He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
The Shadow Bringer staggered to where he had left her. The chamber was undisturbed, a shadowed cathedral with a living sacrifice at its altar. Esmer’s hair, so dark it was nearly black, curled over the stone.
She was beautiful.
He had resisted thinking—or feeling—as much, but he couldn’t deny it. Hadn’t been able to since he’d first met her. In a different time, perhaps he would have told her.
Except—
Was that her brow tensing, her mouth twisting into a grimace? He blinked again, struggling in vain to rip the image from his sight. When Esmer had first closed her eyes, sinking into the oblivion he had so carefully prepared for her, he imagined he would feel hope. Relief. Triumph. He had theorized that she’d be able to replace him in his castle, that the curse keeping him imprisoned would allow her to remain there in his place while he hunted Mithras down and shoved a blade through the traitor’s heart. Esmer had his magic, after all.
But the tomb door wouldn’t open, and a deep, roiling pit of regret and self-hatred was beginning to eat him alive. If he didn’t join her in the Dream Realm, it would consume him, body and soul.
He lowered himself next to her, folding his hands over his waist. Perhaps he’d regret this. He was returning to his prison, after all. But his will to see her again and the rage he felt for Mithras were stronger than his will to succumb to his circumstances.
And so he closed his eyes.
The Shadow Bringer stole the glass from her lips, placing it against his own.
Around them, the inn was a cacophony of laughter and conversation, but he scarcely noticed. He was more focused on Esmer and her ability to create such delicious food and drink out of nothing. She had done well—surprisingly, wonderfully well—for someone without any formal instruction. What she had accomplished took most dreamers several years at Citadel Evernight to fully master.
It was strange to feel this way. To smile and for it to be true.
He took a long drink, longer than he should have, letting the warm, unfamiliar feeling settle back into his stomach with the rest of the wine.
Esmer had saved him.
She fought for his life and his redemption, even in the face of the demon, and had emerged victorious. He clung to her, still damp from where she had pulled him from the water. His vision was smeared, thoughts torn beyond recognition. Vaguely, he felt his hand drop into her lap.
He did not move it.
Esmer’s eyes reflected the stars.
Dark and rimmed in artful gray, they shone brightly, brilliantly—at him. Even masked, they held power.
She was stronger than she realized. The shadows listened to her, heeded her will and her spirit. Even now, the darkness inside him sang to the darkness inside her.
The Shadow Bringer danced with her as he instinctively knew how, the precise memory of lessons having long faded from his mind. He worried that he would forget the steps, the rhythm, the sequence. That he would forget what it was like to lose himself to music. But their movements were natural. Easy. He could lose himself in this dance, this music, this night.
He could lose himself in her.
But as he looked back into her eyes, to that power lingering there, his wonder became clouded by doubt. She could not—would not—be his. Not in this broken world. He first had to change the future.
He had to change it for her.
The memories snapped away.
I was back in the Shadow Bringer’s arms, held high over the Nocturne.
“What was that?” I whispered. The words trembled. The emotions of his memories had overpowered me, grabbing ahold of my own with taloned claws. “I saw you—Iwasyou.”
“That was the power of the Nocturne. Or Somnus. I don’t know why those memories were shared. I…” His mouth worked open and shut, words failing to come just as a gentle wave of vulnerability swept in, breaking in the depths of his eyes. “I saw you, too. Your home in Norhavellis. What happened five years ago with your sister, Eden.” He cupped my face, gently stroking my cheek. I nearly shattered at the touch—and the compassion in his tone. He didn’t blame me; he neverwould. “The elixir shortage. The Corruption of your parents and what you had to do to survive.”
We had wanted to share, I realized.Wantedto share these memories—these raw, broken fragments—with each other. Remnants of his emotions spilled over, running down my face. Loneliness, anger, desperation. But also trust. Courage. Longing. They bubbled up in my heart, sank deep into my skin.
“Then you’ll know I intend to continue surviving. And I want you to survive, too,” I said seriously, and I knew he understood. “We need to see this dream through until the end.”
“In a few moments, I will step into the Nocturne. Just as the dawn breaks, I will sink my hands into its waters,” he said, regarding me fiercely. “I will try to purify it, just as Mithras and I planned. I will try to tear away the dark, just as I did in the demon’s stomach. But I will fail.”
