Dream by the Shadows (Shadow Weaver Duology Book 1)

I stumbled free from the Tomb of the Devourer, partially blind from the dark. Small, disjointed fires dotted the air in front of me, flames dancing in the cold night air.

Torches.

The Light Legion was fully awake, torches held aloft in armored hands.

“Esmer!” Silas shouted, running to me. His skin was flecked with dirt, leftover from lying on the ground during the Bringer’s spell. “What were you doing in the tomb?”

“I need to leave,” I gasped, moving to sidestep him. He grabbed my shoulders, quicker than I could dodge, stopping me. “Don’t touch me!” I flinched at my own words—words that came out too fast, too harsh. I shook my head, still feeling the ghost of Mithras’s fire in my bones. “I’m sorry. I—”

Silas removed his hands. “Lord Mithras called to us. Have you seen him?”

Alcott ran over, eyes hard and torch held high. “Likely in the Tomb of the Devourer, no doubt with—” He trailed off, searching my face. It was obvious he didn’t like what he saw there. “You’ve done something, haven’t you?”

I was the Shadow Bringer’s accomplice, and we likely gave a fatal wound to the Light Bringer. I needed to run. I need to do something .

Anything.

A few legionnaires, led by Mila, assembled in front of the tomb. At one of Mithras’s screams—which echoed well into the night—they rushed in. Silas and Alcott turned, momentarily distracted.

I bolted.

I grabbed my skirts by the fistful and ran , throwing myself at the deepest part of the forest. Branches tore across my face, lancing cheek, forehead, shin—but I didn’t feel it. Adrenaline coursed through my limbs, simultaneously numbing and warming different parts of my body. If I could get to the horses—the unguarded horses—I would outrun them all. I could untie the horses, spook them into fleeing. They’d never be able to find them. Not in a forest so dark and so twisting as the Visstill. They would be stranded here, giving Elliot and I time to escape once I caught up with him. We could flee further into the countryside, sail across the sea to—somewhere. Anywhere.

A chance.

If I was being followed, I didn’t notice. I didn’t hear . Blood pounded in my ears.

What had I done?

Everything had happened so fast. Thomas’s death. Packing and beginning the journey to Istralla. Hope. A village, betrayed, calling us their enemy. My parents, Corrupt. Elliot, afraid. Dream after dream—the Bringer and his castle of demons. A call to action, a village damning me as their villain. The Light Legion.

The Bringer, alive, real .

A Lord of Light who seemed no lord at all.

It was all too much—suddenly, agonizingly—it was all too much.

What had I done?

Something hit my back, heavy and hard, sending me sprawling into the dirt.

“Esmer—” Silas panted, looming over me. “What were you thinking ? Running into the Visstill like…” His face was barely readable, cast in darkness. “Why did you run? I called out to you. I asked you to stop.”

I pressed my hands into my eyes, willing myself not to cry. Why had I ever thought the Bringer to be an ally ? Was siding with him worth losing my freedom? My family? My life ?

My life for what ?

Silas eased off me a bit, sitting up with a whoosh of pent-up air. He adjusted his gauntlets and wiped the dirt from his brow. “Talk to me.”

“I’ve made a mistake.”

He stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Mithras and the Shadow Bringer are in the tomb,” I began in a rush. “They started fighting—Mithras was hurt.” Silas shook his head, giving me a look like he thought I was delirious. I swallowed, feeling delirious. “To isolate Mithras, he forced you all into a sleep—a stupor that you couldn’t wake from.”

“That isn’t possible.” He paused carefully, deliberately, as though he were dancing around a half-hidden truth. “We’re safe from the work of darkness. Lord Mithras protects us.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.”

Alcott marched toward us through the brush, torch blazing in his hand. His freckled face was bloodied, and his green eyes had taken on a strange hue from the fire. “Bind her.” He pulled a thorn from his gloves, scowling. “Hurry. Our lord’s power is waning.”

Silas looked at me. “Will you return to camp with us?” A question that allowed me a choice: would I go back willingly, unbound, or would I be forced by their hands?

Alcott coughed. Cheekbones that were already high and neatly carved were made even hollower by the shadows. “Lord Mithras wouldn’t like seeing you hesitate like this, Silas.”

“We can’t drag her back to camp in chains,” Silas said, bristling. “Theorize what you want, but until the Light Bringer passes his final judgment, is she truly a criminal?”

“You’re right. She’s worse than a criminal,” Alcott hissed, pulling a strand of gleaming metal from a hidden compartment in his gauntlet. It shimmered, even in the dark, appearing both metallic and rope-like. I scrambled back in the underbrush, horrified. “Lord Mithras knew that you needed to be locked where you belong. I will not let you escape him again.”

“Alcott, no .” Silas threw out his hands, pushing Alcott back.

“Why are you—” He grunted, trying to maneuver around him. “—holding me back? It is our duty to the Legion to bring justice to those devoured by the dark. Those like my mother and brother !”

What could I say? My father had sunk arrows into Thomas’s back as he dragged his half-burned body through the grass, but I was the one who killed him. Not my Corrupted father, me . “I never wanted—”

“Never wanted Thomas to die?” Alcott seethed. “Maybe my brother wasn’t Corrupt at all. Maybe —” He thrashed against Silas again. “—maybe he tried to kill you for a purpose. I bet he saw the darkness in you and tried to suffocate it before it broke free.” Alcott’s eyes suddenly went blank, drained of their fervor. It was as though something inside him had died. “We need to return to Lord Mithras.”

“Yes, we do,” Silas agreed, removing his hands from Alcott’s shoulders. A slow, exasperated breath sank from his lungs as he looked at me. “Esmer. Are you coming with us?”

“If I go back, you’ll condemn me with the Shadow Bringer.”

Silas dragged a hand through his hair. “Our lord is honorable. He would not falsely persecute you. That is all I can promise.”

Alcott nodded, if somewhat reluctant. “Indeed.”

“And it’s known that the Shadow Bringer uses deception and lies to suit his needs. If he forced you to ally with him, it wouldn’t be your fault.” Despite his attempt at reassurance, doubt lingered in his eyes, pooling in the depths. “There is no future for you in these woods. If you run now—if you make it back to Norhavellis or your brother somehow—it will be worse for you. For everyone. You have to understand how that would look.”

And how does it look that I left the Lord of Light in a pool of his own blood? Blood caused by the Shadow Bringer—blood caused by me, too.

But Silas was right.

If I ran now, if I ran before defending my actions—I knew exactly how it would look.

I was damned no matter what.

The encampment, sparse without the Legion’s horses or primary supplies, was silent when we returned. Ashes floated in the wind, leftover from both our hurried evening meal and torches left charred and half-burning on the ground. For a moment, Silas and Alcott did not speak. Breath heaved from their lungs as they assessed, calculated, and decided—all in silence.

I shivered, haunted by the wind, the silence, and what was about to happen. I’d soon face the wrath or grace of Mithras and the Legion. And whatever happened to me would happen to my family, too. If I fell, they’d fall with me.

What had I done?

Stories whirled through my mind, one after the other. Stories that would explain my innocence, tales that would prove the Bringer deceived me, used me. But as these stories eddied in my mind like the wind pulling at my clothes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was lying to myself. The Bringer’s hollowed, marred face sprang into my mind, unbidden and unwelcome, reminding me of the strange, surprising connection we had and the brief feeling of rightness that came over me when I had possession of his power.

It was a power that made me feel as though I had, despite everything, a purpose.

From the tomb came a wild, unhinged laugh, snapping the silence and sending Silas and Alcott running. I followed after, stumbling through the ashes.