Page 2 of The Reaping Rose

“What is that?” Greer’s tight black braids whip around her face as she glances out at the churning sea.

Waves lap against the stony cliff. A threatening beat of the ocean stirs. Fog hangs like an opaque cage around the island, shielding my view of the horizon. Static has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

Something is coming.

“I don’t know. I’ve never felt a storm like this. Not even here.” I sheath my daggers, and Greer does the same.

We came to the shore to train because that’s all there is to do now that we’re trapped on Alyssium.

Gather food.

Sleep.

Rebuild wind-torn structures between hurricanes.

And train.

As if we’ll ever need the skills to fight again with how quickly the realm is crumbling around us. We’ll likely be swallowed by the sea before we find a way to escape this magicless island and rejoin the battle.

It’s been four months since the Rite of Blood ceremony. Months since the night I was meant to bind my magic with Malachi’s. I was prepared to do that—to do what was necessary to heal our realm from the effects of colliding with Vaelier nearly three hundred years ago. I wanted to believe my magic tied to Malachi’s would allow us to reverse the damage, even with the Well that sits between Lyrichia and Vaelier growing.

I was wrong.

And even if I wasn’t, Wilder changed everything anyway.

He used our mating bond to manipulate the ceremony, and I accidentally bound with the enemy realm.

For a breath, I had hope. I thought maybe my bind with Wilder would mean we could heal both realms. But our magic did nothing against the Well when it came for us that day. And now, Wilder is back in Vaelier, while I’m stuck on Alyssium with Greer, Callum, and the humans the Fae abandoned.

The realm is fractured. Magic is dying.

I fear that soon there will be nothing left to heal.

Around me, the tumultuous weather is a reminder of what was broken on that full moon. A sever so deep, it splinters through the realm, made worse on Alyssium, where there was already no magic to protect us from the elements.

Sunshine has been nonexistent these past few weeks. A violent winter in spring has claimed the sea. Without the ability to travel to the continent, I don’t know the fate of Lyrichia’s other territories, but here, everything is slowly crumbling.

Does Wilder’s realm share this fate?

The mating bond ties our souls together, but this far away, I can’t sense even a whisper of him.

Pressing my palm to the hanging heart rune on my chest—a four-pointed star with a moon in each curve facing every direction—I reach for him. My gaze meets the sea, and I imagine his golden aether magic glowing through the thread that ties us.

But it’s dark.

Empty.

The whisper I heard the day after I arrived here has faded. His voice is gone, and with it, any hope of reconciling his betrayal.

“We need to get to the village.” I turn to Greer when a wave crests, rising and heading straight for us.

Her jaw ticks. Fear lingers in her gaze, but like me, she shoves it down, not saying anything.

Soon, we’ll have nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

There are only so many storms the village can weather when there’s no magic here to offer protection against the elements. Greer, Callum, and I stand a chance because of the Fae blood in our veins, but the humans who once guarded the Fae prison are running out of time.

Greer and I grab our remaining weapons from the beach, quickly sheathing them as we run for the forest. Behind us, a tidal wave crashes against the stony shore, turning the calm day into a raging tempest in a matter of seconds.