5. Cain

CHAPTER 5

CAIN

"I'm not broken."

Those fierce, quiet words clothe me with the sanctity of a prayer as I allow myself to fall asleep inside my chambers. The broken window lets the chill night air in, but I'm now no longer in my physical body.

I let my beast out. I let him hunt .

The Dream Realm is a hauntingly beautiful place. A low rumble creaks across the broken ground, sending vibrations into my large form that I easily read.

Each new dream, each new shift and change, sends a shiver through me, and I catalog every single one.

And rivers of blood freely flow. I can't drink from them, despite many efforts of trying. They run with powerful undercurrents, threading through various territories like the veins of a living creature bigger than even me.

I respect the Dream Realm, and in return, it nourishes me.

My view is limited to those who have given their minds freely to me. After this many years and the growth of my influence, much of the Dream Realm is open to me.

The sky is dark and cracked like dusty glass tossed in volcanic ash. It snows a soft black residue that melts into my skin, giving me little tastes of the dreams running in motion around me.

I follow the path I've made over the years, a solid obsidian road of hardened glass that grows with each new dream I encounter.

Cain, bless this family.

Cain, my lord, my king, honor us with your oversight and guidance to harvest a worthy crop this year.

Prayers make my mouth water, and my beast sucks them in, but he's not distracted by the tasty morsels.

He's on the hunt for the first true meal he's had in years.

I prowl across vast distances of the ethereal land in search of Scarlett Nightingale. Parallel worlds curl up into the sky and form hills. I can see various buildings, villages, and landscapes created by each individual dreamer.

But there's a new one I'm looking for tonight.

Where are you, little star?

My tongue flicks out, tasting the air and catching the faint whiff of wine-soaked peaches.

There you are.

I follow the scent until I'm led off my carved path and deeper into broken territory.

What is this? I wonder, marveling at the untouched, spliced, glassy ground that shouldn't be hospitable to any dreamer.

It's too dark and isolated.

Too painful.

Concern makes my nostrils flare as I soak in a heavier dose of Scarlett's aroma, only to find a metallic one accompanying it.

There's another soul-scent marking Scarlett's trail, and I follow it, finding the blood-like taste tainting the shadows that lick around my face.

I delve into the darkness, unafraid of what I might find.

I'm the Elite City King.

I'm a Dream Eater.

But something else challenges my presence and makes me wade through the inky shadows.

Scarlett Nightingale hasn't been directly conferring with me since her first prayer, but she's been talking to some other entity in the Dream Realm.

And apparently, she's been linked to this other presence for a very long time. It is far too immersed in her territory not to have had time to take root like this.

Who else is here? I wonder as I pause on the fringes of Scarlett's territory. I don't know of any other dream-focused monsters, at least not in my world.

And I've never seen anything like this. I'm intimately familiar with the Dream Realm, but I've never been here.

There are still recesses I have not yet explored, and that excites me more than I care to admit.

Every living creature capable of sentient, complex thought is automatically awarded land in this realm. When I blink and send my body skyward, I hover over the fog that has settled onto her land.

It's massive.

Scarlett's plot stretches out with a vast, incredible space, one that is much larger than I'm accustomed to for a single soul, but it fluctuates with feathery shadows I often associate with nightmares born of bad memories.

It makes them tangible because their source comes from the real world.

It also makes them delicious. There are few energies more powerful than those born of terror.

As I descend, the dark tendrils lick across my skin, and I can't help but thread my fingers through them, enticing them to dance with me.

Nightmares like me. I feast on them, giving them a vault to call home.

And my monster side can feed.

One curls across my chest, then hovers above my mouth, allowing me to lick.

I'm in my Dream Eater form in this world, so all I have to do is part my mouth and flick out my tongue.

The shadows are sucked in, my body acting as a void that consumes everything in this realm, if it dares to linger within my reach.

Ancient anger, grief, and sorrow stir in my soul. That's what these shadows are born from.

The memories are too old to belong to a human, so that means they belong to someone else.

Or something else.

Whatever type of entity they belong to has shed its terror and left it here.

It's a wonder this female hasn't gone mad.

I sense her farther in, resting in her territory beyond my reach. I can faintly hear her, the link between us having opened the moment she uttered her first prayer.

But she hasn't prayed again. She's been talking to someone else. There's no fear in her tone, and it seems to be helping her mental state. The shadows have calmed, whereas previously they had been vibrating.

