Elara Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 3 of 2

Elara slept badly that night. The witch's words circled in her head. A speaking raven, nesting in an old chapel past the fog. She had no idea where the chapel stood. She only knew one path led there, and it ran back through the poison grove. She could not cross that place alone. The last time, the flowers had nearly touched her skin. At dawn she stepped outside and found the black cat waiting on her doorstep. Its eyes held tiny points of light, like stars caught in glass. It stared at her, then turned toward the treeline. It had guided her once. She hoped it would again. "The chapel," she said, kneeling. "Can you take me there?" The cat blinked. Then it trotted into the wood. Elara followed. The trees closed around her. By midday the air turned sweet and heavy. She knew the smell now. Ahead rose the tall trees, their branches hung with clusters of purple flowers. The blooms dangled low over the path like curtains. One brush against her lips would end her. The cat stopped. It looked back, waiting. Elara understood. She had to trust it exactly. The cat picked its way through the grove, slow and careful. It stepped left where the flowers thinned. It froze when a bloom swayed close, then waited for the branch to still. Elara matched every step. She held her breath as a purple cluster swung past her cheek. Its petals grazed her hair, and she did not move until the cat moved. Sweat ran down her back. One flower brushed her sleeve and left a wet purple smear. She pulled the sleeve away from her arm and kept walking. The grove thinned. The sweet smell faded. Elara stumbled out onto clear ground and gulped clean air. She had crossed it. She was alive. Then the fog began. It rose from the earth in gray sheets and swallowed the trees. The cat led her through it without pause. Its dark shape stayed just ahead, a steady point in the white. The fog broke. A building stood before her. Cracked stone walls climbed to a steep roof. A bell hung crooked in a small tower. The windows were narrow arches, their glass long gone. Vines crawled through the gaps. Rubble lay at the foot of the door. This was the chapel. She had found it. Elara stepped toward the door. From inside came a dry, rasping sound. A voice, low and strange, formed a single word. "Leave." She stopped. No person spoke. The voice came from the dark inside, and it knew her language. The raven was here, and it had heard her coming. The cat sat down at her feet. It would not go inside. Elara stared at the black doorway. She had crossed the poison to reach this place. Now the thing she came for was warning her away, and she had to go in alone.