Page 45 of Cursed By the Dawn

“Save yourself; they do not need you.”

Erebus needs me. The dreamers need me, too.

Erebus and I quickly summoned our shadows, forming them into ropes, tethers, arms. Anything that could grab or snare. And then we sent them forth, grabbing dreamers even as they slipped below the surface. A mottled hand sank its claws into my ankle, but I ignored it, holding strong. Another grabbed my leg, pinching behind my knee—just as a third reached for Erebus.

“Hangon!” I shouted, urging the dreamers to let the shadows help them. Toyield.

But then my foot slipped.

I was falling—

Erebus swiftly yanked a shadow around my waist, holding me firm.

I blinked, realizing the gravity of what had just happened. Erebus had reached back to hold me steady, even as he strained under the weight of the shadows pulling him in a hundred different directions. Pullingmein a hundred different directions.

The water didn’t relent.

It continued to churn, whispers rising into screams. The voices grew louder, more insistent; each ghostly face was more menacing than the last. The path of stones thinned again, forcing us into a haphazard singlefile as we urged the dreamers forward. It took my full mental strength to keep the shadows taut—even Erebus groaned from the weight of containing them all. The water roared with a fierce, defiant surge, sending a wave over the rocks that almost swept us all off our feet. For a moment, I was blinded, the cold spray cutting through my focus.

“We’re almost there,” Erebus urged, his voice barely audible over the haunted, layered shrieks. “Stay with me, Esmer. I need you.”

“Right behind you,” I bit out, even as my legs wobbled with exertion.

Together we urged the dreamers forward, step by careful step, until at last we all reached solid ground. As we finally crossed onto dry stone, the phantoms dissolved, leaving only silence and the faint echo of the voices that had haunted us. The dreamers slumped with relief, breathing hard.

Shaken, but unhurt.

CRASH!

Before we could fully recover, the chamber collapsed.

Sorren made a loud, exasperated sound. “Oh, for the love of—”

A fiery corridor suddenly pressed in around us, walls pulsing and shifting with red flames that breathed with a life of their own. The constrictive path left no room for error, but there was no way out but the one forward. The flames shifted and swayed, reacting to every slight movement, every flicker of hesitation. Waves of heat roiled over us, tinged with the acrid smell of burning flesh.

“This room is foul,” Sorren noted, nose scrunched in disgust. His sleek black hair, typically falling below his jaw in a perfect sweep, was sticking up everywhere. I didn’t want to imagine what mine looked like. “I’d gladly fight fifty demons at once instead of enduring these depraved trials.”

“Nowyou want to break the rules,” Ceveon grumbled. “Like it or not, these trials will help us conquer Evernight and defeat Raelion. Then you can retire in a shadowed corner of the castle and never look at a flame again.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sorren huffed, scowling at the fire with an icy stare.

“He loathes the heat,” Ceveon explained to me. The admission was a touch too loud, coaxing another scoff from Sorren’s lips. “Clings to him like a needy ex-lover. Ruins his mood every time he—”

The fire suddenly snapped, interrupting him and sending the dreamers into a frenzy.

“Do not fear,” Erebus’s voice rang out.“Do not fear.”He kept his gaze forward, steady and unfazed, while the dreamers behind us clung to his every word. He was a natural leader—more than he ever would admit. “Keep control. The flames, like the water, will likely feed on our emotions.Show them nothing.”

Still, the dreamers’ tension rippled through them like cracks spreading through stone. The enchanted fire reacted to every rise and fall in their emotions; good or bad, positive or negative, the flames fed off it.

“Focus on counting your steps!” Sorren snapped, criticizing the dreamer behind him who wouldn’t stop complaining. The flames near Sorren’s head hissed, reacting to his anger and springing forward like a starving serpent. Fiery teeth clamped down on his cheek, quick and as vicious, instantly causing his face to blister. Sorren took a deep breath, fighting to quell his pain. “Count your steps and thinkonlyabout counting your steps!”

The group began at once.

It was methodical, calculating, and a blissful distraction.

“Forty-six,” we chanted, marching in sync.

“Forty-seven.”