Page 240 of Fallen Stars

The others were laughing nervously, but Ariete… Ariete had stood, utterly rigid, his nostrils flaring as he looked to the black clouds rolling in at an unnatural speed, then to the present in Elara’s hands.

The ribbon came loose in Elara’s hands as time seemed to slow, Ariete raising his head to Elara.

“Elara, no!” he roared. “Don’t open the box!”

But it was too late. Elara had already lifted the lid, gazing in fear at the black folded tissue and the note laid over the top.

“From an old friend,” the writing said.

“Ariete, what is it?” Enzo demanded from behind her, making to take the box.

“Oh gods. It’s too late. It’s too late. She’s here. Ohgods, she’s here,” Ariete cried.

“Who?” Elara asked, voice trembling as she observed the familiar loops and curls of the handwriting on the card. Ice washed over her body as she slowly peeled back the black tissue, one fold at a time.

Ariete fell to his knees, struggling with the lightning wrapped around his wrists as Enzo flared his light around Elara.

And as she unfurled the last sheet, Enzo went utterly still behind her.

But Elara was already screaming, a bloodcurdling sound as the box dropped from her hands. “No!”

She wailed, the sound torn from her as she fell forward onto her arms, and Astra’s severed head rolled out onto the grass.

Enzo was already over her body, cradling her as she screamed.

Leo leapt over the table, Ariete forgotten, as he went to carefully pick up the box and hide Astra’s head from view. The majestic wolf’s eyes were dull, teeth bared as though she had fought even in her last moments. But in those eyes, there was fear—petrification—as though she had died from fright.

“Never accept a gift from the Dark,” Isra whispered.

“I tried,” Ariete said, his voice cracked. “I tried to warn you. I told you she would come.”

“We don’t know it’s from her,” Enzo snarled, his voice lethal as he held Elara’s crumpled body, racking with sobs.

Ariete looked up. He focused his gaze on Elara, and through her grief, she saw with a stomach-turning shock that there was utter terror in his gaze. She noticed too late the tendrils of shadows drifting in from the corners of the woods. Noticed too late the quiet that enveloped the sounds of night, the rasp of dead leaves on ground.

Another clap of thunder boomed through the clearing, the trees shaking. The shadows seemed to gather and convulse, as though being forced towards something. Elara’s baby dragun let out a soft mewl and hid further in her hair. The shadows formed, ghastly and twisted, and from thin air spun and weaved until the form of a woman apparated.

Elara was already conjuring her moonlight, Astra’s beautiful and innocent face burned into her mind as cold death power flared from her hands. Enzo had an arm around her, shielding her.

She spared only a look to Ariete, still on his knees and shaking his head as he saw the shadow take a step forward, and then another.

And she knew. The minute she had seen the handwriting, she had known who it was that now stepped forward and into the light.

Her skin was paler than the last time Elara had seen it, with delicate black veins running under the surface. Her eyes were black, rather than the grey Elara had known. And more than that, a wicked, dark power that buzzed and morphed around her, not a comforting dark but one of terror. Elara’s knees buckled.

“Now,” Sofia crooned, stepping into the light, “is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Chapter Eighty-Two

“This can’t be true,” Elarawhispered, her moonlight sputtering out. She heard Enzo gasp behind her.

“Oh, but it is,” Sofia said, her voice so much softer than it had been the last time Elara had heard it.

“Ariete?” Elara asked, her voice strangled and high as Sofia stood, coolly observing them all in the centre of the clearing.

But Ariete was as stricken, looking upon the woman that he thought he had killed.

“You?” he seethed.

---