Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isle of Magic:
Phoenix sat cross-legged on the velvet-cushioned bench just outside the ornate throne room, absently flicking a spark of golden fire between her fingers.
The enchanted corridor shimmered with ever-shifting colors—walls of crystal and magic humming in time with the heartbeat of the Isle itself—but none of it could distract her from the impatient thrum of nerves rattling her spine.
Inside, Queen Magika and King Oray were in a very important meeting with Drago and Orion.
She and Zohar? They were told to wait.
Like children.
Phoenix scowled at the carved double doors in front of them.
“We’re not even that young,” she muttered under her breath. “I mean, we’re practically adults.”
Zohar, sprawled beside her with his arms behind his head and one foot bouncing off the edge of the bench, cracked an eye open and smirked. “Says the girl who complained last semester about having to dissect a virtual tubular worm.”
“It was gross—even if it wasn’t a real one,” she grumbled.
He snorted. “And what about when you were supposed to clean out the classroom fish tank and refused because you didn’t want to touch the slimy stuff on the inside?”
“Again… gross!” She tossed her braid and glared at him.
“Besides, I paid Amber and Jade to do it, and they turned around and paid James. They were happy because they needed the credits for some new tool they had been drooling over, and James was happy because he had something to study under his microscope. It was a win-win.”
Zohar opened his mouth to point out another of her moments of weakness before he shut it when she lifted a finger in warning. He muttered something she missed under his breath, released a loud sigh, and dropped his head back to rest against the wall.
Phoenix groaned less than two minutes later when her boredom reached a peak again.
“We’ve been sitting outside a throne room for-ev-er. On the Isle of Magic. In a parallel world. Waiting for the grownups to tell us where our friends vanished to… because? We should be in there!”
Zohar gave a lazy grin. “Naw. We’re just a couple of stupid kids. Let the grownups handle it.”
“We are not stupid kids!” she growled.
“Uh, who decided it was a great idea to create a portal to an unknown dimension because they were bored? Oh, yeah… us! And don’t forget that we did it without telling their parents?”
She let out a snort-laugh despite herself. “Alright, you win. We’re a bunch of stupid kids.”
They were still chuckling when the throne room doors creaked open with a low groan of magic and polished wood. Drago and Orion stepped out, both wearing matching rueful expressions.
Phoenix jumped to her feet, impatient to know what had happened. She nearly yanked Zohar to his feet when he merely sat up.
“Well?” she asked, tension snapping into her voice like a drawn bow. “Did Queen Magika find anything?”
Drago nodded, his dark blue eyes warm but serious. “She traced your young friend—Alice—and Geoff. They are on the Isle of the Elementals.”
Phoenix exhaled in a rush. “Thank goodness! Are they okay? Did she tell them we were here—that we are coming to get them?”
Orion stepped forward, his usually stern features softening. “We believe they’re alright. Queen Magika contacted King Ruger and Queen Adrina. They’ve been asked to keep an eye out for any newcomers.”
Phoenix tilted her head. “Have they seen anything yet?”
Drago shook his head. “No sightings so far, but now that they know what to look for, they’re dispatching search teams across the isle.”
Zohar crossed his arms. “So what do we do now?”
Drago’s lips curled into a slow grin.
Orion clapped him on the shoulder. “We head to the Isle of the Elementals, of course.”
Phoenix blinked. “When? Now? How long will it take to get there?”
Drago chuckled at her impatience. “Yes, now. Not long. It’s a good thing the isle is back in its original place or we would have been in trouble,” Drago teased.
Zohar leaned in. “You two are enjoying this.”
“Absolutely,” Drago said with a wicked grin, striding along the corridor toward the exit. “You think we get to chase alien kids through enchanted realms on a regular basis? This is way more fun than treaty negotiations.”
Orion gave an exaggerated sigh. “You haven’t lived until you’ve spent twelve hours listening to royals debate border rights. This is a vacation.”
