber, its stone weathered by time and marked with unfamiliar glyphs. There was no bridge, however, to this gate. Just dark water in all directions. I bit the inside of my cheek, all too aware that landscapes in dreams were rarely what they seemed.

Despite Erebus’s protests, my feet found their way to the edge.

The water’s surface was so perfectly smooth that it reflected our faces with eerie clarity. I squinted, beholding my reflection. It was me, but she seemed sullen. Unhappy, even. Her eyes felt lifeless, her body gaunt. But her fingers and neck were the strangest—slightly too long and twitching. I was unmoving, entirely still. Why was my reflection twitching?

When my reflection’s lips began to curve up in a smile, I spun around.

I wasn’t alone. Every dreamer was haunted by a twisted, shadowed version of themselves that stared back, hollow eyed, from below. Sorren was scowling daggers at his reflection, which was scowling right back at him. Ceveon made a face at his, scoffing when it did not respond. Erebus, meanwhile, was too busy surveying the cavern to bother peering at his.

Typical.

“Look there,” Erebus noted, directing my attention to the far left side of the platform. “In that patch of water where no dreamers are reflected.”

At his direction, I noted dozens of small stones set just underneath the surface, hardly large enough for one foot at a time. It was a crooked bridge of sorts, except one misstep would immediately plunge dreamers into the depths. No wonder we’d been told we couldn’t use our wings.

A shiver of dread curled in my stomach.

“I’ll go first,” Erebus said, just loud enough for me to hear.

“I can go first,” I said, shaking my head. “I can do this, I—”

“I know you can,” he said, hands clasping my shoulders with a gentleness that contradicted the fierceness in his tone. “But I want to try.”

“Try what?”

He cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish. “Leading.”

The knots in my stomach began to relax. “Then lead,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips. “Just don’t try to sacrifice yourself for my sake, please. Your hair has suffered enough.”

Erebus returned my smile, untwisting the last of my knots. He liftedhis hands from my shoulders, shadows pooling around his gauntlets. He commanded the writhing darkness toward the water’s surface, creating a tenuous line over the stones. A clear path that the dreamers could follow.

“Step carefully,” he began, cutting through the stillness. He also sent the command through our bonds. “Tread with caution.This trial is about focus and restraint. So let your shadows guide you. Do not look down at the reflections in the water. They do not serve us.”

Without hesitation, without even lowering his gaze, he stepped on the first stone. His foot, long and armored as it was, barely fit. With a nervous swallow, I matched his steps, followed by Ceveon and Sorren. The rocks were smooth and small, barely wide enough to cradle my own feet, and slick enough that I needed to focus on one footstep at a time. The rest of the dreamers mirrored us, taking their own tentative steps onto the slippery rocks. Although none spoke of it, their dread was tangible; it seeped from them like a poisonous mist. The dreamers’ shadows rose to meet Erebus’s line, desperate to cling to his lead.

I took another step.

Another.

My footing was becoming more certain, my steps more regular. Erebus’s thread of shadow was constant and easy to follow—a testament to his ferocious determination. It gave me courage when nothing else could, even when my dark reflection beckoned below my feet. I bit my lip, hastily forcing a smile when Erebus checked to see how I was doing.

I’m fine.

I’m fine.

I’m—

A strangled cry halted our careful steps. One of the dreamers, a freckled young man who had recently joined our ranks, had collapsed near the first stone. He was trembling, hands clawing at his knees. Then he lurched over as if he might vomit into the water.

He froze at whatever he saw reflected in its depths.

A scream formed at his mouth, bubbling over his tongue—but the clawed hand that shot up from the water was faster. He gasped,sputtered, and finally screamed, stumbling backward into a second dreamer. The water churned violently, producing another clawed hand, mottled and impossibly large.

Are those six fingers?

Seven?

Before anyone could react, both dreamers were yanked into the depths. Their screams cut off abruptly as they were swallowed, leaving only ripples and a scattering of bubbles on the surface.