A commander of demons? An immortal devourer of dreams?
The murderer of Eden, Mother, and Father?
In his current state, he looked no different than a weak, half-dead man who’d recently bathed in blood, sweat, and dirt. A man engulfed in sorrow and delusion. Moonlight filtered in from outside, casting the blackened walls in a strange, undulating light. It felt as though I was walking in a dream—not stepping into a grave in the middle of the Visstill—and I moved forward carefully, slowly descending each step as the Shadow Bringer knelt over the bones at his feet. I was halfway down the stairs when footsteps sounded from behind me. They were meandering and slow. Heavy in weight, as if their owner wanted to be heard. Hope leapt in my chest.The Light Bringer.
He strolled into the tomb, unmasked and partially armored, his golden hair made dull and dark by all the shadows. Still, his eyes glowed as if lit by some internal flame. The Shadow Bringer stood slowly and laid a hand on the tomb’s lower door. He took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself for something—as if to speak first. But his lips did not move.
“Esmer,” the Light Bringer announced in greeting, his low voice sinister. It sent shivers down my back. “Taking an evening stroll?”
I shifted uneasily. WhatwasI doing here? Everyone else had been put to sleep by the Bringer, and yet I had followed him into his tomb. Mithras may have had doubts about my allegiances before, but he’d entertain no excuses now.
“I thought I saw the Shadow Bringer take Elliot, my lord. I came here to rescue my brother.”
“Such bravery,” the Light Bringer said approvingly. “And would you be capable of saving your brother? Would you destroy the wicked Shadow Bringer with your bare hands?” He gestured toward my hands,which clearly held no weapons. “Quite impressive for a mere village girl. Your mother and father must have taught you well.”
Father had trained me in some things: tending animals, fixing fences. Basic archery and swordplay. Mother had, too. The proper way to heal cuts and bruises. How to read and start a fire. What oils to use in the finest—or most putrid, depending on what was available—perfumes. Which plants to use to season the barest of dishes. How to care for others. How to find the good in people, even when there appeared to be none.
How to hope for a better future despite the darkness surrounding us. But neither my father nor mother had taught me how to deal with a situation like this.
“Oh, and the Shadow Bringer. A pleasure to see you in the flesh after so long.” Mithras directed his attention away from me, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “Did your guilt wake you from your sleep? Or was it the screams of every poor soul you’ve ever killed?”
The Shadow Bringer faced Mithras head-on, rage and exhaustion shadowing his eyes in equal measure.
“Perhaps it was my will to finally be free,” he answered at last, his tone matching Mithras’s.
“Then you are delusional. Do your delusions speak to you? Do they appear to you as ghosts? Perhaps they take the form of those two skeletons at your feet.” The Light Bringer descended the stairs quickly despite the dark. I backpedaled, twisting to avoid him so he could reach the Shadow Bringer more easily.
But instead of heading past me, Mithras went straight forme, grabbing me by my wrists and slamming me against the stairwell. “Eager to meet your fate, are you?” he snarled. “Thenembraceit.”
I thrashed against him. Wherever his hands touched, itburned. His skin was fire made physical, a flame with a body and a voice. My bones were melting, heating to a warm, pulpy liquid under his touch.
“You will regret hurting her,” the Shadow Bringer warned, tone like ice.
“I am a reasonable man,” Mithras said to me, ignoring the Shadow Bringer and clenching my wrists tighter. Heat was spreading, spiraling into my forearms. For a moment, his eyes flashed a rich, bloody red. “I considered giving you mercy—a chance to redeem yourself after the wicked display from your mother and father. But I have again found you consorting with the devil himself. A devil who calls ghouls his friends.” He let go of me then, causing me to tumble the rest of the way down.
The Shadow Bringer rushed to meet me, ready to tend to my wrists, but the fire had no lasting effects; my bones were pain free and whole.
“And to think you were so eager for me to kill him.” Mithras made a sound of utter disdain. “How disappointing.”
“Idowant him killed,” I insisted, eliciting a look of cold rage from the Shadow Bringer.
“No, you don’t,” the Shadow Bringer urged. “Remember what you’ve seen. Who youare. Your presence alone urged me to wake up. I could feel your call. You’re like me—”
“I am nothing like you,” I snapped, taking a pointed step away from him and toward the Light Bringer. “My lord, I—”
“He is no lord.I would tear that word from your lips if I could,” said the Shadow Bringer.
Mithras laughed. “You are a wretched stain on this earth, Shadow Bringer. The world will be better off without you in it.” He drew a golden sword from his side, its blade long and cruel. “Truly, some would say it’s miraculous that our paths crossed. You came close to freedom, Shadow Bringer. But our light will always damn you back to the hell you crawled from.”
Darkness crackled at the edge of my peripheral vision.
“I welcome you to try,” the Shadow Bringer answered. His voice was frighteningly calm as he pulled me, despite my protests, behind him.
Then the Shadow Bringer moved, springing on Mithras in a blur of metal and swirling shadow. His own blade of obsidian—drawn from his palm as it had been in the Realm—behaved strangely, interacting with the shadows as it cut through the ancient, stone-damp air. Thedarkness was drawn to it, sparking across its surface in wild, random arcs. Mithras did not flinch. Instead, he leaned forward into the Shadow Bringer as he charged.
Their blades met in a hard, violentclangas gold hit obsidian.
“You’re weak,” Mithras spat, shoving the Shadow Bringer sideways with a forceful thrust of his blade. “Your shadows are empty.Youare nothing.”