Phoenix shook her head, laughing. “You two sound just like our dads, don’t they, Zohar?”
Zohar perked up. “Yeah. Dad’s always going blah-blah-blah, and Ha’ven said this, and Vox said that…. Wait—what’s an Elemental? What can they do? Do they control lightning? Or like… turn into air or something? Are we going to see lava monsters?”
Drago raised a brow. “Yes. Something like that. I really, really hope not!” He shuddered and Orion shot him a sympathetic look.
“Drago had a bad encounter with a lava monster. Even dragons aren’t a match for those creatures,” Orion said.
“This is going to be so cool,” Zohar said with an excited grin. “I’ve never met someone who could turn into air. Alice and Adaline can do some awesome stuff, but they don’t turn into anything weird.”
“This world is pretty cool,” Phoenix agreed before her smile wobbled and she looked at Drago. “I hope the others feel the same way once we catch up with them.”
Drago rested his hand on her shoulder. “Everything will be alright. From the sound of it, your friend Alice was having a very good time.”
Phoenix frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It would appear she has found an admirer in Geoff Fae,” Orion chuckled.
“An admirer? Alice already has an admirer. She and Bálint are a thing. They’ve been together forever,” Zohar said.
Drago raised an eyebrow. “Things might get a little awkward, then. Magika said your Alice and Geoff were… um, kissing.”
Phoenix and Zohar stopped dead in their tracks, staring at Drago and Orion’s backs with their mouths hanging open.
“Holy Dragon’s balls! Bálint is going to kill this Geoff guy if he finds out,” Zohar muttered.
Phoenix just nodded in agreement, her eyes wide with disbelief. Seriously, Alice? What are you thinking?!
Isle of the Elementals
Adaline woke with a sharp gasp.
Her eyes flew open to a blinding wash of silver-blue sky. The air felt heavy with a tingling sensation that could only be magic. It was warm and rich, like sunlight filtered through water. She jerked upright, her breath catching in her throat as she scanned her surroundings in frantic confusion.
Granite outcroppings jutted around her like jagged teeth, their surfaces veined with glowing threads of white light. The ground beneath her was soft—cushioned by moss that shimmered faintly in the early morning sunlight.
Hands trembling, she ran them down her arms, over her sides, legs, chest—patting herself down like she didn’t trust what she was seeing. Her heart thundered as the memory of dissolving into mist slammed into her.
I was gone. I came apart—
A breath slipped from her lips, half-sob, half-disbelieving laugh, and she crumpled backward, lying flat against the mossy stone.
She stared up at the sky, blinking as soft clouds drifted overhead.
“I’m alive,” she whispered. Then louder, her voice breaking into laughter, “We’re alive!”
She sat up again, hope swelling in her chest. “Bálint! We made it! We’re alive!”
The echo of her voice faded across the rocks.
She frowned. Her heart, still hammering with adrenaline, skipped.
“…Bálint?”
She turned slowly, scanning the craggy terrain. No flash of purple and gold. No dragon. No wings. Just stone, mist, and the strange musical hum of the island.
“…Bálint?” she called again, louder.
Still nothing.
“Bálint!” she shouted, scrambling to her feet.
Panic scratched at the edges of her composure as she spun in a slow circle, shouting his name again and again. The silence pressed in, unnerving and absolute— as if the land itself was listening—and refusing to answer.
Then she saw it.
A ribbon of white mist drifted toward her from between the rocks, silent and smooth. Her chest seized.
No. Not again. Please… please, not again!
She stumbled back a step. Then another.
The mist curled through the air like a curious serpent, glowing faintly.
“No, no, no…” she whispered, raising her hands, trying to summon a shield.
Nothing.
Her energy didn’t respond. It was like trying to shout, only to find her vocal chords were paralyzed.
Her fear surged. Doubt strangled her thoughts. Her limbs felt heavy and lethargic.
I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. Not here.
