Jade
The tunnels are too quiet.
I’ve been sitting with my back against the stone wall for hours, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the symbol on the wall that signifies the door to Phoenix Hall for what feels like hours.
Logan said he’d meet me here as soon as he could.
That was... I don’t even know how long ago. There are no sunlight or clocks in here. There’s only the orange glow of the torches lining the walls and the steady drip of water deeper in the tunnels.
Where is he? What if they caught him? What if they connected him to me? What if Tobias Cane is digging through his memories and learning all our secrets?
My chest tightens, and I press my forehead to my knees, forcing myself to breathe.
It doesn’t help. Because the last thing I saw before fire traveling off the hillside was dozens of faces staring at me like I was a monster.
What if they’re right? After all, I killed Elizabeth. Her body crumpled to the ground because my lightning hit her instead of the hellhound.
The thought hits me fresh, like it does every few minutes, and my whole body shudders.
Stop. You need to hold it together until Logan gets here.
If Logan gets here.
Eventually, footsteps echo from farther down the passage.
I scramble to my feet so fast I nearly fall over, electricity crackling at my fingertips. The silver light illuminates the stone walls, casting wild shadows that make the tunnel look like a nightmare.
Calm down. It could be Logan. It’s probably Logan.
But what if it’s not?
The footsteps get closer. They’re steady and measured—the kind of footsteps that belong to a person who knows exactly where they’re going.
A figure rounds the corner. It’s Logan, with his dark hair falling across his forehead and those cheekbones that could cut glass. His eyes lock on mine, and his expression shifts from braced-for-the-worst to relief when he sees I’m in one piece.
He’s carrying a canvas bag over one shoulder and a water bottle in his free hand.
“You’re okay.” The words tumble out of me as I close the distance between us. “I thought they caught you, I thought—”
“I’m fine.” He catches me before I can crash into him, one arm wrapping around my waist while the other balances the supplies. A spark jumps where my fingers grip his shirt, and his arm tightens around me.
When I pull back, he’s nothing like the hillside. Color has returned to his face, warm where it was gray. His hands are steady, and his arm around my waist is firm, holding me like he has no intention of letting go.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” he says. “I needed to calm everyone and get them to safety, speak to the faculty and Council members, and gather food and water for you.”
“What’s going on out there?” I pull back to look at him. “Are they searching for me? Hunting me? Do they want to kill me?”
“Jade.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin like he’s memorizing the shape of my face. “Breathe.”
I try. It comes out shaky and uneven.
He sets the bag down against the wall. “You need to eat.”
“I don’t care about food. I care about what’s happening out there.”
He studies my face for a long moment, as if deciding how much to tell me. And he better tell me everything, because I swear to every god in existence that I will lose it if he doesn’t.
“Everyone’s confined to their dorms,” he finally says. “The Council members are coordinating search parties to find you.”
“Search parties,” I repeat the words like they’re in a foreign language. “For me.”
I sink down onto the cold stone floor, and Logan follows, settling beside me with his back against the wall.
He reaches into the bag and pulls out a sandwich wrapped in paper. “I got this for you. Turkey and Swiss—your favorite.”
I take the sandwich, but don’t unwrap it. My stomach is churning too hard to think about food. And that’s saying a lot, because I love food… minus the crap they serve to first-years around here.
“How many people died?” I ask, the question scraping out of my throat.
“Fifteen confirmed,” he says, staying carefully neutral. “Elizabeth Bradley. Deidre Mitchell. Sam Reeves. Gabriel Dumont. Francis Willingham. Deacon Park. Leo Martinez.” He recites more names, but I barely hear him. I’m too busy drowning in guilt.
“They died because of me.” The words taste like ash.
“They died because hellhounds attacked the party.”
“I killed Elizabeth.” The confession rips out of me. “Not the hellhounds. Me. I was trying to save Sam, and I missed, and I hit her instead.”
“I know.” He holds my gaze without flinching.
I stare at him. “How do you know?”
“I saw it happen. But we can’t change it. And now, the faculty’s searching the island. They don’t have access to the passages, but eventually, the Council will bring in someone who does.”
“How long do we have?”
