Page 85 of Mate of a Monster

I flip the page, landing on a wild palette of colors.

The art from the page before did it no justice, and now I see what I can’t deny.

The cavern from the island, just as it was my entire life. The thick rooted soil glowing in patches, ruby red gleaming every few feet, the Isles Kiss blooming all around.

“The forbidden gems,” I breathe, a strange tingle working its way down my spine. “They’re not treasure; they’re…souls.”

“Yes.”

“And the Isles Kiss. It’s not poison at all, is it?” I look up at him. “It’s a shield.”

“It protects the magic, preserving it. That’s why the flower itself eats the souls of those who come too close. The soul stones—as the text calls them—are meant for one gifted and one gifted only.”

“This Drakaryth.”

Creed nods. “Yes, the wielder of the first flame.”

I shake my head, confused. “But what does this have to do with me? Just ’cause they’re on the Island doesn’t mean I have more to tell you about them. Clearly, everything I thought I knew was wrong anyway.”

“One more page, Haide.”

I hold his gaze, my muscles going stiff.

I can’t seem to make myself turn another page. Yet, a gust of wind shoots through the space, and in my peripheral, I see the old paper float and fold over.

The air leaves my lungs like something just punched straight through my ribs.

The page is nothing like the ones before it.

It’s alive.

Color spills across the paper in a display of realism, as if I’m looking through a window. Endless green stretches beneath a wide sky, bright and impossibly blue, clouds drifting lazily overhead like the world itself has never known war. At least not yet. Mountains rise in the distance, sharp and ancient, and through the center of it all: a woman.

She stands, suspended above the earth as if gravity doesn’t even fucking exist or if it does, it would never dare touch her.

Her hair whips behind her in a wild storm of dark strands, long and untamed, dancing through the wind like a living shadow. The air around her bends, twisting with power that rolls outward in visible waves, bending the grass and trees beneath her feet.

My throat tightens. A flame spreads from her open palm.

Only it’s not just any flame. There are no red or blue hues, no golden orange blaze like the kiss of a dragon’s tongue.

It’s black. The fire spills upward like liquid night, curling and twisting as it climbs into the galaxy, devouring the light around it. The edges ripple with dark onyx, fierce and booming in a way that makes my skin prickle.

The first flame.

Something sweeps through me all at once: memories, sensations, flashes of heat behind my temples. The strange pull I’ve felt every time a dragon circled overhead, every time the sky seemed to breathe with me instead of against me.

The cavern.

The gems.

The dragons.

The fire.

It all slams together in one vicious weight.

My fingers tighten against the page.