Isle of Beasts and Shadows (The Forgotten Isle Saga #1)

Chapter 6

It had taken three weeks filled with a rollercoaster of emotions and challenges before the soldiers arrived at their awaited destination. Airella, amidst the camaraderie of her fellow soldiers, grappled with waves of homesickness that tugged at her heartstrings, aching for the familiar embrace of her family. The arduous voyage, marked by bouts of ceaseless seasickness, tested the resilience of the voyagers until the sight of the shore finally greeted them like a long-lost friend.

As the ship made its final approach to the land, relief washed over Airella, carrying with it a mix of euphoria and gratitude. Stepping off the vessel alongside her comrades, Airella’s boots sank into the welcoming embrace of the sandy shore, grounding her in the reality that they’ve finally arrived at their long-awaited destination.

“Land sweet land,” Airella whispered to herself, savoring the taste of freedom that lingered in the salty sea breeze. Her eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the vast expanse of the newfound land that lay before her. Amidst the bustling activity of disembarkation, Airella’s gaze fell upon Duran.

Despite her best efforts to keep her distance from Duran, Airella found solace in the quiet that had enveloped their interactions since their initial encounter. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore provided a soothing backdrop as the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape. Airella allowed herself a rare moment of respite, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the challenges and trials that had marked their journey thus far.

Duran, a commanding presence, wasted no time in taking charge as soon as his feet touched the ground.

“We will make camp for the night without delay,” he declared, his voice unwavering. “At the break of dawn tomorrow, we will begin our scouting of the island in assigned groups. Now, clear out the area and remain in your armor for the night!” Duran’s authoritative tone brooked no argument, and everyone swiftly moved to follow his orders, their movements synchronized in response to his commanding presence.

Jonathan and Airella worked together to put up many of the tents. With her strength and his intelligence, they worked together nicely. Fortunately enough, she got a tent to herself.

She crawled into her tent, taking in the darkness around her as she uncomfortably shifted around in her armor. And with that, she closed her eyes, listening to the faint sounds of the island as she slowly fell asleep.

A lean figure in black robes stood amidst the desolate landscape of the isle. His fists involuntarily clenched at the thought of the tragic absence of humanity on the island. Unbeknownst to him, unknown visitors were about to grace the shores of this forsaken place.

Human souls, once the epitome of delight, had long faded into oblivion over two centuries past. The delicate balance between good and evil that made human souls unique was irreplaceable—neither animal souls nor the souls of Miscreants could compare. In years gone by, the stranger had absorbed each soul distinctly marked by either goodness or malevolence, leaving no room for neutrality. The soul-eater required an opposing soul for every wicked soul consumed in order to maintain equilibrium. However, in recent times, a sinister force had disrupted this delicate balance, casting an unsettling shadow over the island.

As the wind tousled his silvery white hair, the man concealed his striking appearance beneath a dark hood. His deep golden eyes cast a faint glow in the night’s dark as he made his way toward the island’s edge.

On the far side of the isle, where soft sandy beaches should have been, jagged rocks met the water’s edge. Despite the lush vegetation that enveloped him, it was a peculiar light shimmering through the foliage that caught his attention.

Initially dismissing it as the fiery antics of hellions turning sand to glass, he soon realized these creatures seldom ventured this far from the volcano some twenty miles away. Most hellions sought the warmth of the volcanic region, while the presence of an ice hellion nearby ensured frosty nights on the island, blanketing the mountains in snow. Each creature had adapted to fulfill a unique role in this post-human world, resourceful and resilient in the absence of their former human counterparts.

He pulled the bushes apart, peeking into what seemed to be a camp with a ship docked ashore. A large fire glowed brightly as he neared, casting flickering shadows on the sand. The crackling of the flames echoed through the night, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and darkness. He silently examined the tents, their fabric gently billowing in the sea breeze, and poked at the wooden posts that held them up, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. The structures stood sturdy against the salty air, weathered but resilient.

It was then when he approached a tent that was small, yet looked relatively fancy. The scent of rosemary filled the air, blending with the salty tang of the ocean. Around him, the aroma wafted, blending comfortingly and soothing his senses. The soul-eater assumed it was some form of Miscreant repellent, though it clearly wasn’t working since he had got so close. The irony of the situation brought a wry smile to his lips, hidden in the shadows.

Out of curiosity, the white-haired man pulled the flaps of the tent apart, the fabric whispering softly as it gave way. The sight that greeted him caused his brows to furrow. In front of him lied a woman. She seemed young and wore armor of gold that glinted in the firelight. The intricate designs on the armor caught his eye. She had a striking appearance, her features delicate yet strong. For some odd reason, she looked oddly familiar to the soul-eater, a sense of déjà vu tugging at the edges of his memory.

He pulled back from the tent, the sound lost in the rustle of the palm fronds. He looked at the ship resting on the shoreline, its form imposing against the night sky. The moonlight painted silver patterns on the water, a path of light leading from the shore to the horizon. The ship must have brought the humans to the island, its wooden hull creaking softly in the gentle waves.

Fresh souls for the taking, he thought as he planted his scythe into the sand, the metal gleaming dully in the firelight.

He took his time to absorb the looks of the large ship, tracing the lines of its structure with his eyes. The intricate carvings on the prow told tales of distant lands and lost treasures, each figurehead a guardian of the sea. Then, with a last glance, he turned back, making his way back to the forest, his footsteps muffled by the soft sand.

“Humans... It’s been so long.”

He turned to hear a light tussle in a bush nearby, the leaves rustling in the night breeze. He lightly shook his head and brushed it off, a sense of familiarity settling over him. With a final look back at the camp, he disappeared into the shadows of the forest, his figure melting into the darkness.