Page 37 of Isle of Beasts and Shadows

The strange guard sneered, a subtle twitch in his eyes betraying the darkness that lurked within. Sirius recognized the familiar pattern of manipulation, a tactic he had seen before in the eyes of those under Father’s influence. Slowly, the man opened his mouth, his voice a chilling command that echoed through the narrow passageway. It was Father’s voice.

“End them, Sirius.”

Sirius’s scythe met the leg of an older guard, the clash of metal against flesh reverberating through the tense silence. As the guard fell, others surged forward, a chaotic wave of bodies and weapons converging on Sirius. He moved with fluid grace, a dance of survival and restraint, his movements a delicate balance between defense and the primal urge to strike back.

One young boy, barely a teenager, lunged at Sirius with a heavy sword, his eyes wide with fear and determination. Sirius deflected the clumsy attack with a swift movement, guiding the boy into the unforgiving stone wall. The sound of impact echoed in the confined space, a stark reminder of the harsh reality of their confrontation.

Amidst the chaos, the cries of pain and anguish filled the air like a haunting melody, echoing through the palace hall. The clash of steel against flesh carried on as Sirius, with unwavering determination, engaged in combat. Each strike he delivered wasnot merely an act of violence, but a strategic move aimed at disarming his foes rather than delivering a fatal blow. The fallen guards, their bodies strewn across the polished floor, bore the marks of battle—wounds severe yet miraculously not mortal—a testament to Sirius’s exceptional skill and the restraint he exercised against Father’s ruthless commands.

Father, a formidable adversary, had augmented his power through sinister means—the unrestrained consumption of countless souls. His strength had swelled to unparalleled levels, a stark contrast to Sirius who, in his unwavering commitment to his principles, had chosen not to partake in such malevolent acts. This self-imposed limitation had rendered Sirius vulnerable, his own power waning. Unable to confront Father directly in terms of sheer might, Sirius found himself at a disadvantage, his resolve tested in the face of overwhelming odds.

As he surveyed the aftermath, his gaze lingered on the guard who had now become Father’s vessel. There was a complexity in those haunted eyes, a reflection of the past and present colliding in a silent plea for redemption.

“Father!” Sirius yelled angrily as he twirled his scythe during his march towards the possessed figure.

A crazed smile washed over Father’s face. His skin was pale, a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded him. Father had possessed the soldier almost entirely; it was clear from the black veins that clouded his eyes and forehead. The whites of his eyes had blackened, a haunting sight that sent shivers down Sirius’s spine.

“Long time no see, Sirius.” Father growled as he pushed Sirius backward with a force that almost knocked him off balance. Father swung down upon Sirius, but the handle of histrusty scythe deflected the soldier’s sword, the clash echoing through the corridors. “Tell me, why care for these men? Why don’t you just kill them like you used to all those centuries ago? Do you not recall how you felt when you wiped out that Miscreant Slayer village on the isle? Consume these souls, and you will be filled with more power! There are so many souls here. We will not repeat our last mistakes. Join me, Sirius, and you will see.” Father’s voice resonated with a chilling tone as he swung his sword down upon a fallen palace guard.

Sirius cursed under his breath as he swiftly blocked the oncoming attack, saving the already dying man’s life. He then froze as the sound of Jonathan’s yelling voice echoed down the long corridors, a sense of urgency gripping him.

Sirius gave the possessed soldier one last glance, a mix of pity and determination in his eyes, before leaving him behind to find Airella and Jonathan.

“Airella! Jonathan! Where are you?” The yellow-eyed reaper called out, his voice echoing through the now empty corridors.

He retraced his steps back to the stairwell he had sent Airella down, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows around him, but they were nowhere to be seen. His heart raced as he scanned each corridor, desperately searching for any signs that could lead to them. Yet, the trail of blood leading down one passageway seemed a bit too obvious, raising more questions than answers in Sirius’s mind.

The trail wasn’t extremely noticeable, but the blood was fresh, glistening under the dim light. It almost appeared someone had been through a struggle, leaving behind this eerie trace. Sirius hesitated for a moment, his heart quickening with each step he took. As he kneeled down and ran his fingers lightlythrough the liquid, a shiver ran down his spine—there was something hauntingly familiar about the spilled blood.

