Page 85 of Cursed By the Dawn

Most were pale and still, almost as if they feared breaking the fragile veneer of the world around them. It was a dramatic contrast to the jubilant villagers just outside Firstlight’s walls. Even the guards stationed at each of Firstlight’s halls were unnervingly quiet. Their gold-and-ivory armor gleamed with the same unnatural brilliance as the walls, and their hollow gazes stalked us even after we’d turned a corner.

My stomach churned as we moved farther into the citadel. I couldn’t place the feeling, but something was wrong with these people—it was demonic, almost. Their faces seemed carved from wax, their smilespasted on like masks. It took every ounce of control I had not to reach for my dagger. Fortunately, our weapons hadn’t been removed.

“Keep moving,” Silas urged. “We’re going to see your brother first.”

The spiral staircase he led us to seemed endless, its steps carved from pure alabaster. Each step felt heavier than the last, my legs burning with exertion as tension coiled in my chest. The anticipation—and the fear—of seeing Elliot after all these years was a wolf prowling inside my throat. When we finally reached the top, Silas paused in front of a wooden door. The celestial carving etched into the frame pulsed faintly with golden light, and a soft hum resonated through the air, low and unnerving.

“He’s in here. Farthest cot from the door,” Silas said, his voice tight. “Be swift, please.”

I shoved past him, my trembling hands fumbling with the latch. The door creaked open, revealing a long, dimly lit room. The thick scent of incense hit me like a wave, acrid and overwhelming, as though it was trying to mask something rotting beneath. Rows of narrow cots lined the room, each one occupied by a boy who couldn’t have been older than fifteen or sixteen. They lay perfectly still, their faces unnaturally serene, like statues carved from flesh.

My heart hammered as I scanned the room.

“Elliot,” I gasped, my voice cracking.

My legs moved before I could think. Elliot looked so much older than I remembered. His jaw was sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. His hair, once a mess of curls, was neatly combed, framing a face that bore few traces of the boy I’d left behind.

I fell to my knees beside him, the cold stone floor biting through my clothes.

My hands hovered over him, trembling, afraid to touch.

“Elliot,” I whispered again, my voice cracking under the weight of his name. “It’s me. It’s Esmer. I’m here. Are you sleeping?”

When my fingers finally brushed his cheek, his skin was cold. Mystomach twisted violently. His chest rose and fell, but barely—just enough to keep hope alive.

“He won’t wake,” Silas said quietly from behind me. “I don’t recommend trying.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded, whirling around to face him. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s been put to sleep in preparation for tomorrow’s ceremony.”

“Then wake him up,” I snarled, disbelief and fury warring in my chest. “Wake him upnow.”

Elliot’s clothing suddenly seemed glaringly obvious. He wore cream-and-gold sleep clothes, with a familiar insignia embroidered over his heart. It was the same crest I’d seen on the guards, on the legionnaires, on the banners that lined the halls.

He was a member of the Light Legion now.

And his glorious lord, the leader he served, was amonster.

“I can’t,” Silas said simply. “All trainee Light Legionnaires and their supervising captains are in the Dream Realm. There are many preparations to make for tomorrow’s Revel.”

“Preparations?” Erebus mocked darkly. “You mean watching the Weavers writhe on their chains as the Dream Realm and Noctis become more Corrupt?”

Silas’s entire body tensed. “Lower your voice.” Then he said to me, softening, “He isn’t dead, Esmer. He’ll wake soon enough. Then you’ll get to hear all about his adventures these past five years. He’s done very well under our care.”

I clutched Elliot’s hand, his limp fingers a harsh reminder of how powerless I was. Time was cruel, but this fate was crueler. I’d vowed to protect Elliot no matter what.

But I’d failed.

I felt Erebus’s shadow settle over me, his hands firmly touching my back.

“You didn’t fail him,” he murmured into my hair, so soft that Silaswouldn’t be able to hear. “We will make good on your promise. We will not leave this citadel without him.”

I turned to Erebus, desperate for something to cling to. His pale skin and the black clothes he wore made him look like a storm in the middle of this golden nightmare, and I wanted to believe him. But the wrongness of this place pressed down on me like a wrought iron anchor, suffocating me.

A faint noise outside broke through the stillness: a clatter of metal boots, distant but growing louder.

Silas straightened, face sharp with alarm.