Page 23 of Fallen Stars

“That’s because Gem was a cunt,” Isra said into her hair, stroking it. “So you didn’t need to feel any guilt over it.” She pulled herself from Elara, holding her at arms lengths. “Tell me, did these people last night deserve their deaths?”

Elara remembered the chants and jeers as Astra had bled out—an innocent creature. The greed in the fighting men’s eyes as they’d advanced on her. “Yes.”

Isra shrugged. “Then there’s no need to carry guilt for them either. You carry too much, you know. There are many burdens on your shoulders that aren’t yours to hold.”

Elara sniffed, wiping her eyes as she took Isra’s hand and squeezed it. “What are we going to do?” she whispered, looking at the wolf.

“Well. We’re going to make sure Astra is okay. Then we’re going to get you something to eat because those beautiful tits have diminished to pancakes in your grief.”

Elara snorted, despite herself.

“And then,” Isra said more softly as Merissa padded quietly back into the room, “we are going to meet Eli and figure out a plan. This is a big step. Only a few more, and Enzo will be right back with you.” Her eyes shone. “With us.”

Chapter Eight

The world was dark, andyet Enzo did not sleep.

He did not eat.

He did not drink.

He was trapped. And it was the first time that the Lion had felt caged. He had tried, on the first night that he had been banished to Elara’s dreams, to escape the feeling. The dreamscape then had been mirrored after his studio, and he had wandered over to the kitchenette and tried to eat a piece of bread with some cheese.

But as he had chewed and swallowed, it had simply…vanished.

Panicking, he had tried to brew some mint tea from the small garden outside to feel closer to Elara and soothe the rapid beating of his heart.

And again, as he had swallowed, it had simply evaporated.

After three days, Enzo had wondered if he would die. After all, that was how long he knew a mortal could last without water.

And yet, the fourth day had passed, Elara nowhere to be seen.

And the fifth.

And the sixth.

And he had remained, living, but barely at all.

He had tried to sleep on the soft grass of the terrace, on the divan in the studio.

Nothing. Not even when his eyes hurt and his bones ached. Sleep couldn’t find him. Of course it couldn’t. He was in a dream. Everything was an illusion. The space, the food, the statues that surrounded him.

On the seventh day, now worried that he was lost, that Elara would never show, and that by some terrible mistake he wasn’t really in her dreams, but had actually died, and this was just a ring in hell where the Stars had decided to place him, Enzo had lost it.

He’d thrown his work against the wall, smashed the heads of his sculptures underfoot. He had roared and roared, that lion within him. Until one day, when Elara had finally come to him. He had nearly sobbed when he had seen her appear after weeks, clutching her to him though she was nothing more than smoke.

And he had asked, as calmly as he could, if she could change her dreamscape and just make it a land that was hers so that he could feel closer to her while she was gone.

She had obliged instantly, transforming the space into a wonderland, one more peaceful, one that possessed no reminder of what he no longer had.

He looked now in wonder beyond the realms of hermaking, seeing the world that lay ahead. It was wild, untamed, and dark. Beautiful, but only half as beautiful as his Elara.

Curiosity awoke in him for the first time since he had been locked within the cursed place, and with a drop of sweet relief, he began to explore the dreamlands.

Barefoot, heglideddown the soft rolling hills, following only his intuition. He took in the gentle twilight washing the place, the glitter bugs that danced in the air. He’d walked this road before, the last few days, always stopping at the parameter of the dreams, the gentle shield in place.

But today he could hear a rushing, his bones begging for him to push further, to wander deeper into Elara’s dreams.

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