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

Chapter 11

“Sirius! You should be more observant of your surroundings,” stated a shadowy figure on the outskirts of the soldier’s base camp.

It had been hours since the fight, and the shadowy figure was actually his father. Well, that was what Sirius knew him as. The strange humanoid shadow took him in as a child and has cared for him ever since.

“You shouldn’t be doing this to the humans, Father. They need their peace,” Sirius said firmly, crossing his arms amongst the shadows.

He listened intently to the pained screams resulting from Father’s high-pitched squeal, feeling a pang of guilt for the chaos unfolding. The setting sun cast an eerie glow on the scene, enhancing the ghostly atmosphere as his father’s victims fell under his haunting wail, their desperation echoing through the night.

“Need their peace? The last thing I remember, you were struggling to fight a little girl!”

Once those words escaped his shadowy lips, Sirius felt a sudden twitch in his eye. It was true. He had indeed found it challenging to combat her. It seemed like a strange weakness had crept over him in her presence, as if something mysterious had taken hold of his entire being. A peculiar crinkle formed in his stomach as Father passed through him, dissipating into a cloud of black mist before coalescing once more.

“This could have waited until nightfall, when they fell asleep. I need to delve deeper into the motivations of these humans and understand why they have ventured here. It’s crucial not to startle them prematurely. They were not meant to catch a glimpse of me today,” Sirius expressed with a hint of concern in his voice.

“But they did.” Was Father’s only reply.

Sirius took a deep breath as dim light surrounded his body, allowing him to take the form of the soldier that he had absorbed earlier. The soldier’s comrades knew he was dead. However, the second-in-command didn’t watch the end of the battle unfold. Perhaps if he could maintain this form, he could get the answers he sought with ease. Although the maniacal cries of Father’s lullaby had temporarily knocked the soldiers out, Sirius decided that disguising himself would provide an extra layer of security in case anyone were to break their sleeping spell.

As Sirius stealthily made his approach to the campsite, an eerie silence shrouded the scene. The people who were previously bustling around, caring and tending to the second-in-command, had now succumbed to exhaustion, their weary bodies collapsing where they stood.

Sirius, with a sense of urgency, swiftly closed the distance to Jonathan’s hammock. Taking on the guise of the soldier, he leaned over the sleeping man, his hand gently resting on Jonathan’s cheek. As Jonathan’s eyelids fluttered open, they met Sirius’s unwavering pair of golden eyes. Despite the transformation in appearance, Sirius’s eyes remained a telltale sign of his true identity.

“You’re not Marcus…” Jonathan’s voice quivered, a blend of apprehension and empathy coloring his words. In that fleeting moment of lucidity, amidst the dim moonlight filtering through the trees, Jonathan detected a subtle flicker of guilt in Sirius’s piercing gaze, confirming his growing suspicions. “Soul-eater. You killed Marcus. Why have you taken his form?” Jonathan reached for his knife and gripped it firmly.

“I need answers,” Sirius loomed over him, his towering figure casting a dark shadow over the scene. He must have been notified that his fellow soldier had fallen by Sirius’s hand. The Miscreant crossed his arms and gave an emotionless stare once he settled next to Jonathan’s hammock, the tension becoming palpable in the still air of the night. “What is your kind doing here?” Sirius asked in a commanding tone, his voice laced with a hint of danger that sent shivers down Jonathan’s spine. “If you refuse to answer, I will slice off each of your fingers until you talk,” he threatened, the weight of his words emphasized by an intimidating growl that reverberated through the silence, his soldierly demeanor adding to the already menacing aura that surrounded him.

Jonathan gulped hesitantly, his heart pounding in his chest so loudly he was sure Sirius could hear it. He slowly reached over the side of the hammock for his skinned canteen, his hands slightly trembling in the face of the imminent threat that lingered in the air.

“We are here by the order of King William of Eldaraya,” Jonathan declared, his brows narrowed. “Our mission is to scout this island and evaluate its potential for habitation by our people. The expansion of our kingdom relies heavily on us. Our citizens need somewhere to live should our kingdom fall to our rival, Aurian, if they attack,” pausing for a moment, he raised his canteen to his lips, taking a refreshing sip of water to quench his thirst. He never broke eye contact.

Sirius found himself lost in contemplation, reflecting on his earlier encounter with the lone female soldier in their group. Airella. The memory of her remarkable strength during their recent battle lingered in his mind, prompting him to ponder the significance of her presence among them.

Her eyes stood out vividly in his mind—one icy blue, the other a captivating green. The mere recollection of those striking eyes stirred a mix of fascination and intrigue within Sirius, almost luring him into a state of mesmerization.

“Why is that woman here?” the question slipped effortlessly from his lips, hanging in the air with a sense of mystery and curiosity.

Jonathan gave him a worried look, concerned he may hurt her next. He turned his head to the tent she slept in. “You mean Airella?”

Sirius leaned back against a log. He was determined to hear what the red-haired soldier had to say.

“She’s just some girl,” Jonathan clenched his fists, squeezing tighter to the knife in his palm.

Sirius just stared, not buying his answer. Sirius waited for Jonathan to continue, his golden eyes peering into his soul. Jonathan clenched his teeth in nervousness.

“She was called upon by our king. She is the daughter of a deceased war leader. It’s believed that her family lineage shares some sort of supernatural abilities.”

Jonathan’s bones shook underneath his sun-kissed skin. Yet, the Miscreant felt remorse for him. Unlike Airella, he gave him the feeling of mercy, to let him live, to continue doing what he did long before traveling to the island.

“Supernatural? You do not know? What of the rest of the Miscreants on your lands?” Sirius asked with intense curiosity.

