Page 47 of Cursed By the Dawn

Without a word, he grabbed my hand. Together we extended our arms, channeling our shadow magic into a barrier, wrapping it around the dreamers as their own shadows urged them forward. The strain hit me instantly—a deep, biting ache that made my bones feel like stalks of wheat. It was like being underwater and desperately needing a breath, like running with weighted shoes. Still, I poured everything I had into it. Erebus did the same, his energy intertwining with mine, reinforcing the barrier as steam and flame crashed against it. We halted in place, huddling together as the last of the dreamers ran toward safety.

“They’re almost out,” he said excitedly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Just a little longer. You’re doing so well.”

His hopeful words hit me hard, nearly crumbling what remained of my outwardly calm demeanor. It was impossible to not imagine him in chains, flames licking up his body as Raelion sat poised to sink his teeth into his neck. I wanted to hold him. To search his skin for burns and make sure he was truly okay. But the room gave us no mercy; the elements around us spiraled faster, collapsing inward as the chamber itself shuddered and cracked.

Keep it together, Esmer. It’s almost over.

“At my cue, we need to run,” Erebus urged, his voice tense but calm. “The shield might break, but don’t stop moving.”

For one breathless, fleeting moment, we stood rooted in place, everything unsaid hanging thickly between us. Chests heaving, straining to keep the barrier alive. Then, with a final fierce nod, we turned and ran as the barrier quivered—and slowly dissolved. The last few dreamers scrambled ahead of us, forms disappearing into the mist. Behind us, the chamber imploded, a wall of boiling steam and flames swallowing the space we’d just left.

Bursting into the open air, Erebus and I stumbled forward, drenched in sweat, our breaths ragged. We’d both grown stronger in the fire, in the darkness we had woven together to survive.

“Your dreamers are growing stronger,” crooned the voice in my head, “but you crave more.”

Dinner with the Weavers passed in a blur.

After discussing their notes about the trial and any updates on Noctis, Corruption, and the citadels—all which rushed past me like a torrential river—I quietly excused myself, quickly found the most unassuming exit, and started running.

“Run all you want,” the voice taunted.“It will not change what is already inside of you. What is waiting to come out.”

“Get out of my head!” I half shrieked, half gasped.

“Where else would I go?” the voice prodded.“I am already everywhere.”

“You arenowhere. You arenothing. Just a figment of my imagination,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.

The voice gave a low, scornful laugh, clearly mocking me.

Branches reached for my arms, desperate to slow me down, but I ignored them all and kept pushing. Faster. Faster.Faster.I was unraveling, and the Weavers would have no mercy. They’d see only the darkness within me, not my merit. It would undermine their fragile faith in Erebus’s leadership and every bold, courageous choice we’d made during the trials to ensure our dreamers’ safety. If they knew I harbored ademon—or a wicked spirit, whatever it was—they’d never remain our allies. No, they’d turn on us.

Attack us, even.

And if that happened, there would never be an end to Corruption.

Shadows surged up, eager to protect me from the encroaching trees, but they were too late. A sharp branch snagged my forearm, splitting the skin. Darkness dripped from the cut, sliding down my arm before curling into the air like smoke. I hissed in pain but kept running, avoiding both the dreamers’ quarters and training grounds.

I ran until I couldn’t run anymore.

Until my arm burned and cold tears streamed down my face.

The domain’s outer boundary was the blackened shore of the demon-infested Nocturne. I could go no farther. I halted with an angry sob, wishing more than anything that I could dive beneath the sea’s dark waves and scrub it clean. Scrubmyselfclean, too. It was evening, which meant the sky was a shade of deep, bruising plum and filled with millions of silver-bright stars. Still, not even starlight was reflected in the inky waters.

The Nocturne was a rich, muted black; no light in, no light out.

I collapsed on the shoreline, scarcely feeling the damp sand as it soaked the dress I’d donned for dinner. Had the Nocturne been fully functioning, the shoreline would have been beautiful: soft, pillowy sand and iridescent seashells of all shapes and sizes. Instead, the ancient sea of dreams stretched before me in a taunting, nightmarish sweep. My chest felt tight—too full. Toooverwhelmed. The fate of humanity rested on my shoulders. I was the Dream Realm’s final hope.

And if I failed to reclaim Citadel Evernight and destroy Raelion, all would be lost.

“There is another way,” the voice said.“I can give you the power you seek.”

When the voice first spoke to me, I didn’t assume it was malicious. I had even wondered if it might be the Maker guiding me. But now it felt vile, a sharp, jagged nail behind my ears.

“There isn’t another way. Be gone.”

“I have something you want,” the voice urged. It was fainter now, a dull ache instead of a roar.

I want nothing of yours, I thought back.