Page 82 of The Eighth Isle

The next second, the fire disappeared as if it had never even existed, and Storm roared in pain as he flew to the side, then lost balance and fell on the ground, his wings frozen.

Syra rose to her feet, her dress burned but everything else about her perfectly intact.

Nineteen

Storm’s firehad done nothing to her at all. Syra was laughing as she rose to her feet, her hair floating around her head with the intensity of the magic that was leaking from her skin, her eyes two orbs of darkness when she raised her hands.

“Grey!”I shouted because he was right in front of her, and I ran to get between them, even knowing I wouldn’t be fast enough.

I wasn’t.

Syra’s magic had already picked him up and he was flying in the air, no control over his body, before he fell to the ground a few feet from Valentine, opening a hole twice as deep.

I was screaming when I slammed onto Syra and released my magic, wanting to wrestle her to the ground, keep her there to give Grey enough time to recover.

Except I kept overestimating my strength when it came to Syra. Because I wrapped my arms around her tightly, and I tried to knock her to the ground, but she didn’t budge. Instead, she put her arms around me, too, and she held me there, squeezed me to her chest like she’d fucking missed me, then whispered in my ear, “You’re adorable.”

Magic everywhere.

I could hardly breathe from the intensity of it as she moved away, while I was paralyzed again. I could only watch as she pulled me up until my feet no longer touched the ground, and she moved me back to the center of that circle with such ease it should have been impossible.

Storm had gone closer to Grey, to where he was struggling to get out of that hole in the ground, and Valentine was already getting back to himself, too.

“Rise, Valentine,” ordered Syra again, and he did. That same invisible force that was keeping me motionless pulled him up to his feet and fixed his body, turned his arms forward again, and his forehead wasn’t dented in anymore two seconds in. He looked in pain as he rubbed his neck, looking at me like he was mad. Like he wasincredulousthat I’d dare to attack him.

“Syra, we’re not ready,” Valentine said, finally turning away from me.

“No, no, we are. I’m all out of patience,” she spit, angry now. “They’re lucky I can’t break my oath yet. Otherwise, I’d have made an example out of both of them.”

“But we’re not ready for that ritual yet. We still have preparations to make,” Valentine insisted. “We still don’t know what to expect afterward.”

And I wanted to shout,what ritual? What the hell are you going to do to me?!

But my vocal cords didn’t work anymore, apparently, because I couldn’t even scream at her face.

“It doesn’t matter. I might need some time to recover, but I am doing this tonight. No more giving this ungrateful little maggot time.” She hissed at me—literally hissed at me. “I’m ready.”

“But—” Valentine started, but she wouldn’t even hear it.

“You’ll be fine to handle all my projects for a couple days, V. Don’t annoy me. Stand in position—and where is your Ruit?”

Valentine clamped his mouth shut and looked up at the dark sky.

A second ticked by.

“Whereis he?!” Syra demanded in a low growl, her eyes to the sky, too.

A second later, Shadow landed on Valentine’s shoulder. “He’s here,” he whispered reluctantly.

What the hell?

“Good. We’re ready. Stand in front of me just like I taught you.”

Valentine moved. “Grey will attack again once he makes it to his feet,” he said.

“No, he won’t,” Syra said, and she turned to Grey for just a split second.

Sure enough, he was already limping his way toward us, eyes on me, an outraged and helpless look on his dirty, bloody face.

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