Rise of the Evening Star (Fablehaven, Book 2)
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At the end of the school year, Kendra and her brother Seth find themselves racing back to Fablehaven, a refuge for mythical and magical creatures. Grandpa Sorenson, the caretaker, invites three specialists -- a potion master, a magical relics collector, and a mystical creature trapper -- to help protect the property from the Society of the Evening Star, an ancient organization determined to infiltrate the preserve and steal a hidden artifact of great power. Time is running out. The Evening Star is storming the gates. If the artifact falls into the wrong hands, it could mean the downfall of other preserves and possibly the world. Will Kendra learn to use her fairy gifts in time? Will Seth stay out of trouble?
displayed remarkable valor. Words cannot convey my sincere admiration and gratitude. Once we release the prisoner, Mr. Lich and I will need to make a hasty departure. Rest assured that we have a safe home in mind for both the artifact and the captive from the Quiet Box, and that we will telephone you, Stan, to confirm that all is safe and secure. When the prisoner emerges, make no sound until we are gone. My cautious nature would rather he not hear your voices or receive any other clues about who
kobolds. Once a kobold took possession of it, he would be compelled to return it to the shrine where it belonged, hidden deep in the Himalayas. Errol also stressed that kobolds were suckers for gifts, so all they needed to do was wrap up the statue like a present and give it to him. The rest would take care of itself. It sounded almost too easy to be true. But Kendra had learned at Fablehaven that sometimes powerful magic was worked through simple means. For example, keeping a captured fairy
they could collapse the pier? The night remained quiet and still. A hand reached up out of the water at the end of the pier. Kendra jumped back, her heart in her throat. A wooden hand. Little golden hooks served as joints. Mendigo scrambled out of the dark water and crawled onto the pier. Kendra backed away as Mendigo stood, the wooden limberjack Muriel had changed into a fearsome servant. The overgrown primitive puppet had been pulled into the water by the naiads the year before. It had not
serve. The racket he had broken while swatting Olloch had been beautifully mended and restrung. Newel stood at the net. “Hello,” Newel said. “Look, Doren, we have visitors. Kendra, Seth, and . . . Muriel’s weirdo puppet.” “Would you kids mind if I serve one last game?” Doren asked. “Course they’d mind!” Newel shouted. “Terribly rude of you to ask!” “We’re sort of in a hurry,” Kendra said. “We’ll make it quick,” Doren said with a wink. “In this blackness, one game could be all it takes to
what exactly is Archibald?” Kendra pressed. “Hard to say for certain. Most likely a member of the blix family. He might be a lectoblix, a species that ages swiftly and must drain the youth of others to survive. Or a narcoblix, a fiend capable of exerting control over victims while they are asleep. But given his residence, my best guess would be that he’s a viviblix, a being with the power to temporarily reanimate the dead. Like the vampires of legend, blixes connect with their victims through a