Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
The low, resonant sound of a horn cut through the dense morning mist that enshrouded the ship, nudging Gisela and Thorne from their sleep.
Thorne stretched, arms reaching above his head. “I think we’re here.”
Gisela groaned and turned away, burrowing deeper under the blankets, savoring the last few minutes of rest.
Thorne let out a soft, amused laugh. “Rise and shine, Freckles.” He leaned over to press a quick kiss to her forehead.
She squirmed, half-smiling, half-grumbling.
Reluctantly, they dressed.
The chill of the fog nipped at their skin as they stepped onto the top deck, moisture clinging to their hair and clothes.
A thick, swirling mist obscured the view beyond the ship.
Beyond the rails, the world faded into ghostly gray.
Ropes creaked under the wind, and the slap of water against the hull sounded louder in the quiet morning.
The crew had gathered near the bow, their attention focused intently on Marina as her voice cut through the haze. “Give us a couple of days.”
Silas approached from behind them. “I can’t see a thing,” he said, squinting into the haze.
Marina’s grin didn’t waver. “Move it, Mystics.” Her boots thumped against the deck.
Gisela and Thorne made their way to the bow, where a small dock came into view through the fog.
“Say your goodbyes to the crew,” Marina said. “They can’t go beyond the dock.”
Gisela raised an eyebrow. “What happens if they do?”
The crew chuckled.
“We’d fall into the sea,” Larz said. “You can cross over, but we can’t see what’s past it.”
Gisela and Thorne exchanged bewildered looks.
Ronan stood tense, staring after Marina as she leapt onto the platform.
“We’ll see you all soon,” Gisela said, hopping off the boat with a rush of excitement. Her boots—which were actually Marina’s—landed lightly on the dock.
Thorne and Silas exchanged firm nods with the men, shaking their hands with silent gratitude.
Thorne lingered a moment longer with Larz, wrapping his hand in an unbearable heat.
Larz yanked his hand away with a snarl, only for Thorne to flash him a teasing wink in response.
Gisela and Marina led the way down the wooden dock, which was shrouded in thick mist. At the far end, a small stretch of land held a swirling vortex, like an isolated tornado frozen in place.
Marina stepped through and disappeared.
“Marina!” Gisela threw her hands up, scoffing. “Typical.”
“Where’d she go?” Thorne asked.
Silas walked up from behind him. “It’s the entry. You just have to step through.”
Gisela hesitated but stepped forward. It was like being pulled into a dream.
The air shimmered and hummed against her body, a weightless pressure pressing from every direction.
Colors stretched and twisted around her, light bending in ways that made her woozy.
Her stomach fluttered. She grasped at nothing, trying to find something solid to steady herself.
Then she did.
As quickly as it began, the experience ended, and she landed on all fours on solid ground.
Her breath came hard as the mist peeled away.
Thorne and Silas were right behind her.
Thorne landed as if he had done this all his life, steady and sure as usual.
Silas stumbled briefly but regained his balance.
Marina was already ahead, a mischievous smile on her lips. She jerked her head toward the land below.
Gisela was struck silent, her eyes consuming the sight like they had been starved for it.
The early morning sun spilled over Mystic Isle, casting golden light across the landscape. From their perch atop a colossal waterfall, the water roared and crashed into a crystalline pool, sending clouds of mist into the air. The spray on Gisela’s skin was cool and fine.
The land was divided by element, yet each region bled seamlessly into the next.
To the south, a dense forest sprawled, swallowing the cottages beneath its trees. Beyond it rose a vast mountain, its cliffs carved into stone dwellings.
She shifted her gaze to the next region, where pools of water glimmered, linked by narrow stone bridges. Tiny figures crossed them, entering houses reminiscent of Aquamere.
Farther east, fields of bright flowers and crops stretched wide. Stone homes lined the pathways that wound through them.
She marveled at the order of it all.
