Page 16 of Isle of Beasts and Shadows

“Help!” She heard Duran’s voice, a mix of desperation and fear echoing through the wind.

Reacting instinctively, Airella abandoned thoughts of her lost weapon and sprinted towards the source of the distress call. As she approached, the scene unfolded before her and her heart plummeted—it was Marcus who now was a decayed form twisted in a grotesque display of menace, cornering Duran against the rugged stone wall. Marcus’ gnarled hands reached out, poised to inflict untold harm on Duran.

With a surge of adrenaline, Airella launched herself at him, her fingers finding purchase on the silver armor. She wrenched Marcus away from Duran with a swift and practiced motion, sending him crashing to the ground with a resounding thud. Duran’s eyes, wide with a mixture of relief and gratitude, locked onto hers for a fleeting moment before he scrambled to his feet.

In that brief pause, Airella’s gaze fell upon Marcus at her feet. Once a man, now a twisted shell of his former self, the soldier lay squirming on the cobblestones. Marcus had served in the King’s Army for over a decade and had a loving family waiting for him back home. The thought of reuniting with his family kept him going through the toughest times, and now hisniece, who he cared so much for, will never get to speak to him again.

As she retrieved Duran’s sword, a pang of sorrow tugged at her heart, a reminder of the human cost in this battle against the encroaching shadows.

Marcus lunged at Airella with what she thought to be some type of battle cry, but she swung the unfamiliar sword in a horizontal motion with significant force, slicing off his mummified head. His head rolled, and she closed her eyes as she listened to his body make a thud when it hit the ground.

Airella’s eyes continued to sting, and not just because of the dust from bringing that house down. Knowing that he was undead, she wasn’t sure if cutting off his head would have worked. But now, he was unmoving. That was until she took a glance at his severed head.

With horror, Airella stepped back. Marcus was staring at her, making noises as he gnawed, growled, and clicked his teeth together. She held her breath, doing what she could to keep herself from vomiting.

She pulled herself together and raised the sword, sliding the blade into his head and finally reuniting him with the brother he had lost at the Siege of Shadowspeak. The eerie setting sun cast long, twisted shadows around the grotesque scene, adding an extra layer of dread to the already chilling encounter.

The air grew colder, and a faint whisper seemed to echo through the desolate surroundings, sending shivers down her spine. Airella’s heart raced as she tried to rationalize the unearthly sight before her, her mind struggling to grasp the reality of facing such a malevolent force. With eachpassing moment, the feeling of impending doom loomed larger, enveloping her in a suffocating cloak of terror.

Airella turned towards Duran, who had been leaning against the building in agony.

“My ankle, damn it!” He roared as she watched him.

Jonathan was still lying unconscious on the ground. Airella no longer knew what to do. It seemed like her body didn’t want to do anything but collapse. Her only assumption was that she must have been undergoing some kind of adrenaline crash.

Many of the soldiers swarmed in her direction, their heavy boots crunching on the debris-strewn ground. Airella’s heart raced as she wondered where they had been all this time, their sudden presence both comforting and unsettling. She stood frozen, a silent observer in the chaos unfolding around her.

Her eyes fixed on Jonathan, who lay motionless on the ground. A soldier leaned over him, desperately searching for signs of life.

The tension in the air was thick, suffocating, until a voice pierced through, “He’s breathing!”

Airella felt a wave of relief wash over her, momentarily lifting the weight of dread from her shoulders.

Her gaze shifted to Duran, his pained cries echoing in her ears. Men surrounded him, their hands working quickly to mend his injured foot, the scene filled with urgency and order amidst the chaos of destruction.

Airella watched from a distance, her grip on the unfamiliar sword she held loosening as she dropped it tothe ground, the clatter lost in the cacophony of voices and movement.

As she turned to walk away, her eyes fell upon the remains of the fallen building, a stark reminder of the devastation that had unfolded. Dawnbreaker, glinting faintly under the debris, seemed almost out of place in the rubble. It lay there as if waiting for her to reclaim it, a silent testament to the battles fought and the losses endured.

Beside her weapon, a piece of tattered black cloth caught her eye, its edges frayed and worn from the violence of the day. Airella bent down, her fingers tracing the rough fabric. A surge of determination rose within her. With a solemn resolve, she tied the dark cloth around Dawnbreaker’s hilt, a silent vow of retribution for the pain inflicted on Jonathan.

As she walked away, the eyes of the soldiers followed her, their silent scrutiny weighing heavy on her back. Airella kept her gaze lowered, her steps steady but filled with purpose, each footfall a resounding echo of the battles yet to come.

“Airella Devereaux, you have some explaining to do,” Duran glared at Airella from his cot. His eyes bore into hers, filled with a mix of frustration and curiosity, as if demanding answers that only she could provide.

She crossed her arms, a subtle gesture that revealed her inner conflict. It had been about a day since their harrowingencounter with the reaper who she had now come to know as Sirius.

The decision to retreat to the safety of the base camp had been unanimous among the soldiers, except for Duran. His unwavering determination to explore the uncharted territories of the island clashed with the caution that now lingered in the air.

“I overheard Jonathan mention you were familiar with that Miscreant.” Duran’s voice tinged with accusation and a hint of betrayal as he grabbed her arm in frustration, seeking an explanation for the secrets that seemed to surround them.

“No, I only saw him that first night—” Airella explained, but Duran cut her off abruptly, his voice tinged with suspicion and anger.

“Don’t you lie to me, girl!” His grip on Airella’s arm tightened as he pulled her closer, his eyes narrowed with accusation. “If you had seen him, why didn’t you say anything? He could’ve turned us into those things while we slept. Yet you endangered us all! Marcus is dead because of you.” With a forceful shove, he pushed her away, his frustration palpable.

Airella, feeling defensive at the emotional jab, stomped her foot, a mix of exasperation and hurt coloring her tone.

“How was I to know he was capable of such things?”

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