"Lucien! On your left!”

  I turned toward the commotion, lifting my hands from Mother’s once-wounded arm.

  A rotfly, hissing and sputtering, sliced through the air where my heroic comrade once stood. Its slender legs pierced the ground, stunning it long enough for a swoop of silver to cleave it in twain.

  Lucien continued with the momentum of his swing, hurling the spear like a thunderbolt. It screamed through the air and impaled charging Dreadtusk, right between the eyes.

  “All right there, Auntie Dem?” Lucien’s call of concern was met with a click and a whistle. He leaned back, narrowly avoiding a crossbow bolt. It knocked another approaching rotfly from the sky. “Nice shot!”

  Mother nodded. Her breathing labored, she struggled to load another bolt. I touched her hands to relieve their ache, then flew to Vasco’s side.

  My brother stood at the front of the horde, locked in a power clash with a pair of Dreadtusks, beset on all sides by their rotted brethren.

  A spark. A strike. One fell. Another spark. The second one joined it.

  But mighty as his blows were, they were not enough to overcome the fellblood’s regenerative properties. His opponents climbed to their feet, caved in skulls mending with a sickening crunch and squelch of bone and flesh.

  “Vasco!”

  He deflected another blow, turning its fury against a rotfly and splattering it on the ground. In the same movement, he rose and caught a bottle of Snakebite Ale from Mother. Flipping it in his grasp, he smashed it against the Dreadtusk’s head.

  “Come now, V. You’ve surely more strength than this!” I grasped his shoulders, emitting a flash of starlight that flooded him with renewed energy.

  His body alight with cobalt, he deflected a goring charge and brought both fists above his head. Then, with a shout, he brought them down.

  “Just a few more to go, Celeste. Don’t leave us now.” His head snapped to the side. His body blurred, and before I could follow, he was gone. Splintering bone and a spray of offal followed. The beast targeting our mother was no more.

  Just as suddenly, a burst of silver lit up the darkness. Lucien came crashing down from the sky onto the last rotfly, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris. His head and weapon raised. Then, he passed through me in an instant and bisected another beast.

  “Is that the last of them?” Lucien asked, spear fading from his grip. He looked at the surrounding area and nodded. “Looks to be. Well fought, team!” Then, he pointed into the empty air. “Especially you, Little Star! We’d be nothing without your support.”

  I sighed, allowing myself to relax at last. Then, I fluttered to his side and placed my hand between his shoulder blades. “While I appreciate your flattery, Lucien, I would prefer that you not rely so heavily on my aid. I am not so accustomed to the ache of battle as you.”

  “Ah, there she is!” Lucien looked over his shoulder, opposite of where I was. “Our Promised Healer, living up to her calling!”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and smile.

  It was a month since my first flight, and I was starting to become more acclimated to combat. For better or worse, once I made my presence clear by healing whatever had afflicted them since my last departure, an urgent recklessness overtook them. Traveling at superhuman speeds, they stopped only when hunger or fatigue became too much to bear. Lucien did little to defend himself when he knew I was around, and Vasco was no better, his Soulspark lending itself to brazen displays of courage.

  “Let’s stop here for now, boys.” Mother hobbled to an outcropping, on the edge of the bottomless canyon, and eased herself to the ground. “That’s all the action I think I can bear for one night. You must both be hungry as well.” She gasped when my starlight flowed into her. “Thank you, Dear.” She reached to her shoulder, laying her hand in mine.

  “You’ll hear no argument from me, Auntie Dem.” Lucien joined her, reaching into the supply pack to hunt for food. He retrieved a pot with a single Vivinut plant — its yellow leaves a welcome contrast to the harsh grays and blacks of the Dreadlands — and plucked three shells from its leaves. They immediately grew back. Lucien sighed and handed them to the others. “Though, I must admit, I’ve grown tired of these damned things.”

  I couldn’t judge him for that.

  Vivinuts were the most logical and efficient choice of sustenance for such a journey. Their dense nutrients and hardy shells made them ideal for Heroes and soldiers on the march, especially traveling through a dead land with no game to hunt or plants to forage. Grown with Hope’s Tears, the plant was indestructible and self-replenishing.

  If only they didn’t taste like tanned leather.

  The four of us settled into a close circle, Vasco facing away from the others to keep watch as always. As I watched them eat, I longed to join in. Even if the Vivinuts were disgusting, they were tolerable when eaten together.

  “How much progress do you think we made?” Lucien asked.

