Page 67 of Cursed By the Dawn

Cries of pain filled the air, agonized, panicked, begging. They scraped against my ears like shards of metal, making me feel lightheaded. Blood. There was so much blood. Shadow-tinged blood. Fire-tinged blood. Blood of every Weaver. Of every dreamer.

We’d lost. We’dlost.

I could feel Raelion’s twisted magic running through me, using my power as he deemed fit. When he was just in my head, it had been difficult to shut him out; he’d coaxed the darkest desires from the depths of my soul, encouraging me to live out the most depraved parts of myself. To be strong, brave, and utterly, entirely cruel. But now that he was in front of me, curling a massive claw around my waist as if he owned me, it was impossible to deny Raelion’s influence.

The other Weavers were still desperately fighting against their chains. Fenrir had become an inferno, erupting thick, vicious flames down the chains. For a moment, the metal glowed red-hot, smoking as the flames cut deeper. But in an instant, they were back to normal, completely untouched. They could not be broken. And then there was Nephthys, her beautiful face contorted in anguish. She sent a blast of ice my way, and for a moment, I thought she’d aimed it at Raelion’s claw. I tensed, hoping she’d strike true, but a blink later and it was very clear that she wasn’t aiming at Raelion at all.

No, she was aiming her ice-coated blades atme.

A dozen thin, deadly spikes careened toward my exposed face and armored chest.

My breath caught as I realized what was happening.

She’s trying to kill me.

I mentally reached for my shadows, commanding them to protect me, but my tether on them had already snapped. Raelion was in complete control now, and I was at his mercy. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the worst; but then Raelion simply covered me with another claw, blocking me from the impact. The twelve icy spikes shattered as soon as they touched him, completely harmless. Raelion truly had become more god than demon. He was Citadel Evernight, he was the land that stretched beneath the Nocturne, and he was the shadows that were both poisoned and purified.

And now he’d captured the Weavers and the only legionnaires who stood a chance at defeating him.

Mylegionnaires.

The dreamers who trusted me to keep them safe. The dreamers who had died to be where they were in this moment. Ceveon and Sorren were struggling mightily against Raelion’s claws and the tempest of shadow he kept slamming down upon their backs. They were like rag dolls in a tornado, wings ripping apart, skin breaking, and clothes tearing. Some dreamers were trying to flee; some were trying to fight. Others still were trying to reachme. I screamed at them to run. Fly. Save themselves.

Doanythingbut save me.

“Traitor!” Nephthys screeched. She thrashed against her chains, her great sapphire wings beating furiously behind her, but it was useless. “Look at how he protects her!”

“He’s protecting me because he wants my power!” I shouted back, tears streaming cold lines down my face. “I would never betray you!”

Raelion laughed; it was a deep, rumbling sound that rattled my bones and made me want to scream.

It was over.

The thought dropped like a stone, dull and final, and everything inside me cracked around it.

I had failed. Eden, Elliot. Mother, Father. The Weavers. The dreamers.Erebus.Every name was a blade, sinking in slow and deep. I had carried them with me like torches in the dark, standing at the edge of the abyss and believing I could defeat it. But now the abyss was laughing. Now it wore fire in its eyes and chains in its hands.

My breath came in shallow gasps, ragged and useless. If only I’d been stronger, more adept at resisting Raelion’s call. If only I’d waited. For Maker’s sake, if only I’d listened toMithras. I let out a quiet sob. Like the sound a soul makes when it starts to go quiet inside. When it realizes no one is coming.

“This isn’t the end, Weavers!” Lelantos shouted, his voice like thunder.“Fight!”

But in a blink, the Weavers’ power shattered.

Fenrir’s inferno turned to a pathetic hiss of smoke, just as Nephthys’storrent of ice melted to a slow, steady drizzle. Ceres’s rocks crumbled; Lelantos’s great winds immediately died. Even the triumvirate of time Weavers, though ancient and powerful, were reduced to nothing. Time couldn’t be manipulated, nor could it be weaponized.

The chains were draining them of their magic and channeling it elsewhere.

Somnus cursed the demons, Fenrir cursed the Maker, and Xander cursed our vain efforts. Ceres cried, Nephthys raged, and Lelantos howled. Theia was silent, hands clasped as if in prayer.

Raelion opened his jaws, teeth as sharp as blades and grin as deadly as lightning. At once, the Dream Realm quieted. Mithras walked to the edge of Raelion’s mouth, ruby eyes bright and smoking. When he smiled, it was eerily similar to Raelion’s. And when he spoke, they were one and the same.

“We are the future, the makers of a world that deserves to be remade in our image,” Mithras and Raelion said at once. Raelion’s voice rumbled under Mithras’s; the effect was terribly disconcerting. The Weavers collectively shuddered; horror, revulsion, and shock splayed across their faces. Something in the combined weight of their words rendered the Weavers unable to speak. “The forgotten who have toiled in the dark for too long. The monsters left to rot in the incorporeal.”

The claw around my waist tightened, and Raelion lifted me so that I was level with Mithras.

“We will rise. We will conquer. Nevermore will the Maker be your god. Nevermore will we permit your souls pleasure and life.” Mithras’s red eyes flickered. For a brief, unbelievable moment, I almost thought he was crying. But that couldn’t be right.

“And—”