Mourning Star

"I looked, and I saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth..."

Marcus screamed, not just from pain, this was something deeper. A scream from the soul, cracked and desperate.

He crawled, or tried to, as blood soaked his jeans and he couldn't feel his legs anymore. Or worse, he felt them just enough to know they were gone.

The stone floor was cold, but it burned against his palms as he dragged himself forward.

A few inches were all he could manage.

The statues were watching. Stone eyes, stone mouths, forever mourning. And behind them… that thing, the masked figure.

The presence that made the air feel thick and the light flicker like a dying breath.

He tried to scream again, and it came out broken.

"Ella… Ella!"

He didn't know if he said it aloud or just dreamed it. Everything was just a blur, as if it were all a bad dream.

Then... glass shattered.

A figure fell from the sky, her cloak swirling in the wind. Her boots hit the stone floor with a loud thud.

She didn't pause; she didn't even speak.

She just ran, straight for him, leaping over blood and dodging statues that seemed to twitch in the shadows.

Marcus blinked. He struggled to lift his head as the light and shapes around him blurred together.

The pain was too much, his body was barely holding together, but he still managed to whisper, "Ella… she's still in there…"

The girl stayed silent. She crouched next to him, slipped one arm behind his shoulders and the other under his legs, at least what was left of them, and lifted him up.

He gasped as the movement sent pain crashing through him, but she remained calm and steady.

Her grip was strong, and her eyes stayed sharp beneath pale hair that caught the light.

Around them, the angel statues began to move slowly and steadily.

"Hold on," she said, her voice calm. "We're not dying here."

Then she turned and ran.

As she kept running towards the stone doors behind them, the statues... the Stillborn... shifted faster now, their stone feet scraping as hands reached toward them, slow but certain, as if drawn by blood and breath.

Marcus clung weakly to her, his body a mess. His head rested against her chest, his vision blurry and breath uneven. The pain was too much, but her arms held steady.

She dashed down the aisle, dodging broken pews and cracked stone. Her cloak flowed behind her. A statue dropped from the ceiling, landing just behind them, its stone hands reaching out.

Without looking back, she whispered a word Marcus didn't know, and the floor cracked with a pale blue light, slowing the statue just enough for them to slip into the next hall.

The exit was far away. The church had changed. Walls twisted into strange shapes, and arches bent into corners. The space felt wrong. The House of Ashbourne was alive now, and it didn't want them to leave.

She kept running, she didn't stop, not until the doors came into view... tall, black, and cold as the night. The same ones Marcus had walked through not long ago.

She kicked them open with a grunt, as they burst open.

But Marcus turned his head, just slightly, just enough to look over his savior's shoulder… and he saw it.

In the church, beneath the weeping angels, a porcelain-masked figure stood still. Slowly, it lifted one hand and the other reached for its face.

Fingers hooked behind the mask.

Then...

The mask came off.

Marcus stared... His heart stopped...

It was Ella.

Her face was pale, her eyes blank, and her mouth hung open like she was about to speak or cry out.

He couldn't breathe; he couldn't move. Something inside him cracked.

"No…" he breathed, his voice small and broken. "No… no… no…"

The girl didn't look back; she didn't see it.

She was halfway down the steps. She passed the iron gate with weeping angels and ran into the night, not looking back.

And Marcus, bleeding and broken, with Ella's face burned into his mind, let go. His body went limp, the cold closed in, and everything faded to black.

Marcus opened his eyes at the ceiling, still dazed, but something felt… off. The pain was gone. Not just dulled, it was gone. His body didn't feel like it had been torn apart.

He sat up slowly, expecting agony, but none came. Confused, he threw off the blanket and looked down.

His legs whole. Clean. Smooth skin where there should have been torn muscle, shattered bone, blood. He ran his hands over them, heart pounding.

"What the…?"

The girl looked over from her seat, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

"You're awake," she said. "Good, I was starting to wonder if I had saved a corpse."

Marcus looked at her, wide-eyed. "Feels like you did," he said as they both laughed." You… you healed me?"

The girl shook her head.

"I don't know how to heal wounds like that. Maybe slow the bleeding, numb the pain. But that?" She pointed at his legs. "That's divine-level healing."

Marcus stared at his legs again. "Then… who?"

The girl stood up slowly, thoughtful now. "You don't know?" she asked, studying his face.

He shook his head.

"That's not normal," she said. "Someone or something marked you. That kind of healing… it's an old Order, old and holy. It doesn't even leave any scars."

He swallowed hard. "A blessing?"

"Maybe," she said. "Or something close. But whoever gave it to you… they don't want you dead. At least not yet."

Marcus leaned back, his thoughts spinning.

The girl gave him a long look, her voice quieter now. "You've got something tied to you. I felt it when I pulled you out."

He coughed once, then said, "Thanks… for saving me."

"I wasn't planning to," she said simply, "but I was there. Couldn't just leave you screaming on the floor."

He looked around. "Where are we?"

"A safe place," Hazel replied.

Marcus nodded slowly, "I'm Marcus… Marcus Vale."

"Hazel," she said, "Hazel Evemoor."

He blinked. "Evemoor? You mean Everborn?"

"No," she interrupted. "Evermoor. As in the House of Evermoor."

Then she added, with a glance that was almost a smirk, "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Do I look like I'm from here?" Marcus shot back, and they both burst into laughter.

"The elders will find you interesting," Hazel said as she began walking toward the door.

"Huh? What elders?" Marcus asked, confused.

"The elders of the House of Evermoor," she said, turning back to look at him.

"Another house?" Marcus frowned.

"Here, I'm called the Mourning Star," Hazel added as she opened the door. "Get some rest. Then we'll talk."

She stepped out and gently shut the door behind her.

Marcus exhaled, sinking back into the bed.

But as soon as he closed his eyes…

Ella's face came flooding back.