Page 57 of The Eighth Isle

There wasno voice in my head narrating the story. All I had was what my eyes were telling me. I was in the air somewhere, no body and no voice and no nothing, just my consciousness floating over the ocean, my focus on the beach.

It could have been the same or maybe just similar to the one I’d seen in the Storyteller at Emerald’s. Large trees at the back, small rocks lining the shore—except where there had been but a small cabin in the Storyteller, now was a house half hidden away in the tree line. A one-story house made of wood, with awhite fence, and chairs and a table in the front, and planters and colorful flowers on the windows—a beachside house, small and simple and clean.

As I watched now, the door opened and out came Hansil Knight, carrying Syra on his back.

They were laughing—that’s the first thing I noticed. They were laughing and Hansil was jogging, holding onto her hands that were wrapped around his neck tightly, and he jumped over the fence that surrounded the house with ease. He wore nothing but white briefs, and Syra was completely naked. Her hair was loose, the same length and color as it was now, and it moved to the sides like a piece of satin.

Hansil ran and ran toward the water. The same Hansil—dark hair and pale skin, dark eyes and a thick beard covering his cheeks, a smile on his face so big he looked completely transformed. His eyes glistened. His step didn’t falter, and he was laughing with all his heart as Syra screamed at him tonotget in the water, but he ignored her and didn’t let her get off his back.

She, meanwhile, pretended she couldn’t get her hands free while she laughed, too, and screamed, and said something to him, but I was too far away to hear the words, only the sound of her voice.

The exact same voice that she had now.

Hansil jumped in the water and took her under the surface while she thrashed and pretended to want to get out, but he dragged her in again. They were playing, wrestling each other, diving underwater and pulling each other under.

They were playing and they were laughing, smiling,glowingtogether, like they’d done this a thousand times. Like they knew each other’s bodies better than their own. Like they were best friends and lovers and the only people in the universe—completely alone in the world. On their beach. In their ocean.

But they weren’t.

I watched them for a little while, how they played and kissed gently—then fiercely all at once. I watched how they fucked right there in the ocean, how they both held each other as they moved, the water hiding where they connected, but their faces, their half-closed eyes and parted lips, showed me exactly how much they enjoyed each other’s bodies. Such an intimate moment to behold, but I couldn’t look away. They were mesmerizing. So beautiful.

After, they lay right there on the beach, naked, without bothering to dry with a towel.

Hansil stayed but a moment next to Syra as they faced the sun, then moved and grabbed her, put her on his shoulder before he was able to make himself comfortable. Like that, they whispered to each other and shared kisses, touched each other and held each other like nothing else in the world mattered.

All the while, Syra smiled.

All the while, Syra was perfectly peaceful, and so was he.

On the beach, under the setting sun, they slept.

And whentheycame, before the sun had set completely, Syra and Hansil still had their eyes closed.

I saw her first—Raxae with the dark hair—as she slowly, silently broke the surface of the water with her hands raised toward the beach. Toward Hansil and Syra. I didn’t see the magic, but I knew it was spreading from her open palms, and the other sisters were already popping their heads above water, too.

All their hands were raised, and they kept them like that as they went closer and closer to where Syra and Hansil lay, eyes closed still.

A bad feeling in my gut—such an awful feeling.

Wake up!I wanted to shout, but I realized I had no mouth to speak with. All I could do was watch as the sisters slowly came out the water, all of them wearing legs instead of fishtails.They kept their hands raised and they were whispering, chanting magic, and I could tell when one of them—whom I could have sworn was Sedelis—turned her head slightly to the side.

Her lips were moving so fast. Just like they had that day in the tomb mountain.

Then, it began.

I’d have screamed if I could. I’d have thrashed and ran and done anything at all but hover there in the air and watch the horror when the sisters, half hidden away by the darkness of the coming night, began to move fast, furiously, all of them together.

Five grabbed Hansil and began to bite into him as he screamed, eyes now wide open, and the other four grabbed Syra, all their hands on her body.

All their hands on her stomach.

Her eyes were open, too, though she could barely move as the blue light that came from her sister’s hands slipped inside her stomach and held her prisoner. She could barely move, yet she managed to turn her head to the side, to see how her sisters were eating Hansil, who was still alive as they bit his flesh and tore him apart. Still alive and still trying to reach out to Syra.

It was impossible.

Then Syra screamed, too.

She screamed but it made no difference. She screamed, but her sisters were already done, and they let go of her. The rest let go of Hansil’s half-eaten body, too.

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