Page 71 of Fallen Stars

“This way, madam. Your reading is about to begin.”

“My what?”

She tried to pull her arm away again, but it remained firmly in the man’s grip.

“Your tarot reading, of course.”

Elara looked around warily, trying to find any other sign of life—of Ariete. But there was nothing, only the creak of a sign in the breeze before the tent.

‘Madame Fate’s Fortune’s’, it read.

Eli had told her to flow with dreams, to follow the trail if she had any hope of finding Ariete. So she allowed the man to lead her into the circus tent.

The lilting accordion music seemed to quiet a little around her, as though even the dream had leaned in closer to inspect the curious place. Elara took a wary step and then another through the dark entrance, the ticket man raising a flap.

“May you find the answers you desire,” he said, eyes blank. Elara only grimaced, ducking under the fabric and into a small room.

The space was filled with incense smoke, too dense to see through. Elara squinted, coughing as she took a few steps forward, the smoke clearing.

A woman sat at a table, a crystal ball in front of her, a splay of cards next to it.

She wore a purple headscarf, eyes lined with kohl.

“Isra?” Elara breathed.

Isra’s usual hazel eyes, alight with warmth, were black—empty—as she gestured to the seat opposite her. “Hello, Elara.”

Elara peered at the figure. It was unsettling, the resemblance to Isra. But this person was just another strange figment of Ariete’s dreams, and Elara shrugged off the feeling, perching on the edge of the seat. Eli had taught her to be unfazed by any face she may see in a dream. She knew she may have to follow a trail to Ariete, follow therules, but she was aware of how little time she had.

“Would you happen to know where Lord Ariete is?” she asked, her voice hushed.

Isra blinked, her eyes flashing hazel with fear before blinking once more black. Elara jolted forward, catching the motion. “Isra?”

“You will find Lord Ariete in due time. But you must know your past, your present, and your future before you do.”

Isra rippled a deck of cards between her palms, making a faint clicking sound.

Elara bit back a sound of frustration as Isra doled out three cards, each face down. The backs of the cards were finished in a beautiful red and black foiling, patterns of constellations gracing them.

“Your fate, written by the Stars,” Isra said smoothly. Elara scoffed. “Which would you like to see first?”

“Past,” Elara sighed. She wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. Isra’s smile snaked up her face in the most disconcerting way as she turned the first card around. It was from a tarot deck—not a Stella deck. Elara had played with the cards many times herself as a teenager, with Sofia and Lukas. But this card was not one from that deck, and her breath hitched as she read its inscription.

‘The Moon.’ It was like the card Eli had illusioned in his club, but further detailed.

A moon was depicted, a bright white orb shining in the darkness. Below it was a river, and kneeling in it, arms raised to the sky…was Elara. Her head was tipped back in worship or prayer, she didn’t know. To her right was depicted a wolf—one that looked an awful lot like Astra. The shadows were darker on that side of the card, and to her left lay a lion, golden light filtering through the darkness.

“What is this?” she whispered.

Isra smiled, leaning forward as she clasped Elara’s hand and pressed it over the card. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

The world spun, the room around Elara shifting and blurring as dark purples made way for blues, constellations spinning above her. She squeezed her eyes shut, vertigo rendering her immobile, until finally the colours settled, the room coming back to her.

Except this time, she wasn’t in the fortune teller’s room. She looked around, seeing the looming statue before her, one hand holding a skull, the other the moon. The stars twinkled in skies above her, and she felt something hard beneath her. She looked down and saw to her alarm that she was sat on the Moon’s throne. She was back in the heavens. Back home.

She could see coils of long white hair reaching to her waist, could feelthe power bursting from her bones. And cold—she felt cold. Not warm and mortal, not like Elara.

Then her head turned, against her will, as though a puppet was controlling her movements, as though she was simply an observer in her own body. She saw a shadow in the corner and wanted to scream, but the Moon was already speaking, Elara unable to control the words. “I need your help,” the Moon whispered to the shadows.

---