Dream by the Shadows (Shadow Weaver Duology Book 1)

Alcott’s rope, glowing like it had been forged from the sun, bit into my wrists, pinching the skin where each link was joined. Dirt and damp soaked through my dress as I kneeled, cooling my legs even as the rope burned my hands. I shifted, daring to lift my eyes to the dawn coloring the sky in violet and gold.

This was my trial.

I would be prodded, questioned, and examined until Mithras decided upon my guilt or innocence. The questions had been small, at first. Simple and direct. Questions about my life, my upbringing, my relationship with my mother, father, and Elliot. But then they turned darker—specific and vague all at once. I knew the answers to some; others I did not. They asked about the Bringer, the Weavers, and the Realm. They hypothesized about my powers or lack thereof. They tested my knowledge of Corruption, my potential involvement with demons, and the death of Thomas.

Now the questions were accusations.

Mithras dragged a hand across his swollen mouth, smearing the blood that occasionally pooled from it. His eyes were cold despite their golden color, dagger-like and violent, and his skin had sunken around his jaw and nose, much like the Bringer’s had. It accentuated the scar that split his brow.

Alcott was seething, teeth nearly bared. “You freed our kingdom’s mortal enemy. It began in a dream, and then turned physical—”

“But is the Shadow Bringer capable of such a feat? Escaping his castle through the dreams of another?” Mila interrupted, balancing on the edge of her heel. Like the other legionnaires, she looked exhausted.

“The Shadow Bringer’s diseased power, combined with an equally diseased mind, could produce such a result,” Mithras said, thumbing a fleck of blood from his mouth. A legionnaire offered him a bit of cloth, but he pushed it away. “As we are aware, like calls to like,” he added, growling the words out.

Like calls to like.

A lord of demons, connected to me.

Why?

Mila glanced at me, but quickly looked away. “Then if she’s telling the truth, such a vision would seem possible. Likely, even, as he is known for his deception.”

“I am telling the truth,” I insisted, trying to look each legionnaire in the eye. “Why would I lie about this? What would I have to gain from lying right now?”

“What don’t you have to gain?” Alcott was red-faced, barely restraining himself from throwing himself at me. The rope that bound me, spinning out from his gauntlet, shook where he held it. “You made some unholy deal with the Shadow Bringer, and now that you’re caught, you want out. Isn’t that right?”

“No—no . I made no deal with him. He tricked me. The Shadow Bringer tricked me.”

But he didn’t trick me. I joined him, willingly.

“You befriended the devil himself! Did your parents think to teach you that—” Alcott laughed, interrupting himself. “Ah, but it was your parents that likely led you toward your evil choice.”

“Alcott,” Mithras warned. Alcott retreated, bowing his head. His skin still burned with red, angry splotches. “Go on, Esmer.”

“After I saw the legionnaires, the Shadow Bringer appeared. He summoned some kind of cloud. It was dark and churning, and it swallowed the flames.” A few strands of hair, wet with blood and dirt, stuck to Mithras’s jaw. I swallowed, momentarily distracted. “But before, when—”

I stopped, hesitating. I hadn’t told the Light Legion about my other dreams. They didn’t know about the Bringer’s castle, didn’t know that I had willingly walked inside and spoke with him. My thoughts drifted to the Shadow Bringer, wondering why he wasn’t facing a trial like I was. His tomb was open but silent, devoid of any life. Had they bound him there again? Had they killed him?

Like calls to like.

“Go on. Continue. Indulge us in your tale.”

“I—”

“Explain to us how you deceived Norhavellis into harboring the Shadow Bringer’s only living follower.” Mithras stalked to where I knelt, forcing my chin up so I would look at him. “I had thought of you as a poor, suffering wretch, hurt by your family’s dark choices. But you are anything but.”

“You’re wrong,” I whispered. Tears sprang to my eyes, unbidden.

Mithras’s golden eyes brightened, even in the dimness of the rising dawn. “Fortunately, the Maker has graced us with a miracle. He allowed us to entomb the Shadow Bringer again, even after we fell under his lies. Our Maker is with us, even in the dark. We must walk in the shadows.”

“To walk in the light,” the Light Legion answered, voices wavering.

