Shadows closed in, swirling around her head and stirring the loose strands of hair that hung around her face, almost a caress. It moved closer, toward her mouth. She choked as her breath was stolen from her, suffocating. Isla closed her eyes. She was going to die—and in a way she couldn’t even begin to explain, despite all her knowledge. What use were her multiple degrees if she couldn’t explain what was happening?
Isla jerked as a wave of cold swept over her. Was this death? The moment her life slipped away?
Somewhere through the fear and fog, she heard a voice, an urgent male voice calling her name.
“Isla—hold on!”
Her eyes fluttered open, though her throat remained closed. A pale mist was rising, curling around her like a shield. The dark smoke recoiled, reluctant to leave but held at bay by this new cold phenomenon. It looked like a battle was unfolding above her—one she didn’t understand. The mist forced the shadowy smoke to retreat, its absence causing her to choke and splutter. Able to breathe again, she went to sit up, only to freeze at the command.
“Stay down, Isla.”
To her horror, as she lay on her back, sharp bursts of ice flew over her through the air like bullets, fast and precise, piercing the shadows. There was a cry of pain followed by the sound of someone running away. Isla took in deep breaths, trying to recover from her suffocating state, but she couldn’t clear the white dots that had appeared in her vision. Her head pounded and she stiffened in fear as footsteps came near.
A man knelt close, peering over her. His dark hair—usually slicked back—was now damp and disheveled. His black-rimmed glasses were slightly askew, and concern flared in the blue eyes that scanned her face.
“Isla, are you all right? Can you breathe? Talk to me.”
She stared at him.
Andrew. Of course it had to be Andrew.
“Anyone but you,” she whispered.
“Ah, Isla, I’m sure you don’t mean that.”
He gave a crooked smile—part amusement, part relief. Her eyes slipped shut again, and she allowed the darkness to take her this time, heavy and soft.
However, before it swallowed her completely, she felt his hand wrap gently around her wrist.
A sharp inhale, followed by a low murmur. “Finally.”
And then, soft and strangely reverent, his thumb stroked her wrist where the new mark now resided on her skin.
Chapter Two
A cold, hard block seemed to be carrying her. Isla felt herself in motion, the chill of the surface beneath her hand unmistakable. Her fingers brushed against smooth stone—slick with damp, like marble kissed by rain. A steady hand rested across her waist, anchoring her, while urgent, determined footsteps echoed alongside her. She forced her eyes open.
Above her, the vaulted ceilings soared, shadows dancing across the old stone like ghosts pacing the rafters. She shivered, remembering the shadows that had attacked her—or was it a nightmare she was waking from?
Her eyes darted around, and when she turned her head to the side, pain erupted at the back of her head, bringing the recent events back into reality. This was her university—vast and impossibly old—and now, it felt like something out of a fever dream.
“Andrew?”
She felt his hand tighten over her waist. “Almost there, Isla. You’ll feel better soon.”
They paused, and she slipped slightly on the block beneath her. Was she lying on ice? Andrew steadied her, glancing around as if checking the coast was clear. Satisfied, he pushed forward, nudging open the heavy double doors of the library.
The room was dark and moody looking, closed for the evening. Low amber lights glowed against the towering shelves of dark mahogany, their surfaces glossy with age. Ladders stretched high to reach the upper tiers, and the scent of old paper and beeswax polish lingered in the air. A small fire crackled in a hearth near the far wall, casting a soft glow over worn leather chairs and a low table stacked with books. The space breathed warmth and history—a quiet sanctuary of knowledge tucked inside stone walls. Despite the appearance of warmth, her own body began to tremble from the cold floating device ... thing.
A figure who sat reading by the fire jumped to her feet as they approached.
“Andrew? What happened?” came Juliette’s voice. She was Isla’s best friend who spent all her time in the library—and not just because she was the head librarian.
“Isla was attacked by anIgnis Summoner,” he replied grimly.
Juliette rushed to them, her warm blonde hair haloed by firelight, her normally serene expression twisted in horror.
“Why on earth are you carrying her on a block of ice? She must be freezing. You should have carried her in your arms!”
