Dark Dreamers: The Sleep Master

Prologue

Will

13 years ago

The street danced with shadows under flickering lights, oscillating between patches of weak yellow glow and suffocating darkness. Thick clouds smothered the moon—no help from above tonight. Every time the lights went out, I felt it: a draining weakness that the demons knew how to exploit.

My silver blade sliced through the smoky air, striking a gargoyle demon clawing at my legs. It let out a hiss, black ichor spilling from its thick hide before it dissolved into gray mist. Another shrieked from a light pole above, drawing my gaze. It perched like a predator, black saliva dripping from fanged jaws as it glared down at me.

I muttered a curse under my breath as it raised its claws and smashed the bulb above. The light exploded with a sharp pop, glass raining onto the pavement a few feet from me. The creature took flight, wings tattered but strong, and crushed the next streetlight—the last one still working.

"Son of a bitch," I growled as the world fell into total darkness. The shadows retreated, and with them, so did my strength.

My biceps burned. The open gashes on my legs pulsed with pain. I should've worn jeans, but the summer heat was unbearable and I hadn't planned to be ambushed tonight. Not by a swarm like this. One or two was routine. Thirty wasn't.

"What the hell is going on?" Ronan asked, tilting his head toward the starless sky. His curved daggers, dripping with black ooze, hung low at his sides.

The pavement shook beneath us as another gargoyle crashed to the ground. It locked onto me with glowing, beady red eyes. Scraping its clawed foot along the concrete like a bull preparing to charge, it lunged.

I braced myself, both hands gripping my sword. No shadows meant no shield. I was exposed, just flesh and bone against a nightmare.

Before it reached me, the beast turned to dust mid-air, a black dagger clattering to the ground at my feet. I exhaled hard, my shoulders sinking.

Sheathing my blade, I turned to see Ronan approaching, casually retrieving his dagger.

"Tell me they're gone," I said, not even checking. I took the return of the crickets' chirping as a sign the coast was clear.

"What, you didn't miss the good old days?" he teased.

"We're too old for this, Ronan."

He smirked as he slid his daggers back into the sheath strapped to his thigh. "Speak for yourself."

"Seriously. They're getting stronger—smarter. They knew my weakness and exploited it."

I'd never seen demons target my shadows before. My strength came from them. They required energy to summon, sure, but once active, they fed me more than they took. Tonight, though? I'd never felt so weak. If Ronan hadn't been there...

"Don't be so dramatic," he chuckled, walking up the street.

I fell into step beside him, my legs aching and crusted with blood. The cargo shorts had definitely been a mistake.

"The longer we fight," he said quietly, "the longer our kids won't have to."

His words hit me in the chest. My daughter's face flashed in my mind—Nyx, she was probably dreaming about unicorns right now. She was my light. I'd do anything to keep her safe. But she was one of us. Once she started sleepwalking, I'd have no choice but to train her. To prepare her, like my father prepared me.

This was our legacy.

Ronan and I had fought together since we were sixteen. Our fathers before us. And soon, our children.