Chapter Seventy-Seven
ELARA
Elara turned to check on Merissa as she and Enzo walked down the street with the others, and halted.
‘Merissa?’ she shouted shrilly.
The rest of the group stopped as Elara called out again, pacing back down the street. She had been there only moments before.
‘She’s gone,’ Elara cried. ‘Merissa?!’
She whirled as Enzo held on to her hand. ‘Meri—’
Elara blinked as darkness covered her vision.
She stumbled, hands stretched out in front of her.
‘Elaraaaaaa,’ a voice sang. She stilled. She knew that voice; it had been haunting her since Eli’s dreams.
‘Who are you?’ she called out.
A hollow chuckle echoed around her, and she bit back the urge to use her moonlight to illuminate the place. Suddenly, she blinked again, and light surged to her—the world blaring back to life.
She staggered back. She was on Piscea’s street. It stretched down in unending gloom, the shadow of her temple far ahead, lying in wait.
Elara whirled. Fog had crept in from the rolling violet hills that surrounded the city. It curled around her feet, her hands, as though trying to bind her. She shook off the swirls as she peered into the darkness.
While the streets she’d glimpsed dedicated to the other Stars had been alive and bright with colour and sound, the scents of sizzling foods mingling as she had tried to get her bearings, this street was empty. No stalls, no light.
It felt like a dream. A terrible, dark fairy tale.
As she stepped down the crooked street, towards the light at the end of it, she caught a shadow and whirled, moonlight flaring from her to illuminate her way.
And gasped.
Now, within her silver light, she could see scores of people standing still. Quiet, watching, pressed against the sides of the street.
And upon each of their heads, the mask of a nightwolf.
She could hear the sounds of the festivities muffled behind her, growing ever distant as she trod carefully forwards, her light held up like a weapon.
The wolf people did nothing but stare, eerily, immobile. Elara peered into the face of one, recoiling as she was met with pupils that were entirely black.
Were these the mad shadowmancers? The plagued of Asteria? Her very own people?
She stumbled on as the wolves turned their heads to watch, still ever quiet as they began to prowl forwards.
The light was closer now and she found herself running, desperate to be off this godsawful street. There was a scuffling sound and when she turned to look, the wolves had begun to give chase.
She caught her reflection in a window as she launched into a flat-out sprint. Silver hair cascaded away from her, the fabric of her dress and cloak trailing and fluttering with the pack of nightwolves at her heels. Oh, the irony of her favourite tale come to life.
She breathed heavily as the dark-violet flames that forever burned outside Piscea’s temple illuminated the way, and, with a pleading scream, she launched herself through the doors.
And blinked.
This was not Piscea’s temple. Or at least, not as she remembered it.
The glossy black obsidian that made up its structure still stood, as did the rows of tourmaline pews.
But this place was filled with cobwebs and a thick layer of dust, as though no one had visited in years.
Which Elara knew to be impossible; she had visited herself less than a year before, on the winter solstice, with her family.
She approached the familiar altar that she had knelt at countless times, muttering prayers she didn’t believe in—though the fresh food offering usually upon it had rotted and decayed, the fruits mouldering, some now just dust. The wine had a thick layer of scum on it, the jewels and trinkets left out for Piscea now dull and tarnished.
She peered around the back to where the usually sealed coffin, covered in darkroses and the imprint of two swirling silver fish, lay, and gasped.
The lid of it hung wide open. And it was empty.
She stumbled back, turning to the entrance, and balked.
Instead of the usual view from Piscea’s temple—that of the lovely Stygian river which meandered past, and the violet hills and twinkling sky—there was instead a graveyard.
Trepidation built and built, threatening to overcome Elara as she tiptoed to the door and peered out.
The graveyard was washed in shades of grey, with no other colour or life. Such sadness, such despair echoed through the place.
It was quiet, mist curling above gravestones that stood like rows of crooked teeth. The place reminded Elara of a monster’s maw—one that threatened to swallow her whole.
She stepped out, moonlight beaming once more from her hands as though trying to stave off the eeriness of the place. Though the mist had begun to settle heavily upon the tombstones, masking and shrouding them, there was one that remained clear and beckoning.
