Page 53 of The Trials of Ophelia

I tightened my hands around Starfire. Angelborn’s encouragement beat at my back.

Tolek had his sword in hand and the Vincienzo dagger ready at his hip.

Ezalia’s bow was loaded.

A seven-headed swamp monster guarded it, Barrett’s voice said in my head. Maybe it was simply a reptile. I gritted my teeth against the fear.

With one deep breath that felt timed by the heavens, we stepped forward.

And the island on our left exploded.

Chapter Sixteen

Ophelia

Ezalia’s scream could shatter glass.

Dust plumed in the air from the spot where the island had stood—Seron, Chorid, and Andrenas atop it. Rocks tumbled through the waves as the thing sank.

Sank. Like one wave had crested over it and swallowed the land with a massive maw of watery death.

It was gone. And in the place where it stood, crimson bloomed within the water.

The pygmites.

“What’s happening?” Cypherion’s voice echoed from the horn.

Ezalia was clamoring down the rock, weapons cast aside. Tolek ripped the horn from my grasp as I ran after her, telling the others what we were seeing.

Where the Seawatcher Chancellor scampered nimbly over seaweed clad rocks, I slipped on their strands, slicing my palms on stone. Spirits, please let her retrace our steps. I didn’t know what set off that exploding whirlpool, but I didn’t want to risk our island succumbing to one as well.

Had they triggered something without realizing?

And Ezalia was frantic, limbs moving impossibly fast to reach the shoreline.

When I finally caught up with her, she was on hands and knees, dragging in ragged breaths. Eyes glued to the horizon, fingers dug into the rocky sand. Salt water lapped at her knees as she screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

One name: Seron.

It tore through me. And I sank beside her on the beach, telling the Angels to wait a fucking minute and stop toying with our lives as if they didn’t matter.

I wrapped an arm around this warrior whom I’d come to admire in so many ways, letting her loss bleed into me. And I swore the Angels would answer for these injustices.

“Seron,” she breathed what could have been minutes later, I wasn’t sure. And she pushed onto her knees. “Seron!” She took off running into the tide.

Following her desperate stare, I saw it.

In the waves between our island and where the third had stood, Seron clung to a piece of driftwood. His other hand clutched something. The water was washed with scarlet around him as each ebb brought him closer.

Ezalia tried to dive into the current, but I snatched her around the waist.

“Let go of me!” She thrashed.

“If you go in there, the pygmites will get you.”

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