“How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know.” He made a frustrated, violent sound. “It was a mistake to take us here. I should have taken us back to the castle and started anew.”
Erratic splashing of a large, unknown creature sounded again over the water.
I shuddered. “I’m really not looking forward to that demon finding us.”
“You wantitto findus?” The Shadow Bringer gave a small, dreadful smile, catching me off guard. “We can find it ourselves.”
“And how do you propose we do that, Shadow Bringer?”
“We find my past self. If we can find him, the demon will surely follow.” His smile slipped, discarded like an ill-fitting mask. “Something about this place feels familiar. I think there is a village beyond the mist.”
“A village, out here? Are you sure?”
He tilted his head, considering. “Mostly.”
I sighed, eyeing the forest and the strange, clouded pond. A cottage, filthy and falling apart, stood at its edge, but there were no other signs of human life. No lights, no voices. Only the sound of water lapping against mud and the occasional splash of some creature in the pond. I shivered again.
“Lead the way, then.”
And he took my hand, guiding me forward.
There was not a village beyond the mist. There was an entirecitybeyond the mist.
Built from luminescent stone, a large city sprawled from the forest, fading into the distance as it trailed along the edge of a sea. A lively wind, rising from the water and swirling through the streets, dusted the air in salt, citrus, and something nostalgic and sad. I lingered for a moment, trying to place the particular scent, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanished into the night. I glanced at the Shadow Bringer, who was analyzing the city, his expression unreadable. The shadows that had lived within his eyes were broken, stripped away with the rest of his power.
“Do you know where we are now?” I asked.
His mouth opened slightly, as if he were tasting the seam of some long-forgotten memory. “Istralla.” Then, more confidently, “This is Istralla.”
“The capital of Noctis,” I murmured, looking around with a new sense of purpose.
While this wasn’t how I’d envisioned seeing Istralla for the first time, it felt wonderful nonetheless, watching as the city sparkled with promise and light. But the longer I looked, the quicker its fine edges began to unravel. Some structures made sense—sprawling cottages, an open-air marketplace, dress shops—while others twisted into bizarre shapes and sizes. All around us, buildings shifted into trees, trembling between forms at the edge of our vision, as others faded in and out, disappearing and reappearing in time with our breathing.
The twisted beauty of a dream, I supposed: half reality, half but a shadow of truth.
I started to comment on this observation, but the Shadow Bringer was no longer at my side. Whirling around, I scanned the forest and the city’s edge. Had he been forced out of this dream, somehow?
Then, there he was, waltzing into what appeared to be an inn.
“Are youkiddingme?” I seethed, hurrying to follow.
The inn seemed rather nondescript in comparison with Istralla’s more extravagant buildings, filled with regular-looking people gathered around regular-looking tables and the warm glow of a hearth at its center. The Shadow Bringer was easy to spot, a smear of darkness amid colorfully dressed patrons.
“I take it you have some kind of lead?” I asked under my breath.
He ignored me and stalked toward a noisy group of men, glaring daggers into the deepest parts of their souls as they laughed around ale and a half-eaten roast.
“Begone,” he snarled, seizing a dinner knife and holding it under the nearest man’s chin. “You have no place here. Leave, and I will spare your throats.”
I sucked in a breath. He was hopeless. An utterfool. Without his powers, how could he antagonize an entire crowd of people—some of whom were armed—and survive? Dream or not, a battle was still a battle.
Taking a step back, I ducked behind the largest man I could find, his belly spilling over the table at which he sat. If I hid, maybe I could avoid being associated with the Shadow Bringer altogether.
“My companion and I have need of your table,” he added, gesturing to where I hid. I recoiled, waiting for people to start staring. Or attacking. But the men didn’t so much as glance up from their food and drink. Irate, the Bringer continued, lowering his voice into a deadly command. “I will not ask a second time.”
Still, the men refused to move. They continued joking and carousing, drinking heartily and laughing deeply. I watched, mildly amused as the Bringer’s expression slipped from disbelief to utter fury.
