Page 51 of The Eighth Isle

Grey nodded, turning to look out the window where Storm was roaring like mad still. With my hand in his, he said, “Let’s run, baby.”

And we did.

A new burst of energy had come over me, and I moved even faster than before. I was hyperaware of everything now, the narrow corridors and the sharp turns, the empty spaces that were in the castle, none furnished, not a single chair or table or candle in sight, just stone blocks and space. So much space and so much sunlight.

We took the stairs three at a time, running hand in hand, and I didn’t plan to stop even if we had to run forever. Like this, I could do it. With Grey, I could run worlds and never get tired.

Golems everywhere as Grey took us down a hallway I didn’t think I was in before, wider, with square windows on the sides. They didn’t stop us or even look our way at all, and then there was a wide set of stairs leading down and out a doorway that could easily fit ten people through at once.

On the other side of it was a yard, with a fountain across from us and a large stone plaque in the ground on the other side ofit, surrounded by trees. It was round and carved with symbols I couldn’t quite make out properly from all the grass and the vines that had grown around and spread over it, but it was impressive nonetheless.

A second later, Storm landed on it and roared like the sky was about to fall on our heads—I guessed for us to hurry.

“Good boy,” Grey said and pulled me forward, his wings spread halfway.

Alive, well, running.And now we were about to fly out of this place once and for all, together.

“Storm will carry you and I’ll fly on my own. We’ll be much faster that way,” he said, and I agreed. Whatever got us out of here sooner, I’d take it.

But…

Storm roared again. Grey moved toward the trees, and Storm spread his wings, but instead of jumping in the air to grab me, he roared again.

It all happened so fast.

Grey turned back to me, and Storm spun around, swooshing his tail, nearly knocking us on our asses, but he didn’t care. He was growling low in his throat as he looked to the side, to the trees, to where I saw nobody at all, until…

“Is thather?”

An invisible knife must have stabbed me straight in the gut, and it twisted and turned until I forgot I’d ever breathed.

Syra was standing between the trees, a spot I could have sworn was empty a second ago—yet there she was. Standing tall with her shoulders back. Wearing a white dress, strapless, tight like a second skin, the ends floating around her feet. Her hair shone, pin straight and golden, and her eyes…oh, my. Her eyes were pieces of the sky over our heads.

My legs shook as Grey gave me a look—a look that I understood perfectly:we are fucked.

And we hadn’t even felt a single thing. All that magic inside this woman, and we hadn’t felt her. Even Storm hadn’t felt her until she was already here.

No.

Tears in my eyes. Grey pulled me behind him, his wings spreading halfway. Storm roared again—at Syra, like he didn’t fucking know who that was, but…

“Move,” Grey ordered in barely a whisper, and Storm did. As if by the press of a button, he moved back toward the trees, growling in complaint, his eye never leaving Syra who couldn’t care less that he was even there.

Syra—who only had eyes for me.

My God, she was unearthly. I almost didn’t believe my own eyes that she was standing there, looking so regalas she smiled, her skin smooth, radiant, her lips a cherry red—exactly like the siren she had been in the Storyteller.

And now she was here.

No, no, no, no…

“You’re such a liar, Hansil. Avery badliar,” she said, and then she laughed.

It was like sunlight and a summer breeze and a bird song wrapped into one sound.

“Was this your plan all along?” Syra said, taking a step forward, and her dress floated around her as if she were underwater, rising in the air, then slowly lowering to the ground again.

“Stand back,” Grey said through gritted teeth, and he held my hand so tightly he was going to break my fucking bones.

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