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

Chapter 26

To Sirius, the humans on this land appeared far more merciless compared to the old Miscreant Slayers of the island. Reflecting on his own past destructive actions, Sirius gained a fresh perspective as he observed the unfolding scene. A fierce glare crept across his face as he surveyed the surrounding villagers.

Under his breath, Sirius whispered, “I hope my skills haven’t dulled.” Lifting his scythe above his head, he made a swift diagonal slash, creating a striking flash of black and twilight hues that forced Airella to shield her eyes.

Startled by the dazzling display, Airella shouted over the crackling flames, “What is that?”

Before she could receive an answer, she noticed the pitch-black portal with jagged white lines resembling a tear in fabric. Ignoring her inquiry, Sirius clutched her hand, swiftly pulling her through the mysterious portal that beckoned behind him.

“Hmph, I remember the world of Limbo being a lot less dark,” Sirius spoke aloud as he scanned the area.

The house they had been standing in front of was now a darkened black and was engulfed in white flames. Even the people surrounding them were darkly colored as they shuffled around. Airella attempted to touch her lifeless mother with her hand, but her physical form never made contact with her. The two were completely oblivious to everyone and everything outside of Limbo.

“Where are we?” Airella turned to face Sirius, her eyes wide with curiosity as she surveyed their surroundings. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back, catching the dim light as it swayed with her movement. Sirius met her gaze, his expression calm and knowing.

“This is Limbo,” he began, his voice soft yet filled with certainty. “It’s the place where lost spirits find themselves when they lose their way.” He gestured toward a transparent humanoid spirit nearby, its translucent form gripped with disbelief as it gazed upon Airella’s burning home.

Airella’s thoughts drifted to her mother, a sense of longing in her voice as she started to speak, but Sirius anticipated her unspoken question.

“Your mother isn’t here,” he reassured her gently, his words carrying a sense of understanding. “If she were, we would have seen her by now. She must have transitioned smoothly to her next life.” Turning back to Airella, he reached out and took her hand in his, a gesture of comfort and solidarity. “Jonathan. Release him from the necklace,” Sirius instructed, placing his scythe on the ground with a sense of reverence. “In this realm, his essence will manifest as a transparent figure, keeping his familiar appearance.”

Airella bowed her head slightly, her fingers delicately retrieving the glowing necklace from beneath the collar of her white blouse. Sirius nodded in approval as she presented the pendant to him, his hand hovering over the glass surface. After a brief pause, the locket opened with a soft click.

A radiant blue light enveloped Airella, a shimmering aura of energy as Jonathan’s form emerged from the jewelry. He embraced her, the blue figure of his soul holding her close before stepping back. His armor still adorned his ethereal blue shape, every detail preserved from the moment Sirius had transferred his essence into the pendant.

“Jonathan?” she shuttered slightly, a hint of fear flickering in her eyes as she took in his appearance from head to toe, her gaze lingering on his face. “It’s really you,” she breathed, relief flooding her features as she returned his embrace warmly.

Meanwhile, Sirius tightened his grip on the scythe’s hilt, a shiver running down his spine as a mysterious presence enveloped him, mirroring the overwhelming joy radiating from Airella upon reuniting with Jonathan. Yet, unlike her elation, this presence was sinister, fueled by a deep-seated hatred.

“We’ve got company,” Sirius muttered grimly, his eyes scanning the shadowy tree line warily as he twirled the scythe in his hands, readying himself for what lay ahead.

Airella’s grip on Dawnbreaker tightened at Sirius’s words. “What is it?” she questioned, anticipation and concern evident in her voice.

“Miscreant,” Sirius replied icily, his tone sending a chill through the air.

A rustle in the nearby shrubbery caught Jonathan off guard, causing him to start. In a swift motion, Sirius turned to Airella, his fists clenched in determination. “Protect Jonathan. He’s vulnerable to most Miscreants that have access to Limbo in his current condition,” he commanded, bracing himself as the dark figure leaped towards them. As the malevolent being swung its scythe, Sirius’s quick reflexes deflected the attack with a resounding clash.

The mysterious figure, shrouded in a hooded cloak that concealed all features, stood imposingly taller than Sirius, casting an eerie presence. Every movement exuded a sense of foreboding, from the intricate scythe in hand to the enigmatic, black-wrapped hands that hinted at a hidden purpose. The scythe itself was a marvel of craftsmanship, its dual-bladed design unlike anything the trio had encountered, its blackened edge gleaming ominously in the dim light of Limbo.

“I regret to inform you, Sirius, that your existence must end,” declared the figure in a chilling tone, preparing to strike with lethal intent.

With a fierce determination, Airella attempted to shield Sirius from the impending danger, but the hilt of the stranger’s weapon forcefully pushed her back. As she stumbled to the ground, clutching her chest in pain, Jonathan hurried to her aid, his concern palpable in the tense atmosphere.

Amidst the chaos, Airella’s startled realization echoed, “I thought Miscreants only existed on the isle.” Her grip tightened on Jonathan’s arm as he kneeled beside her, his gaze fixed warily on the cloaked figure. A sense of familiarity tinged the air, hinting at a deeper connection shrouded in mystery.

“How do you know me?” Sirius questioned, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Are you a reaper as well?” As he spoke, he clenched his teeth in determination, ready to fend off his foe’s relentless attacks.

“I am not just some soul-eater, Sirius,” the cloaked figure retorted, his words dripping with disdain. With a deliberate motion, he plunged his scythe into the dark earth, the sound echoing ominously in the tense air. There was an intensity in his voice—harsh, deep, and pristine.

