Page 1 of Somnium

1

CHAPTER ONE

Worth. Wealth. Worship.

Cadi tilted her head, studying the colossal sign being installed on the outer wall of her neighborhood transit station featuring block letters held by a pair of gentle hands. Some graphic designer’s idea of the god of dreams bestowing promises on his many followers.

The sharp scream of metal on stone pierced the morning air as an electric drill bit into the side of the wall, sending a shiver down her spine. She turned away to merge with the teeming crowd making its way toward the stairs that led to the subterranean platform, happy to put some distance between her eardrums and the abrasive noise.

The air grew cooler as she descended further beneath the city. The tang of brine drifted from the nearby sea to mingle with decades of grime and recycled breath, a combination that made her stomach churn. Curious whispers met her as she reached the bottom, pulling her focus to a small cluster of commuters gathered around another sign secured to the wall next to the line of metal entry gates.

Deprived? The Order Provides.

This time, she didn’t even try to hold back her dramatic eye roll at the tacky depiction of a man standing proudly atop a pile of shimmering gold coins. Whoever was in charge of membership for the Order must have been behind on their quota. Either that, or they were pushing for a pay increase.

In the two short years since moving to the port city of Fiddler’s Green, the amount of messages she had seen beckoning citizens to join Oneirios’s flock had increased tenfold, which was in no way surprising to her; religion thrived on numbers. She was just shocked it hadn’t happened faster. The Order had been steadily gaining influence for at least a decade, its rise beginning right around the time the other gods started to vanish.

Cadi had never known a time when the gods weren’t real. But her mother had, and she’d often recounted stories about the day fifty years prior when every news channel broadcast the same panicked story:

“The Gods are Real, and They’re Here.”

And not just one god proving the faith of millions—all of them. Gods from every pantheon who had existed only in myth and legend emerged from their cosmic realms, casually confirming their existence as if they were picking up a to-go order.

The memory felt like a noose cinching around Cadi’s heart. It had been almost three years since her mom had passed, but not a day went by that she didn’t miss her stories, even the ones she had heard thousands of times. Her favorites were always the ones about rare souls tethered through every life by the thread of fate, tangled together from the moment they were created.

Destined to find each other.

Cadi had always thought that maybe her parents had been one such pairing, but she’d never found the right way to ask. Though, with the way her dad had gotten sick only six months after her mom’s accident, she was pretty sure she had her answer. She had often caught herself wondering what it might be like to have something like that, to know that someone was out there searching, waiting for her. At least then the trainwreck that was her love life would make a little bit more sense.

Then again, maybe things just weren’t meant to work out for her that way. Maybe she just wasn’t that girl. A soul could only be stitched back together so many times.

The sound of a throat being cleared pulled her back to the present. She looked around, a jolt of panic hitting when she realized that while her mind had been wandering, her feet had not, and she now stood directly in front of the electronic barricade with a line of restless commuters quickly gathering behind her.

Muttering a hurried apology, she dug into the pocket of her teal scrubs, fumbling for her transit pass. Her fingers wrapped around the small plastic card, pulling it free, along with her work ID. She cursed as the lanyard flew from her hands, skittering across the dingy floor, and with a groan, Cadi stepped out of line to begin trekking back through the crowd after it.

Her long brown curls tumbled in front of her face as she crouched down to search the floor, forcing her to gather them into her hand and hold them against one shoulder. Frustration mounted steadily as her eyes swept the stained tile until she finally spotted the badge a few feet away in front of a rather sad looking vending machine. She rushed over, reaching out to grab it only for a surge of oblivious commuters to pass in front of her, their hurried feet catching the cloth and kicking it farther down the platform.

“Really?” she muttered as her eyes tracked its path to where it stopped at the base of one of the thick cement columns. Cadi wove through the crowd, emerging just as a plump satyr ambled over to pick up the wayward badge, glancing around in search of its owner.

“I’m right here! That’s mine.”

The satyr spun on his dainty hooves, beaming up at her and extending a hand dusted with tawny fur in offering. “Don’t want to lose that, Miss …” His eyes darted to the name printed on the badge, squinting as if unsure whether or not to believe what he was reading. “… Arcadia?”

Cadi pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “That’s me,” she said, slipping the lanyard securely around her neck. “Thanks.”

He continued to stare at her, as if meeting a woman named Arcadia was the strangest thing he had ever experienced. She tried to ignore the sting in her chest as she straightened her spine and slipped back into line. For someone with horns … he was one to judge.

That type of reaction to her full name was nothing new, and the exact reason why she preferred to go by Cadi. Growing up, her mom had insisted that a name like Arcadia would set her apart, make her special. The woman had nearly ruptured a blood vessel when Cadi had selected a nickname that let her blend in with the dozens of other “Katies” at her school. Now if only people would spell it right.

Pressing her transit pass against the smudged glass of the scanner, she waited for the tone that would allow her to push through the metal turnstile. Then, she maneuvered her way through the other passengers gathered on the platform to find a secluded spot where she could quietly observe the crowd as she waited.

Cadi tried her best to brush off the memory of the dumbstruck look on the satyr’s face. It wasn’t lost on her that there had been a time before she was born when an interaction like that would have been a bit more than unusual, but not now. Not in Sumbria. Along with the gods had come a collection of supernatural beings—known colloquially as mythics—straight out of her parents’ childhood storybooks. Apparently, it had been quite a shock at first, but nowadays it was commonplace for a demon to serve up a latte, or a dragon to run an accounting firm.

A pair of djinns crossed in front of her, deep in what seemed to be a very tense conversation judging by the way their shimmering auras pulsed brighter with each word. Cadi found herself unable to look away, completely mesmerized. The towns where she had grown up were small and isolated, with virtually no mythic presence as they tended to prefer the bustling urban centers over the more rural parts of Sumbria, so it was still a bit jarring for her to see creatures of myth mingling with humans in such a normal setting. The change had been overwhelming at first, though she had certainly come to appreciate the harpy who delivered her mail. No one had stolen her packages since the winged courier took over the route. Turns out talons are pretty effective at discouraging porch piracy.

The distant rumble of an approaching train drifted from the pitch-black tunnel, and Cadi stepped forward to join the growing throng of passengers jostling for position. A piercing cry of grinding metal echoed against the stone walls as the train slowed to a stop in front of them, the crowd pressing tighter in anticipation. She glanced around, unable to suppress a tiny snort of laughter at the dire expressions surrounding her, as if they were all being sent into battle.

Though in a strange way, they almost were. The commute from the outer boroughs into the city was notoriously long, often taking an hour at minimum, and no one, including her, had any desire to be stuck standing the entire time. The fight for seating on Fiddler’s Green Transit was cutthroat.