“We need to go further into my subconscious,” the Bringer said breathlessly, fingers shaking slightly as he formed the shadows around the bed, cocooning us from the sounds of destruction. “This is our final opportunity. I need to be able to sustain the third dream long enough for us to explore it fully.”
I helped him construct the veil of shadows this time, strengthening it with threads of my own magic. Almost instantly, a small weight appeared to lift off his shoulders. Still, he seemed distracted. Unfocused. I felt similarly untethered. My mind was a raging pit of despair, filled with a deep, nauseating terror at the prospect of Elliot being hunted by that demon.
He brought his gauntleted hands to my face, gently easing them through my hair.
“Before we enter the final dream, I need you to know something,” he said.
“Hopefully you’re not about to tell me that you’re actually a figment of my imagination.”
“What?No.” The shadows in his eyes danced, an unexpected display of mirth. “I am real, Esmer. All of this, all ofme, is human. From the moment I met you, you’ve never ceased to remind me of that fact.” His shadows stilled, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But something in him resisted. “I was only going to say that first, you must know that I will do whatever it takes to free us from this castle. Even if it means that you’re freed and I’m not.”
“That isn’t the plan, Bringer.”
“The second is that I will destroy the demon before it can hurt you or your brother,” he continued, ignoring my protests. “I will tear the Dream Realm asunder before I let that monster harm you. Now,” he continued, voice shifting into a deep, melodic purr, “I’m going to ease us into this final dream. Listen to me. Imagine with me. Have you ever been to a ball?”
The question was so unexpected that I laughed. “They’re not exactly commonplace in Norhavellis.”
But Eden and I always dreamed of what it would be like to attend one.
His smirk was back—almost a smile this time. “Then let us disrupt one.”
I’m not sure what I expected to come next, but it wasn’t aboat. We arrived upon a sleek, elegant vessel adorned with two throne-like chairs. As soon as the Shadow Bringer and I sat, the boat tilted forward, cutting soundlessly across the Nocturne as it headed toward Citadel Evernight.
I fidgeted in my chair of tufted silk, wishing I had something to brace myself against. I had some experience riding horses, and I had been inside the Light Bringer’s carriage. A boat was another thing entirely.
I bit my tongue against a sentence that would have betrayed my unease, instead forcing myself to stop glancing down at the Nocturne—with its eerie stillness and faint, slithering shadows—and to instead look up at the towering structure that was Evernight. Closer now, its walls seemed carved from a mountain. It rose in jagged swaths of stone,forming the base of seven massive arches, and within each arch flowed a waterfall, pouring into the ancient sea below. The tops of the arches seemed to be circling something—exactly what, I couldn’t tell. It was too far up in the sky to see.
For an academy, it was breathtaking.
But it was more than a school for dreamers. It was a training ground for talented scholars, but it was also a temple for slumbering mortals to have their dreams interpreted, a host for decadent revelries, and an important meeting place for the seven Weavers and their followers.
The boat rocked to the left, almost sending me careening into the Bringer’s shoulder. I tried to counteract the next motion—surely a dip to the right—but I guessed wrong. My hip slid awkwardly against the silk, sending me off the seat and onto the floor. Reflexively, I grabbed on to something to steady myself.
Unfortunately, that something was the Shadow Bringer’s thigh.
He stiffened at my touch, thoroughly disrupted from whatever musings he had been lost in.
“Easy,” he muttered. But instead of ridiculing me, the Bringer simply offered me his hand. I took it gratefully, settling back into my seat with no small amount of embarrassment. “The Weavers enjoy making the Realm as lifelike as possible. Some of their creations—such as this boat—translate better than others, as you have just discovered.”
Other boats could be seen in the distance, carrying their appointed dreamers in vessels similar to ours. And sure enough, they rocked and swayed just as much as we did.
“Interesting,” I managed, gripping the edge of my seat. “I can’t say I understand the logic. They could have made it glide, or fly.”
The boat suddenly righted itself, cutting through the water like a hot knife through butter. As it picked up speed, a soft wind, touched by twilight and the scent of the Nocturne, gently lifted my hair. The only indicator of the Bringer’s influence was a haze of darkness at the ship’s underbelly.
And the Bringer hadn’t even twitched a finger.
“Let’s see what we can make it, then,” he said playfully.
The boat tripled in size, stretching itself tall and wide as it grew to fill the waterway. A carved figurehead emerged from the front, shaped into the visage of a one-winged angel, and black sails, glistening like a blanket of stars, unfurled from its new mast. Saturated in ink, the boat—now a magnificent ship—became a thing of darkness.
The Shadow Bringer gave me a pointed look, clearly amused with his abilities.
I found myself leaning into the wind. It was a strange feeling, being whisked away to a ball with the Shadow Bringer at my side, and I tried not to think about the previous dream or my nauseating fear about Elliot’s safety. I considered instead what we were about to face. Because even while the Shadow Bringer seemed at ease in his vessel of darkness, there was trepidation in his eyes. As though he knew what was coming. Or, if he didn’t, his instincts knew.
I didn’t have time to ask.
A crowd filled with dreamers was gathering in front of Evernight as they stepped off their various ships. I couldn’t tell who was a Weaver, who was a regular dreamer, or who was a scholar of Evernight. To me, they all looked the same: clothed in outrageous colors and textures and outfitted to look like kings and queens. But even in their finery, it wasusthey stared at. Hundreds of eyes, bright with envy—no,hunger—at our ship’s power and beauty.
