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

Chapter 30

During his moments of unconsciousness, a barrage of vivid images plagued Sirius. The lingering effects of Limbo continued to torment the wounded soul-eater, manifesting in relentless flashes of a mysterious woman. Clad in a silk pink gown exuding regal elegance, her hands emitted a radiant glow, hinting at powers beyond comprehension.

Was this magic reborn? Sirius wracked his memory, recalling ancient tales of sorcery long thought extinct, with the last sorcerers meeting a grim fate. Nowadays, only whispers of such abilities remained, attributed mostly to witches.

The woman’s appearance was ethereal, her flawless skin untouched by imperfections, her luscious hair cascading into waves of light brown silk. She was a vision reminiscent of the enigmatic girl Airella had encountered in the depths of the castle dungeon while searching for Jonathan.

The princess, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity, turned to the door and instinctively hid her arms behind her. The door to her lavishly decorated bedroom swung open slowly, revealing the imposing figure of King William, her father.

With a gentle yet commanding presence, he walked in holding an exquisite purple dress in his hands. As he entered the room, he tossed the dress onto the ornate bedspread and swiftly turned to face his daughter.

“Yes, Father?” Princess Thea inquired, her tone laced with a hint of playful sarcasm. A subtle but mischievous smile danced upon her lips as she awaited her father’s explanation.

“My daughter, I regret not informing you of this sooner, but I have been preoccupied,” he began, apologizing with a hint of regret in his voice. With a theatrical flair, he clapped his hands before continuing, “We are to have a grand ball.” A genuine, warm smile graced his features, adding a touch of excitement to the revelation.

“A ball?” Princess Thea’s eyes widened with intrigue, a flicker of defiance igniting within her. She crossed her slender arms, her gaze drifting to a large portrait hanging on the wall—a depiction of herself alongside her parents.

Her mother, the beloved queen, was conspicuously absent from the painting, her untimely demise a poignant reminder of the kingdom’s turbulent past. The memory of the devastating Black Plague that had ravaged the land, claiming countless lives, including that of her mother and Airella’s father, haunted her thoughts. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head, her youthful appearance belying the resilience and determination that burned within her.

“Why, it’s to celebrate the discovery of the newest addition to our kingdom,” King William exclaimed with enthusiasm, his eyes shining. “Consider it a... sailing away party. The boats will set sail once the ball reaches its grand finale!” As he spoke, he gently placed his large hands on her delicate shoulders, a sense of pride clear in his stance.

Just before the vision began to warp and fade, Sirius couldn’t help but notice the unease etched across Princess Thea’s usually serene visage.

A sense of dizziness enveloped him, causing him to startle awake with a sharp gasp, his hand instinctively clutching at his chest. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, focusing on the figure seated by his bedside.

Airella, with her head rested on his arms atop the mattress, her silken hair cascading down her back like a shimmering waterfall, was fast asleep in the wooden chair beside him.

Carefully disentangling her hand from his, Sirius rose from his makeshift bed, his movements slow and deliberate as he tiptoed towards the backdoor for a breath of fresh air. The wooden floor creaked slightly under his weight, the faint sound mixing with the gentle rustle of leaves outside.

As he pushed the door open, a tranquil sight greeted him—a small hot spring with steam lazily rising into the cool air, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers. His gaze drifted to a small table on the right, weathered by time and bearing the marks of past use. There, various poisonous herbs and other items lay neatly arranged: nightshade with its deep purple hue, devil’s fruit with its ominous red skin, and a vial of blood-colored liquid that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

“Witch.” Sirius muttered, the word sapping the air from his lungs. A witch, just like the girl he had envisioned while sleeping. The princess. Sirius turned around to face an old woman who looked at him with a growl escaping from her lips.

“The name’s Odelle, child,” she introduced herself with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Though I’m sure you’re far older than me.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed Sirius, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I had a vision just now,” Sirius pressed on, his tone filled with curiosity. “What did you do?”

“Oh, dear,” Odelle replied nonchalantly, a small smile playing on her lips. “I wouldn’t call that anything but a few side effects of the potions I had to use on you.” Her gaze held a mix of mystery and wisdom, hinting at a deeper understanding of the situation.

As Sirius delved into his thoughts, recalling any information about the few witches that used to patrol the isle, a sense of intrigue filled the air.

