Page 11 of Isle of Beasts and Shadows

Duran, a commanding presence, wasted no time in taking charge as soon as his feet touched the ground.

“We will make camp for the night without delay,” he declared, his voice unwavering. “At the break of dawn tomorrow, we will begin our scouting of the island in assigned groups. Now, clear out the area and remain in your armor for the night!” Duran’s authoritative tone brooked no argument, and everyone swiftly moved to follow his orders, their movements synchronized in response to his commanding presence.

Jonathan and Airella worked together to put up many of the tents. With her strength and his intelligence, they worked together nicely. Fortunately enough, she got a tent to herself.

She crawled into her tent, taking in the darkness around her as she uncomfortably shifted around in her armor. And with that, she closed her eyes, listening to the faint sounds of the island as she slowly fell asleep.

A lean figure in black robes stood amidst the desolate landscape of the isle. His fists involuntarily clenched at the thought of the tragic absence of humanity on the island. Unbeknownst to him,unknown visitors were about to grace the shores of this forsaken place.

Human souls, once the epitome of delight, had long faded into oblivion over two centuries past. The delicate balance between good and evil that made human souls unique was irreplaceable—neither animal souls nor the souls of Miscreants could compare. In years gone by, the stranger had absorbed each soul distinctly marked by either goodness or malevolence, leaving no room for neutrality. The soul-eater required an opposing soul for every wicked soul consumed in order to maintain equilibrium. However, in recent times, a sinister force had disrupted this delicate balance, casting an unsettling shadow over the island.

As the wind tousled his silvery white hair, the man concealed his striking appearance beneath a dark hood. His deep golden eyes cast a faint glow in the night’s dark as he made his way toward the island’s edge.

On the far side of the isle, where soft sandy beaches should have been, jagged rocks met the water’s edge. Despite the lush vegetation that enveloped him, it was a peculiar light shimmering through the foliage that caught his attention.

Initially dismissing it as the fiery antics of hellions turning sand to glass, he soon realized these creatures seldom ventured this far from the volcano some twenty miles away. Most hellions sought the warmth of the volcanic region, while the presence of an ice hellion nearby ensured frosty nights on the island, blanketing the mountains in snow. Each creature had adapted to fulfill a unique role in this post-human world, resourceful and resilient in the absence of their former human counterparts.

He pulled the bushes apart, peeking into what seemed to be a camp with a ship docked ashore. A large fire glowed brightly as he neared, casting flickering shadows on the sand. The crackling of the flames echoed through the night, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and darkness. He silently examined the tents, their fabric gently billowing in the sea breeze, and poked at the wooden posts that held them up, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. The structures stood sturdy against the salty air, weathered but resilient.

It was then when he approached a tent that was small, yet looked relatively fancy. The scent of rosemary filled the air, blending with the salty tang of the ocean. Around him, the aroma wafted, blending comfortingly and soothing his senses. The soul-eater assumed it was some form of Miscreant repellent, though it clearly wasn’t working since he had got so close. The irony of the situation brought a wry smile to his lips, hidden in the shadows.

Out of curiosity, the white-haired man pulled the flaps of the tent apart, the fabric whispering softly as it gave way. The sight that greeted him caused his brows to furrow. In front of him lied a woman. She seemed young and wore armor of gold that glinted in the firelight. The intricate designs on the armor caught his eye. She had a striking appearance, her features delicate yet strong. For some odd reason, she looked oddly familiar to the soul-eater, a sense of déjà vu tugging at the edges of his memory.

He pulled back from the tent, the sound lost in the rustle of the palm fronds. He looked at the ship resting on the shoreline, its form imposing against the night sky. The moonlight painted silver patterns on the water, a path of light leading from the shore to the horizon. The ship must havebrought the humans to the island, its wooden hull creaking softly in the gentle waves.

Fresh souls for the taking, he thought as he planted his scythe into the sand, the metal gleaming dully in the firelight.

He took his time to absorb the looks of the large ship, tracing the lines of its structure with his eyes. The intricate carvings on the prow told tales of distant lands and lost treasures, each figurehead a guardian of the sea. Then, with a last glance, he turned back, making his way back to the forest, his footsteps muffled by the soft sand.

“Humans... It’s been so long.”

He turned to hear a light tussle in a bush nearby, the leaves rustling in the night breeze. He lightly shook his head and brushed it off, a sense of familiarity settling over him. With a final look back at the camp, he disappeared into the shadows of the forest, his figure melting into the darkness.

Chapter 7

Airella’s eyes slowly fluttered open, her vision adjusting to the darkness surrounding her. Yet, a strange sensation gripped her body, rendering her immobile. It felt like the eerie stillness that washes over someone waking in the dead of night, paralyzed by a nameless fear that lingers in the shadows.

After what seemed like an eternity, she mustered the will to sit up, her movements sluggish yet determined. Her slender fingers fumbled for the lantern beside her, coaxing the flame within to dance with renewed vigor. The warm glow illuminated the confines of her tent, casting flickering shadows on the fabric walls.

Questions tugged at the edges of her thoughts. Had an unwelcome visitor breached her sanctuary, or was it simply a figment of her restless mind? The possibility of a fellow soldier or Duran checking on the camp flickered through her thoughts, only to be extinguished by a creeping doubt.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Airella ventured outside, the cool night air prickling her skin. As she brushed the clinging sand from her clothes, her grip tightened on Dawnbreaker. The lantern’s soft light painted the deserted campsite in a golden hue, revealing fresh footprints etched in the sandy ground. They beckoned her gaze towards the shorebefore veering sharply into the dense forest, a path uncharted and foreboding.

Under the watchful cloak of night, Airella’s steps followed the mysterious trail, each footprint a breadcrumb leading her deeper into the unknown. The moon, veiled by ominous clouds, offered no solace in its obscured glow. A shiver of apprehension danced down her spine as she scanned her surroundings, the forest looming like a silent sentinel.

Despite the rationalizations that whispered in her mind, urging retreat to the safety of her tent, an intangible unease gripped her heart. It was a primal instinct, a whisper of danger that refused to be ignored. Steeling her resolve, she pressed onward, determined to unravel the mystery that threatened their fragile peace.

As she trailed the faint footprints, a rustling in the underbrush startled her, prompting a swift retreat into the concealing foliage.

“Who goes there?” The echo of a familiar voice, Duran’s voice, resonated through the night, sending a shiver down her spine.

Airella put out the flame in her lantern to avoid revealing her position. If Duran caught her out of her tent past curfew, he would certainly hold it against her. This would give him the opportunity he had been waiting for to have a valid reason to punish her.

As Duran continued his search, Airella sensed an unfamiliar presence nearby. Straining her eyes, she noticed a shadowy figure that had been sauntering into the woods before coming to a sudden halt.

Had he heard Duran, Airella pondered, or me?

The stranger, draped in a mysterious cloak, struck Airella as someone far too enigmatic and brooding to be a mere soldier. When he turned, her heart skipped a beat as she caught a glimpse of his piercing yellow eyes through the darkness. This was no ordinary stranger; he must have been an inhabitant of the island.

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