Fallen Stars (The Heavenly Bodies #2)

Prologue

Blood dripped from Enzo’s side, which he clutched as he staggered on, head whipping back periodically to check behind him.

The Dreamlands were a cruel and cursed place.

His surroundings shifted violently—one moment they were a skeletal forest with twisting branches snapping at his clothes, the next a desert more arid and unforgiving than the Sinner’s Sands, where his own sun above him beat on, blaring and red.

He was parched.

Starved.

Yet nothing could sate him.

He could not rest.

He stumbled forwards, the landscape changing once again, the sun extinguished, sweet shadow and greenery wrapping around him.

He pressed his burnt face to cool, dew-dropped grass, giving a rasp of relief.

‘There has to be a way out,’ he panted. ‘There has to be a way back.’

‘And just what are you willing to pay for it?’

Enzo stilled. No magick worked in the Dreamlands save Elara’s, so his fists clenched uselessly by his sides.

He raised his head slowly to see rows of crooked tombstones, like a jagged, yawning maw.

A temple made of obsidian glittered ahead.

And before him stood a figure swathed in black robes.

Its voice was terrible, rattling—like a dying breath.

‘What is your price?’ Enzo rasped.

The darkness smiled.