“Magic used by witches is personal,” he mused aloud. “What ties do you have to the princess and the king?”

Odelle let out a soft chuckle, a twinkle in her eyes. “Wow, I’m impressed,” she remarked, her demeanor playful yet enigmatic. “What vision did you see, exactly?”

“Answer my question,” Sirius insisted, his gaze unwavering.

With a graceful gesture, Odelle waved her hand in the air, a subtle sign of her confidence. “Stubborn child,” she teased lightly. “We all have our secrets. You keep mine, and I’ll keep yours, Miscreant.” Her words carried a hint of warning, laced with a touch of familiarity. “Princess Thea is my granddaughter,” she revealed, a mix of pride and protectiveness in her tone. “My daughter, the late Queen Elara, married the king, and I stayed here. I couldn’t be caught with my potion-making in the castle, could I?”

“I need something of you.” Sirius narrowed his eyes and brushed past her, walking back inside the dimly lit one-room cottage, the musty scent of herbs and potions filling the air.

“Oh, and what’s that?” She asked in a raspy old voice, curiosity piqued as she followed Sirius back inside, her worn hands clutching the edges of her tattered shawl.

“I need a masking potion,” Sirius uttered with urgency, his voice tinged with concern. In the vivid tapestry of his mind, he could see King William’s regal figure conversing with Princess Thea about the imminent ball set to take place that very night. “She’s a magic wielder, you know,” he added, emphasizing the mystical nature of the princess.

Taking a seat once more in the cozy dining area, Sirius winced slightly in discomfort, his gaze wandering around the cluttered room adorned with an assortment of enigmatic artifacts and ancient tomes. Amidst the mystical relics, his mind remained focused on the task at hand.

“The masking potion is for Airella. I can manage myself,” he affirmed, determination gleaming in his eyes.

Odelle, with an air of solemnity, interjected, “I’ve witnessed these visions as well. Our bloodline pulsates with untold magic, a carefully concealed secret we’ve safeguarded diligently. Thea, my dear Thea, remains veiled to the truth for years, her potential shrouded in mystery. I see her lost and adrift, unaware of the immense power she holds, trapped within the confines of that castle.” Her voice carried a weight of sorrow and determination as she spoke. “I’ll brew the potion for you, but not without an exchange,” Odelle declared firmly, her hands resting on her hips. The crackling flames from the hearth danced in the background, casting a warm glow upon her weathered countenance, revealing a juxtaposition of shrewdness and ancient wisdom etched in her features.

“What do you need?” Sirius crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering, though he winced as a sharp pang shot through his side, a reminder of the battle that had brought him to this peculiar abode. He watched intently as her blank stare transformed into a sinister grin, the dim light flickering ominously.

“Your blood, the blood of a Miscreant. Not a lot, but enough to make a good potion. Grab that bottle right next to you and I’ll get the knife.” Odelle finished her demand, her voice echoing with a chilling intensity as she reached for a knife that gleamed malevolently in the candlelight, adding an element of foreboding to the eerie scene.

“Why didn’t you just take my blood while you were working on me?” Sirius questioned, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of concern. The witch, with an expression of patience and wisdom, replied calmly, “Had I did that, you wouldn’t be alive right now. You needed time to heal, to regain your strength from within.” Gesturing gracefully, she motioned for him to offer his hand, a mix of trust and uncertainty flickering in Sirius’s eyes.

Sirius, though feeling a sense of unease creeping up within him, extended his left hand towards her, a mixture of apprehension and compliance evident in his actions. As the sharp blade met his skin, a moment of discomfort flashed across his face, quickly replaced by a stoic resolve.

The witch deftly guided him to clench his fist, urging the gold liquid to flow forth, each droplet cascading into the awaiting glass bottle below. The vessel gradually filled to its brim, shimmering under the dim light of the room.

Once Sirius completed the ritualistic task, he observed the newly formed gash on his palm, a blend of fascination and wariness in his gaze.

The witch, with a hint of nostalgia in her eyes, commented softly, “I’ve needed Miscreant blood for a long time. They are becoming scarce in these lands, the remnants fading into obscurity. The few we encounter are often like me, veiled in secrecy, concealing our true nature.” A subtle chuckle escaped her lips as she carefully stowed the filled bottle into her satchel, preparing to depart.

