Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Another day and night passed without incident, and after hours of navigating the rugged terrain, the ground finally leveled. Jagged cliffs and rocky outcrops gradually gave way to rolling hills, the air shifting with them—thick with moisture, carrying the faint scent of salt from the sea.
They arrived at Aquamere’s gates, and Gisela stopped short.
Crystalline waters sparkled under the sun, and lakes and rivers wove through the land like threads of liquid sapphire.
Homes with stone foundations were nestled among flower-filled gardens.
Children’s laughter rang out as they splashed in the shallows, their joy mingling with the chirps of birds flitting through willow trees.
Merchants called out to one another, their voices easy and unguarded, as if nothing had ever threatened this place.
For a moment, she let herself believe this could last.
“Are we still in Mystralos?” Gisela whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
Thorne grabbed her hand as they strolled through the village center. “Yes. Sure is,” he said, his gaze fixed on her rather than the village before them.
“Where would she be, Silas?” Gisela asked.
“I’d guess a pub,” he said, tight lipped. “You two go on ahead. I don’t want her to see me right away. It might give us a better chance.”
“Are you sure?”
Silas nodded. “I’m going to enjoy the water.”
His attention drifted to a woman loading a cart nearby. She looked up and caught his eye. Her smile lingered for a heartbeat longer than expected.
Gisela and Thorne stepped into the pub, and it was nothing like the one in Rockridge.
The polished wooden floors gleamed in the soft light of oil lamps.
Cascading vines and potted plants adorned the white stone walls, giving the space the feel of an indoor garden.
Patrons dressed in neatly tailored garments spoke in hushed tones.
At the far end of the room, a fire crackled in the hearth, illuminating the woman seated beside it.
Her white-blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail with braids woven into it.
She wore beige breeches and high black boots, paired with a loose, billowy linen shirt.
Leaning back with her legs propped on the table, she radiated an unbothered confidence that drew every eye in the room, including Gisela’s.
Eira whispered into Gisela’s mind, “That’s Marina. Do you feel it?”
She did. She hadn’t noticed before that she could detect Silas’s and Thorne’s power. Everything had been new then, a thousand sensations at once after her awakening. But now, meeting a new Mystic, the feeling was clear—a flutter deep in her core, like butterflies anticipating their release.
Marina looked up from her glass, head tilting as a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. Thorne and Gisela crossed the room toward her table, noting the group of men around her, each with the weathered look of a man who belonged to the sea.
Marina tracked their approach.
“Are you Marina Donolo?” Gisela asked.
“Who’s asking?” Marina replied, twirling a knife between her fingers.
Gisela glanced around the room, feigning thought. “Can you see anyone else asking? Or did you miss the part where I’m standing right in front of you?”
Thorne shot Gisela a look. “What are you doing?” he muttered.
Marina’s grin widened. “I like you.” With a wave of her hand, she signaled to the men at the table. They pushed back from the table and filed out of the pub without a word.
Thorne and Gisela took the empty seats across from her.
Marina went on twirling the knife, watching them with lazy interest.
Gisela didn’t flinch. She’d seen this kind of test before—dominance disguised as ease. The only way to pass it was to play along without blinking.
Thorne looked between them, confused. “What’s happening?”
“Are you here for my help?” Marina asked, her feet still propped up on the table.
“How did you know?” Gisela asked.
Marina studied her. “I know you’re a Mystic. You want to sail to Mystic Isle.”
“Mystic what?”
Marina tucked the blade away at her hip before leaning closer. “Mystic Isle. Are you looking to leave Mystralos?”
Thorne and Gisela exchanged puzzled glances. “No,” Thorne said. “We want your help in saving Mystralos.”
Marina’s brow furrowed. “Then how do you know who I am?”
“We have a mutual . . . friend,” Gisela said, careful to keep her tone measured.
“Why would I help you? I don’t know you. This realm is hopeless. Your best bet is to go to Mystic Isle. Leave this place.”
“Whatever is happening in the northern villages will spread south. I’m sure of it. This beautiful village won’t stay like this for long,” Gisela said.
Thorne leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Why are you still here if it’s hopeless?”
“I transfer awakened Mystics to Mystic Isle,” Marina revealed. “By ship.”
Gisela whispered to Thorne, “Do you think he knew about this?”
