Moonlit Murder

Chapter 3

The leaves rustled ominously as two figures emerged from the shadows, stepping into the pale moonlight that bathed the eerie town of Gravestone Hollow. The taller of the two, Crowe, moved with a graceful, almost ethereal presence. Her green hair was wound into two large, intricately styled buns atop her head, giving her an air of elegance that contrasted with the wildness of the night. Her sharp, discerning eyes scanned the scene with an intensity that made the hair on the back of Emily's neck stand on end.

Beside her stood Kestrel, a shorter figure with skin the color of pale blue ice. Her tall, fiery red hair blazed against the night, standing out like a beacon in the dim light. Kestrel's claws, long and sharp, were perfectly manicured, adding to her impeccably groomed appearance. Her gaze was equally piercing, her movements precise and controlled as she surveyed the gathering with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Both were dressed impeccably, their attire reflecting an old-world sophistication that Emily couldn't help but admire. The rich fabrics of their garments whispered against the cool night air, exuding an aura of timeless elegance. They approached Hettie with an air of authority, their presence commanding attention as they moved.

"Hettie!" Crowe's voice was smooth, with a lilt that hinted at an accent from another time, perhaps another world. "We've been looking for you!"

Hettie began to explain the situation—the death of Jacobi, Emily's sudden arrival, and the second shocking death—but Kestrel interrupted her, urgency clear in her voice. "The swamp," she began, her words cutting through the night air like a knife. "There are frogs everywhere."

Kestrel's voice was taut with concern as she described how a loud, insistent croaking had woken her that morning. Unlike Hettie, Crowe and Kestrel were accustomed to sleeping in, relishing the late mornings. But today, the relentless croaking had been too persistent to ignore. Kestrel had ventured toward the noise and was met with a bizarre sight. Frogs in unnatural hues of purple and orange were pouring out from the heart of the swamp, flooding the streets in a writhing, chaotic mass.

She had quickly summoned Crowe, her next-door neighbor, and together they had tried to wrangle the frogs back to the swamp. But the sheer number was overwhelming, far beyond what the two of them could manage alone. Their only hope was to find Hettie, the leader of their coven, and enlist her help. They had raced through the town, their breaths coming in short, sharp bursts, desperate to find a solution.

"It's magical backlash," Lake's voice cut through the air, cold and accusing. "From summoning her." She pointed a slender finger directly at Emily, her eyes narrowing.

Until then, Crowe and Kestrel had not noticed the stranger in their midst. Their eyes turned toward Emily, and they gasped in unison, their expressions shifting from surprise to something deeper—curiosity mixed with a hint of unease.

"I'll explain later," Hettie interjected, sensing the tension. "We need to take care of those frogs."

Lake, unwilling to let Hettie take the lead, stepped forward, her tone firm and commanding. "Come on," she said, addressing her gathered coven. "We have a situation to take care of." She shot a challenging look in Hettie's direction, the animosity between them palpable, like a storm about to break.

There was a tense pause as the two covens locked eyes, their rivalry simmering just beneath the surface. Then, in an instant, Hettie, Kestrel, and Crowe broke into a run, their footsteps echoing against the smooth, shimmering, stones. Not to be outdone, Lake and her coven chased after them, the air crackling with the unspoken competition between the two groups.

Emily barely had time to react before Mallum's booming voice filled the night, reverberating through the town like a thunderclap. "Everyone, go home!" he bellowed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "There is nothing to see here."