Page 49 of Isle of Beasts and Shadows

“I’ve already patched up your friend. Let me fix you up as well. It won’t take but a moment,” the woman assured with a smile. Airella, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension, took a deep breath before giving a hesitant nod.

She lowered herself onto a creaking wooden chair, the rustic scent of aged wood filling her senses, while the woman settled beside her. As the woman carefully lifted the hem of Airella’s shirt, the dim light of the room revealed the extent of the nasty gash that marred her skin.

“Oh my, you sure took a beating,” the old woman remarked with a sympathetic shake of her head.

“It’s nothing compared to Sirius,” Airella replied stoically, bracing herself for the discomfort that followed as the woman deftly began the meticulous stitching process. Each prick of theneedle sent a sharp jolt of pain through her, causing her to clench her jaw and squeeze her eyes shut against the sensation.

“Sirius is his name, eh? What about yours?” inquired the woman, her focus unwavering on her task at hand.

“I’m Airella,” she responded, mustering a grateful smile despite the discomfort. “And yourself? Thank you so much for taking us in, by the way,” Airella added, her expression softening with genuine appreciation.

“Odelle,” the woman introduced herself, her hands skillfully finishing the last stitch with practiced ease. “Now tell me, Miss Airella, do you believe in miscreants?” Odelle inquired, her gaze keen as she observed Airella’s reaction.

Airella’s heart skipped a beat as she felt the weight of the old woman’s piercing gaze upon her.

“Miscreants?” Airella chuckled nervously, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her cloak, trying to ease the tension that seemed to thicken the surrounding air. She was determined to go to great lengths to safeguard Sirius’s true identity, knowing the potential risks that loomed ahead. “That sounds a bit far-fetched, doesn’t it?” she added, a faint glimmer of uncertainty in her voice.

“Sometimes being crazy can lead to unexpected outcomes,” the woman remarked before pivoting away from Airella’s gaze. Airella, surprised, remained silent, processing the woman’s words. “Listen, you and your friend can hang around until he’s back on his feet. But once he’s good to go, I need you both out of here, understood?” Her elderly voice took on a different tone, shedding its previous warmth for a more authoritative air.

“Yes, of course. Thank you…” Airella nervously responded, her grip tight on her lower lip as the woman exited the room.

Glancing over at Sirius, she noticed him lying on the bed, his chest swathed in bandages, still unconscious. Airella wished she could’ve provided more help, but felt uncertain about what more she could do. Pulling a creaky wooden chair closer to the bedside, she settled down, resting her head on one of his makeshift pillows.

Airella knew that once they were both ready, she would need to locate Arii, with or without Sirius by her side. She understood the importance of returning to Aramore to warn everyone about the dangers of revisiting the island. Despite their prior attempts being futile and resulting in tragedy, Airella was determined to prevent further losses like Jonathan’s.

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 theroom, 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.

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