So I wait.

And feast.

I give the shadows of sorrow a place, a purpose .

You are mine now, I tell those wisps that have curled inside my soul.

A light flares at that statement, one that I inexplicably know belongs to the female.

I tilt my head, curious, as the shadows part, revealing a world of broken mirror shards floating through the air.

She's letting me in.

In each shard, a different memory, dream, or fabrication glints back.

A child running in a sea of flames.

A mother crying.

A room of three surrounding a contract written in blood.

The last depiction is one I know well, because I was there, too.

In spirit, anyway.

Or in beast.

The shards float away from me as I step through. My heavy weight makes me sink into the ground that crunches under my steps.

Like Helia, my beastly body doesn't wear clothes or boots, mostly because I have no need for them in this form. Still, the broken, glassy ground seems to make my feet sting.

It's an unusual sensation in the Dream Realm.

What have you been up to, little star, to make your territory so rife with pain? I wonder.

Who have you let in, other than me?

Physical movement doesn't work the same in the Dream Realm as it does in the real world. Only three steps take me straight to the owner of this territory.

I was invited by her prayer, but it doesn't mean I can stay.

When I find her blurry form cozied in a chair and huddled with a book and gold pen, I realize she's still awake.

But just barely.

Those intrusive wisps are tugging at her arms, her legs, and plucking at her hair in an effort to drag her under.

To drown her in the dream world.

They don't seem to have good intentions, either.

"Get out," I say, forcing my words with my beast's growly sounds.

They flicker as if I've hit them with a forceful wind but then settle against the female again.

I frown, not accustomed to nightmares disobeying me in this realm—but this isn't my territory.

It's hers.

And whether she recognizes it or not, she has welcomed the darkness in. Even humans have a certain amount of control over their dreams. It might not feel that way to them, but they have more power than they could possibly realize.

It's why I tread carefully and can only access a mind where I've been invited. Even then, it works best if the human allowing me in is compliant and willing.

This female seems to be neither of those things. She's not praying to me, but I'm still lingering in the back of her mind, or else I wouldn't have access to her dreams.

What are you up to, little one? I wonder as I draw closer. I don't want to make her aware of my presence, but I can't resist the pull this delicate creature has over me. When glass crunches under my step, she pauses what she's writing and looks up but doesn't seem to see me.

I'm struck silent by the sight of her eyes. It's as if she holds molten silver inside her soul and it glitters through her fractured irises.

Stunning.

She only graces my space with a glance before her feathered eyelashes lower, hiding the incredible sight from me.

Now the nickname I've settled on for her fits. It's as if my soul knew what she was, even if I didn't.

I still don't have tangible answers, but now I'm even more curious. That in and of itself is a thrill, one I've rarely been awarded in my very long existence.

This brilliant little mystery has me captive as I dare to peer closer to see what she's writing.

The contents of her notebook seem to contain a diary of delicate penmanship of the highest quality that I would expect of a Lady. But it's her artistic skill that surprises me.

The creative arts are seen as frivolous by most humans when, in truth, expression in any form is a type of magic.

Art is an expression of what resides in one's soul.

And in this case, my star is drawing the reflection she sees of others through those broken little mirrors she has for eyes.

Fascinating.

My beast rumbles a thunderous growl inside my chest when I see her sketching the faces of two men, one I recognize, and the other being the one who struck her.

The urge to murder that insufferable speck of a human nearly makes me exit her territory in search of his.

He must not pray to me, either, because I've never seen him before. Just the older one.

Duke Nightingale.

I hadn't even paid attention to the fact that he had adult children. The affairs of families are inconsequential to me. All I care about is that quotas are met and contracts honored.

And rules obeyed.

I know who this female is now. She had been hiding just underneath my shadow all this time. It's rare that a family earns enough points to upgrade into a new sector. And even then, their quotas are exponentially increased in response, making any family who tries to overcome their station challenged to the point where many choose to stay put.

Because failure means death in my city.

Harsh rules, but necessary in this world teetering on the edge of survival. The human population plummeted those first few decades when monsters and men mingled.

It wasn't anyone's fault. Both creatures have dark natures that must be carefully navigated.

Predator and prey have learned to coexist, and I have never felt that more sharply than now.

Because this delectable female most certainly feels like prey—but I want to protect her from the predators.

My beast, surprisingly, feels the same.

