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

Chapter 14

1358 A.D.—256 Years Later (Present Day)

Hours had passed by, and everyone was growing exhausted. The group of soldiers continued on, but something strange caught Airella’s attention nearby. She looked toward some large rocks which led into a mountainous area. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, painting the rugged landscape in shades of amber and gold.

She tightened her cloak around her armored body. Her gaze shifted to the large trees swaying with the force of the wind, a rustling sound accompanying their dance.

Refocusing her gaze, Airella’s heart raced as she resumed her sprint towards the group she had fallen behind from. Each step was fueled by a potent mix of fear and unwavering determination.

“Did you see that?” Brenner exclaimed, his eyes darting towards a darkened cave entrance ahead.

Despite her instincts urging her to warn the others, the group’s attention had already shifted elsewhere, drawn by an unseen force that beckoned them towards the unknown.

“I think there’s something over there,” Brenner declared, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword.

Airella, weighed down by fatigue and the burden of their dangerous quest, contemplated their next move. In her mind, the safest option seemed to be to walk away quietly, to pretend they had seen nothing at all and thus minimize their chances of a deadly confrontation. Her desire to escape this accursed island, to leave its mysteries behind forever, tugged at her resolve.

Despite the turmoil she felt inside, Airella stayed silent, allowing the men to inadvertently choose the perilous path ahead. The island’s secrets whispered in the wind, promising both peril and possibility in equal measure, as they ventured further into the unknown landscape that lay before them.

Sirius referred to the area he had hidden in as his humble abode, which was nestled beneath a dense cover of intertwining vines in the heart of the wooded biome. This secluded spot was on the outskirts of the snow-laden region of the island, creating a stark contrast between the lush greenery and the frosty landscape.

“What are they doing here?” Father’s voice was filled with concern, and his raspiness added a layer of tension to his words.

“They wish to make the island their home. And they are not alone in their ambitions,” Sirius began, his tone betraying a sense of foreboding. “They have an entire kingdom awaiting their arrival, ready to embark on a journey of their own.”

Before he could finish his ominous warning, piercing screams echoed through the air. In an instant, his gaze locked with Father’s shadowy figure, eyes widening in realization.

“The humans.”

It didn’t take long for Sirius to notice what was truly unfolding around him. Observing the humans, he realized they shared his curiosity but lacked his wit. Their actions often led to unforeseen consequences, a harsh reality they faced belatedly.

Perched behind the thick trunk of a tree, the winged Miscreant, with its sinister gaze fixed on Jonathan, readied itself to strike. Oblivious to the impending danger, Jonathan stood motionless, gripping his sword. The feathered Miscreant remained hidden, its presence known to all but its immediate whereabouts a mystery.

The Miscreant focused on its unsuspecting meal. With a swift movement, it unfurled its wings and took flight from its concealed spot. Panic ensued among the onlookers, desperate cries urging Jonathan to either evade or flee his current stance.

Raising his scythe high above his head, Sirius leaped with determination from the sturdy tree branch, resolve gleaming in his eyes. A tense moment of surprise enveloped both him and the winged Miscreant as they faced each other. The Miscreant, wide-eyed, and Jonathan, a mix of fear and curiosity, gazed up at Sirius.

With fierce determination, Sirius swung with all his might, the force causing a spine-chilling screech to escape from the Miscreant’s beak. In a swift, precise strike, Sirius tore through the Miscreant’s left wing.

“Run,” Sirius commanded authoritatively.

Without hesitation, Jonathan complied, heart pounding with a mix of fear and adrenaline. The onlooking soldiers, frozen in awe by the unexpected turn of events, stood motionless, their eyes reflecting shock and disbelief at the unfolding scene.

The winged Miscreant stood in both pain and anger, its expression twisted in a mix of agony and fury. A low growl emanated from its chest. The realization of the missing wing fueled its rage, causing it to grit its sharp teeth in defiance.

The winged Miscreant charged fiercely at Sirius, its eyes gleaming with malice. With a swift movement, Sirius raised his scythe just in the nick of time, deflecting the Miscreant’s razor-sharp claws aimed at his head. Feeling the surge of adrenaline, Sirius retaliated by forcefully pushing the Miscreant back with a powerful swing of his arm, creating a momentary distance between them.

As the Miscreant recovered from the impact and regained his stance, Sirius seized the opportunity and lunged forward with determination. With a masterful twirl of his scythe, he aimed to strike the Miscreant’s chest, but the agile foe was quick to react.

In a surprising display of agility, the Miscreant grabbed the blade with its claws, desperately preventing it from contacting his vulnerable chest. The struggle ensued, with drops of crimson staining the ground as blood dripped from the Miscreant’s claws.

The beast let out a screech, using his feet to throw Sirius off of its body. This time, Sirius was under the winged beast. The Miscreant’s sharp talons held down his arms. It raised a claw and prepared to strike, but Sirius opened his eyes to see nothing but a missing stump of flesh and bone hovering above his face.

It took a moment for the winged Miscreant to realize that its claw was now missing. The beast toppled over, loosening his feet on Sirius’s arms as he pulled himself free.

Airella. It was she who had cut his arm off.

She stood with her golden axe raised over Sirius and the winged Miscreant with widely opened eyes. Droplets of splattered blood rolled down her face as she panted from the intensity and anticipation of the fight.

Sirius quickly lifted himself from the ground and pushed her down, blocking the oncoming attack from the winged Miscreant that was meant for her. He grabbed his scythe, pulled the blade over the winged Miscreant’s neck, and forced it to the side with a quick and sharp motion.

Blood covered the leafy ground once the head rolled to its side, and the decapitated body hit the ground. Sirius then fell to his knees in pain. He looked down at his cloak, realizing he had two oversized scratch marks on his chest. What looked to be liquid gold seeped from the wound as he collapsed.

Darkness ran through Sirius’s mind, for in this moment he had no thoughts. The eerie silence of the forest enveloped them, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Sirius struggled to rise, his mind a whirlwind of pain and confusion, as he tried to make sense of the chaos that had unfolded before him.