  Mother took the pack and fished out a hand-drawn map, a copy of the one I’d shared with her in an earlier visit. She looked at the surrounding area. “We did well, all things considered. I had planned on us reaching this canyon tomorrow, so we certainly made up for the time we lost the other night.”

  A groan came from the group’s edge.

  “Never again. If we encounter another one of those things, let us change course rather than engage with it.” Vasco shook his head, resting it in his hands.

  Our first encounter with a foolwyrm. The least common of the Fellbeasts, it proved to be the most vexing. Always just out of sight, conjuring phantasms big and small to lead them off track. It fed not on flesh or blood, but on the panic and frustrations of its targets. More than once, it had led them into pitfalls and bubbling geysers of rot. And from my prison within the Dream, I could do naught to assist.

  It was luck and a masterful feint by Lucien, tossing his spear one way while conjuring a second unseen by the creature, that finally freed them from hours lost in a fog.

  “On that, we’re in agreement.” Lucien grimaced, forcing down his dinner. He then turned to Mother with a hopeful grin. “Then we’re close, yes? Just a bit longer before we free Celeste?”

  I shook my head. He was impatient as a child, ever eager to stay on the move. Such enthusiasm was infectious most days, but here it was exhausting. The hardest part of the journey still lay ahead.

  “Two months, still.” Mother traced the route on the map with her finger. “Perhaps longer, we’re nearing the place Celeste warned us about and we should take care when crossing.” She tapped on a section of the map that was heavily shaded in harsh, sketchy lines.

  “Yes. Good Belial was quite clear that venturing through the Blightmire Valley would be the most perilous part of the journey.” I shuddered and wrapped my arms around my middle. “I could scarcely bare to be near it, even from this side.”

  “Our foes are surely aware that we’ve only a single route.”

  Mother nodded. “We should expect resistance. If we do run into another foolwyrm, we should be prepared to press forward whatever the cost.” A yawn overtook her. She folded the map carefully and returned it to the satchel. “But, that is a problem for our future selves. For now, this old woman needs to rest.”

  “Give Celeste a hug for me.” Vasco said, glancing back with a smile.

  “And one for me, too. I cannot wait to hear what she thought of our gallant heroics tonight.” Lucien laughed and flopped backward onto the ground. “Also, Little Star, let Auntie Dem know when I’ll be graced with another visit, it’s been far too long.”

  “And it will be yet longer if you continue to pester me,” Though I wore a droll expression, the corners of my mouth twitched when his head turned to give me a clear look at his earnest, smiling face.

  Mother settled onto the rough, hot ground, resting her head on the supply pack. It was a miserable atmosphere for sleeping, but the fatigue of battle and travel took its toll, and she fell asleep within minutes.

  I waited for the haze of dream to appear around her. Then, I placed my hand on it and imagined myself being drawn in.

  ***

  I opened the door to our cottage and stepped inside, buffeted by the savory scent of roast chicken soup. Sunlight poured in through the open windows, streams of shimmering light illuminating the thin wisps of pollen in the air. Mother was at the table, dressed in a fuzzy wool dressing gown, a gift from Louise last Winter Solstice. Her silver hair was down, curls bouncing past her shoulders and behind her thick glasses, her baby blue eyes — eyes whose gaze I never grew tired of drawing — sparkled when they met mine.

  Crossing the room, I shed my attire, replacing it with a thought for my matching gown, and took a seat across from her. Though it was but a dream, the soup made my mouth water, and I could not resist a taste. Real or not, its soothing warmth filled me with joy.

  “You were quite fearsome tonight,” I said with a smile. “I’ve yet to grasp how you hid such marksmanship from us.”

  Mother chuckled. “Well, dear, it never came up. Believe it or not, I had a life before the two of you. My parents and I used to hunt on the outskirts of the Deep Wood.”

  “But a crossbow?”

  “Well, that is new, I’ll admit. But my arms aren’t what they used to be, even with your lovely aid. Thank you so much for that, by the by. So, I borrowed Hannah’s.” Mother sighed. Though she wore a smile, there was an unhidden sadness in her eyes. The Dream responded, in kind, tinting the haze at the edge of our vision with pale blue. “How are they treating you, Celeste?”

  I lifted my bowl and drained it slowly. Short, careful sips, savoring every ounce.

  “Well, if you’d believe it.” I sat the empty bowl down. “My garden is nearing completion, and I’ve begun breeding Hope’s Bloom. Good Belial has been most accommodating in providing me the seeds and samples I need.” Pursing my lips, I tilted my head back and gazed at the ceiling. “I would imagine…another month before she blooms and I have access to Hope’s Tears.”

  “And the Fiend Lord?” Her voice was grave, her gaze solemn.

