Gavrel’s brows dipped, understanding in the deep wells of his eyes.

A wisp of movement brought my attention back to the female, my eyelids disappearing under my browbone.

“Everyone, step away. Now!” I snapped; my eyes glued to the thing creeping from the darkness beyond.

The creature was made of night itself. At least seven feet tall, its bony frame stretched thin under a robe made of black shadows with a gauzy veil that draped over its bone-white visage. The netting sank into pits where its eyes, nose, and mouth should have been.

Hovering above the floor, there were no legs under the wispy fumes wavering below, but long, spindly fingers stretched toward the glass we’d been observing. Moving like fog drifting over a twilit horizon, it didn’t show any signs of attacking us.

Yet .

Rhaegar’s brow rose along with his sword. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Er, stabbing practice?” Breena muttered, mouth dropping open.

Marek stepped toward the creature, but I blocked him with my arm across his torso. “Dream reapers. Don’t you recall the stories?”

Breena shook her head, her short hair flicking against her jaw. “Ryn, you know you’re the only one who read all the beastie books ever written, yeah?”

Gavrel blinked slowly at her. “They used to tell us bedtime stories about them. They can’t see, hear, or smell.”

Breena snapped her fingers. “Oh, right. Gran mentioned them once, but stopped when she realized they didn’t scare me into behaving.”

I moved my head from side to side. “They feed on your night terrors … the crumbs that Phobetor doesn’t consume. They won’t attack unless they sense a nightmare … or extreme fear.”

Head tilting, Breena’s mouth twisted. “Still, what if I stab it?”

“Breena.” Gavrel narrowed his eyes.

She grinned.

Amusement tugged at my lips. “If you touch them, they’ll likely attack.”

“Let’s move. It looks like more are drawing near.”

Within the globe, the woman’s nightmare sped up, playing faster on repeat as more bony fingers crept from the dark. Shadow-like cloth dripped from waxen wrists as their brittle phalanges scraped over the glass.

Carefully, we moved, giving the ghouls a wide berth as they sucked in the woman’s terror, their filmy veils pulling into the hollows of their skulls.

“You think they stole in through a weakened portal, or someone stationed them here?” Marek pondered.

“Either is likely, but I’m leaning toward stationed. A prison needs keepers,” Gavrel responded.

Now that we’d seen the reapers, their presence became clearer. Thank the Ancients, because I didn’t want to find out what happened if we bumped into one.

As best we could, we hurried through the darkness, our embers lighting the surrounding spaces. I searched for Kaden within each bubble, and with each face that wasn’t his, my heart knocked into my ribcage until I thought it would escape through my windpipe. Unease settled heavily in my belly.

From my side, a glimmer caught my attention.

Lava-like silver and smog coiled in the ground to our left.

As we approached, we slowed, scrutinizing it.

I squinted, following the hazy veins of light creeping from the basin and latching onto every visible globe.

Where the tendrils touched, amber energy slurped into the streams.

Numerous reapers drifted in a wide berth around the pool, avoiding it.

The deep line between Gavrel’s eyebrows dug into his skin as Rhaegar stood next to him. His second-in-command whistled, air puffing his deep brown cheeks. “That doesn’t seem promising.”

“It’s the same as the dungeon,” Gavrel muttered.

My ember whizzed over my body, and I stumbled. Breena held tight to my belt until I steadied myself with my left hand on Marek’s raised wrist. His aura flickered around him as well. His eyes were wide as he stared at the molten matter.

Follow.

Startled by the voice—the same one that had led me to the dungeon in Surrelia—my muscles froze, and my eyelids blinked rapidly.

Gavrel’s hand warmed my lower back. “What is it?”

I glanced at him with wide eyes. “The voice is back. I’m guessing you didn’t hear it?”

Gavrel shook his head, understanding softening his features.

I squeezed my eyes closed. I breathed in, counting several heartbeats, and then exhaled slowly. Everyone else faded away as I envisaged my best friend.

His smirk.

His clover-colored eyes .

His laughter.

How he had once been my rock when I needed stability.

Unbidden, a picture of him arching back on his knees and roaring into the sky flashed behind my eyes.

Follow.

My lids snapped open; my eyes drawn to a cord of radiance brighter than the others. It stretched into the distance to our right. “This way,” I urged, turning in that direction, not cognizant of whether the others kept up.

Weaving through the jumble of hovering spheres and reapers, I followed the bright thread until its fingers fanned out over an orb above. A fist of power thumped into my chest as if a hook latched onto me.

My arms reached for him.

For there was Kaden. Trapped in his torment, back arching just as I dreamed. The sob tore from me as I called his name.

But he couldn’t hear me.

And I couldn’t hear the cries of anguish so clearly ripping from him.