“Who?” Marina asked.
Silas walked through the door, answering the question before Gisela had a chance to respond. His eyes locked onto Marina, and hers snapped up to meet his.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“Wait. Please, hear us out,” Gisela pleaded, her voice tense but measured.
Marina’s anger flared, her voice cutting sharp. “How dare you ambush me like this? I should drown you both from the inside.”
Silas stepped closer to the table, careful not to provoke her further. “Marina, please.”
“You all need to leave. Now,” she demanded.
“Can we talk somewhere private?” Gisela asked. “Give us a few minutes to explain.”
Marina’s gaze, burning with rage, locked onto her father. “Five,” she said, rising abruptly. She strolled out of the pub, fluid and assured. Her slender, muscular frame cut through the crowd with ease.
Gisela, Thorne, and Silas followed, weaving quickly to keep pace behind her.
They were rounding the corner of the council building when the sight of a red uniform brought Gisela to a dead halt.
Thorne stopped beside her, eyeing the man.
Gisela marched forward. “Vaughn?”
He looked down at her, pale and trembling. “Gisela Valor. Nice . . . to see you,” he said, swallowing hard.
Marina stopped ahead, arms crossed, watching with a measured stare.
“What’re you doing here?” Gisela asked. “They took you away. That day in the village center . . . You work for the King now?”
“Uh, yes. I—” Vaughn’s words faltered.
“Wait a minute,” she said, stepping closer.
Eira’s certainty settled, cold and sure, in Gisela’s chest.
“Back up,” Vaughn said, his voice unsteady.
Thorne positioned himself protectively in front of Gisela.
She scoffed and stepped around him. “You’re not a Mystic.”
“No . . . I’m not.”
“Explain,” she said through gritted teeth.
Vaughn sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I was supposed to set an example . . . encourage Mystics to step forward.” He stared at the ground before continuing.
“It was wrong. I see that now. After what I’ve witnessed with the potion .
. . my sister would be ashamed of me. But they said if I did it, they wouldn’t punish my family for hiding her, and they would be paid in coin.
Lots of it. I just can’t return to Frosthaven.
They offered me a position, so I—I took it.
Please, don’t tell them I spoke to you.”
“What potion?” Marina interjected, advancing with a cutlass that must have been well hidden.
Vaughn crumpled at her feet. “Please don’t hurt me.”
Gisela stepped forward. “Tell us what you saw.”
Vaughn shook his head. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”
The four of them looked at each other and nodded in agreement.
His shoulders were curled in, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “They get the potion . . . and . . . the screams. It’s so loud. Like they’re trapped in a nightmare.” His face crumpled. “Afterwards. . . they’re husks of themselves. Please don’t make me relive this.”
He vomited on the ground and the group recoiled.
“You can, and you will,” Marina gritted out, looking down at him.
Vaughn wiped his mouth. “They’re forcing awakenings.”
“Forcing awakenings?” she asked.
Vaughn coughed, and Marina took a step back, her lip curling in disgust.
“Awakenings are when a Mystic comes into their true power.”
“I know what an awakening is, you stupid little rodent,” Marina snapped. “Why are they doing it?”
“I think it has to do with the Stones. They want a Mystic from each element. But I only know what I overheard . . . I’m not a high-ranking guard!”
“Are they making progress?” Silas asked.
“Some, but not much. It’s not working as they expected. They don’t come back as they once were.” He shook his head. “Please . . . can you leave me alone now?”
“You’re disgusting,” Marina spat.
The group moved away but Gisela stayed, watching Vaughn shrink against the shame of his own actions.
She almost felt sorry for him. Not for what he’d done, but for the desperation that forced him to betray his own conscience.
She considered the lengths one might go to protect those they love and shuddered at the cost such choices demanded.
They continued down the main walkway, following Marina. “This is more than I bargained for today,” she grumbled, keeping a few paces ahead.
“Eira, do you know anything about forced awakenings? Has this been done before?”
“No. But forcing an awakening cannot result in a true Primal bond. I fear the potion may be turning them into something else entirely.”
They entered an alley that sloped downward to a wider path. At the end, a flight of stairs descended to a beach where a wooden house, much like Silas’s on Mount Kharos, stood.
In front of the house, a cozy seating area offered a view of the vast expanse of sand and water.