  My teeth sank into my lip, and my brow furrowed. “Lord Genesis is…hm…” How to describe my captor? Should I say the words she expected to hear, tell her of his fits of rage, or how he razed Sanctuary to the ground without provocation? Did I dare tell her of my strange fascination, of that fleeting glance and the sparkle in his eyes when we spoke of literature and legend? “He is wicked, but not cruel. If it gives you any comfort, know that he has not hurt me, nor has he shown any intention to do so.”

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  I raised my eyes to meet her gaze. She seemed shocked when I smiled. “He is well read. There is a library in the castle. He seems to possess a penchant for legends: stories and myths about Heroes, Beasts, and Maidens.” I couldn’t help but laugh, saying it aloud. The mighty Fiend Lord, Scourge of Willowhaven, carnage and mayhem made manifest, was fond of the sort of stories she used to read to me before bed.

  Her expression softened, incredulity painted on her face. “Really now?”

  “It’s…become something of a routine for us. You see, I…no.” I shook my head. “That’s unimportant. Our time grows short, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you…were you able to produce the Answer?”

  Mother drew in a deep breath and slowly nodded. She rose from the table, padded to the cabinet, and pulled out a phial. She returned to the table, passing it to me with shaking hands.

  “I was. To your specifications as best I could. Though, you know I’ve never been as precise as you.”

  I turned it over in my hands and held it up to the light. Inside was a viscous purple liquid that was unnaturally clear with a soft radiance. The glass was warm, as though left in sunlight.

  “I think, Mother Dearest, you’ve done it. We’ll only know for certain once we’ve a chance to test it.” I grinned and handed it back to her. “Thank you.”

  She returned the phial to the cabinet, then came to me and held out her arms. “Come now, I know you heard the boys’ request.”

  I laughed and climbed to my feet, sliding into her arms. As she embraced me, it was as though I were a child again. All the horrors I’d seen, the death behind us and that which lay ahead forgotten. My cheek pressed against hers, arms squeezing her with all my strength.

  “Tell them to be more careful. I know not the limits of my magic, and I fear that should we encounter something truly terrible, I may not be enough.”

  She kissed my cheek, hand rising to caress my hair. “You do the same, Celeste. I know your own well being has always been of the least importance to you, but if you’ll care not for yourself for your own sake, do it for mine.”

  ***

  When I stepped out of Mother’s dream, intending to visit Lucien next, I found myself standing on the balcony at Castle Dreadskull. Head spinning, I spun around in a daze, searching for an answer. I found it standing in the doorway.

  “L-Lord Genesis?”

  The Fiend Lord stood, hands folded behind his back, watching me through slitted eyes, a thin smile on his lips. Unlike our last meeting in the Dream, I could see him with perfect clarity.

  Silent. Unmoving. Staring into my soul.

  I was the first to crack. “D-do you walk the Dream often, good sir?”

  Genesis chuckled and walked forward to join me. He leaned against the rail, gazing into the distance. “Each and every day, when the huddled masses think themselves safe in the light of the Sun.” His eyes flicked toward me and his smile grew. “Nothing escapes my knowing, Little Moth. Not in these walls, nor anywhere in the Dream.”

  Blood cold, heart pounding, I stood beside him, resting my hands on the railing next to his, our fingers nearly touching. “I take it then…you’re aware of the reason for my nightly excursions?”

  “I am.”

  Swallowing, I continued softer. “Do you intend to stop me?” When he suddenly laughed, I jumped, hand flying to my chest. He turned to me with a smile that reached his eyes, their sinister fire gone, replaced with mirthful warmth.

  “Why would I do such a thing? You’ve done nothing to violate our agreement, have you?” Genesis gestured to the room, where my body lay peacefully on the bed. “You’ve not set foot outside these castle walls.”

  “Even knowing I aid your enemies? Enemies en route to destroy you?”

  He moved closer, each echoing footstep driving me back until I was trapped against the castle wall. The Fiend Lord leaned in, placing his hand against the wall over my head. Towering over me, his dark form lit only by the light of his eyes, his silhouette seemed insurmountable, a shadow that threatened to devour me whole.

  “I encourage you to spread those dainty little wings of yours, Celeste.” He traced a claw across the membrane of my wing.

  A violent shiver shook my body, insides melting at his shockingly tender touch. Warm. Thrilling. Unknown, but not unwanted. A moan passed through my parted lips when his claw sliced a light, stinging line down my cheek, just below my ear.

  “Explore the full extent of the gifts you’ve been given. Tinker away in your garden, growing your “Answer” at your leisure. You cannot defeat me within the Dream alone. Others who came before you have tried.”

