Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (84)

“Whew. That was a razor’s edge too close to the skin. Thanks.”

The Blood Sage jerked back. “Why is that enough to earn your gratitude? I have bestowed on you the power to rival Monarchs and change the way sacred arts are practiced, and for this you spit on me. Yet for one rational—"

He interrupted himself again, this time staring off into the distance.

Yerin felt something at the same time, like a cold wind passing through her spirit. A host of voices whispered in her mind, and she lashed out with dream aura to protect herself, but the voices barely quieted.

Until the construct in her soulspace sent out a wave of madra.

It washed through her, Enforcing her mind and spirit, and the voices cut off in an instant. Yerin found herself on her feet, cradling Little Blue in one hand and holding her drawn sword in the other.

“Silent King,” she said shortly.

The Blood Sage shuddered in place as though something were eating him from the inside out, and Yerin’s veins froze. She readied her Moonlight Bridge.

Then purple-white dream madra blasted out of him, and aura ran off him like water. “You seek to violate my mind, King of Dreams? Stick to softer prey.”

Yerin Enforced her weapon. “I’d contend he listened to you.”

White rings hovered over the members of Redmoon Hall. Not all of them, but all the ones who had been unconscious and roughly a third of those who had been awake.

And the largest, brightest ring shone over Redmoon’s head. His body floated into the air, and Yerin could feel a new, terrifying spirit reinforcing his own.

The Herald’s eyes snapped open.





Orthos dreamed of days long ago, when the Blackflame Empire had been ruled by the Blackflame family.

He had been an honored sacred beast, considered nobility. His family had spread throughout the Empire; there were only a few of them left, but they were respected.

Orthos looked out over red sand onto a city of dragon’s bones. Serpent’s Grave, the city he protected.

But it could be the city he owned.

That had never been a thought he’d entertained in his youth, but now it felt natural. He was an Underlord now. Recklessly pursuing advancement was Lindon’s way; the way of the young, and the way of humans.

He could settle down and rule. He could become a mighty dragon…and in the dream, he transformed into the body he had once assumed he would take. A long, serpentine body with wings and mighty jaws. A form that reminded him of the Archlord, Helethshan.

This can be yours, a voice whispered in his mind. I will give you the power to take it.

Then a wave of shimmering multi-colored energy flowed from the construct Lindon had given him and through his mind, and Orthos realized that voice hadn’t been his own.

His eyes snapped open, and Orthos saw the dark room of crumbled stone at the bottom of Shatterspine Castle. Where they had fallen.

Ziel sat up next to him, breath heaving and spirit in chaos.

“The Silent King,” Orthos rumbled. “How did he find us here?”

Ziel’s breath was rough. “The Silent King’s reach is long. I’ve read legends that suggested he could touch the minds of dreamers from anywhere on the planet, but he’s been sealed off by Emriss Silentborn for…ever.”

“And I thought Lindon was being paranoid.”

“I’m not sure he was paranoid enough.” Ziel looked up into the ceiling, and Orthos followed the human’s spiritual perception with his own.

Spots of dream madra were appearing all over the castle. Taking over the black dragons.

Including one powerful spirit, who broke free of the time-locked circle with the aid of the Dreadgod. Helethshan, the Archlord, was free. And under the control of the Silent King.

Orthos heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll be glad when the Dreadgods are dead.”

“I never blamed the Dreadgods for what they do. Might as well blame an earthquake or a storm.” Ziel stood and wrapped his cloak around himself. “Now, I’m starting to hate them.”





Wei Shi Kelsa pressed her palms into her eyes and tried to keep herself awake.

Several members of the Twin Star Sect who practiced light or dream Paths had asked for guidance on the Path of the White Fox. Some of them wanted to follow the whole Path, while others were looking for pointers on their own techniques.

But everybody wanted guidance from the Sage’s sister.

A handful of others from the Wei clan had reached Lowgold, most of them old enough to be Kelsa’s grandparents. They had far more experience than she did, but they didn’t have a famous little brother.

Her tail lashed behind her, which only increased her irritation. She forcibly stopped it. The white-and-purple flaming tail was not the Goldsign she’d wanted, and it seemed to have a mind of its own.

This time, it reminded her that she wasn’t being fair, even in her own thoughts. She was blaming Lindon for her own inconvenience when he wasn’t even the only reason they wanted pointers.

Not only was she the youngest Wei clan Lowgold, she was also the strongest. Lindon was the reason for that; the Remnant he’d strengthened for her gave her madra that was far denser and better balanced than the rest.

But power was no substitute for experience, and she’d never guided anyone through their Path before. The only student she’d ever trained, however briefly, was Lindon himself.