Chapter Forty-Nine
Bedlam ensued as Isla emerged from the igloo.
Edmund and George were on land now, struggling.
Outnumbered. They were losing. She felt afraid, but then she felt Andrew’s hand give hers a squeeze.
He steadied her, and in return, she infused healing and energy into him.
Being with him helped her feel stronger.
For a moment they stood hand in hand—frozen, analyzing how to insert themselves into the fray.
Edmund had a cut across his cheek, and George’s leg looked as though it was causing him considerable pain.
The battle had roared like a symphony, each clash of power a drumbeat, each burst of fire or lightning a shrill note piercing the chaos.
At first, the tempo had been wild and untamed, like the opening bars of a tempestuous overture, with every Aetherian striking in a frenzy of raw energy.
Then, the tempo had softened, a hushed interlude where movements were measured, calculated—each strike and counterstrike a delicate bow across strings, every step timed as if in rehearsal.
And now finally, the crescendo had hit: a blinding volley of wind, water, and fire, a surge so overwhelming it felt as though the entire orchestra had risen at once, each element contributing to the final, breathtaking climax.
Enough. She would not allow more pain to be inflicted. Love, friendship, selflessness—it was all worth fighting for.
Isla felt it—the unmistakable pull in her chest, the moment when her soul seemed to align perfectly with Andrew’s.
Two frequencies locking into harmony, their power merging until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
She’d read about it—a resonance lock, when Fated Aetherians became more than themselves, their energies amplifying with every shared heartbeat.
The Aether between them surged, alive and thrumming, their elements no longer separate threads but one unstoppable current.
She dug deep into her emotions; letting them flow through her, she lifted her glowing palm, causing the ground to shake.
A deep rumble rolled beneath the attacking men, like the approach of some ancient beast. Cracks split the earth in jagged veins, racing outward from where they stood.
She focused, making sure the splitting earth avoided where her friends stood.
With Andrew’s hand in hers she felt powerful, her mind clearer, her love overflowing.
With a sound like thunder, the ground split open, their enemies falling into its depths.
They rolled and tumbled in the pit, immediately trying to recover and starting to climb free, but Andrew’s frost thundered into the fissure, slamming down in a glittering cascade.
Ice roared, sealing them in a jagged glacier that pinned them all the way up to their necks, as if a fragment of some fallen comet had entombed them.
The five of them looked around, blinking and stunned. Injured but alive.
The night stilled. The air reeked of earth and sharp frost. Isla stood trembling now, her hand still clasped in Andrew’s. Together, their power had crashed down like a world-ending strike.
Edmund glanced at them panting for breath, shaking his head with a wry grin. “Well, that was ... impressive. I’ve never seen a Terra manage to open the earth.”
Andrew straightened his glasses, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Not all of us were born to bench-press a punt, I’m afraid; we have to use other methods to demonstrate strength.”
Edmund gave a deep laugh that echoed across the quiet grounds. Isla smiled at the detective, joining in his relief that the skirmish was over. But then she sobered.
“Where’s Juliette?”
Edmund glanced back toward the boat, his smile fading into his usual stoic mask. “She came to when we left the river. Jimmy stayed behind.”
Isla hurried forward, dodging the large gaps in the ground she had created, her heart skipping—unsure if Jimmy could be trusted.
But as she neared the water, relief washed over her.
There, sitting clinging to the edge of the punt, was Juliette—with Jimmy gently blowing them ashore.
She looked like a pirate guiding her boat to the docks, where waiting hands had caught the mooring rope, ready for the vessel to thud against the planks.
Juliette was chatting animatedly with Jimmy as if they were discussing the latest library acquisitions rather than a life-or-death escape.
“Need a hand, librarian?” Isla called, half laughing.
“I’ve got this,” Juliette replied cheerfully, “although a strong student helps.” She winked at Jimmy, who looked both embarrassed and rather pleased at the compliment, a little starstruck by her beautiful friend.
“I take it from the silence that our foes have been defeated?”
George stepped forward, offering his hand to help Juliette out of the punt and onto land. She took it, climbing out. “They have indeed. Isla split open the earth!”
