Chapter Fifty Sylas
Attention: Grayson Darro, M.P. Principal Reader, St. Fabian’s Ward for Altered Minds
Authorization: Denied.
VIV ROWAN, THIRD GRAND MASTER OF ARCANE
fifty | sylas
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1939
Archyr, you’re smothering me.”
I think I’m dreaming, that I passed out from the heartbreak. Or better, that I’m dead, and this is the afterlife. Because there is no other reason Viola would be talking to me.
Lifting my head, I run my knuckles over her cheek. Her skin is so cold, covered in angry bruises. I must have heard her ghost speak—did she really just use her last words to tell me to let go of her?—because her eyes are still shut, her lips dry and still. I sigh, placing a kiss on her forehead.
When I pull back, Viola’s eyelids peel open, and she draws in the sharpest breath. I blink at her in horror, thinking Grimm’s risen her as a puppet.
Looking around, I realize we’re alone. Is this a trick of the Gods?
Then I see it.
Around her neck sits the golden aspier. For the first time since he saved my life, Raiek opens his eyes.