When Mithras spoke again, it was to the Light Legion.

“Your voices waver .” His voice was soft, deadly in its false civility. “I have fought for years to discover a cure for Corruption. You all know this—very clearly you know this. Your comrades—what would they speak of, if they heard your doubt? Your friends, your family, your beloved companions—as they watch us from above, as they watch me fight and bleed for a cure so that no one else would fall, what would they speak of?”

Blood trickled from Mithras’s lips. He wiped at it, dragging it back into his mouth. Several legionnaires looked down, away—averting their eyes from their lord’s sunken eyes, bruised body, and bloodied mouth.

“Look at me,” Mithras snapped. “The Light Bringer, bleeding like a cut swine.” He spun slowly, methodically, making a point to look each legionnaire in the eye. “Look at me! Where are your doubts now?”

He turned to me. The edges of his lips, full and bruised, curled up.

“You may stand,” he said suddenly, extending a hand, smeared with his blood, toward me. “Rise and become one of us, as you have declared.”

What?

The legionnaires glanced at one another, failing to understand their leader’s newest declaration. The Visstill rustled with their agitated movements. When I didn’t accept Mithras’s hand, he frowned, golden eyes flashing.

“You act as though your hands are bound.”

I flexed my hands to make my point, flinching when they moved without resistance. At some point, they had become unbound.

When? And why?

I looked up at Mithras, who was still offering me his bloodied hand.

“What is this?” I asked, taking advantage of the Light Legion’s distracted murmurs. “What are you doing?”

“Listen carefully,” Mithras hissed, eyes wild as he grabbed me by the hand and yanked me up. “I will treat your Corrupted parents with respect until their purification and offer Elliot a privileged life in Istralla.” His mouth ticked up again. “In return, you must serve our purposes in the Tomb of the Devourer. But if you deny me, I will personally see to it that your mother and father aren’t purified and Elliot is disposed of like the worthless child he already is.”

Bile rose sick and violent in the back of my throat.

“I will do all that you ask,” I choked out, skin clammy and cold. The tomb would kill me. There existed no food, water, or light. There existed no way out, save for the colossal door of iron and stone at its front. But if it meant my parents would be purified and Elliot would live, I would do anything. “Even if you’re sentencing me to die, I will obey.”

“Oh, but this isn’t a death sentence. Asleep under the Shadow Bringer’s spell, you will need no sustenance.” He squeezed my hand for emphasis, holding it as though we were sharing a deep, heartfelt conversation. “Let us walk,” he said suddenly, then turned to face the Legion. Some color had returned to his skin, masking its hollowness. “Legion! Make preparations for our departure. Esmer’s fate will soon be made clear.”

Their voices grew indistinguishable as Mithras and I walked to the tomb, strolling together like friends—or lovers, even. Once we were far enough away, however, he dropped my hand, stepping a step back as though I carried a disease.

“Earlier in the tomb I allowed my anger get the best of me.” For a moment, he made a strange expression, grief dusting his features and loosening his shoulders. “The Shadow Bringer is more than an enemy of the kingdom. In many ways, he’s an asset. He must be protected at all costs, for if he dies, the army of demons he harbors would overwhelm us. And that’s what this tomb is. A safeguard for his mortal body so that his soul may be sustained.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, watching as Mithras examined the tomb’s outer wall. The dark, curling trees of the Visstill wound overhead, threading through the light of the rising dawn.

“I will vow for the purification of your parents and the safety of Elliot. In return, you will guard Noctis from the monsters the Shadow Bringer harbors. With him you will buffer our world from the darkest shadows of the Realm.”

My skin prickled at the absurdity of my fate, the chill in the air, and Mithras’s fiery stare.

“This tomb is a font of darkness. You will inhabit it physically and tether yourself spiritually. Asleep, you will draw the Realm’s demons to you, binding them to the Shadow Bringer’s domain. In theory, your combined power should bind more demons, saving more lives.”

“But I don’t have this ‘power’ that you’re speaking of. His shadows merely listen to me. They aren’t mine.”

“But you do. I sensed it when I first met you,” Mithras insisted, turning to face me. “Power in the Realm is shared with dreamers of similar capabilities. You are every bit as capable as he is—you just need time to practice, is all.” He added, voice lowering, “And besides, even if you didn’t have power of your own, you’re still able to bolster his. You give him a strength I haven’t imagined possible. He needs you.”