The mist was only feet away now. Her breath hitched, and she turned, fleeing up the nearest rocky slope. Her boots scraped against the stone, knees bruising as she climbed over jagged edges slick with sand and pebbles. Her lungs burned. Her heart screamed for Bálint.
She crested the top and froze.
The world opened below her.
An island stretched out like a dream—not much larger than a dozen football fields back on Earth and teeming with life.
Ribbons of rivers sparkled like liquid crystals, weaving between low forests and sun-dappled fields filled with crops.
Giant trees rose like towers, their leaves a glowing green-gold on the far side of the island where waterfalls cascaded down floating rock spires suspended above the ground.
Nestled in a hollow valley near the water’s edge, a village shimmered—homes carved from living stone and woven vines, roofs sprouting flowers that bent toward the sun.
Pathways spiraled like sacred geometry, dotted with brightly colored canopies that fluttered in the breeze while an array of fishing boats bobbed in neat little rows along floating docks.
It looked like a scene out of a fairytale story.
“Where… am I?” she whispered, lifting her hand to hold back her hair when the wind tugged at it.
A breeze swept past her, light and playful, brushing her cheek like a whisper.
And then she heard it—
A giggle.
She spun.
Mist—soft, glowing, alive—floated toward her in a cluster. Her breath caught as one of the tendrils shimmered, shifting in shape.
A figure emerged.
A girl—maybe eight or nine years old—delicate and pale as moonlight, her hair like clouds, eyes sparkling with mischief. She hovered a few inches off the ground, translucent at the edges.
Adaline stumbled back as three more clusters joined her.
A younger girl, a little older girl, and a boy who looked like he’d been caught mid-mud bath. Each misty form wavered like a reflection in a puddle—until, one by one, they solidified.
The first girl stepped forward, cocking her head. “You’re not from the palace city, are you?”
Adaline blinked, her mouth opening, then closing again. “Palace… what? No. At least, not from here. I don’t even know where I am or how I got here.”
The girl tilted her head and studied her before smiling. “I’m Breeze. That’s my sister Spree,” she gestured to the younger girl, “and that’s Droplet.” She pointed to the smaller girl, who waved shyly. “And him—” she rolled her eyes “—that’s Muddle.”
The boy grinned. “But everyone calls me Mud.”
Adaline choked out a laugh. “Of course they do.”
“I’m Adaline,” she said, firmer this time—like saying her name might anchor her to this strange new place.
She continued to stare at the group, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that children had just materialized out of fog in front of her.
“Have… have you seen a boy—a teenager about my age? Brown hair, a little wavy, kind of loud and bossy but in a charming way? He’s a dragon shifter. Big wings. Purple and gold.”
Mud perked up. “Oh! Yeah! We saw him. He was flying. He wasn’t flying so good.”
Adaline’s heart soared. “Where?!”
Mud pointed toward the distant tree line across the gleaming lake. “He went that way. Into the deep woods. He got caught in one of the Wind Spinner’s wind tunnels and—whoosh— he was gone.”
Adaline turned, scanning the forest. The trees there looked older, taller, like silent watchers. Shadows pooled between the trunks, thick with secrets.
“Can you take me to him?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as worry pressed in on her again.
Breeze’s expression turned serious. “We have to go to the village first. My parents will want to know who you are.”
Adaline’s shoulders dropped. “Can’t I go look for him first? Please—he could be hurt.”
Breeze hesitated. “We’re not allowed to go into the deep woods without permission. It’s… dangerous there.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, the misty wind curling around their feet.
Finally, Adaline gave a stiff nod. “Fine. I’ll come to the village. But afterward—I’m going to find him.”
Breeze nodded, turning toward the steep, winding path that led down the cliffside. “We’ll help you.”
Adaline glanced back one last time, toward the forest across the water.
Hold on, Bálint. I’m coming.
Turning, she reluctantly followed the children down the twisting, flower-laced path—toward the village, and whatever waited for her in the heart of this strange and beautiful isle.