“Miscreants on our lands? Oh, no. Airella is not a Miscreant. All the Miscreants were wiped out years ago from Eldaraya. Perhaps the entire continent of Edros. We’ve only ever known them as myths. But now that we’ve found this place and the likes of you… I simply do not know anymore,” Jonathan’s quivering voice grew calmer with each breath. However, something about Jonathan’s tone and demeanor gave him pause. There was fear hidden beneath the calm facade, and it made Sirius wonder just how much he truly knew about Miscreants. “So, you do not know of what lies beyond these shores?”

Jonathan then made him feel more interested in learning about this king, this kingdom. Not for just the souls to devour, but for the sake of learning. Sirius had never left the isle and was curious to know what lied beyond the ocean. He became more intrigued by the thought of markets, agriculture, different languages, and most of all... no Miscreants.

As Sirius pondered on the notion of a life beyond the island, his mind wandered to envisage bustling markets filled with vibrant goods, the sight of vast fields ripe with crops swaying in the wind, the sound of diverse languages mingling in the air, and above all, the absence of malevolent forces like Miscreants. The desire to explore these unknown lands grew within him, fueled by a curiosity that burned brighter with each passing moment.

He leaned in closer with wide, curious eyes towards the red-haired man peacefully lying in the hammock. Jonathan, sensing the need for space, subtly leaned backward.

“Tell me more about your people,” Sirius’s voice brimmed with eager curiosity, as if he stood on the cusp of uncovering a hidden treasure. Lost in the tales of Edros and the unsettling conflict between Aurian and Eldaraya shared by Jonathan, he seemed to drift into a realm of imagination.

As time passed, an hour slipped away unnoticed, blurring the lines between strangers. A sense of camaraderie sparked between Sirius and Jonathan, yet a chill in the air hinted at a watchful presence—Father’s silent vigil.

Eventually, Jonathan mustered the courage to meet Sirius’s gaze directly. In that moment, Sirius remembered the slumbering soldiers around them, unaware of the enchanting exchange. The night stretched before them, wrapped in the tranquility of dreams yet to unfold.

“What are you exactly?” curiosity laced the man’s voice as he turned to Sirius.

The Miscreant, with a hint of weariness, let out a light sigh. The soldier facade dissolved, revealing Sirius in his cloaked, slender form. His gaze fixated on his bony hand, swathed in worn fabric.

“I’m not entirely certain. This guise has been my constant for as long as memory serves. However, through the ages, humanity has given me various monikers. Death, Miscreant, soul-eater, reaper...”

Rising from his seated position near the hammock, Sirius pondered his enigmatic existence. He had never considered death in such a way before. The man’s eyes widened with wonder, entranced by the otherworldly being before him. His mind raced with questions, but he could find no words to voice them.

Sirius continued, “You see, mortals have always feared death. But what they cannot realize is that there is beauty in the unknown. A finality that brings closure and peace. And it is my role to ensure that this transition is peaceful and graceful for those departing. I am sorry your friend became collateral.”

Jonathan sat in awe as Sirius spoke, his heart heavy with newfound understanding. However, he departed his gaze from Sirius at the mention of Marcus.

“And the humans,” Jonathan shifted, “what happened to them? The abandoned village was proof enough that they once lived here.”

Curiosity piqued, he trailed behind Sirius, his voice tinged with skepticism. As they strolled through the camp, Jonathan’s eyes darted around, taking in the sights and sounds that surrounded them.

“The humans were pests. Always hunting us down. So, the Miscreants wiped them out. It was a mistake, and we’ve been suffering for centuries because of it.” Sirius spoke, a coldness lacing his words.

“So, what you did to Marcus back at the abandoned village,” Jonathan began, his tone hesitant and sad, “how are you able to take his form?” He couldn’t shake off the unnerving feeling that lingered after witnessing Sirius’s uncanny ability.

Sirius met Jonathan’s gaze before glancing down at his skeletal hands, their bony structure partially concealed by the cloth wrappings.

“It’s not something I can fully control,” Sirius confessed, a hint of remorse in his voice, “but I keep my hands covered to avoid any unintended consequences. I siphoned the life out of him and absorbed his essence.”

Jonathan’s features tensed, a wave of unease washing over him as he processed Sirius’s chilling explanation. His steps faltered, coming to a halt as he grappled with the unsettling reality of the situation unfolding before him.

Sirius entered a large, weathered tent, its flaps billowing gently in the breeze. Jonathan, his footsteps echoing softly against the canvas floor, eventually caught up with Sirius.

Inside, the tent held an air of mystery with no beds in sight. Instead, a makeshift desk stood at the center, adorned with a large piece of parchment. Resting beside it was a delicate feather and a small glass jar filled with a dark, viscous liquid that gleamed like tar under the flickering candlelight.

Sirius approached the writing materials, stepping over the snoring form of Duran. His brow furrowed in confusion as he examined the unfamiliar tools.

Sensing his bewilderment, Jonathan leaned in and whispered, “You don’t know what these are? Can you read or write?”

Sirius shook his head, a mix of wonder and apprehension in his eyes as he stood beside Jonathan.

“You’re quite the enigma, aren’t you? Illiterate, no family, devoid of memories...” Jonathan’s words trailed from behind Sirius.

“I need sustenance. I’ve subsisted on rabbits and small creatures. Your presence unveils an entire civilization unknown to me, and I feel compelled to explore it,” Sirius remarked, leaning against a nearby tree. He fixed Jonathan with an intense gaze. “Your people are the exception. I have no desire to harm them. They intrigue me. Please convey my regrets to your companion, Airella. I apologize for the disruption.”

Before Jonathan had a chance to respond, Sirius vanished into the shadows.