Wrapping his hand with a bandage, Sirius winced slightly from the fragrant herbs interwoven within the fabric, their soothing aroma mingling with the metallic tang of blood. As he exhaled a weary sigh, the weight of the unknown future ahead settling upon his shoulders, he couldn’t help but ponder the mysteries that lay shrouded in the shadows of the witch’s cryptic words.

“Now, this potion has a limited use,” Odelle explained in a hushed tone, her voice carrying a hint of mystery. “It will only last for about an hour.” With careful steps, she reentered the room, the glass bottle clutched in her slender fingers, its contents swirling like liquid fire.

Sirius accepted it with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, aware of the weight of this gift.

“Use it wisely,” Odelle advised, her words laced with ancient wisdom. As if to ensure its safekeeping, she presented him with a small satchel, its fabric soft. Sirius handled the precious potion with great care, treating it as if it were made of fragile glass.

Sitting down beside Airella, whose peaceful slumber painted a serene picture, Sirius felt the weight of the impending task ahead. The air outside carried the whispers of a setting sun, signaling the approaching dusk. The royal ball, a place of opulence and intrigue, awaited them.

Reflecting on his encounter with the witch, Sirius couldn’t shake off the feeling that his vision held more significance than a mere dream. It felt real, tangible, like a thread connecting him to a larger tapestry of fate.

Gently rousing Airella from her sleep, Sirius whispered her name with a tenderness that belied the urgency in his voice. Her eyes, vibrant and multicolored, widened in surprise as they met his gaze.

“Sirius? You’re okay?” Airella’s voice carried a mix of relief and joy as she threw her arms around him in a heartfelt embrace.

Sirius winced, a reminder of his tender chest, causing her to retreat apologetically. He let out a pained chuckle, his eyes crinkling with amusement. Airella’s smile, bright as a sunbeam, put him at ease despite the looming mission ahead.

“Listen,” Sirius began, his words rushed yet resolute, “we need to infiltrate a royal ball.” His hands trembled with a mix of nerves and determination, a silent acknowledgment of the risks they were about to undertake.

“A ball? Why?” Airella’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“This king of yours intends on sending innocent people to the island tonight,” Sirius explained, his voice tinged with urgency. “This is what Father had been planning this whole time. He wants human life back on the island.” Airella felt a knot form in her stomach, realizing the gravity of the situation. “We need to get to the palace and talk to his daughter,” Sirius continued, his grip on her hands firm yet reassuring. “I suspect she will be the only person able to talk some sense into him.”

Airella’s mind raced with worry. “How do you know that? Also, the guards know what we look like, Sirius, and they have my little brother. We need to save him first.” Her voice trembled with fear and determination.

Sirius paused, his eyes reflecting the weight of their predicament. “I had a vision. I’ll explain on the way. And Arii will be safer in the dungeon than he will be with us, constantly fighting and on the run,” he spoke, his words heavy with sorrow. As he gently brushed a tear from Airella’s cheek, a mix of emotions flickered across his face.

“That’s unacceptable…” Airella’s voice faltered, a sense of helplessness washing over her as she gazed into Sirius’s comforting eyes.

He gently wiped away her tears, his touch offering a sense of solace amidst the turmoil of emotions. With a warm smile, he silently conveyed a promise of hope amid uncertainty, a pledge that resonated deep within her heart.

“Trust me,” Sirius spoke softly, his tone unwavering. “I swear on my undying life I will rescue him when the time comes.” Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his eyes meeting hers to reassure her once more. The shock in her expression softened, replaced by a flicker of belief.

“We have to,” he repeated, his voice steady yet filled with determination, echoing through the room.

Airella, though still grappling with her emotions, wiped her remaining tears away and mustered a smile through the pain that lingered. “Okay, but how are we going to get into this ball? Disguises?”

“Here,” Sirius reached into the satchel, retrieving a strange concoction enclosed in a glass bottle. “Wait to drink it. It won’t last long.”

Curious, she inspected the contents of the bottle—an orange liquid sloshing within. “What is it?” Her voice held a hint of intrigue.

“It’s a masking potion,” Sirius explained, his gaze fixed on her with a sense of assurance. “It’s supposed to change your form to something more appropriate for the situation at hand. At least, that’s my understanding.” He observed as she carefully returned the glass bottle to the satchel, a look of gratitude in her eyes.

“Thank you, Sirius,” she expressed sincerely, a glimmer of resolve shining through her gaze.