“My mate arrives tomorrow. I wish for her to feel happiness. To feel at home here. She’s endured so much… and no one deserves peace more than she does,” I pause, studying his reaction, but he’s unreadable. “I simply wish to walk through a dream with you. One you conjure, based on my request. I’m building her a room. A place that feels like it’s truly hers. A sanctuary. Somewhere she might, one day, feel safe enough to heal.”
His gaze sharpens. His magic presses against my own, testing me. Trying to see into my mind. “If you’d like for me to prove my intentions,” I offer, “then allow me to show you.”
The quiet surrounds us as he contemplates my words. Then, finally: “Show me.”
He places the crystal orb into my hand. I close my eyes and think of Mercy. Of her smile. Her sorrow. Her strength. All the ways I wish to bring her happiness and comfort. When I open my eyes again, tears line his.
He bows his head. “Azrael, you are pure of heart. I will grant your request. In exchange for a favor of my choosing. Something of equal value… when I call.”
“Agreed.”
He studies the circles of sand and chalk. “To walk in dreams together, you must break the boundaries that contain me.”
My eyes dart to Zora. She’s shaking her head, mouthingno.But I meet the Prince of Nightmares’ endless stare, and I nod my agreement.
“I can only take one. Untie yourself from your companion, and I will guarantee your safe passage through the dream realms—and your safe return, Shadow Prince.”
The rope is stiff with blood. My fingers struggle to untie the knot, but at last it loosens and drops to my feet.
“Don’t do this, Azrael,” Zora pleads. “Don’t step outside the circle.”
“Silence!” the Prince of Nightmares snaps. With a wave of his hand, Zora collapses into sleep, still inside the ring of chalk.
I want to protest his actions, but I stop myself. This is the price. I’ll play by his rules. I kick the sand, stepping outside the chalk circle—
—and am whisked away in a blur.
When the spinning stops, I’m surrounded by blank nothingness. It ripples like black silk. My steps make no sound. Every breath echoes louder than a scream. Beside me, the Prince of Nightmares stands motionless—like a grave statue, tall and foreboding.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“The dreamscape,” he says. “Where all things are possible.”
Everything happens fast. I remember what he said about time—how it’s merely a construct to me, yet something entirely different to others. Flashes of images fill the space, and then the plane shifts. We’re standing in the empty room I plan to gift to Mercy.
“Go ahead. Imagine creating the perfect room. Summon her here to craft the dream. You need only to call to her, reach for her through your bond,” he instructs.
I do as I’m told, and soon Mercy is here. Her joy radiates through the bond, quiet and golden. I could live an eternity in this one moment and never long for more. She begins creating a room centered around a large four-post bed. Intricate carvings of marigolds adorn the dark-stained wood, and plush, comfortable lavender bedding decorates it. A soft rug rests beneath the bed to warm her feet, with a matching one laid before the fireplace. Oversized, eggplant-colored chairs rest in front of the hearth, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf lines one wall. Across the room,a wardrobe stands with carved flowers in matching stained wood. There’s a tray for tea and a vase spilling out and a vase overflowing with wild, vibrant flowers. Smaller matching vases are sprinkled throughout the space, and a gentle breeze stirs the curtains. A tall mirror rests on another wall, and from the ceiling hangs a crystal chandelier casting dancing rainbows of light. It’s beautiful. It’s Mercy’s room.
Everything goes black. When I open my eyes, I’m standing in the very room she imagined—fully furnished and alive with her touch. I spin around, amazed. It’s exactly as it was in the dream. On a table beside the overflowing vase rests a slip of paper. Scrawled in elegant lettering, it reads:
A mating gift for you, Prince of Shadows. I thank you for reminding me that even the smallest acts of kindness hold far more weight than all the riches of the world. In time, I hope we can remain allies. A favor for a favor—but this room is not a favor. It’s a gift that need not be repaid. I look forward to returning to your realm one day.
Until we meet again; Endlessly Dreaming.
Yours truly,
The Prince of Nightmares
Chapter 35
Mercy
“Mercy, wake up.” My mother’s voice hisses inches from my face.
I crack one eye open, confused as to why she’s waking me.Did I oversleep?“Please… just a few more minutes,” I beg, exhausted from my strange dreams.
“He’s here,” my mother whisper-shouts, “And I don’t know what to do.”
