Out of Evenfall (BOOK 1)

Chapter 17

ADARA

Prunal's bells tolled for the night, where everyone tried to continue the revelry well into the night. It echoed through the air as she made her way farther out towards Rosaleta's orchard. She counted each one in time with her steps, free from Gregor's insistence due to one individual hearing her plea. Adara released a breath as the bells stopped, but they'd continue to signal the night. That man... strange one, wasn't he? No one ever stands up to Gregor like that. Leaves shuffled against their brethren to cast skittering shadows along the path. Little creatures snuffled through the underbrush, but quickly made their escape when she disturbed their own snacking. Out of sight of the knight's patrols, and closer to home, she made her way through the marked paths. Several signposts sat on little piles of stone to point towards other towns, but Prunal was the heart of Tebora, where the king reigned.

Basket in hand to help Rosa collect the mystical fruit of the ice fae, she nudged open her metal gate and headed up the steps to the orchard farmhouse. The trees shuffled in their own man-made forest. Over one root which curled over the path, she frowned when it squished under her heel. Oh, I hope whatever has been affecting the wheat fields hasn't reached the orchard... Adara rushed up the path as the silence followed her, up the creaky floorboards to the door.

"Rosa?" Adara knocked on the door as evening light spread a halo across the forest. "Rosa! I'm here! I brought a basket. Are the fruits ready?" She knocked once more with the next toll of the bells, which fell into the same steady silence. Adara pushed into the center of the door, and blinked when the frame cracked slightly, and it eased open with a hush of wind. "Rosa, are you here?" Past the boundary of the outside light, she stepped into the inside darkness. Embers fluttered in the fireplace, alive with crimson shadows as they settled on some logs to chew at the last pieces of coal. Hm, it was lit, so she is here. Maybe she's out back at the tree? Adara headed up to the fireplace, past the dining room table which held Rosa's own basket for collecting fruit.

The embers cast shadows around the dining room. In a corner, something dripped in the world. Slow. Steady. Is her house leaking? Adara followed the source of the sound to the corner of the room, where a dark splotch stretched around the corner. One step closer, and she almost choked at the smell. Mold. Mold with decay. Hand up to her nose, she witnessed one more drop fall to the board below, and fall silent. No more drips. Rosa's going to strangle the last guy who tried to fix the leak. Must've started growing last rain when... A head lopped off, and Adara shook it out of her memory.

It dripped again, and the crimson embers moved the shadows.

Gross... Adara avoided the ooze puddle it made beneath it. Drip. Each step echoed the sound. She grabbed the staircase banister to make her way upstairs, but ice froze her feet on the first step. Chills crawled up her spine as the scent intensified, and she tipped her head to peek behind her, where the door creaked with the wind pushing against it. One odd feeling in her stomach. Primal dread, with a sense of deja vu. Her temples ached as she listened for footsteps, then glanced at Rosa's fruit basket.

"Rosa?"

It fell silent.

Her fingertips dug into the banister, and she tore her hand away with a calming sigh, but her chills remained. It inched along her spine with a spider's webbed touch. Adara moved up the staircase onto the second landing. The sense of deja vu remained as she reached the corridor, where she viewed the outside window into the orchard. Every tree waved its branches with the wind, sending the soothing noise of whispering leaves down her chest.

Not her spine.

As she headed for the nearest door, the stench intensified with sundown's crimson spread. One thin slit to guide her closer. Adara reached out to the door, and pushed it. It swung open in complete silence, while the sun splattered with blood. It sprayed against the window as the buzz of death entered her ears. The bells tolled, distorted and rocked through her bones as if it rang above her head. Her bones vibrated with each clang as she followed the desolation. In the same corner where the mold began beneath her feet, a pile of—