Page 71 of Cursed By the Dawn

Erebus stood, brushing his hands against his cloak. “Someone with wealth who, once upon a time, actually wanted us to live.”

We didn’t voice what we were both thinking.

Silenced by the impossibility of it.

Mithras.

But then my stomach dropped as I remembered. In my last dream with Mithras, hehadsaid he’d opened our tomb and left us enough supplies to travel to Istralla. But that was mere hours ago—and yet these supplies, these poor horses, appeared as though they’d been rotting for years. I shook my head, shuddering. I couldn’t feel Mithras’s presence,nor could I feel Raelion, but I didn’t want to tempt fate. Perhaps he was locked out of my mind for good.

Before departing from the tomb, we tried one final time to reenter the Dream Realm.

I curved my spine into Erebus’s chest, breathing slow and deep as he worked to guide us back. But no matter what we tried, the veil of dreams remained impenetrable. Once, I would have welcomed that boundary as a blessing.

Now it felt like a curse.

We changed quickly into our gifted clothes, Erebus opting to wear parts of his dilapidated armor over the traveling leathers. Our new cloaks were a welcome shield against the crisp air, padded thick with velvet and lined in soft black fur, and our boots were comfortable and warm.

There was only one path that led from the tomb; we followed it and did not look back.

It was a somber, quiet walk as we took in our surroundings. From what I could tell, it felt like winter on the cusp of spring; there were some plants sprouting in the undergrowth, and some trees were beginning to bloom green leaves, but the forest still held the unmistakable remnants of a harsh winter. There were hardly any birds or animals—no insects, for that matter—and snow still clung to its deepest corners. Before long, the faint marks of wagons and hooves became our guide toward the nearest village. The forest closed in on us as the afternoon stretched into the early evening, but time felt slippery, bending and warping in ways I couldn’t grasp. Had we truly been in the Dream Realm for ayear? It didn’t seem possible. And yet, everything that made up my compass—my instincts, my heart, my mind—was screaming at me to recognize the truth. Even though it was unbearable to consider Elliot alone for all that time.

Our plan was simple: reach Istralla as swiftly as possible, find Elliot, and confront Mithras. There was also the matter of the Weaver tombs. If we could locate their resting places under Citadel Firstlight and rousethem from their eternal slumber, perhaps we could loosen Raelion’s vicious grip on humanity’s dreams or even sever it entirely.

I’m coming for you, Elliot. No matter what it takes.

A village appeared just as night drifted upon us like a thick fog, blurring the edges of reality. Relief unfurled in my chest as I walked quicker, the thought of a warm bed and a roof overhead pushing aside my usual caution. Erebus matched my pace, his presence a steady, silent shadow at the edge of my vision.

“We’ll rest here tonight and get directions to Istralla,” I said, mostly to fill the silence. The capital—our destination—felt both impossibly distant and alarmingly close. “We should have plenty of gold for a meal and a bed. Horses, too.”

Erebus said nothing; he merely tightened his fingers on the edge of his cloak as he drew it farther over his head, shadowing the lines of his handsome face. The motion was subtle, but I caught the way his hands stiffened as he adjusted the fabric, as if trying to shield himself not just from the cold but from a far worse threat: recognition. That someone might remember his name. The one whispered in fear and in hatred. The name that still clung to him like a curse.

Shadow Bringer.

As we approached the village gates, our progress halted.

A group of men stepped forward, expressions grim beneath their flickering torches. They were armed, though their weapons were crude—wooden staffs, a rusted blade or two. Not trained soldiers, but capable enough that they’d fight back if pressed.

“Stop there,” the tallest of them called out, his voice loud and rough. “We need to check you both.”

“Check us?” I asked, clenching my fists. “For what?”

Erebus stiffened beside me, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword.

“For signs of Corruption,” the man clarified, his tone making it apparent he expected obedience. “Black lines in the skin or eyes. Can’t let anyone pass without inspection.” He spit on the ground, clearing hisvoice. “Maker help us if we take in any more Corrupt. The holding cells are already full.”

The mere mention of Corruption hit me like a cold wind, tugging at the edges of my composure. I glanced at Erebus, but his expression remained unreadable, his silence like a hidden blade. The men moved closer, their torches throwing long, jittering shadows across the dirt path. One of them, a scraggy figure with a nervous energy, raised his fire to my face.

“L-look up,” he ordered, gesturing sharply. Swallowing the retort that rose in my throat, I complied, lifting my chin so the glow caught my features. “If you’re hiding under a layer of concealment, we’ll know.”

The men inspected my eyes, my skin, even the bare flesh of my hands as though I might suddenly reveal some wicked truth. Meanwhile, Erebus looked as if he wanted to flay their fingers for every inch of me they dared to touch. When they moved to Erebus, I felt the tension between us shift. He lifted his chin without a word, his towering figure suddenly imposing under their scrutiny. The lantern light glinted off his black armor, and I could see the obvious flicker of unease in their eyes.

They didn’t make him remove his gloves, I noted.

“They’re both clear,” the leader muttered, gesturing to the gate. “Go on in, then. You’ll leave at dawn with the rest of us.”

“With the rest of you?” Erebus asked carefully. His voice was low and calm, but it carried an edge that made the men uncomfortable. “And where, exactly, would we follow you?”

“Go on your own, then,” the leader offered, exasperated. “But don’t expect us to show you the way. We have enough on our hands, and you seem plenty capable.”