Page 61 of Cursed By the Dawn

Raelion.

I bade him to stop the image at once, hiding my discomfort with a question for Theia.

“Somnus’s visions are distorted and Xander’s visions are hidden. Canyouprovide any clarity on our path?” I asked, growing frustrated. Everything was so dire. We needed to move, and we needed to move quickly. “What is the best way to retake Evernight and restore the Nocturne? Can you see what our future holds?”

“I have never been permitted to see the one true future,” Theia explained, her voice clear and lovely but haunted by a spectral quality. “Only variations and pathways. Imagine you are standing in front of a forest after a terrible drought. You must light one tree on fire, and the tree you choose must lend itself to the least possible damage to the rest of the forest. Which tree will it be? How can you possibly know? The forest stretches before you for miles; you can see some of it, but not all. And when the fire starts, how will you peer through the smoke to know if you picked the right path?” Theia shook her head. “It is a little like that. But I will try.”

She raised her hands, summoning a vision of her own atop the table. It was a chaotic kaleidoscope of images, spinning on its axis like a diamond with one thousand facets. It was difficult to discern one image from the next, but one thing was certain: The futures that were dark and full of despair far outnumbered the futures that were hopeful. In fact, I couldn’t pick out one single image that wasn’t filled with screaming villagers, demonic faces, and blood-soaked streets.

My stomach churned.

Where are you, Elliot? Wait for me, please. I’m coming.

“Enough,” I said roughly. “I’ve seen enough.”

Theia nodded grimly, waving the images away. “Do you understand what I mean now? The future is convoluted.”

“What future? There is no future,” Ceres said incredulously. Her headpiece today was a labyrinth of horns, leaves, and small creatures—a few mice, two birds, and what looked like a bat with moss green fur. They all hid at her outburst, trembling underneath the leaves. Nephthys squeezed her hand, immediately offering support, but the animals did not appear again. “Maker, save us.”

“The Maker issilent,” Fenrir snapped, eyes blazing with twin flames. “He left us the moment the Nocturne filled with darkness.”

“The Maker did not leave us,” Xander said coldly. “He’s rather busy suffocating on the demons that have infested the Dream Realm.”

“And even through His suffering, He gave us our Shadow Weavers,” Theia added. “We aren’t meant to force the right path. I can only interpret what I can, and my interpretations have assured me that we should be doing everything in our power to retake Evernight.” Theia folded her hands in front of her, bracelets chiming pleasantly. “What I do know, however, is that all the paths toallfutures are lined with your shadows, Esmer. Your power is pivotal.”

A warm ember sparked in my chest at the unexpected compliment, but it quickly curdled. I wasn’t worthy of her praise. Not anymore.

“I thoughtMithraswas pivotal,” Fenrir noted. “But look what happened to him. Noctis’s golden, immortal ruler is now as silent as our creator.”

“It doesn’t bode well,” Xander said simply, crossing his arms. “He was our eyes when we could not see.”

“Mithras’s eyes are likely gone,” Somnus suggested. The Weavers turned to stare at him, mouths agape. Only Fenrir kept his composure. “Plucked out by the demons infesting his kingdom.”

“You don’t think he’s dead?” Lelantos queried, aghast.

Somnus offered an elegant shrug. “How else would you explain his silence? I am simply stating the obvious. He is not one to abandon us now.”

I considered telling them what I knew about Mithras.

But if I told them about Mithras—that I had visited Citadel Evernight in a dream—they would have questions. And they couldn’t know about the voice inside my head. Nor could they discover what I had done to Erebus.

Not yet, at least.

The Dream Realm was crumbling, the Nocturne was poisoned, Noctis was infested with Corruption, and Elliot was in the hands of a monstrous man who happened to be ensnared in the middle of Raelion’s lair. I knew what had to be done, even if the Weavers didn’t. Even if they one day despised me for what I was about to make them do.

Because if we didn’t move now, we’d perish.

Somnus motioned toward the wavering map of Noctis that floated above the table. It immediately filled with a teeming, violent darkness: Corruption clawing its way across the kingdom like an inescapable plague. Another image swiftly replaced it: Citadel Evernight, albeit a distorted version, but it was the best replica he could manage. Somnus carried on, “Enough of this meaningless speculation. We need to discuss the final training for your dreamers, Esmer. The labyrinth test will replicate the conditions we expect to encounter at Evernight—”

“My legion will not participate in the final test,” I interrupted. Somnus’s face twisted in displeasure, but I continued on, unshaken. Shadows surged around the room in a deadly tempest, exhilarated at the promise of battle. “We need to move on Evernight. Immediately.”

For a breath, the Weavers simply stared at me.

“There is no time, and it is impossible to replicate a situation we cannot even fathom,” I continued, barreling on before I lost my nerve. Fortunately, I felt anything but weak. Desperate and shameful, perhaps, and certainly filled with rage toward the demons that had taken everything from me, but not weak. “You yourselves have said as much. If we move on Evernight now, we will either succeed or we won’t. But if we don’t succeed, we can still glean important knowledge from the effort, rethink our strategies, and try again quickly. If we wait any longer to strike, we might only have one opportunity to do so.”

“She’s right,” Ceveon said firmly, quickly declaring his assent. He was the only one in the room who looked mildly proud, though Fenrir and Theia were also nodding enthusiastically. “If we partake in Somnus’s final labyrinth, we’d be preparing the dreamers for a hypothetical that might not even happen. They have the basic skills needed to survive; we’ve done as much as we can to train them with the impossible timeline we’ve been given. Anything more and we’d just be wasting time.”

“And does Erebus agree?” Somnus inquired.