Page 123 of The Unweaver

“You don’t need the Egg with the Necromancer on our side, and I don’t need you to slip through the widening rift in the veil. With the Realmwalker dead, our true work can begin.”

Ghose’s terrible laughter echoed as Cora swam to the broken Egg. She held Malachy’s beautiful, black heart in her hands while he laid motionless in a bed of stars. His features were peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. His heart withered in her palm as death rose up, at last, to claim him.

Chapter 34. Where the Dead Live

Cradling Malachy’s desiccated spirit next to hers, Cora parted the gossamer veil of dreams and sank into Death. Her final sight was of the nightmare gripping London in its talons, feeding and spreading, while demons crawled through the rift in the veil.

Cora found herself in the Irish countryside of Malachy’s Deathscape, with cottages nestled into the rolling green hills. From a distance, he appeared to be dozing on a summer’s afternoon. Stalks of tall grass whisked her legs as she carried his blackened heart to where he rested. Up close, he was only a faint outline of himself, growing more solid as his spirit passed through the black veil.

Kneeling beside him, she cupped his heart like an offering and placed it over his chest. His heart sank through flesh and bone, returning home after lifetimes apart. His scourged spirit, reunited in death.

Tears pricked her eyes as she stroked his cheek. “Malachy.”

Blue eyes fluttered open on a gasp. Malachy’s gaze rested on her. His uncertainty softened into warm recognition. “Cora,” he said in a faded voice. “Where are we?”

“Where the dead live.”

“Ah.” He leaned into her touch with a deep, shuddering breath. “The prophecy came true, then, and better than I could have hoped for. My death is a beautiful woman.”

An otherworldly sound drew their attention. The nightmare’s echo strained through the thin veil between Death and Dreams, threatening to tear it apart. The chaos of joining Realms resonated in her spirit. A marrow-deep disquiet.

Cora sensed the swelling tide of dead clambering for the veil. An instinctual escape from the finality of death. How much longer before the veil was breached? In her mind’s eye, she saw demons spilling across the veil into London. Death and dreams and demons fused in a nightmare.

Chaos.

“It’s too late for me.” His gaze captured hers. “But not you. Return to the Dreamverse. Kill the demons. Live, Cora. I will be here, waiting for you.”

A futile idea burst out of her lips. “If Icanresurrect, maybe I can resurrect you. My life for yours. The world doesn’t need another Necromancer. They need the Realmwalker. Only you can seal the rift and keep more demons from escaping. Only you can stop Ghose and Ikelas.”

He searched her resolute features. Sitting up, he clasped her shoulders. Warm and steady, even in death. “A life for a life. Kill Ikelas and bring me back.”

Death’s scales had to be balanced. Ikelas’s life for his. Killing the dream demon would also be her last chance to free Teddy, as much as she could, from the Oracle Ruby.

The impossibility of resurrection was a doubt she shoved away. For Malachy, for Teddy, she would try.

Fingers interlaced, she helped him to stand. “Again?”

“Again.”

The undertow of life pulled her back. Malachy trailed behind like a ghost. Slipping through the black veil into glittering darkness, Cora left one endless dream for another.

The dead surged in her wake, attempting to breach the weakening veil. She’d need all her energy to resurrect Malachy; she couldn’t dam the torrent of dead if they broke through.

The Realmwalker stood between Death and Dreams like a bridge over dangerous waters. Muscles strained taut, he held the dead back from the boundary he couldn’t cross until Cora killed Ikelas and resurrected him.

But was she too late? The Dreamverse had grown. The sea of stars brimmed with a massive vortex of dreamers, gorged upon by Ikelas in the center, her one-handed silhouette shifting between nightmares. Ghose and any other escaped demons were long gone.

From the expanding rift in the veil seeped a phosphorescent vapor. Menacing shapes prowled the other side. Tracking Cora with coal-eyes unseen but instinctively felt. Prodding the veil for weaknesses, throwing themselves bodily against it. Demons and the dead surged against the veils between Realms, otherworldly voices snarling for escape.

Ikelas’s head swiveled. Her mirror eyes glinted when she saw Cora. The dream demon rose on a velvety wave strewn with bodies.

Dreamers were rousing, swimming towards Cora, grabbing her, dragging her down, threatening to drown her. Cora struggled against their hold, against the starry vortex’s pull.

Ikelas crested a wave and slashed Cora with the claws on her remaining hand. Rivulets of blood flowed from Cora’s lacerated torso. Smears of crimson and muffled shouts on the midnight waves. The dream demon raised her fearsome claws for another swipe.

Letting the abominable power guide her, strengthen her, Cora gushed decay. Flinging off the restraining limbs, she threw herself at Ikelas, planted her hands over the demon’s formless heart, andunwove.

The decaying canvas of the Oneiromancer’s torso peeled back, revealing a grisly pulp of rotting dreams.

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