“If you’re not like me, then what are you?” Sirius exclaimed, finally landing a blow on his opponent.

A gold stream of blood trickled from the wound on the stranger’s chest, a stark contrast against the shadows. In that moment, Sirius sensed a surge of something violent within the enigmatic figure, sparks of fury dancing in his eyes beneath the hood, reminiscent of Airella’s warnings during their journey to Eldaraya. Realization dawned on Sirius, widening his eyes as he acknowledged his grave error. With a heavy breath, he lowered his arms, the scythe hanging loosely in his grip, his expression a mix of regret and alarm.

The stranger’s retaliation was swift and powerful, launching Sirius towards the nearest tree with such force that it uprooted upon impact. Agony engulfed Sirius as he collided with the trunk, the world spinning around him. Amid the chaos, Airella’s gasp resonated alongside the stranger’s unwavering stance and Jonathan’s stunned reaction. As the tree crashed to the ground, darkness enveloped Sirius, consciousness slipping away.

With deliberate slowness, the cloaked figure raised a hand to lower his hood, revealing a startling reflection of Sirius himself, with jet-black hair cascading around his face.

“I’m not like you, Sirius. I am you,” he declared with a chilling certainty, his voice echoing hauntingly in the eerie stillness of the aftermath.

Sirius envisioned a new scenario within the depths of his unconscious mind. A feeling, a strange mix of curiosity and fear, washed over the older boy, compelling him to explore this altered reality further.

As he gazed upon his changed form, he realized he was like an entirely different person compared to the child he once envisioned. This transformed version of himself appeared skinnier, the missing skin on his hands now replaced by a web of intricate bone structure. His chest bore a dark hue, reminiscent of frostbite’s icy touch, adding an eerie contrast to his overall appearance. Draped in a long, tattered, black hooded cloak that concealed his clothes, he felt a sense of unfamiliarity shroud his existence.

Memories seemed distant and fragmented, leaving him with a profound sense of disconnection from his past self. The once dark-haired boy had metamorphosed into a mere recreation, a specter of his former identity. His hair, now a ghostly shade of white, stood in stark contrast to his eyes, which gleamed a haunting yellow, reminiscent of the moon on a cloudless night.

A largely built man, towering before him, emanated an aura of formidable strength. Crimson blood drenched his graying beard, creating a stark contrast against the lifeless bodies scattered in all directions, remnants of the fallen Miscreant Slayers. Some figures resembled mere husks, drained of vitality, and had lost limbs. Their once expressive eyes now glazed over in a haunting milky white hue.

Standing alone, the leader of the Slayers faced the soul-eater amidst a backdrop of desolation. The charred remnants of what were once the cottages and homes of the Slayers now lay in ruin, their former warmth replaced by ash and destruction.

“You are mad!” the burly man yelled as he attempted to lift his war hammer from the ground. “You may have destroyed the barrier, killed my people, and destroyed our village, but there is at least one thing you can’t destroy, and that would be my daughter! Mark my words, Miscreant... the day you cross paths with her is the day you’ll cease to exist! She shall avenge us all!” He tightly gripped onto his oversized hammer as the Miscreant approached him.

“Daughter?” Sirius pressed his clothed boney hand against the man’s old bushy chin. “What is the name of your daughter?”

“It’s none of your concern, soul-eater! As long as she is far away from you, she’s better off with that ice hellion.” The man’s words sparked interest in the young reaper.

Sirius turned around to walk away, intending to spare the old man’s life, that was until the Slayer quickly stood to his feet and raised his war hammer over the reaper’s head.

The tension in the air was palpable as the sun set behind the horizon, casting a crimson glow over the unfolding scene. Whispers of the wind through the trees brought a sense of foreboding. Filled with determination, the man’s eyes blazed while the reaper’s ethereal presence flickered in the fading light. The impending clash between the two figures held the promise of a battle that would echo through the ages, a clash of wills and destinies intertwined in a dance of fate.

A stunned pause seized the man as a shadow loomed above the reaper, halting him in mid-stride. His weapon slipped from his grip as a colossal shadowy hand, twice his size, ensnared him. With a firm hold on the Miscreant Slayer, the shadowy hand exerted its crushing force. A shadowy humanoid figure materialized beside the young reaper, emitting a chaotic chuckle.

“Do you even realize who you’re addressing, boy?” the shadowy figure, Father, bellowed, hovering close to the bearded man struggling against the hand’s grasp. “This is Emmaline’s father! Never underestimate that cunning rascal, Sirius. The ice hellion she dwells with wields power almost comparable to mine. I cannot afford to exhaust all my might shielding you from him!”

“Why did you attack, fool?” the reaper inquired, diverting his gaze from Father toward the towering man. “I spared your life, yet you chose to strike. Are you simply foolish or driven by the honor of slaying Miscreants? Your actions reek of selfishness, as if you wish to discard your own life—”

“It’s not about honor or folly,” the old Slayer interjected, seizing the reaper’s attention abruptly. “It’s about family, safeguarding your loved ones. That’s my purpose... protecting my daughter! As long as Zol ensures her safety until she reunites with me in the afterlife... it seems my job here is complete.” With a last gasp and a crushing squeeze of Father’s shadowy hand, blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.

Sirius took his scythe, its blade glinting in the dim light, and gazed into its polished surface for a fleeting moment. Amidst the tension, an unexpected wave of sympathy washed over him for the man before him. As he hesitated, Father stood beside him, his shadowy arms now back to their usual size and folded across his chest in impatience. Sirius, with a determined yet conflicted expression, raised his weapon high before delivering the decisive final blow.