Page 25 of Golden Star

“Ready?” I ask.

“Ready.”

We drink.

The world tilts, the ground drops out from under me, and everything blurs in a dizzying rush. Then I’m landing on my back with a hard thud, knocking the air from my lungs and sending a rush of pain through mybody.

Zoey lands on her feet, her knees bent, rolling into the fall as if she does this every day.

Not fair.

She reaches down to help me up, and I take her hand, fighting through the pain. It’s already lessening, but the healing isn’t immediate.

Once I’m up and generally okay, Zoey lets out a low whistle and looks around the forest. “Wow,” she says. “It’s more beautiful than I imagined. Eerie, too. A strange mix of both.”

I nod, since it’s different in the day. The sparkles on the thin layer of snow are more apparent, and there’s a slight silver sheen on the tree bark. Not as intensely silver as the leaves on the silver tree, but it’s still there.

Silver, like Riven’s eyes.

Oh my God. I have to stop pining over this man. I’m not a freshman in high school anymore, and I should know better than to trust a guy who has a superior attitude and is cocky as hell. Not to mention the fact that he’s a supernatural being from another world that I know basically nothing about.

“You’re thinking about him,” Zoey observes.

“How can you tell?”

“You get this dreamy, but also brooding, look in your eyes when you think about him.” She gazes around theforest with her eyes glazed over and her brow furrowed, showing me what I must look like.

“How about we focus on finding the bracelet?” I say, since talking about how I can’t stop thinking about Riven isn’t going tohelpme stop thinking about Riven.

“Right. The bracelet,” she says. “Where did you fall last time?”

“There.” I point to the base of the silver tree, branches twisted and broken from my previous fall.

We hurry over, and I kneel beside the bush, pulling aside the branches and searching for a glint of sapphires among the leaves.

Zoey crouches beside me, poking through the bushes with a stick.

We search for what must be thirty minutes, the task feeling more impossible by the second. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

The longer we look, the more hopeless I feel.

Suddenly, a low growl rumbles through the air, freezing both of us in place.

Zoey’s eyes widen, and together, we turn slowly toward the sound.

A monstrous figure steps into view.

It’s tall—taller than any human—with ashen skin stretched tight over emaciated bones. Its hollow eyes glow with an eerie light, and its teeth are sharp, jagged, and gleaming.

But it’s not looking at us. It doesn’t even seem to see us. Instead, it’s walking toward the stream on its long, bony limbs.

I reach for Zoey’s hand, squeezing it tightly, and we lower to a crouch behind the bushes.

If we can be quiet and still, maybe it will go away.

Time freezes. I can barely think. Barely breathe.

It takes another step, its claws scraping against the ground as it moves with unnatural grace. The worst part? It’s heading straight for the specific part of the stream that acts as a portal, blocking it—therefore blocking us from making a run for the stream to get home.

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