Page 2 of Isle of Beasts and Shadows

“Dïmlëmzal!”

The Miscreant lunged from the thick brush towards Emmaline, a towering figure at seven feet tall compared to her petite five-foot frame. Using her metal rod as a shield, she deftlykicked him, toppling the obsidian-clad beast. With a touch of his hands, the hellion ensnared her feet in ice, but luckily, a crack of her rod freed her. Electric sparks danced along its metallic surface as the hellion hesitated, hands raised in what seemed like a sign of surrender.

In her wary gaze, suspicion lingered. The Miscreant, concealed behind an obsidian mask and armor, met her eyes with an icy blue stare. As a chilling fog enveloped them, she readied for the next strike. With swift precision, she swept him off his feet, leaving him sprawled in the snow.

Her pause was brief, a moment of uncertainty that halted her final blow. Confusion clouded her mind as an unfamiliar reluctance steadied her hand. The island seemed to whisper a warning, stirring a new unease within her.

Surprisingly hesitant, she was caught off guard as the hellion retaliated, freezing her in place once again. The hellion then launched a bundle of scattering ice shards towards her.

She dodged most, but a shard nicked her cheek, a searing reminder of the danger. The real threat lay at her feet, where the encroaching ice threatened to trap her.

Quick thinking saved her from the icy prison as she shattered the growing frost, only to find the hellion vanished, leaving only faint footprints in the snow.

Emmaline pushed back her tangled blonde locks, her gaze fixed on his trail ahead. As she donned her cloak against the biting cold, the wind whipped snowflakes around her, obscuring her path.

Struggling against the elements, she pressed on towards a vast frozen lake, a daunting obstacle in her quest. Despite the adversity, a glimmer of determination shone in her eyes, reflecting her unwavering resolve to overcome whatever challenges lay ahead on her perilous journey through the wintry landscape.

She strained to peer through the storm raging across the vast expanse of the lake, her breath forming mist in the frigid air. Amidst the blizzard’s fury, her eyes locked onto a small cave nestled on the distant shore, its rocky facade barely visible through the swirling snow.

Could the elusive culprit she sought be seeking refuge within its shadowed depths? The howling wind carried with it a sense of mystery and danger, fueling her determination to uncover the truth.

Glancing down at the frozen water below, she squinted to make out the faint reflection of her own green eyes, the starkness of the image punctuated by a fresh cut marring her pale skin.

Each step she took on the slick ice was a delicate dance of balance and caution, the storm’s icy tendrils threatening to pull her into its unforgiving embrace. As the storm intensified, disorientation crept in, casting shadows of doubt on her chosen path.

Clenching her teeth against the biting cold, Emmaline pressed forward, her will unwavering in the face of adversity. With each stride, she honed her skill at navigating the treacherous terrain, her focus unwavering despite the ominous crackling of the ice beneath her feet.

Then a sudden, loud crack shattered the air, sending a jolt of fear through her veins.

“No,” she gasped, her heart racing as she witnessed the ice fracturing beneath her, the network of cracks spreading like spiderwebs in all directions.

Desperation seized her as she sprinted, her movements deftly avoiding the expanding fault lines that threatened to swallow her whole. The thunderous cacophony of breaking ice echoed around her, a symphony of danger propelling her toward the safety of solid ground.

With each heart-pounding stride, the cave loomed closer, a beacon of hope amid chaos. Victory tantalizingly close, she pushed herself to the brink, the promise of sanctuary urging her onward. Just as the mouth of the cave came into view, a flicker of determination ignited within her, a beacon of resilience in the face of the unknown.

But then darkness enveloped her as she plunged through the fractured ice into the icy depths below.

Chapter 1

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

Airella's life took a dramatic turn when her father fell victim to the Plague, leaving her to navigate a challenging world at just seven years old. With her mother struggling against a chronic illness, Airella became her primary source of support. By the age of eighteen, the responsibility of caring for her small family—comprised of herself, her ailing mother, and her spirited younger brother, Arii—weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Observing Arii dash down the cramped hallway of their humble cottage, his unkempt blond locks bouncing, Airella couldn’t help but smile. “Arii, it’s too early, and you reek. When was your last bath? What mischief got you into such a state?” She playfully scolded him, using her licked finger to wipe away a smudge of mud from his cheek.

In response, Arii recoiled in feigned horror. “I was just honing my sword skills, that’s all. I plan to be the best sword fighter in all of Edros.”

“Arii,” Airella’s tone turned serious, “we’ve discussed this.”

“I know, I know. But how else will I protect you and Mama from the villains?” The earnest eleven-year-old shrugged.

“Leave that to me. I won’t warn you again. Papa’s weapons stay locked in his old wardrobe. Lay a hand on them one more time, and you’ll have pig slop for supper.” She warned, though a hint of amusement danced in her eyes.

“No, please don’t! I’ll stop, I promise!” Arii scampered off to the other end of the cottage, leaving Airella chuckling softly. Years back, Arii had dared to taste pig slop, curious about its flavor. The aftermath hadn’t been pretty.

Stepping into her bedroom, connected to the main room of their cozy wooden abode, Airella pondered the disparity between the opulent exterior and the modest interior. Her father’s teachings echoed in her mind—projecting strength on the outside ensured safety and respect within. As Airella gazed at herself in the mirror, she noticed the striking resemblance to her late father, especially in her mismatched eyes—one icy blue, the other a vivid emerald green. Every day, she longed for her father—his teachings, his advice, everything he imparted. Yet, amidst her yearning, she found solace in the presence of Arii and her mother.

Airella’s bond with Arii was more than just siblings; it was a connection forged in shared struggles and unwavering support. Despite their differences, they stood united, facing life’s challenges together, their love and loyalty binding them as tightly as blood.

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