“I don’t know.” He reaches for my hand and holds tight. “Which is why we need to move. Tonight, if possible. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“Move where?”
“There are boats hidden in the depths of the island.” He pulls his hand free and gives me the water bottle. “Emergency vessels for evacuation purposes.”
“Boats.” I turn the word over in my mind. “You want us to sail into a dangerous sea that will likely kill us on a boat. Not a ship, which is bigger than a boat. Not a yacht, which is bigger than a boat and also has a hot tub and a wine fridge. A boat. As in a tiny, sinkable death trap.”
“I want us to survive. And while the boat won’t have a wine fridge, it will float, which is the only feature that matters right now.”
“How do you even know about these boats? Did you just... stumble across them while out on a walk?”
He hesitates, and it’s the sort of hesitation I really don’t like.
“Helen told me.”
I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “You told me Helen’s softness for you doesn’t extend to me. But her giving you information about how we can leave this island definitely extends to me.”
His gaze drops to the space between us, then lifts, his expression still and certain.
“Helen’s part of a group who sees the Council for what it really is—a dictatorship,” he finally says. “A public reveal of your power wasn’t the plan, but now that she knows, she wants you with us.”
“You’re saying she’s been doing an inside job this entire time.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t think I should know this?”
“The Council is dangerous.” His jaw sets. “The less you knew the better, especially given Tobias’s ability. I also wanted more time to work on her and bring her around.”
“And you fully trust that she’s on our side?”
“Yes.” He holds my gaze, as if that will make me believe him. “The evidence that Oliver and Thad left the island voluntarily was from her. The investigation going nowhere was thanks to her. Every dead end that frustrated Michael and Tobias was all because of Helen.”
I think about every encounter I’ve had with Helen. She took Thad’s book from me in the garden. She asked pointed questions about his Advanced Studies course. She told me the “good news” about Oliver that made it nearly impossible for me to breathe, because I knew it was a lie.
Logan leans in just enough to make my breath catch. “She believes that with the combination of your lightning and my abilities, we can survive the surrounding seas.”
Part of me wants to demand more answers about what else he’s been keeping from me, what other secrets are buried under that careful mask of his.
But I’m too exhausted. And right now, the practical matters more than the emotional.
“So, we find these boats and sail through deadly waters.” I force myself to focus, even though this all sounds more hypothetical than real. “But why do we need to go far? Once we’re off the island, can’t we just fire travel somewhere safe?”
“No.” Logan shakes his head. “The Lost Islands exist in a pocket dimension.”
I blink at him. “A what?”
“A pocket dimension,” he repeats, shifting to face me more fully.
“The island chain where Blaze Academy is located isn’t in the mortal realm or the mystical realm.
It exists in a separate dimensional space, connected to both realms through specific anchor points.
Fire travel works on each island in the Lost Islands, but we can’t fire travel from island to island, or out of this dimension as a whole. ”
“So until we reach one of those anchor points, we’re trapped in this pocket dimension.” The realization settles into my chest, and a draft rolls through the tunnel, cold enough to give me goosebumps.
“Yes.”
“Do you know where the anchor points are?”
“We’ll find them once we’re off this island.” His grip on my hand tightens.
“That’s a no.” I study his face, waiting for the answer I know is coming.
He goes still.
Never a good sign.
“Logan.” I squeeze his hand, and he relaxes into me slightly. “If you don’t know where the anchor points are, do you at least know what’s out there in general?”
He meets my eyes, and his face is the kind of blank that’s worse than fear, because it means he’s decided not to feel what comes next.
“Have you ever read The Odyssey?”
The question catches me so off guard I actually laugh. “Homer? Odysseus trying to get home after the Trojan War?”
“Yes.”
“Ninth grade English.” I frown at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Do you remember what happened to him on his journey?”
“He encountered a bunch of monsters. The Cyclops, the sirens, Scylla and—” I stop. “No. You’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
His expression doesn’t change.
My heart’s pounding so hard it’s trying to beat out of my chest, and I wrap my arms around myself as another cold draft passes through the tunnel.
“Those monsters are real,” he says exactly what I feared. “And they’re waiting for us in the surrounding seas.”