Stardust And Shadows

Chapter 7

It was late, the moon hidden behind dark, looming clouds. Her uncle had retired early to bed, leaving her to the solitude of their small stone cottage.

Her fingers idly traced the edge of a book she had been meaning to read, though she couldn’t seem to focus. She sighed, leaning back in her chair. Outside, the wind stirred faintly, rustling the leaves, but the air felt heavier tonight, like something was waiting.

Then, a knock.

At first, she barely noticed it, thinking it might have been the wind or a branch scraping the window. But then it came again, louder—insistent. She froze, her hand resting on the book, listening.

Another knock, harder this time, as if someone was desperate to be let in.

Adele frowned. It was nearly midnight. Who would be out at this hour?

She rose slowly, her curiosity piqued but tinged with unease. The knocking came again, quick and hard, like whoever it was had no patience left.

"Adele! Open up! It’s me—Felix!"

The voice was familiar, but something in its tone felt off. It was Felix but why would he be here now? Especially this late? And why did he sound so panicked? Adele’s mind raced with questions, and suspicion began to creep in.

"Please, just open the door!" His voice cracked, desperation leaking into his words. "I need help!"

This wasn’t like Felix at all. He was always the level-headed one, never flustered, never panicked. Something about this felt wrong.
She opened the door quickly.

"It’s the middle of the night, Felix. What’s going on?"

In the dim light spilling from the hallway behind her, she could finally see Felix’s face—and it wasn’t at all what she expected.

He looked terrible.

His dark hair, usually neat, was a mess, sticking up in wild tufts as if he’d been running for miles. His face was pale, almost ghostly, and smeared with dirt. There was a gash just above his brow, thin but trickling blood down his temple, staining his cheek. But what truly unnerved her were his eyes—wide, terrified, darting around like a hunted animal. They flicked nervously between her and the shadows beyond, as if he expected something to leap out from the darkness at any moment.

His clothes were torn, his jacket hanging off one shoulder, and his shirt clung to his chest, damp with sweat. His hands trembled as they clutched at the doorframe, his knuckles white, and she noticed the way his chest heaved with each shallow, ragged breath, as though he had run here without stopping.

"It’s Fern," he whispered. "She attacked me."
He paused for a moment. "Not exactly her, but I was just about to be turned into a corpse!"

She stepped aside and gestured him to get in. Felix stumbled inside, collapsing onto the old wooden chair by the hearth.
He sank into it as if his legs could no longer hold him, his body slumping forward, head bowed.

She shut the door quickly, throwing the latch back into place, then turned toward him. "Felix," she began, her voice firm despite the anxiety twisting inside her, "What happened? You need to tell me everything."

He didn’t answer right away. His chest still heaved with each breath, his head hanging low as though he was trying to gather his thoughts—or maybe just the courage to speak. Adele grabbed a cloth from the table, kneeling beside him to dab the blood from his brow. He flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away.

"Fern," he muttered, almost too quietly to hear.

"You said she attacked you. That doesn’t make sense, Felix. Fern wouldn’t hurt you—she practically raised you. What are you talking about?"