“And what do you think of me now?” The words tumbled free before I could stop them.
“I think you are my equal,” he declared, breath ghosting my cheek as his hands drifted to my shoulders. “My salvation.” Warmth burned from where his hands ghosted my skin; I’d never felt such a sensation before. I wanted more of it. I wantedhim. “You carry so much guilt on these shoulders. So much fear and heartbreak,” he observed.
He held me on a precipice, held my glass heart in his metal hands. One squeeze and it would break, shattering into a million jagged pieces. “You see that in me?”
“I see all of you, Esmer.” My breath stilled, and he continued: “But it’s as you told me—‘knowing the dark doesn’t make you a monster.’ You’re more than your fear. More than your heartbreak.” His hands slid down my arms, tangling in the shadows that were lazily curling aroundus. “More than the limits you’ve placed on yourself. You’re the only person alive who—” He swallowed hard, cutting himself off. “I only mean to say thank you. That’s what you need to hear. Not anything else my imagination conjures up.” He looked past me, gaze settling on the flowers and trees instead of the flush racing across my face. “Where are we?”
“We’re still in your dream,” I answered.
He instantly tensed, scanning the sky.He thinks the demon is still alive.
“The demon is gone,” I added, waiting for him to relax. But the tension did not ease from his bones.
Instead, he looked even more agitated. He peered down, noticing the gaping cloth at the center of his chest. “Ah. Now I remember.” His voice dripped with venom. “I was staked to the bottom of the pond and left to rot.” The shadows in his eyes sharpened around his irises. “If that demon is still hunting us, we need to find it again. And soon.”
The intensity in his gaze made my neck burn. “You should try speaking to your younger self. We might be able to learn more about why the demon was hunting you.”
The Bringer closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head. “The past self isn’t allowed to communicate with their present or future self. But perhaps you can speak with him.”
I waved at Erebus, hopeful that he could see me. He was so close to us—looking our way, even. Surely he’d be able to talk, just as we had done in the demon’s pit. But the more I waved, the more it was apparent that he couldn’t see us. We were veiled from him, just as at the start of the dream.
“Forget it. He can’t see you,” the Bringer said.
Ignoring his dismal tone, I asked, unable to hide my wonder, “Can all dreamers do what you’re doing?”
“Do what, exactly?” He was looking at Erebus, too. “Spin in circles? Grow a flower? That’s nothing.”
“How is thatnothing? You’re creating a world of your own from nothing. It’s amazing.” The dream was gaining life and depth; different sights, sounds, and scents continued to bloom around us. “And you look so happy. Like you finally found your purpose.”
“Is that what you see in the boy?” The Bringer shifted so that he was mostly sitting up, hands slipping from my back. He watched Erebus for a few silent moments, pain spinning from the shadows in his eyes. “You’re wrong. I never knew my purpose.”
“Maybe you forgot it,” I challenged. “But that doesn’t mean you never had one. Or that you still don’t.”
Erebus had a future. A fire for life. Aheart. What happened to him that he lost it all?
“And if I asked you to name your purpose, what would you say? Would you tie it to happiness? Family?” His jaw clenched as his tone turned spiteful. “Or perhaps to self-righteousness. Tojustice. To ridding the world of evil—and of monsters who belong better in the dark.”Of people like me, his eyes seemed to add.
“That’s a ridiculous thing to say. The dark isn’t the end. What you manage to create out of darkness,” I said, motioning around us, “thatis what matters.”
“So you have sympathy for my fate and hope for my future?” His upper lip curled, defiant. “Careful. You’re almost making me believe it.”
I was mad. Fuming. He wasimpossible. “I might have hope for you, but I certainly don’t have sympathy or pity,” I snapped, lifting myself from the ground. The sudden movement made me dizzy, but by standing I could see more of what Erebus had created. “Unless you want to talk about how pitiful your castle is.…”
The Shadow Bringer laughed, not entirely disagreeing with me.
Mist descended over the sunrise. A lone figure walked from it, hair dragging through the flowers and dusting over robes made of black feathers and dark, plated silver. An ivory crown, rising into sharp, bladelike points, adorned his brow. His face was skeletal, black eyes listless and wise.Somnus.
Erebus didn’t move. In fact, he stood taller, facing Somnus without fear.
“Erebus,” Somnus said in greeting. If Erebus was surprised Somnus knew his name, he didn’t show it. “Your creations have echoedthroughout the Dream Realm. It is no small wonder for a dreamer to create without a Weaver’s guidance.”
“A Weaver’s permission, you mean,” Erebus remarked. Despite the bite in his words, his tone was flat.
“That is because the Realm is dangerous, dreamer. Particularly when it is stretched by your own hand.” Somnus selected a flower at random, holding it up to the rising sun. “One slip of your mind, and something innocent grows fangs.”
The flower burst into flames. Somnus closed a fist over it, sending smoking tendrils into the air. When he next opened his fist, he offered the hand to Erebus.
Erebus stared at the hand, neither taking nor refusing it. “What do you mean by this?”