“Sirius? Where are you?” A faint groan accompanied by a voice filled with fear echoed through the corridors. The castle’s complex hallway system felt like a labyrinth, disorienting even to those familiar with its layout.

Racing through the twisting maze of dimly lit corridors, Sirius hastened his steps, his heart beating with a frantic rhythm that echoed through the silence. The distant echoes of voices guided him through the labyrinthine paths, drawing him closer to a chilling discovery. A vivid trail of crimson droplets painted a macabre path on the cold stone floor, leading him to a scene of unimaginable horror.

As Sirius neared the source of the blood, a scene of despair unfolded before his eyes. There lay Jonathan, his once vibrant eyes now clouded with pain and fear, an open wound causing blood to coat chest, a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin. Airella kneeled beside him, her hands bloody from trying to stop the bleeding.

“Sirius,” Airella’s voice trembled, laden with sorrow and desperation, “He shielded me from a soldier.” Her words hung heavy in the air, serving as a poignant reminder of the sacrifice that had been made.

“I…” Jonathan’s voice, barely a whisper, struggled to convey his final thoughts as blood stained his lips, his strength waning with each passing moment. Sirius kneeled beside him, a silent witness to the tragedy unfolding before him, a silent vow of support and solace in the face of overwhelming grief and loss.

“Don’t speak. You will waste energy,” Sirius uttered in a hushed tone, his eyes shifting to Airella. Tears cascaded downher cheeks as she gently leaned Jonathan against the wall, ensuring his comfort. “Watch the corridor. Alert me if anyone approaches,” Sirius directed her, extending a delicate pendant from beneath his cloak. Jonathan, his gaze trembling, peered at the necklace curiously, a silent question in his eyes. “This will safeguard you, though the process may not be pleasant. I plan to transmigrate your soul into a new vessel once I locate a suitable one. For now, your essence will live within this pendant. Do you understand?”

“What are you suggesting?” Airella’s voice resonated with disbelief as she confronted Sirius. With a swift motion, she knocked the glass pendant from his grasp, the ornament clinking against the stone floor, but remaining unscathed. “You can’t take his soul! There must be another way.”

“There is no alternative, Airella. The wound is fatal, and even with attempts to mend him, he will succumb before any recovery can take place.” Sirius’s eyes blazed with unwavering determination as he spoke.

The two paused as Jonathan, his once powerful voice now reduced to a weak and raspy whisper, made a profound statement, “I would rather be a... soul... than dead. If Sirius... says he can save me... then I trust him.”

Despite the sharp pain from the wound in his chest, Jonathan’s determination to fulfill his purpose burned fiercely within him. As the second-in-command of Kingdom Eldaraya’s military, his duty to safeguard his people was unwavering. The prospect of allowing civilization to flourish on that island was inconceivable to him; failure was not an option.

Sirius, with a penetrating gaze, turned to Airella and posed a pivotal question, “Do you trust me, Airella?”

Her mind raced as she grappled with the gravity of their predicament. After a moment of contemplation, she met Sirius’s eyes with a resolute expression, “Yes. Yes, I trust you.”

With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius advanced towards Jonathan, placing his hand gently on the injured man’s chest. A mystical energy enveloped them as their eyes radiated with otherworldly hues—Jonathan’s eyes shimmering in emerald brilliance while Sirius’s gleamed in their natural gold. A surge of vitality passed through Sirius’s hands, manifesting as a luminous blue orb that emanated from Jonathan’s being. Mesmerized, Airella watched as the ethereal sphere hovered before Sirius, who carefully guided it into the pendant with deft precision.

“He is safe,” Sirius declared softly, his touch soothing as he tenderly closed Jonathan’s eyes.

Drawing closer, Airella kneeled beside them, her gaze fixed on the radiant necklace in Sirius’s hands. With a gentle smile, Sirius encircled the glowing blue pendant around Airella’s neck. The magic she had just witnessed stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her—the cold, luminescent glass against her skin sparking wonder and curiosity.

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