Isla #2
“When I first arrived here,” Isla said, “I was captured by a group of scavengers in the desert. They were able to wield power. But I haven’t seen anyone in this village do anything like that . . .”
Jessel shook her head. “There are many factions in these lands,” she said, “and I don’t know much about them. But they trade in artifacts they’ve collected from other worlds that end up here—it’s possible they found a way to harness the storms though one of those, to get through . . . the block.”
Their necklaces must have been like Azul’s rings, then.
Isla paused, deep in thought. “What do you know about him?”
A shadow fell upon Jessel’s expression from where she stood kneading dough. Isla didn’t have to clarify who she meant. “I know he’s the reason for all this ruin. Him . . . and his knights.”
“Has anyone ever tried to oppose him?”
She huffed a laugh. “Of course. But anyone foolish enough to try never came back.” She nodded toward a crudely made game in the corner, built of glass and carved rock. It belonged to the boys. “That’s what happened to their parents.” She sighed. “They fought . . . and for what?”
Jessel frowned like someone whose hope had been drained. She looked at Isla, sidelong. “Is that why you’re here? To destroy him?”
Isla nodded. She didn’t know if it was unwise, telling her this. “And to save my world.”
She was doing an awful job at both.
Still, Jessel just stared at her. “Save ours, while you’re at it, will you?” she asked. Her lips curved into a crooked smile. Her tone was lighthearted, but Isla didn’t miss the desperation beneath it.
The boys returned just minutes later, and the room was filled with laughter and chaos. For a single night, Isla could almost forget the agony of her current circumstance. She could eat. She could wash the dirt and blood from her face and rest.
Jessel offered warm blankets and a soft place on the floor.
For a few hours, Isla allowed herself to sleep, while the rest of the household left to run their stand in the market.
But when the sun was hottest, and everyone returned, and the house went quiet, Isla slipped out the door without saying goodbye.
It was only a matter of time before Grim found her. She did not want him—or Cronan—anywhere near Jessel and her boys. This was Isla’s mess to face.
Isla emerged to a sky smudged in crimson and gold. The market was empty. Only a few people walked by. She avoided attention as best she could, wandering aimlessly. She had no idea what to do next—just that Grim would catch up with her eventually.
We could never be just strangers, he had told her, before the first time they had truly had one another, and she had believed him. But now, he had forgotten their story. He looked at her like she was no one.
Isla found a quiet alley, leaned against the wall, slumped to the ground . . . and finally allowed herself to cry. The hurt bubbled up in her chest and spilled out of her, in broken gasps.
She was alone. Utterly, completely alone.
She rested her forehead against her curled-up knees, wrapping her arms around her legs. And then she heard a voice. Golden, like a sunrise turned into a sound.
Oro.
She heard him talking, but she couldn’t make out the words. Was it a memory? Was it him, now, like in their dreams?
She reached for that thread between them, wondering if it was still there, even after she had chosen Grim. She didn’t dare breathe as she looked for it. She braced herself . . .
But it was there.
Still.
And as she accessed it, she was immediately hit with a wave of unrelenting sadness.
It was so intense that it formed a barrier in their connection.
She had never been able to feel his emotions through the bridge before.
She didn’t know how this was possible, but her heart broke to know that she had caused this pain, and she desperately wanted to reach him, somehow.
She pulled the thread between them like a rope, walking it like a bridge. She used every shred of focus and concentration, until the noises of the nearby market disappeared. Until she stood, shakily, and turned—
There he was. Standing on a crumbling cliffside and battling against a wall .
. . a wall of beasts. Massive creatures with fangs and claws and scales.
His eyes were glowing strangely, like fire.
There was a power around him, an incredible force of wind and energy and water that she had never seen before.
He was wielding with emotion. With sadness.
Because of her.
“Oro.”
His name sounded muffled, as if swallowed. But he immediately turned to face her. For a moment, his eyes blazed brighter, and the energy around him seemed to ripple. But then he blinked and his eyes settled back into their usual amber. “Isla,” he said so gently, and something inside her broke.
She had never been able to do this before, just as she had never been able to communicate with Grim and Oro in their dreams. Something about this world had strengthened the bonds between them. Isla thought about what the silver-haired woman had said, about bound souls . . .
Oro didn’t question it. He pored over her and frowned as he noticed the tears that still clung to her cheeks. “What happened? Where’s Grim?”
Isla pressed her hands to her eyes as if that would make her stop crying. How could this man still care about her so much after she didn’t choose him? She didn’t deserve it.
“He’s here, but—” Her voice cut off, strangled by emotion.
“What?” he asked, his expression haunted—already expecting the worst.
Isla swallowed. “Cronan, he—he erased Grim’s memories of me. It’s—it’s irreversible. The bond . . . it’s gone.”
Oro closed his eyes and cursed. He knew as well as she did that Isla needed Grim and his portaling power to get back home. His hand was still outstretched, his power shredding creatures even as he fully faced her.
“He’s hunting me down, now. I don’t . . .
I don’t think I have much time,” Isla continued.
The edges of this vision were fading, like the shadows of the alley were stretching.
Expanding. She reached toward him, desperate to stay in the light.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry for not choosing you.
But you deserve someone who can be wholly yours.
And too much of me will always belong with him. ”
He didn’t say anything, but she could almost read the words in his eyes. That he didn’t care, that he would take whatever shreds of her heart that she could offer him. But that wasn’t fair.
“Isla,” he said, his voice deadly serious. “You need to get through the portal. We’re holding it open, and . . .” She could see what was being let through. Beasts from this world. The same she had faced.
As they barreled against his wall, weakening it, she raced forward, as if she could possibly join him in his fight against them.
But she couldn’t leave without portaling power. Now, she didn’t have access to it at all. She would need to face Grim. Survive him. She knew him well, perhaps better than anyone, but she hadn’t fought him, not really. Especially not with powers.
Oro had.
“What are Grim’s weaknesses?” she asked hurriedly, Oro’s shape already blurring. “In battle?”
The look Oro gave her was one of devastation and acceptance. A roar sounded nearby, but it was muted. “He only has one that I know of.”
“What is it?”
He gave a sad smile. “You.”
Footsteps approached from the mouth of the alley. She turned toward the sound, meeting the gaze of a scavenger who barely glanced at her before he kept moving.
When she looked back toward Oro, he was gone.