  Other Dream Walkers? My confusion evident on my face, Genesis chuckled and pulled away. Free from the weight of his shadow, I could breathe again.

  “Belial.”

  The creature appeared with a bow.

  “Of course, of course, Lord Master.” They raised their hand and the reflection around us bent and twisted into a new shape.

  ***

  Instead of Castle Dreadskull, we hovered above a settlement unlike any I’d ever seen before. Towering buildings of stone and steel were crowded together along streets filled with mechanical carriages, driven forward by tufts of smoke instead of horses or oxen. People in soot-stained clothes, doused in heavy perfumes and colognes, wandered the smooth, paved streets, their paths lit by strange lanterns, similar to the ones I’d seen in the pit, attached to wooden poles at every street corner.

  “Where are we?” My voice was distant, disconnected from my floating form.

  “Once there existed a kingdom of steel and steam, forged by talented hands and brilliant minds whose works blotted out the Sun with their grandeur.” Belial’s voice echoed around us. The scene slowly moved, picking up speed as it went, down narrow alleyways, weaving between people and carriages alike. “So certain in their mastery of technology and science that they ignored the threat creeping into their land.”

  We left the city and I gasped, breathless at the expanse of it. It was nearly the size of Willowhaven, protected not by the Mother Willow’s branches by a cloud of industrial smoke and a squadron of metal carriages attached to massive balloons that soared through the air as easily as birds.

  Our trek ended on the shores of a beach, sand crushed beneath the stomping hooves of a horde of Fellbeasts. They resembled the Dreadtusks, but simpler somehow. Their tusks were serrated, their bodies smaller with soft, billowing manes. Instead of charging recklessly at everything in their path, they marched forward with a purpose.

  An army of soldiers, clad in shiny armor like tortoise shells and wielding barreled steel sticks, fired piercing metal rounds into the beasts. Their flesh tore, spilling their fellblood into the sand, but quickly healed. The beasts reached the vanguard. The soldiers turned to flee, only to be run down.

  “With the Fiend Lord’s conquest on their doorstep, the most brilliant minds of the kingdom were befuddled! How could they stand against beasts that refused to die, even to their mightiest weapons? Oh, befuddled, indeed!”

  The scene pulled back. Trenches were dug, walls constructed, the greatest of which was built around the city in an act of desperation. It worked, for a while, diverting the Fellbeasts’ attention to the smaller towns in the countryside.

  Genesis reached out, claws curled around the vision. “There was one, though, who was not content to hide behind their great walls. The most brilliant of them all. Possessing the ability to walk his kingdom’s reflection in the Dream, he observed them from a distance for years, studying the beasts’ ways, searching for a weakness. While those cowering in the Great City feared the beasts, he saw in them…potential.”

  Suddenly, we were in someone’s home. A cramped little space, crowded with tables covered in tomes with bent pages, vandalized by a scratchy, unreadable hand. At the center of the mess stood a hunched man in an ill-fitting black jacket. Eyes hidden behind red-tinted goggles; patches of black hair on his grease-stained cheeks.

  “Power…there’s power there, I just know it.” His voice was different — deeper, clearer — but unmistakable, speaking in Tibrannian.

  My eyes widened. Lord Beelzebub.

  “In the blood. Something we could use. Endless. Self-perpetuating. They need no rest, even when mowed down by gunfire…if we could use that then, perhaps?”

  “No…” The word slipped from my mouth before I could stop it.

  Genesis laughed, his voice startling me from my horror.

  “He acquired a sample of the fellblood. Working tirelessly, day and night, he sought to uncover its dark secrets in hopes he might take them for himself.” He crushed the vision in his grasp, and the scene changed again.

  We were in the Great City’s reflection. Strips of black streamed from the window to Beelzebub’s home, tainting the haze of the Dream. Soon the smog grew thick enough to attract the attention of the Fellbeasts.

  As they converged on the great wall, my hands crept to my face.

  The smog grew darker. The wall fell, and Fellbeasts stampeded through the streets.

  Buildings toppled. People screamed. Blood ran like water.

  “But he was certain! Oh yes, oh yes! Quite certain that he had unraveled the secrets…that he had found the answer to their problem. If their bodies could not be destroyed, could they not be slain within the Dream?”

  Genesis’s laugh rumbled, shaking the vision. He stepped forward, walking into the vision and standing before Beelzebub. “Intrigued by his claim, I appeared to meet his challenge.” He held out his arms. “Go on then, Brave Scientist! Show me the weapon your labor has wrought!”

