“What do you mean you’restaying?” Masika asked.
“The others”—Olivier gestured toward the Library—“the Resistance needs as many on their side as possible.”
Emilio laced his fingers through Olivier’s. “If he stays—I’m staying too.”
Irene hesitated, weighing her options. Finally, she conceded with a sigh. “Fine…go. But we have to move—now!”
She was right. Up ahead, only a few yards away, a throng of Demiens were approaching, dark rivers of shadows flanking their path. The group was still focused on the Resistance fighters they were attacking, but it wouldn’t be long until they spotted them, and then…then they’d have to fight.
Masika lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Olivier and Emilio. She pulled back, looking between the two boys. “Be careful.”
Olivier nodded. “Right back at you.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Irene, narrowing his eyes. “Watch over our girl. Make sure you bring her back to us in one piece.” When Irene rolled her eyes in response, Olivier grinned.
Emilio sniffled, wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. He looked between Masika and Irene with wide, pleading eyes. “See you later?”
The two girls nodded.
“Yeah,” Masika assured him. “See you later.”
And then Emilio and Olivier vanished, disappearing under the black cloud of Olivier’s relocation spell.
For a moment, Masika continued to stand there, staring at the place where the two boys had been only moments earlier. Sorrow struck her like a sharpened blade. They had all just reunited, finally brought back together again, and now they risked losing one another—for good this time.
“We have to go,” Irene whispered softly.
Masika nodded. She was right. “Let’s go.”
Irene grabbed Masika tightly by the hand, and the two of them were swallowed by the crimson haze of Irene’s relocation spell, materializing a few yards away from the Blackwood gates.
And then they started running.
There was no telling who might be out here waiting for them. The majority of the fight had shifted deeper into Blackwood, trickling toward the main halls, but there might still be Demiens lurking in the forest—waiting for those who might try to escape.
Masika was about to suggest casting a cloaking enchantment when she noticed that Irene wasn’t beside her anymore. She’d stopped a few yards behind, eyes locked on the ring in her hand.
“Irene!” Masika called out to her. “Come on! We have to keep moving.”
But Irene remained rooted to the ground. She shook her head, face contorted in confusion. “It’s not possible…” she muttered softly.
“What?” Masika asked. The battle roared in the distance, and Masika knew they needed to get moving, to put as much distance between them and the fight as possible. “What are you talking about?”
“The ring…” Irene whispered, seemingly lost within the depths of her mind. “It belonged to the Soulless One.”
“Yes,” Masika said, exasperated. “I know. I heard Wren.”
Irene finally dragged her gaze away from the ring, eyes falling upon Masika like a guillotine. When she spoke next, her voice was a trembling whisper, disbelief and terror etched upon her face.
“So then why is Mateo’s name written on it?”
Masika blinked, taken aback. “What?”
Irene held the ring delicately between her thumb and index finger, holding it out toward Masika. When Masika approachedIrene, reading the words etched into the brass ring, her world tilted.
Mateo Albano.
Masika met Irene’s searing gaze. Silence drenched the space between them.
“How is this possible?” Masika whispered.