Juliette beamed at her, looking rather proud, and Isla pulled her into a hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Juliette replied, stepping back
“But it sounded like you were hurt.”
Lifting her hand, Juliette tentatively touched the back of her head, and Isla’s eyes widened as Juliette’s fingertips came away red.
“Juliette!”
“I’m fine, truly,” Juliette said with a shrug. “And I can’t even make it sound like some heroic stunt. When that punt started spinning, I fell and hit my head. It’s nothing, truly.”
George cupped Juliette’s arms, guiding her gently to a fallen log. “Here, let me heal you. It’s probably nothing, and I’m sure it only adds to your pirate persona—but let’s save you a headache in the morning.”
Isla noticed Edmund’s eyes following Juliette as she interacted with George, though his face remained unreadable. Catching her gaze, he looked up and cleared his throat.
“Andrew, you and Isla should go to Harold and explain what’s happened.
I’ll stay here with Jimmy, George, and Juliette.
We can keep an eye on our captives, and it’ll give Juliette a chance to recover.
” His eyes flicked to Juliette once more before returning to Isla and Andrew.
“You’ll need to come back here with reinforcements, Andrew—we’ll need you to release them from their ice prison so we can transport them to a more permanent prison. ”
“We’ll be as quick as a jiffy,” Andrew replied, grabbing her hand and tugging her along. She laughed at his enthusiasm.
The sky was still a muted gray, the first tendrils of dawn brushing the tops of the spires and towers with pale light.
As they exited the trees and then the park where students often came for picnics in the summer, mist clung to the cobbled pathways, curling around ancient stone archways.
The river reflected a silvery sheen as it threaded through the grounds.
Gas lamps still glowed faintly, their warm light flickering against the gothic outlines of the college buildings.
Isla shivered slightly. She was tired, but very much alive, walking beside Andrew in the quiet grandeur of the awakening campus.
It was a good thing all of the events had happened in the dark in secluded corners.
Hopefully no one saw the riot that had just taken place.
Speaking of secluded corners, she gasped and laughed as Andrew twirled her into a shadowed archway, capturing her in a passionate kiss. His hands tangled in her hair, traced her back, and ran lightly down her arms, as if silently grateful she was safe and whole.
She pulled back slightly, smiling at him, his eyes level with hers.
“I love you, Isla Cole.”
She smiled at him softly. “I know.”
His lips lifted into a full smile, as if her answer was exactly what he wanted to hear.
He wanted her to know she was loved. His sole focus was her—never what she could give or take from him.
He showed no disappointment that she hadn’t immediately said it back just now; he simply wanted her to feel loved. It made her love him all the more.
She cupped his cheeks. “You may have loved me the longest, Andrew, with all your memories of our past lives. But I promise, I will love you the fiercest.”
He didn’t speak—Andrew, with his tireless ability for a comeback—but his blue eyes glistening behind his black glasses said it all.
They told her how much those words meant to him.
He may have saved her from her loneliness, but she was here to soothe his soul so it could finally rest within her arms.
She slipped her hand into his, and together they walked until they reached the large double doors of the main campus of the university, their footsteps bouncing off the vaulted ceilings.
They turned a corner toward Harold’s office, where they hoped to find him, the quiet hum of the building surrounding them.
A figure slipped from behind a column, causing Isla to jump, her grip tightening on Andrew’s hand. For a moment, her heart leapt—until she recognized who it was.
“Olivia-May, is everything okay?”
Ice shot out of Olivia-May’s hand, hitting Andrew, slashing a deep cut across his thigh. He cried out falling back against the wall before he slid down, leaning heavily against the solid stone. Isla looked on, horrified as too much blood seeped from his leg.
Andrew tried to raise his hand to strike back, despite the pain, but Olivia-May was too fast. In an instant, ice erupted from her palms, wrapping around his wrists like cold, unyielding chains, pinning him to the wall.
The shackles clinked and rattled, a cruel echo of a medieval prison, holding him utterly helpless.
His hands couldn’t even reach to stem the crimson flow of blood pooling around his leg like dark ink on stone.