We wanted the dark, wanted the rise of shadow and night under our control. The shadows rushed toward me, clinging to my feet and dancing along the lines of my arms.
“They trulydoanswer to you,” the Shadow Bringer pondered, cutting right and aiming a strike at my shoulder. I deflected easily, intuiting where to position the blade. “But can you control them?”
“That’s where I need”—I ducked under another of his swings, using the rug underfoot to steady my balance—“yourhelp.” Shadows clung to the both of us now, rising from our bodies like second skins. Around the Bringer they roiled, reflecting his fury and challenge, but around me they shuddered, quivering between varying levels of opacity. “And you need mine.”
A strong wind began to circle the room, overturning chairs, shattering glass, and scattering books across the floor. It centered on the Shadow Bringer, coiling through the shadows that now wrapped his limbs and towered high atop his back. In a few moments, he had transformed completely, black wings unfurling from his shoulders and new armor covering most of his skin in dark, sharp edges.
“Do I?” he asked, slamming his blade into the ground. Shadows exploded over the room, sucking away all light and color. “I’ve thought of a different proposal. One that involves ripping this dream apart from the inside and then doing the same to my domain. After that, we can crawl out of the Beyond and end Corruption on our own terms.”
“That is a terrible idea,” I hissed.
The walls bent in and out, flexing like some giant, breathing creature. They shook under his destruction, rattling as he peeled away their layers. But even as the walls fell, they resisted—reversed back into place as though their creator, somewhere beyond this scene, fought to repair each broken piece.
Then something changed.
The Shadow Bringer’s face twisted from triumph to alarm; his eyes widened, and his jaw clenched against whatever internal demon he was battling. Underneath us, the floor gave way, collapsing in on itself as mirrors shattered and furniture fell into cracks, disappearing into the void below.
I screamed, staggering aside as a bookcase nearly crushed me, and tripped on a globe as it rolled into my shin. I fell toward one of the widening cracks, scrambling to grip something,anything, as the void, gaping open like the maw of some ungodly monster, pulled me down. It was just a dream—everything was just a dream—but fear, dark and terrible, jolted through my skin, physical as fear could be.
As if roused from a stupor, the Shadow Bringer snapped his eyes to mine. He dove in a whorl of shadow and feathers, pulling me against him just as the ground dropped away with a finalcrack.
For a few wingbeats, we were silent, suspended in the air and staring into the emptiness below.
The Bringer’s breathing was more ragged than I expected, his chest rising and falling in deep, labored pulls. Even his eyes looked pained. Haunted. Guilty. It didn’t make sense. He had tried to rip the dream apart—wasn’t this what he wanted? What was the point in regretnow?
My fingers clung to his shoulders, desperate for a better grip. One slip—or one change of the Shadow Bringer’s mind—and I’d plummet.
“I’m not going to drop you,” he snapped, annoyed. Still, he made a point to reposition his arms. “As I said, we must walk these dreams together. That can’t happen if you fall into an abyss.”
“We won’t be walking inanydreams if this is how you’ll be acting,”I cut back. “You said we had only three dreams.Three dreamsuntil your domain shatters with us in it. I would much prefer to not end up in the Beyond.”
Almost imperceptibly, his claw-tipped fingers tightened. “I might be able to warp this dream into another. If we don’t wake up from this, we won’t waste another day.”
“You’re mad,” I criticized.
“I’m not in my right mind, no.”And I haven’t been in some time, he seemed to imply.
Debris continued to fall as the room disintegrated around us, swallowing any hope of its restoration. Stone collapsed into vapor, books ripped themselves apart as they burned, and the painting of the family tore itself into shreds. I half expected the seven Weavers to appear in front of us, shaking their heads in dismay at our complete and utter failure.
The Shadow Bringer cried out in pain, arching his back as though he were struck by lightning.
Screams lurched from his throat, even as he ground his teeth against them. His limbs shuddered under the weight of whatever was attacking him, and in the chaos, his grip slackened. I buried my hands in his armor, but the material was slippery, liquid.
I gasped, barely holding on as his body continued to thrash in pain.
And then the wings upon his back melted into dust, sending us plummeting into darkness.
I can’t remember when I stopped screaming.
Something wet pressed against my cheek, reeking of dead fish and rotting wood. I sprang up, horrified—only to find mud dripping from me. Cold, slimy, foul-smelling mud. It coated the side of my face, crawled down my neck, and burrowed itself all over the folds of my clothing.
Great.
I wiped it from my eyes, trying to focus on the dimly lit landscape that surrounded me. From what I could see, I sat before a dark pond, its edges webbed in cattails, haze, and scum. A shadow of something splashed atop the water before disappearing again, impossible to see below the surface. At the sound of someone spitting, I whirled around. Dull gray eyes met mine through the mist.
The Shadow Bringer coughed, flicking mud from his gauntlets in disgust.
“My power is beginning to fail,” he muttered. As if to demonstrate, he opened a fist, scowling as a small shadow appeared. It quivered pathetically before vanishing in a puff of smoke. “I will soon have nothing.”
