Page 98 of Cursed By the Dawn

A raging fire that would surely force a chain reaction of grim events.

Fortunately, the Revelers seemed unaware that the couple they’d demonized upon their citadel’s tapestry were walking in their midst. They barely spared Erebus and me a glance as we circled the room, trying to blend in. But even masked and in matching golden finery, the other Weavers were difficult to miss. They were simply too beautiful—too otherworldly. Fenrir and Nephthys were dancing, laughing into each other’s necks. Ceres and Lelantos were lingering by the food, balancing plates stacked with various confections. Theia was alone, snaking through the crowd on her way to Mithras. She would command the room, decrying his treachery while the rest of us prepared to strike. And Somnus and Xander were near the gilded platform at the center of the room, likely engrossed in a thrilling conversation about the details of Mithras’s demise. Xander advocated for a quick, clean death. Somnus insisted on something more creative.

The ultimate decision, however, would fall to Erebus and me.

And after Mithras was slain, we’d hastily descend upon the Dream Realm and finish Raelion in his incorporeal form. He’d be weak after his physical host was killed; it would be no different than fighting a regular demon.

Erebus tensed beside me.

“There he is,” Erebus growled.

Mithras was atop the central platform, unmasked and garbed in silk that gleamed like fire. The cape he wore, impossibly long and glossy, mirrored the one I’d seen within the citadel’s tapestry, and his pauldrons, carved with lions and suns, seemed almost identical to the ones KingGabriel’s skeleton still wore. His hair flowed in perfect, shining waves to just above his shoulders, complementing his tanned, almost glowing skin. He wore a large golden crown, and his teeth were white and pristine as hesmiledat the Weaver who had just joined him on the platform.

Theia?

The Weaver of the Future was also garbed in gold, though her dress’s fabric was more translucent and floating than the thick silk Mithras wore. It shimmered as she moved, reminiscent of sunlight. Her pale throat, arms, and ankles were adorned in jewelry, and it chimed pleasantly when she lifted her hands or bent her feet. Mithras murmured into her silver hair as though they were close confidants.

Or lovers, even.

My stomach dropped; Erebus’s entire body began to shake.

A Reveler stepped in front of us, blocking our view.

“Silas,” I said quickly. “Why is Theia—” I clamped my mouth shut. Silas’s eyes, normally a warm, friendly brown, were tinged with red.

“You’re a demon?” Erebus snarled, drawing me behind him. “How many others are there?”

A smile slithered across Silas’s mouth, impossibly cold and cruel.

“Soon we willallbe demons,” Silas growled. “Do you know how many powerful demons are eagerly awaiting their hosts?” He gave a short, barking laugh. “The entire kingdom will soon bear witness to an incredible transformation. You cannot stop it.”

“I recognize you now,” Erebus said, his voice laced with dawning horror. “You were a dreamer at Evernight—a dreamer without an assigned Weaver. You had a sister, didn’t you? A twin.”

My heart sank.

Aris?

“Don’t speak of Aris,” Silas roared. The red warred mightily with the brown in his eyes; if his soul was still within, he was fighting. “And don’t look at me with your disgusting pity. I am no longer that foolish mortal who bartered his own life to save his sister’s. I am Raelion’s second-in-command. Estaroth.”

BOOM!

The domed ceiling began to unfurl on all sides like the petals of some great flower.

Cold morning air whipped around us as the ceiling and then the walls peeled back, exposing us to both the rising dawn in the east and the enormous crowd watching below the citadel to the west. For a breath, all was quiet. It was as though all Noctis had gathered in Istralla to witness this moment—the victory of their glorious Light Bringer against the encroaching dark. The crowd appeared endless, a radiant sea of gold banners, hopeful smiles, and clasped hands.

They were ready for change.

They were ready todream.

“Welcome to the Revel of Dawn,” Mithras declared, throwing his arms wide as he greeted his adoring subjects. The silence magnified his voice. It echoed over the shimmering buildings as though he were the Maker Himself. “We are here today to celebrate the end of Corruption. No longer will you endure the pain of watching your loved ones suffer. No longer will you be denied the right to a peaceful slumber.”

I squinted, trying to see more clearly.

The crowd’s hands weren’t clasped—they were eachholdingsomething.

A small vial.

Mithras held up his own goblet of sparkling liquid. “To Noctis. To our great and glorious future.”