Page 49 of Cursed By the Dawn

Erebus raised a brow. “No one else?”

“No one but you,” I clarified, heat rising to my temples despite the circumstances. “It spoke of my family—and of you. Of what it could do if I didn’t listen. It’s sentient, Erebus.”

The faintest hint of worry flickered in his eyes, though his face largely remained impassive. “This voice, whatever it claims, is no god over you.” He leaned in, armor grazing my shoulder as he cradled my injured arm. His voice was low, unwavering. “Esmer, there is nothing in this world or the next that will touch you without facing me first. No nightmare, no demon, no force in existence will ever claim you so long as I still breathe.”

“Erebus—”

A quiet cough broke the moment. Erebus and I turned together, instincts sharp.

Ceveon was leaning casually against a tree near the beach, amusement glittering in his green eyes. Sorren stood beside him, less amused and more quietly concerned.

“And to think it took me five hundred years before witnessing our prince of shadows waxing poetic,” Ceveon teased. His tone was light, but there was a thread of relief beneath it, as though he’d been holding his breath. “I truly hate to break up such a beautiful moment, but we needed to check on you two.”

Sorren nodded, expression wary as he noticed my injury. “You both bolted from the castle like demons were chasing you.”

“Not exactly subtle.” Ceveon pushed off from the tree, stepping closer. “I had to make quite the creative excuse for your graceless exit, by the way. The Weavers were perplexed but fortunately didn’t ask too many questions.”

They joined Erebus and me on the sand, stretching their legs andpeering wistfully at the Nocturne. Their obvious concern made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t known I needed. I wasn’t alone in my fear; these three were here, willing to stand with me, even if they couldn’t truly understand the depths of what haunted me.

Still, I needed to try to make them see.

“Have either of you been hearing things lately?” I asked, desperate to believe that my darkness wasn’t mine alone to bear. “A voice that calls to you in your darkest moments?”

Sorren immediately nodded. “Of course. I’ve been haunted by a voice for centuries. It’s a rather miserable one, too.”

My stomach dropped.

If Sorren can hear the voice, too, that changes everything.

“We’ve all felt something strange,” Ceveon offered. “Whispers of doubt. Sometimes I think that’s how the darkness finds its way in. Through the cracks it senses in us.”

“You’re both so unbothered by it,” I noted, drawing further within myself. I truly didn’t understand how they both exuded such confidence. The voice I’d been hearing, the voice that felt as though it could be Raelion, was terrifying. Was I just weak? “How are you not scared?”

Ceveon shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse. Such as hearing Erebus’s snores through his open balcony. Maker, those were awful days. Awfulcenturies. I’d try to yell at him, but my voice didn’t come out right until you first set foot in his domain, Esmer.”

Erebus looked scandalized. “I don’t snore.” Then, almost betraying himself, he cut a glance toward me, his melodic voice dipping low. “Do I?”

“You don’t,” I answered. “But you do make other noises.”

Ceveon and Sorren erupted into surprised laughter. Erebus muttered something unintelligible behind his hand, clearly trying—and failing—to hide the blush rising to his pale cheeks. For a moment, the tension among us softened, easy and golden. But the weight of what I’d admitted earlier pressed into my shoulders, refusing to be forgotten.

I shook my head, the smile slipping from my lips.

“The voice feels sentient,” I told Ceveon and Sorren, steering us back to what mattered. “Like a demon wanting to break in. How do you shut it out?”

“What a fitting comparison.” Sorren chuckled. “I suppose my cynical thoughts do feel like a metaphoric demon breaking in. I should try locking the door next time.”

“I’ll try that, too,” Ceveon added with a grin. “Maybe if we pretend it’s not there, it’ll just go away.”

Oh. They thought it was merely doubt—my inner voice preying on my fear. They didn’t know the true depths of my burden. The way the voice dug in like claws, promising power but threatening to take away all I held dear. I fell silent, skin growing cold.

“I don’t think she’s speaking metaphorically,” Erebus said slowly, much to Sorren’s and Ceveon’s dawning horror.

“Ah,” Sorren noted, brow furrowing. “Well, then, that is deeply concerning.”

“Does it feel like Corruption?” Ceveon asked in earnest.

I shuddered. “Could that even happen? I’m aWeaver. There’s no demon hunting me.”