“An admirer? Alice already has an admirer. She and Bálint are a thing. They’ve been together forever,” Zohar said.
Drago raised an eyebrow. “Things might get a little awkward, then. Magika said your Alice and Geoff were… um, kissing.”
Phoenix and Zohar stopped dead in their tracks, staring at Drago and Orion’s backs with their mouths hanging open.
“Holy Dragon’s balls! Bálint is going to kill this Geoff guy if he finds out,” Zohar muttered.
Phoenix just nodded in agreement, her eyes wide with disbelief. Seriously, Alice? What are you thinking?!
Isle of the Elementals
* * *
Adaline woke with a sharp gasp.
Her eyes flew open to a blinding wash of silver-blue sky. The air felt heavy with a tingling sensation that could only be magic. It was warm and rich, like sunlight filtered through water. She jerked upright, her breath catching in her throat as she scanned her surroundings in frantic confusion.
Granite outcroppings jutted around her like jagged teeth, their surfaces veined with glowing threads of white light. The ground beneath her was soft—cushioned by moss that shimmered faintly in the early morning sunlight.
Hands trembling, she ran them down her arms, over her sides, legs, chest—patting herself down like she didn’t trust what she was seeing. Her heart thundered as the memory of dissolving into mist slammed into her.
I was gone. I came apart?—
A breath slipped from her lips, half-sob, half-disbelieving laugh, and she crumpled backward, lying flat against the mossy stone.
She stared up at the sky, blinking as soft clouds drifted overhead.
“I’m alive,” she whispered. Then louder, her voice breaking into laughter, “We’re alive!”
She sat up again, hope swelling in her chest. “Bálint! We made it! We’re alive!”
The echo of her voice faded across the rocks.
She frowned. Her heart, still hammering with adrenaline, skipped.
“…Bálint?”
She turned slowly, scanning the craggy terrain. No flash of purple and gold. No dragon. No wings. Just stone, mist, and the strange musical hum of the island.
“…Bálint?” she called again, louder.
Still nothing.
“Bálint!” she shouted, scrambling to her feet.
Panic scratched at the edges of her composure as she spun in a slow circle, shouting his name again and again. The silence pressed in, unnerving and absolute— as if the land itself was listening—and refusing to answer.
Then she saw it.
A ribbon of white mist drifted toward her from between the rocks, silent and smooth. Her chest seized.
No. Not again. Please… please, not again!
She stumbled back a step. Then another.
The mist curled through the air like a curious serpent, glowing faintly.
“No, no, no…” she whispered, raising her hands, trying to summon a shield.
