Lux raised her hand to her eyes, ensuring they were open. “Tell me how.”
The dreamscape version of her smiled—so lovely, Lux found she couldn’t form another thought.“It is in our grasp. We have been chosen, Lucena Thorn, by the highest power. Rid us of those who would mar our perfection or”—a crown of thorns materialized on the being’s brow—“damn us to mortal suffering.”
The smallest of feelings disrupted her peace. Enough that she said, “Who is the highest power?”
The Saint’s smile grew.“The Lord of all things. Trust in His guidance. Obey His word. And this”—the Saint gestured widely at the plain—“will be yours.”
The dreamscape dissolved. Lux breathed as though she’d nearly drowned. Her vision struggled to adjust, and her knees wobbled. She stood in the sanctum—surrounded by dark walls and dim torchlight. She stood amongst entombed bodies of unwilling, past harvests, and the few overaged and unlucky investors. She looked around the sanctimonious society, at each pair of silver eyes unfocused with rapturous awe. They’d beheld themselves, too, she realized. As what they could be—a saintlike version of themselves, perfect and powerful, in the Beyond.
Several collectors had collapsed to their knees, tearful with triumph, when Corvin, splayed nonchalantly upon his throne, said, “Bring us Cecily Otterbee.”
Lux nearly collapsed then too.
The girl was brought forward through the archway in a white robe. Much like the dream, a hood was pulled up and draped low over her face. Lux—if she could have—would have screamed. Cecily was meant to begone.
Attendants gripped her upper arms, and Lux noted the lack of clanking chains. They led her around the gathered collectors until she stood not far from the dais. Lux expected to hear her cries, but the girl was steadfastly silent.
“Considering my natural-born brilliance, I gravitate toward manipulative types; I wanted this soul for us.” Corvin nodded toward the girl like she was nothing more than something to be consumed. “I think you will enjoy what manipulating emotions brings you, my Mistress of Mothlock.”
Lux’s heart beat in her ears. “She doesn’t manipulate emotions. She understands them.”
“Which makes her underutilized and better off submitted to the society. Come, Lux. I will inject you myself.” His tongue licked at his stained teeth. “Once you’ve had your share, you will never be the same. There is strength in power. Your brilliance will be restored.”
He’s no different from any twisted revived. All he wants is lifeblood. All he wants is souls.
“And what of her?”
“The harvest? She will continue as she has. An attendant to Mothlock, and all the comfort that ensures. And though her body will age and die as is natural, her soul and brilliance will live on. In us. How wondrous a gift is that?”
“It isn’t. I can feel the wrongness like its leaking from the walls.Irefuse.”
He pouted. “After everything? Is it your pride? Stubbornness? If you deny to be amplified, then I suppose I must take it upon myself to do what is best for you. The Saints will understand. Silas.”
Lux scrambled backward, awaiting Silas’s touch—but it did not come. Instead, she turned and discovered Silas staring at Corvin as though he contemplated doing something much worse.
“Silas,” Corvin barked.
“We will not divide the harvest. A fraction of a soul is not enough. Not anymore.”
“The Saints—”
“Youhave shown us the true path to Sainthood, and I am through with mortal suffering.” He spun, grabbing hold of Cecily’s arm. “I will havemyshare.”
Silence descended upon the sanctum. Lux waited with bated breath to see who would move first. Then Corvin raised his chin. “Those who feel their portion is not enough, step forward.”
At first, it was only Kent who joined Silas. But soon, more stepped up until the majority of collectors had separated from the circle, forming a line in front of the throne.
“The ungratefulness astounds me. Truly, it does. I forgedthis road you’ve set yourself upon. I harnessnightmares.The devastating truths people bury, refusing to acknowledge or study or see. Can you suffer yours without flinching? Show the Saints, then—that you are worthy.”
Lux recognized Corvin’s incantation now. None of them would be spared his ire.
And she’d no sooner tucked the berry into her mouth when the walls began to melt.
The collectors transformed. Each looked like their most nightmarish version to her, except now their silver eyes glowed, their mouths no longer dried with their earlier feast, butdripping. The torches guttered until she could hardly see. In her head, there was no room for any thought or reaction—all she could hear were screams.
It was worse. Worse than anything she’d ever dreamt or experienced. A torment she couldn’t escape. The box she’d reburied in the void burst open, every insecurity, memory, and fear swallowing her up. The walls scuttled with beasts. Each one had her face.
But you are not made up of these bad things,said her heart.