  With a choked scream, Beelzebub hurled a device the size of a grapefruit, wrapped in metal panels that held a core of unmistakable black liquid, at the Fiend Lord. It crashed into his chest and erupted in a blinding explosion. The reflection cracked and shattered, colorless distortion seeping into the broken space. A cloud of torn space flooded the isolated platforms, crumbling remnants of the once Great City.

  And at the heart of the destruction stood the Fiend Lord. His body shredded into charred slivers of flesh and black scales. Formless matter boiled in the cracks between his flesh, erupting in spurts with every thump of his still beating heart.

  Beelzebub held his breath.

  Genesis’s eyes lit up, green irises expanding until they devoured the inky sclera. His body started to change, but his expression remained. A grin unbroken.

  The scene flashed. We were in the Great City, now fallen to ruin. Rot oozed from the cracks of the broken buildings. Survivors crawled in the street, their flesh corroding as the disease spread and devoured them. A deafening roar shook the horizon. Those who yet could move turned their eyes to the sky.

  Hovering amidst the smog was the giant, buzzing shape of the Fiend of Rot.

  And behind him.

  Behind him was something far worse.

  ***

  The vision faded, and we returned to the balcony of Castle Dreadskull. My thoughts reeled; my vision blurred. Stumbling, I reached for something, anything, that could help me stay on my feet. My search in vain, I slid to the ground, hand pressed against my mouth to smother a cry.

  “It…was my doing?”

  The beast blood. The nightmares. The Fellbeast that had nearly ended my brother’s life. The beacon that had drawn Genesis the Spring Hill.

  All of it was my fault.

  “All Fellbeasts originate from me,” Genesis said, kneeling before me and placing a hand to his chest. His eyes blazed like dying stars, and though his grin had never seemed more wicked, I could not take my eyes away from it. “Every sight, every sound, they experience is known to me. The beast you slew was my pride and joy. The very beast created as a result of Beelzebub’s weapon. For over two thousand years, it raged ceaselessly across the world. It was the mightiest of all my creations.”

  “Imagine my shock when it fell.” He leaned closer. “How could I not want to meet the one responsible?”

  “That’s…that’s why you…” I felt small enough to sink through the cracks in the floor. His claws took me by the chin, I whimpered and pulled back, but there was nowhere left to flee.

  “Did you…” His nose brushed mine; his fiery breath seared my lips. “Find your answer, Little Moth?”

  Though crushed by his presence, I pushed against him, my courage forcing him to relent and draw back. “I did…” Sure and certain, the words sprang forth from the depths of my sorrow. Stomach knotted, heart thrashing to escape my chest, I licked my burned lips and said it again. “I found the answer that he — that Lord Beelzebub — could not.”

  His eyes flickered. The claws gripping my chin dug in just enough to draw blood, just enough to draw a breathless moan from my lips. His ears twitched, as did mine. The scent of burning incense reached my nose, and I breathed it in deep.

  “Will you…do you intend to stop me?”

  Genesis breathed in the scent, and his mouth fell open. The taste of embers danced on his every heavy breath, claws squeezing to draw another trickle of my sweet-scented blood once more.

  “Belial…see to it that she has everything she needs.” He released me and rose to his feet. Our eyes remained locked; neither of us blinked. “As I did that day, I accept your challenge, Celeste.” He turned to leave, but paused at the balcony door. His lips screwed shut and his hand rose to his face. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and shamelessly, he licked the blood from his fingers.

  I watched him, transfixed on the look that passed over his face. The way his eyes fell shut, the way his shoulders relaxed. He growled again, and the warmth in my stomach bubbled anew, spilling outward to the rest of my body. I touched my chin, dampening my fingers on the little blood that remained.

  He glanced back at me, staring at the smoke rising from my fingertips. It seemed as if he wanted to say something more, wanted to return to my side. And as I placed my fingers in my mouth, tasting the sugary sweetness of my blood, I wished that he would.

  Instead, a dark look passed over his face. His gaze smoldering, he turned away with a barely restrained snarl. Then, without a word, he vanished.

  Belial’s head twitched to the side. They remained still for several seconds. And then, in a rare moment of restraint, the creature bowed and was gone.

  Once more, I was alone in the Dream.

  Still shaken by my revelation and the overwhelming sensation the Fiend Lord’s gaze had sparked within me, I climbed to my feet and retired to my room on numb legs. I reached the bed, breathing a sigh as I laid into my sleeping body and stared at the ceiling.

  My restless fingers crept up my stomach, crossed my fluttering chest, and came to rest on my lips.

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