Page 66 of Cursed By the Dawn

I commanded the shadows, now stronger than they’d ever been, across the Nocturne, settling over its surface like a shroud. Then I willed the shadows to rise. Topull. At first, the Nocturne merely quivered, its water as dark and as poisoned as ever. But then, almost miraculously, the ancient sea of dreams submitted to my call. Shadows, darker than midnight, began to rise from the water, reinforcing my power like a coat of armor over a frail, mewling lamb.

Slowly,slowly, the Nocturne was transforming back to its original form.

As it revived, my power only grew, swirling around the Dream Realm as far as the eye could see. The Weavers and my Shadow Legion were even more jubilant now, some openly crying and shouting with relief. At this rate, Raelion wouldn’t be able to withstand us.

Not with this kind of force.

Citadel Evernight rumbled in time with the Nocturne, shivering as though it, too, relished being purified. It shook again, and this time part of its walls fell into the Nocturne with a violentcrash. I hesitated, not wanting to destroy Evernight and not sure how much more it could take.

“It can be rebuilt,” Theia urged, her voice ringing clearly even over the din. “Keep pushing, Esmer!”

Shadows were raging across Evernight now, making it hard to see clearly. My limbs felt numb, my wings too heavy. It was growing harder to focus, but I couldn’t give up now. We were almost there.

I’m almost there.

I commanded another wave of darkness to rise from the Nocturne, crying out from the effort. Evernight shook violently at the impact; I couldn’t see clearly as more of it crashed into the waves.

“Back away!” I shouted, blanching in horror. “It’s going to fall!”

The Weavers and my legionnaires flew back at once, but some didn’tmake it out fast enough. I heard a few screams, a few shrieks for help. Frantically, I drew more darkness away from the citadel, clearing the air. If we couldn’t see it, we wouldn’t be able to dodge the rubble as it fell. But no matter how hard I tried, Evernight’s stormy darkness only gathered together more violently, swirling around its highest peaks. It seemed to grow in size, in shape, in stature, lifting above us and forcing us back. With a final explosive shake, the citadel leaned forward, about to crash into the Nocturne.

But then it righted itself.

Began to shake itself off andrise.

Spires became horns, windows reddened and became eyes, and the island became a great armored body.

“Esmer,” Raelion greeted, his voice a terrible rumbling storm. His words echoed across the Dream Realm, forcing the Nocturne to tremble. “You have given me a gift. I will not soon forget this day.”

And then he opened his mouth.

Caged between Raelion’s jaws was Evernight’s Dream Temple. A great fire was burning within it, sending smoke drifting between his teeth. And there in the middle, perched above his serpent tongue, was Mithras.

Mithras’s eyes were ruby jewels, smoking with the same fire that burned within Raelion’s.

“Like calls to like. The darkness recognizes it is home,” Raelion rumbled, and it was no longer just Raelion speaking—it was Mithras, too. Combined, they were identical to the voice inside my head. “Together, we will remake the world.”

Seven huge chains sprang from Raelion’s body, tipped with long, brutal spears. Each quickly found its home in a Weaver’s chest, piercing through their sternums and wrapping around their wings.

“No!” I screamed.

The sound was torn out of me, raw and high and useless.

The Weavers fought to escape, thrashing violently, but the chains could not be shaken. Raelion’s arms—too numerous to count—ripped free from the earth where they were hidden, grasping dreamers as they, too, tried to fight. To flee. To do anything at all. I tried to harness theshadows, willing them to rise and overtake Raelion, but they wouldn’t move. Something inside me was screaming—or perhapsIwas screaming. Not words, just pure, wild panic.

No.No.

Something was dying deep within me, something soft and sacred. I couldn’t catch my breath. My stomach turned to ice, then fire, then something worse—something that wept and thrashed. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. It was like staring into the face of death, except this was more than death.

This was desecration.

“We will claim all the world has to offer; the pleasures of the flesh and the pleasures of the incorporeal,” Raelion snarled, his voice all-consuming. “With your power, we will be unstoppable.” He snaked a claw around my chest, pinning me in place as he’d done with the other Weavers. I tried to meet his eyes, but there were hundreds of them, all gleaming wickedly through whorls of shadow, glass, and bone. When I flinched, Raelion’s mouth lifted into a smile. I could almost see Mithras inside his maw again, but not quite. “I no longer wish to wear your skin, Shadow Weaver, so do not squirm. As the one who can magnify my power, I need you alive.”

“Then take me,” I begged, sobbing through clenched teeth. I felt as if I were falling inside my own body. As if I were fracturing. “Take me and let the others go.”

My legionnaires were scrambling to escape, but he had gathered most of them now, netting them with my own shadows. He was working through me, bending my will to his own. The shadows trembled, resisting valiantly, but he was able to gather enough to serve his needs.

Raelion’s mouth lifted again, the curve of it all wrong. “Oh, but I already have you.”