A large ship was docked further down the beach, partially concealed by dunes and rocky outcrops.
The same men who were with Marina at the pub moved about the ship, their activities hidden from plain view.
Silas spotted the ship and snapped his gaze to his daughter. “Is that your mother’s ship? What do you think you’re doing?”
The old tension coiled in the air.
Thorne grabbed Gisela’s hand.
Marina whirled around. “Doing what she always did. Saving our people.”
“Marina, please. You misunderstand me.”
“Do I? Is what I saw during the Trials a lie?”
“It’s not. But I was worried about your safety. If I would’ve known—”
“Known what, Father? That the kingdom would execute her?” Marina’s voice rose with anger. “I saw your whole conversation. She tried to get us out of here. You said no.”
“Completing the awakening wasn’t easy. You know that now. I didn’t think you were ready at the time.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make!”
Gisela and Thorne watched, eyes darting between the two.
“Have you seen Mother’s journal?” Marina asked, her voice low and burning. “She knew this land would die. They told her in Mystic Isle. She tried to spare us.”
“Marina . . . I’ll regret my choice for the rest of my life. I know I chose wrong. I’m sorry,” Silas said, defeated.
“You didn’t even tell your new friends about what Mother did? About the lives she saved?”
“I was ashamed,” Silas cried, chin trembling. “I didn’t listen to her.” He sank into the sand, burying his face in his hands as sobs shook him.
Gisela understood then. Silas waited too long—and Helena had paid for it.
Marina’s face softened. Her hand twitched at her side as if she wanted to reach out, but she clenched it into a fist instead.
She turned away, her posture stiffening as she put on a mask of indifference.
“There’s no point in dwelling on it now, Father.
But I’m doing what Mother would’ve wanted. I’m saving lives.”
Silas looked up at her, eyes swollen and red. “How many?”
“Does that matter?”
“How many awakened Mystics have you taken there since you started?”
“Five. Even if it was one it would be worth it. It’d be more if the damn Trials weren’t so far,” she said, flicking her hand. “I can only sense the older ones who’ve passed inspection age.”
“That’s honorable,” Gisela cut in. “But we need your help. We have a lot of lives to save here too.”
“And what do you suppose we do?” Marina asked, hand on her hip. “Walk through the castle gates and ask Ravenor for his head?”
“Watch your tone when speaking to her,” Thorne warned.
Marina’s grin turned predatory. “How about I waterboard you? Let’s see how long you can hold your breath underwater.”
Black fire hissed in Thorne’s palm. He flicked his wrist, sending a lash of heat snapping toward her.
Marina didn’t flinch. She leaned away with fluid grace, answering with a surging wall of water that rose, poised to strike.
Thorne’s hand lifted again, the air around him beginning to warp—but Gisela was faster.
She stepped between them, frost shooting outward, snuffing the flame. Ice climbed the wave, sealing it into a jagged frozen sculpture suspended in the air. Gisela glared at them. “Get a grip.” She sighed and squared her shoulders. “We need to restore balance to Mystralos.”
The air grew slick with sudden humidity.
Above Marina, moisture coiled into a feminine form.
Fluid and translucent, she shimmered in shades of turquoise.
Waves undulated across her body like cascading silk.
Her eyes were a deep blue, exuding a sense of serenity and power.
Droplets of water glistened around her, echoing the ebb and flow of the tides.
Marina’s face was a mask of pride. “Meet Ondine.”
Ondine bowed her head gracefully toward Gisela and Thorne.
Eira and Ignitus appeared beside them, bowing in silent acknowledgment.
Marina admired Eira and Ignitus, her expression lighting up with awe.
Crag appeared behind Silas, his presence assertive. “Marina.”
Marina turned to look at Crag. She rolled her eyes. “I forgive my father, so you can cut the protective uncle act.”
The tension lightened for the first time that day.
Silas glanced at Marina, the weight easing from his shoulders. He stood and pulled her into his arms.
She closed her eyes, hesitating before returning the embrace.
He held her close, and the etched lines of worry on his face smoothed.
“It’s going to take time,” she mumbled.
“I understand,” Silas replied.
“I’m happy you two are mending your relationship,” Thorne said. “But I’m going to need to hear about Mystic Isle.”
Marina smiled. “Take a seat, flamebrain.”