Elara, not quite knowing what she was doing, walked towards it, turning now and then to make sure no one was there. A chill began to permeate her very bones, as well as a sense of dread.
When she reached the stone, she knew why it was she had been led to it. She pressed a finger over the curling script.
Lukas Saintsombre.
‘Hello, Lara.’
Elara spun, dagger out as she laid eyes on her former lover.
‘Lukas?’ she breathed incredulously.
His skin was bloated, tinged slightly blue, his features all dulled.
Only his dark-grey eyes still showed life as he let her hold the blade to his chest.
It was then that Elara noticed what was written upon it. Carved into his flesh was a single word—Lightwhore.
‘You shouldn’t be here, Lara,’ he rasped, and Elara recoiled as water dribbled from his mouth when he spoke.
‘Where am I?’ she demanded.
‘You’re in the Graveyard,’ he said softly.
‘I can see that,’ she replied.
‘No. The Graveyard. Purgatory, Lara. Between the Deadlands and the Hallowlands. You’re in the realm of ghosts.’
Elara’s eyes widened. ‘This must be a trick. One of the Stars…’
He shook his head sadly. ‘It’s one of the domains you rule. And tonight, the veil is thin. It doesn’t surprise me that you stepped through it.’
‘It doesn’t make sense. The temple back there…’ She pointed, realizing her hand was shaking. ‘The coffin, Piscea’s coffin—it’s open.’
Fear clouded Lukas’s vision, there and gone as he nodded. ‘She’s awake. Awake and searching for a way back into your world.’
‘I know,’ Elara replied, growing more frightened by the second. ‘Is she here, then?’ She turned, looking at the mist, which to her dismay had only thickened, leaving her and Lukas in their own macabre bubble, his grave between them.
Lukas nodded. He strained, mouth moving as though he was trying to say something, but then he grunted in frustration.
‘You’re bound against telling me something?’ she asked.
He nodded, a pleading look in his eyes. He gritted his teeth as his body shook with pain. ‘Don’t,’ he got out, breathing heavily. ‘Let.’ He doubled over, crying out in agony as the veins in his neck pulsed. ‘Her.’ He fell to his knees. ‘In.’ He gasped for breath on the ground.
‘I won’t,’ Elara promised in alarm. ‘Of course I won’t.’
She looked around again. ‘Are my parents here? Sofia?’
Again, he struggled on the ground before shaking his head.
‘I thought they wouldn’t be. I’m glad they’re in the Hallowlands,’ she said.
Lukas remained curled in a ball, heaving. ‘I’m sorry that this was your end, Lukas.’ And she meant it. No matter how much her childhood friend had changed, despite everything he had done, she had still never wished this purgatory on him. ‘I’m sorry that the shadow madness took over.’
‘Shadow madness?’ He laughed emptily. ‘All my shadows did was try to protect me.’
‘From what?’
‘What do you think?’ he snapped, suddenly angry, rageful.
His grey eyes were once more as black as the day Enzo had killed him, and she stumbled back. When they cleared again, he apologized.
‘I see the remnants of it on you too. You’d have suffered the same fate if you hadn’t had Lorenzo.’
Guilt and shame began to creep through her. He was right. She could so easily have met the same end as Lukas. She thought of the terrible things she had done when her shadows were not her own, thought of the terrible things Lukas had done under similar circumstances.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘that things weren’t different. I’m sorry that Enzo took your life. You have to understand, you called upon Ariete; you were the reason Sofia died. If you hadn’t—’
‘Lies,’ he hissed, then doubled over in pain once more. ‘Please, Lara, end my torment,’ he begged. ‘I can’t withstand this for eternity. Please let me rest?’
‘I don’t know how,’ she said with sorrow.
‘You do. You are the Queen of Death. I knew it the moment I passed. The spirits talk here. A drowned sailor told me only days ago that you’d raised him. Please, let me be nothing. Let me be free.’
Just like when Santi had begged, Elara allowed her magick to guide her. She raised a trembling hand as moonlight spilled from it.