Has she already won you over? I think at him as I step around her, then kneel so I can better look at her face.

Her eyelashes lower even farther, covering those mirror shard eyes once again.

It doesn't escape my notice that this female has the same type of eyes that my beast does. It's the type of eyes the humans use in my portraits when trying to depict my form.

The only humans who have seen my Dream Eater side in person haven't lived to talk about it—but many have seen me in this realm. Even if a person doesn't fully remember my beast feeding on their nightmares and dreams, their subconscious does.

You're compatible, I marvel as I resist the urge to reach out to her.

She has eyes like mine because she's a match made just for me.

I've never met a human who's compatible with my Dream Eater.

This isn't just a human my beast is fascinated with. This is a potential mate—the first I have ever come across in all my many years.

Which makes the blood contract she signed tonight extremely unfortunate.

We'll find a way around it, I assure my beast.

We have to. There's no way I can give up this perfect creature to a human who doesn't understand her worth.

Or maybe he does. Earl Rinhold brokered a blood contract with me just a few nights ago for a reason. The Rinhold family is not one to do anything lightly.

They are wealthy, yes, and they could have excelled into the Immortality Sector years ago.

So why did they spend their wealth on a bride price instead?

I'd asked that very question when the young male had come to me.

"You realize this is enough to elevate your family to the Immortality Sector, yes?" I had asked Earl Rinhold, who'd been accompanied by the Duke and Duchess of his family.

But they had allowed their son to broker the contract with me. The bride price was a substantial one, but the price for my blood to make the contract binding was even more.

Normally, the families manage their own courtships. But if they want my blessing—and nonnegotiable terms—they handle agreements through me.

"We wish to rise in the Immortality Sector, Lord Cain, not simply survive," he had said with a lowered head, keeping all respectful mannerisms intact. "This will allow us to offer something unique to set us apart once we make the move."

It had been a wise response, one I had respected and understood to be true. A smart family knows that the goal isn't simply to rise into the next sector, but to be prepared for the new challenges that will await them there if they wish to survive, much less thrive.

I spend the majority of my time in the Immortality Sector. The Elite families there are held to near-impossible standards.

Immortality means those humans will be spared from the slow death of aging or illness—there is no promise they will survive me .

"And this girl, who is she?" I had asked. "What does she offer that will be so unique you're risking an entire elevation fee for it?"

His answer had satisfied me then, but now I realize it had meant so much more.

"She is the key, my lord. The Nightingale family adopted her in secret, but we know she's from one of the lost villages that had been on the verge of a breakthrough. Her fresh genetics combined with a Lady's proper training makes her a perfect candidate for our new breeding program." He had dared to raise his gaze to me for his final statement, allowing me to see the glint of excitement in his blue eyes. "I am offering you my firstborn, my lord, for a future Monsters Night."

That was an attractive offer, but this human was proposing something in uncharted territory.

"And if it doesn't take?" I had asked, referring to any offspring the union might produce. An Elite family that was not immortal would need heirs to continue its line.

This female the Rinhold line was so interested in was a risk. There had once been an Elite family who'd attempted to create a new breed of humans. It had resulted in many casualties and a poor selection pool, ultimately pitching the family below quota requirements.

It had not ended well for them.

This, though, was a new take on a failed concept. By bringing in one of the surviving villagers into an Elite family fold, only their own line would be manipulated.

"Then we will accept a bastard child to continue our line," Earl Rinhold had said. "Regardless, our village's selections will still proceed as planned with no interruptions."

It was a smart reply. There was no risk from my side of things. I had been intrigued by the idea of a family wishing to offer up its own line as candidates for Monsters Night. It was certainly one way to stand out once they rose to the ranks of Immortals.

Whomever Earl Rinhold would select for his bride would become immortal, too, so if he wished to breed her intentionally, he had to choose carefully.

A female originally from a village rather than a born Elite explained her compatibility with me. That meant she was one of the humans genetically modified to be compatible with monsters.

"She is the key."

Did Earl Rinhold know how true that statement was?

She is the key to everything.

I can't lose you, I think as I reach out to her. I simply want to curl a lock of her gorgeous red hair behind her ear, but she flinches when my claws part through the shadows twining around her.

My hand is twice the size of her head. I'm not sure what I was thinking in trying to touch her, even in this realm, but I seem to have disturbed her territory enough for her to finally notice me.

She looks me dead in the face.

Then opens her mouth.

And screams.