Bab 122: Scary Harvest

The whispers surged into a crescendo, the girls’ voices threading through the darkness like an eerie lullaby. They swirled around Fanfar in flashes of shadow and red, their figures flitting at the edges of his vision like dark embers caught in an autumn wind. Their ethereal, skeletal wings—barely visible in the dim glow of the twilight—fluttered, scattering leaves in every direction, casting spirals of orange, red, and brown into the air. The air filled with the sharp scent of cold earth and fallen leaves, and Fanfar could feel the shadows pressing in around him.

Fanfar lifted his head, trying to make himself heard through clenched teeth. "What are you? Other than being me." He asked, looking into the eyes of the girl who suddenly appeared in front of him. "Are you a fairy?"

A melody rose, full of giggles and moans. The soloists stepped forward with a question each, feeding the aria.

"Are we fairies?"

"Maybe we were."

"Long ago."

"Before you."

"What are we now?"