I bit the inside of my mouth. It was now or maybe never.
“What if we didn’t take it—just once?” I made a face at the vial in her hands. “We’ll say a prayer to the Weavers. They could hear and protect us.” I barreled on, knowing if I stopped talking, I’d lose the courage to continue. “If it’s scary, we won’t do it again. We can take the elixir like we always do.”
Eden bit her thumb, considering. “Is it truly worth it, though? We could see a demon.”
“Then we will do what we’ve been taught. Run and force ourselves awake before the demon can touch us.” I threw off my blanket, a wicked plan forming. “Let’s pour the elixir in our cider. The color will hide it perfectly.”
“Only once?”
“Only once,” I agreed. “Think of what we’ll see in the Dream Realm, what we’lldo.”
Butoncebecame a word forgotten.
At first the dreams were beautiful, bursting with adventure and wonder. The visions made us feel alive, as if we had a purpose beyond our desolate village in the middle of the woods. They gave us nights to cherish after dull, chore-filled days and our mother’s tedious rules. But one day, for Eden, the dreams weren’t any of those things. They weren’t beautiful, lovely, or safe. They became what we were warned against: dark and festering with the Shadow Bringer’s demons.
Her Corruption came quickly.
Too quickly to prevent.
Alone after her funeral, I stifled a scream into my pillow, sobs racking my chest. I was selfish. Horrible.Unforgivable.The Shadow Bringer hadn’t been real—not truly—until he was.
And by then it was too late.
Five Years Later
As a child, I thought Norhavellis felt like home.
The moment our daily chores were finished, Eden and I would run, flush faced and laughing, through the shadows of the Visstill Forest and into the friendly and predictably safe arms of our village. We’d lay a blanket in the grass under some tree or another, fresh bread with a dollop of honey in hand, and simply watch for travelers on their way to Noctis’s seaside capital of Istralla.
We didn’t often have visitors, but those we encountered were always interesting. Merchants with their goods—we liked to imagine they carried treasure fit for the Light Bringer himself—tucked away in heavy trunks; legionnaires with their profiles—we liked to imagine they were handsome—covered by their golden masks; or even the rare traveling troupe on its way to perform at Istralla’s theater. It was a feast for our imaginations. We’d lie back on our elbows and daydream, wondering what it would be like to travel the kingdom ourselves. Sometimes this mental exercise proved difficult; what opportunities, if any, truly awaited us? But we fantasized, anyway.
In my memories, Norhavellis is sweet smelling and gentle, not harsh and cloying like a dead thing left to molder in the rain. But that memory faded, and I was left with only the weight of the present.
I pulled my cloak tighter, the dark red velvet heavy on my shoulders despite its tattered edges. The hood hung low, casting shadows on my face and shielding me from the chill in the air, but it couldn’t protect me from the foul stench that enveloped Norhavellis. It was more than just a scent; it was decay of the mind, body, and spirit. My village was filled with filthy buildings, broken people, and the threat of Corruption that loomed like a storm, ready to burst and drown us all.
A grim transformation, indeed.
I knocked on the chipped door of a small cottage, careful to make as little sound as possible.
“I don’t think she’s home,” Elliot whispered, shifting on his feet and narrowly avoiding the thin string of bells staked low to the ground. It was early evening, so his boyish face was more shadowed than usual. “Maybe we should just come back tomorrow morning. It’s getting dark.”
I thumbed the vials of elixir in my pocket, reassuring myself that they were still there. Elliot and I wore full-length cloaks that partially hid our hair and faces. If we were recognized while distributing the final dregs of elixir on behalf of our Absolver parents, we’d be swarmed by demon-fearing Norhavellians. Typically, the villagers would accept the elixir that we held, bartering their animals, their crop, and their services for extra vials. But lately, they demanded more.Questionedmore.
Because Corruption was spreading in droves, regardless of how much elixir was consumed.
“Let’s give her a minute,” I whispered back. “Maybe she’s just—”
Behind the door came the sound of sliding chains and a rattling lock. The door creaked back on its hinges, revealing a blond woman, eyes sunken and thin hair brittle, and her two young children. She was Margaret, the blacksmith’s wife, but it took a moment for the recognition to set in. Never before had she looked so miserable or disheveled.
“You came,” Margaret squeaked, aimlessly caressing both her skirt and her children’s misshapen hair. The twins were young—perhaps only three or four. “I didn’t know if you’d come. The village can be a dangerous place at night.”
I swallowed uncomfortably. Of course it was. Locks on doors, warning bells threaded, dogs on guard, and hollow-faced men and women sitting on their dark porches with crossbows in hand. Anything to keep their last elixir vials from being stolen.
“What do you think—aren’t the twins getting so big?” Margaret asked, peering down at her children. “Say hello, Matthew. Say hello, Isabelle.” Matthew’s face was a blank slate as he looked up at his mother; his lips mouthedhello, but the sound didn’t come. Isabelle simply buried her face within her mother’s skirts, whimpering softly. Elliot mouthedhello, too, and gave a little wave, but the children didn’t react. Margaret straightened, smiling nervously. “We were just on our way to the holding cells.”
“In that case, we won’t keep you. Here,” I said, offering her one of the slim vials in my pocket. “It will be enough for one week, even when shared. Just a small mouthful is fine.”
One week. Just enough to last them until the Light Legion came with their seasonal redistribution, which would be any day now. I smiled politely before turning around, intending to step off her porch as quickly as possible and return home for dinner. Elliot and I had been rushing around Norhavellis all afternoon, and our stomachs were pathetically empty.