‘I’m glad Lorenzo killed me,’ Lukas rasped as the moonlight kissed his bloated skin.
‘What he did was a mercy. And I’m happy, Lara.
Happy for you—that you found him. I never deserved you, but he does.
’ Black tears were leaking from his eyes and Elara tried to stop her own from falling as moonlight coated him, swirling.
‘Be at peace, Lukas,’ she whispered, and the shadows at last cleared from him, his skin tightening, chest healing, and his eyes, clear grey again, fluttered shut.
‘Thank you,’ he sighed. ‘I’m finally free.’
Elara gasped as Lukas’s body began to disintegrate into grey ash, withering and withering until he floated away on the breeze.
She looked at the empty space, then to the tombstone, now wiped clean of a name. And realized, with a terrible, prickling sense, that someone was watching her. She turned, squinting through the fog, and saw a shrouded figure watching from a few rows away.
Realizing that she was now very much alone, she lunged, running past the graves and back towards the temple. When she whirled around, the figure was gliding towards her, still covered in shadow as it followed.
This was the presence. The one she’d felt in dreams, always watching.
This was…Piscea? A wicked, terrible energy emanated from the figure as Elara continued to run from it, so abhorrent, nightmarish.
It was no wonder some of the Stars had tried to bind her.
The pure fear she incited at merely a veiled glance would be enough to haunt Elara for years.
She cried out as she stumbled on the temple steps, scraping her knee. The shadow loomed, and against the glossy, illuminated obsidian Elara saw a claw reaching out towards her.
She forced herself up, scrambling into the temple, and slammed the doors shut.
She squeezed her eyes closed. ‘Take me back,’ she prayed. ‘This isn’t real. Take me back.’ She thought of Enzo, bringing him to life in her mind. His hoop earring. His freckle. His frown. His eyes, molten gold. And his light, sunlight, wrapping around her. ‘Take me to him,’ she begged.
‘Elara? Elara?’
Elara opened her eyes, blinking them rapidly as she saw Enzo before her.
He was looking at her with both terror and concern, still dressed in his winged lion costume.
She looked around. She was kneeling in Piscea’s temple, but, thank the gods, she seemed to be in the realm of the living.
The temple was now as she remembered it, fresh pomegranates laid upon the altar with ruby wine.
The surfaces gleamed and the purple candles burned.
The view outside was of her familiar Asteria.
‘I was…the Graveyard—’ she croaked, clinging on to him.
‘You scared the daylights out of me,’ he breathed, clutching her tight. ‘One moment you were beside me, the next—’
‘Where’s Merissa?’ she demanded, suddenly remembering that the same fate had befallen her friend.
‘I don’t know!’ Enzo replied. ‘We all got split up. First you disappeared, then Leo and Isra. When I turned, I was in a completely different place. On Aquaria’s fucking street, can you believe?’
Elara nodded. ‘I was on Piscea’s. But Enzo, it wasn’t Piscea’s temple I ended up in. At least, not like this. I was in the Graveyard.’
‘Purgatory?’ Enzo frowned.
Elara nodded. ‘I saw Lukas. And…and Piscea. It was so horrible, Enzo. Her magick, her energy—it was so wicked, so haunting. I—’
‘Enzo? Elara?’ a voice called. They turned to find Adrian standing in the doorway.
‘Adrian!’ Elara gasped, and Enzo helped her up. The two of them went towards him, Elara embracing him as Enzo clasped his arm. ‘Thank the gods you’re safe.’
‘There’s something strange happening in this kingdom,’ Adrian said grimly. ‘I feel as though everyone is under a kind of spell.’
They both nodded gravely. ‘It’s the Stars; I’m sure of it,’ Enzo said. ‘On Aquaria’s street, I felt the most cursed magick. The people there—it was as though they were possessed by something, trying to stop me getting to the temple.’
‘How did you escape?’ Elara asked.
‘I surrounded myself with a shield of fire. It managed to stave them off.’
‘What can we do?’ Adrian asked. ‘The others?’
‘We wait here for the others,’ Enzo said. ‘If we all go out looking, we’ll never find each other. So we stay. And hope they find their way to us.’