What did that mean?

The shift in his personality unnerved me. He seemed incredibly earnest—genuine, even—and there was not a hint of malice in his tone. Not to mention that he was referring to the Shadow Bringer as if he were an old friend and not his kingdom’s greatest enemy. I crossed my arms, confused by this newest development. This wasn’t really a punishment. He truly intended for me to serve a purpose in the Realm. But how long would I be stuck there?

The Shadow Bringer’s velvet-deep voice came to mind. He had already warned me of this.

If they seal you there with me, you’ll never leave. You’ll share my fate, bound to this castle and unable to watch your loved ones grow up. You’ll live here as Noctis sinks further into ruin, blind to the waking world and numb to the passage of time. Don’t let them take you.

Frustrated tears sprang to my eyes, but I held them back. I would not cry now. If I did, I’d shatter. “You say you’ll purify my parents and give Elliot a life of privilege, but I won’t be able to see them again, will I? The Shadow Bringer was locked away for centuries. Is that to be my fate, too?”

“It doesn’t have to be. But what other fate would you prefer?” Mithras drew close, eyes wild and desperate. I took an uneasy step back, heart thundering. “A fate where you rot into the earth, leaving behind no legacy, no meaning, no purpose ? The tomb will be the safest place for you. The safest and the most necessary.” Trailing off, Mithras faced the tomb again. “Corruption is overrunning Noctis. Too many are dying before they even make it to Istralla. If there is a chance this helps us bind more demons, then that hope will spread, illuminating our kingdom in the light of the Maker.”

I sensed that this statement was sincere. It unnerved me deeply.

Mithras watched me. “You needn’t be so frightened.” He added, more gently, “If you prove your worth, you will be unearthed. I swear we will return for you.”

I felt around for words, unsure of what I wanted to say. What I could say without damning myself further. Surprisingly, Mithras didn’t prod; we stood in silence as dawn’s full color crested over the Visstill hillside. As much as I hated to admit it, hope—even if that hope was miserably small—rested in the tomb.

The Shadow Bringer was there, and he was all I had left.

“Remember, the Shadow Bringer is a necessary darkness, even though you’ve been taught otherwise. I do not desire his death or his release.” Mithras considered me fiercely, as if he wanted me to understand something that I was not fully comprehending. “So above all else, do not harm the Shadow Bringer, and do not release him from his tomb or his castle. We need him there. I need him there. Swear to me, Esmer. Do not release him.”

I nodded, trying to hide the quiver in my lip. “Of course. I swear it.”

“You won’t be in the Realm forever. If all goes to plan, then—”

“Lord Mithras, we await your command.”

Mithras and I turned as one, facing the rest of the traveling party. They had approached us quietly, forming a careful, distant ring around the tomb’s entrance.

Mithras titled his chin high, offering a triumphant smile. “Esmer has declared her loyalties to me. She will guard the Tomb of the Devourer and its demons until we return.”

Eyes widened, shoulders shifted, mouths tightened.

Wind groaned softly through the trees, rustling leaves and speckling dawn’s early sunlight across the expanse of the clearing. Beyond, the tomb was dark and silent, its overgrown entrance a smear against the hillside. If the Shadow Bringer was still within, he had clearly resigned himself to his fate.

I stretched myself upright, standing as tall and as straight-backed as I could. I needed to find strength somewhere, so I drew it from my father, remembering his stiff spine and taut muscles as he patrolled our home. Every night he battled demons. They were demons of the unknown, demons of the twilight and murk. Demons of dread, demons that made sounds as they shifted in the woods, snapping twigs and howling at the stars. Demons created out of fear.

Demons built out of Corruption.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself for what was about to come—what my fate had conspired to be. Visions of a different future seemed bizarre and meaningless. Istralla, once a glittering beacon, seemed dull, colorless. A cured world without Corruption seemed impossible. Restored dreams seemed illogical.

In this world of darkness and chaos, Corruption and broken dreams, my fate was fitting.

I met Mithras’s eyes as I walked toward the tomb, surprised at what I found there.

They reflected only dread.