The Eighth Isle (Fall of the Seven Isles Book 3) by D.N. Hoxa

Author:D.N. Hoxa [Hoxa, D.N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-23T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty

Thoughts spun in my head. Images that struggled to make sense to me were at the center of my mind, and this annoying voice whispered in my ear that it was over, that I was already dead. We all were.

Strangely I wasn’t afraid, even if a part of me believed it. All those sirens, and Grey and Valentine—and even me!—but Syra was still stronger than all of us combined. She’d still killed another siren, her sister Mea, while we were all attacking her at the same time.

Too powerful, just like we knew she would be. Far too powerful for all of us. For the whole world.

Yet somehow I was still alive.

I knew it when that whisper no longer reached my ears and instead a white noise went on somewhere around me—or was it inside? No idea, but it poked at my mind, urging me to wake up, to start focusing on my senses, to try to open my eyes and see what was around me.

I did.

No more of that blinding white light anywhere that I could see, only the night sky and the moon, barely half, hiding behind clouds as if she were afraid of what went on down here, too. As if she didn’t want to watch what happened next.

Every person who’d been under the dome with Syra was now on the ground—and her, too. I pushed myself to sit up as my ears picked up more and more sound, but nothing else moved here except for Storm.

Storm, who’d been thrown against the trees behind the back leg of the Great White, and even though I couldn’t see him, I heard his growls and groans as he tried to stand.

“Grey,” I whispered, eyes searching the bodies sprawled all around me, the four remaining sirens, and Shadow right next to Valentine, who was on his back, motionless, eyes closed, and chest torn.

And then Grey, who lay on his side behind me, five feet away, half his body resting against the edge of the ruined fountain that still spilled water from everywhere, his wings gone.

I immediately began to drag myself toward him. Storm would be on his feet any second now, and he could grab us and fly us away. We’d leave the sirens here on this Isle, and hopefully they ruined it completely—and each other. Hopefully they sank underwater and remained there, never to be heard of or seen again.

“Grey, wake up,” I said when I reached him, my own body in shock, limbs numb, yet I somehow managed to grab him by the arm and push him on his back.

God, he was a mess. So many cuts oozing blood on his chest and neck and face, but he had to be okay. He had to be alive—he was just unconscious.

My magic raged.

“Grey, open your eyes. C’mon, wake up!” I said, and I barely whispered it, both because my voice didn’t work properly, and because I was afraid someone might hear. I was afraid Syra might hear and wake up—she

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