“We have been watching you, Erebus. Join us at Citadel Evernight.” Softly, he added, “You are worthy.”
The Shadow Bringer launched himself forward. He half ran, half staggered to where Somnus and Erebus stood, a weak shroud of shadows trailing him. They couldn’t see him—they didn’t so much as blink in his direction as he approached—but that didn’t deter him.
Though weakened, the Bringer, mantled with the ghost of his power, moved with violence in his blood.
“They can’t see you!” I shouted, running after him. “What are you even—”
“You say you have hope for my future,” he began, charging for Somnus just as Erebus stepped forward, “but this is the moment when my past begins to rot. If there’s a chance I can stop it, I need to try.”
Erebus was going to accept Somnus’s hand. There were embers of power and pride in his eyes; his was the expression of a boy who had finally beenseen—but not without hardships. A boy who knew the value of what was being offered, despite his distrust of the Weavers.
“Don’t take his hand!” The Bringer crashed into Somnus, but it was like hitting a wall.
A wall that could alsoexplode.
He flew backward upon impact, skidding wildly through a patch of Erebus’s brightest flowers. A tree halted the Bringer’s momentum; he crashed to a stop against it, head slamming sideways into its jeweled bark. If he cried out in pain, I didn’t hear it.
Erebus placed his hand in Somnus’s. And just like that, the dream collapsed.
The Shadow Bringer’s domain was rapidly deteriorating.
The iridescent forest had dropped away, only remaining as a thin ring around the castle itself, and in its place was something difficult to comprehend. I squinted at the horizon from his balcony, desperate to decipher the scene. At first, I could only hear water lapping against a shore. Then the deep thrumming of bells and a low, melodic humming. There was also the scent of something ancient and nostalgic. The starry sky had broken apart, replaced by whorls of silver, purple, and midnight blue. A sky clothed in eternal twilight.
And when the scene finally pieced together, revealing itself in its entire glory, my breath held.
In Norhavellis, water pooled in shallow rivers and cattail-lined ponds. It poured from the sky, collected in puddles, and forced pastures into muddy pits. It sat heavy in gray clouds, fell like fingers against my bedroom window, and soaked into my shoes as Eden, Elliot, and I raced home from the village. Anything grander—seas, lagoons, lakes so wide a fleet of ships could sail through them—was a tale to be read about. A story tucked away in a book. This was something else.
The sea circling the Shadow Bringer’s castle wasalive.
Part of its body rolled and surged like a willful horse, swelling into the sky. Other parts dipped low, cowering like a wounded fawn, or stretched taut and still. The water’s crystalline skin, reflecting the twilight sky, stretched over each wave and melted into the horizon. It was untamed, glorious, and absolutely terrifying. But despite its force, the sea was contained; glossy stone, shaped in a perfect arc, formed its limits, and a magnificent tower anchored its center.
“You weren’t meant to see that entire dream,” said the Shadow Bringer, joining me on his balcony. Bits of shadow clung to his edges, trailing down his newly armored arms and back. They had grown in number since I’d last seen him. “It is a wretched part of my past.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped.
Stubborn, stubborn man.“You don’t have to hide your hurt from me, Bringer. I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s only because you can’t run. If you had the choice, you would.”
I shook my head, exasperated. “No, I wouldn’t. Where would I even go?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere.” He turned, briefly fixing me with a haunted stare before facing the sea again. “This is the Nocturne, as I’m sure you’re aware,” he announced suddenly, gesturing at the swelling waves.Changing the subject.
“I’m not aware. The Weaver tales never mentioned anything like it.”
“There’s more to the world than a single book of Weaver tales. You’ve never even seen a sunset outside your village.”
“I’ve been to places beyond Norhavellis,” I said, bristling.
“A distorted, half-formed dream in Istralla hardly counts.”
“I don’t see why not.” I raked through my memory, searching for another example. “And there’s also your castle.”
His eyes, ringed by his shadows, narrowed. “Paying visits to my castle counts even less. You need to see more of the world, Esmer. I wish that for you, even if I can’t be with you when it happens.” He stormedoff to a different part of the balcony, shadows hesitating a moment before trailing him.
“I don’t know what things were like five hundred years ago, but people’s fates are a bit more limited now. We don’t have dreams”—I matched the Shadow Bringer’s pace, walking shoulder to shoulder with him—“or adventures.” Pointedly, he avoided my gaze. “So forgive me for not being as knowledgeable as you.”
