Page 23 of The Eighth Isle

“Please—Fall is fine,” I said and followed, nodding and smiling at the others as politely as I could muster. After all, it wasn’t any of their faults about my misfortunes. Of all the other Isles,theyhad been the kindest to me at the party. That was the reason why I was here in the first place.

“Of course, Fall. I am Amika Lorein. We’ve met before, if you remember.”

“I do, actually. At the party.”

“Indeed,” she said. “Glad you’re still alive.”

Laughter burst out of me—it was so unexpected. “To be honest, that still shocks me.” After the way my life had looked the past few months, it was a damn miracle I was still breathing.

Amika joined me, her laughter heartfelt, though short.

The pine forest she took me through was so open, and the smell was heavenly. The trees were big and far apart, so plenty of the morning sunlight streamed through the branches, and the way the dust floated around wherever the sun rays reached to touch the ground made it look so magical. I’d never seen anything like it before.

“What did you mean about Reeva?” I asked Amika when we began to see the houses on the other side of the trees, less than ten minutes later. “You said I’d find her distracted.”

“Just this whole thing with Syra awakening and the spell unraveling,” she said, waving her hands around, even more uncomfortable than me.

“I see.” I nodded, surprised all over again by the vibe of the witch town beyond those trees.

So lively. So many witches all around me coming and going, most wearing witch hats, all wearing dresses—except the men. They wore black trousers and plain shirts, and there were very few of them around. The brides said that witches only bore females, and that they married other Enchanted males to be able to procreate. As crazy as that had sounded to me, it was true by the looks of it.

“I mean, it would get to anyone, to be honest. The people are…” Amika flinched, her voice trailing off.

“Afraid,” I finished for her. As they should be. For someone like Syra to be alive and able and so fucking powerful was the biggest threat to the world since the last time she was awake.

“Yes, that,” Amika said. “So, please, don’t push her too hard.”

That certainly surprised me. “I won’t. Of course not.”

Reeva Lorein had been so nice to me, and she’d even gifted me the very necklace that had made it possible for me to find Grey. Without it, I’d have never ended up in the mirror room that day. Without it, I’d have never found Grey on the Eighth Isle, not before it was too late.

So, if she really was asdistractedas Amika said, I wouldn’t bother her, but it did make me even more curious to know what she meant.

The witch hat structure was even more massive than I’d realized, and it was entirely made of a single aluminum sheet painted black, with no lines and no screws and no nothing on the shiny surface—like it was fabric. Every inch of it was smooth and the paint fresh, not a single speck of dust anywhere on it. Flowers, big and bright and colorful, surrounded the edges of it, and the grass was freshly cut, so perfectly it looked like a carpet.

The houses of the witches were bigger than they’d seemed from the mirror room as well. So immaculately clean. Everything was in its place—the stone blocks that marked the pathways and the lamps and torches every few feet, and that heavenly smell coming from the open doors of a bakery on the other side of the witch hat. My mouth watered and I realize I hadn’t eaten a thing since Valentine brought me back to the Whispering Woods.

Luckily, I didn’t need to think about food for long.

Young witches, most teenagers, were suddenly in front of me, their witch hats small compared to those of the women who were accompanying me. Their eyes were wide and sparkling with excitement and curiosity as they looked at me, analyzed me openly, but not in a bad way. They were just so terribly curious that I almost smiled.

“Step aside, girls. Now’s not the time,” said Amika, but the girls only had eyes for me, all seven of them.

“Is it true?” the one with the dark hair said, clutching a notebook to her chest with both hands.

“Are you really Fall Hayes?” said her friend.

“I—yes, I—” I tried to say, but they wouldn’t let me speak.

“Is it true that Syra is awake?” asked another.

“Ye—”

“What’s she like?” said the first one again. “They say you saw her—what’s she like?”

A heartbeat, and all of them looked at me expectantly. It didn’t seem like they planned to interrupt me again, so I said, “She is…hurt.” That’s the first word that came to my mind at the thought of Syra. “She’s delusional. Very powerful.” So powerful she’d killed Sedelis within seconds. “She’s beautiful.”

The girls held their breath for a long moment after, until… “She’sreal,”said the one with the dark hair, her knuckles white from how tightly she was holding that notebook.

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