Northward, white-peaked mountains loomed over frozen lakes where figures glided on the ice.
Beside them, a small region raged with storm. Thunder rolled, lightning cracked through dark clouds, and wind tore through trees. A dead zone.
At the heart of it all stood the palace, built from stone and crystal that reflected a spectrum of colors. Grand columns, each representing an element, framed its entrance, and the land around it held fragments of each region.
Marina smiled. “Welcome to Mystic Isle.”
Gisela was already aware of her own ignorance, and this place only proved it more. A realm where weather and elements merged in ways that shouldn’t be possible.
Gisela swallowed, finally tearing her gaze away from the view. “Um, Marina? How do we actually get down to the land? We’re really high up.”
Marina twirled her long ponytail. “Well, you see . . . I may have left out a very small, teeny-tiny detail.”
Thorne’s glare was sharp. “Marina . . .”
A nervous laugh escaped her, and she raised her fingers to her mouth. A loud whistle pierced the air.
Above them, the slow, heavy beat of wings churned the clouds. Two black dragons descended from the swirling mists.
Gisela’s jaw dropped, caught between the instinct to flee and a desperate, rising wonder.
Their obsidian scales gleamed, muscles rippling with each powerful stroke. Wide wings stretched overhead, blotting out the sun. Their fiery eyes glowed. Rows of teeth, sharp enough to crush stone, sent a shiver through her.
Long tails flicked behind them, jagged spikes running down their backs. Each dragon bore a saddle, large enough for two riders, securely positioned between their shoulder blades.
Gisela pressed herself closer to Thorne as the dragons’ rumbling breaths rattled her bones.
“By the Six,” Silas said in a hushed voice.
Marina grinned. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”
Thorne’s awe was immediate.
Gisela’s hand closed around his, a reflex. “Did you drug us?”
“No,” Marina said lightly. “But there’s a place for that here too.”
Silas snapped his gaze to hers and Marina gave him an innocent smile.
Thorne carefully walked up to the dragon closest to him. It puffed a small cloud of air, nostrils flaring, and he extended his hand. The dragon leaned forward, nuzzling his palm.
“We’ll ride this one,” Thorne said with a confident grin as he started climbing up the dragon.
“Thorne!” Gisela hissed.
“Come on, he’s friendly,” he called back, already halfway up the dragon’s side.
“Marina, I’m going to kill you for this,” Gisela snapped.
The dragon gave a low, rumbling snort as Gisela stepped closer. She jumped back before catching herself and climbed aboard.
Silas hesitated. The dragon bowed its head slightly, inviting him. He exhaled before climbing up.
As they descended, Marina whooped with joy, and Thorne followed suit.
The wind rushed past, cool and electric through Gisela’s hair. The landscape—the shimmering waters, flowering fields, and distant mountains—were utterly surreal.
She gripped Thorne’s waist, heart pounding, but not with fear. All her life she hated confinement, tight spaces. She was beginning to realize that Frosthaven was a tight space of its own. Here, on this dragon, she had never felt freer.
The dragons descended, lowering themselves gracefully to the ground, obsidian scales catching the light as their massive wings folded in.
One by one, they slid off their mounts.
The air was different here, quieter.
At the palace stairs stood a broad, burly man, with long blonde hair and a thick beard framing his face. His kind, blue eyes watched them with interest.
Marina picked up her pace, breaking into a run before leaping into the man’s arms, wrapping herself tightly around him.
He responded with a deep rumble of laughter, holding her tight against him.
Silas strode over, his expression serious.
The man’s eyes widened in surprise as he set Marina down.
Crag appeared beside Silas, comfortable here in Mystic Isle and Ignitus and Eira joined him.
Gisela couldn’t help but smile at Eira, happy to see her freer here.
“And who might you be?” Silas asked.
“Oh, Father, this is Bjorn,” Marina replied cheerfully.
“I’m asking this young man here,” Silas said, his tone calmer.
Bjorn bowed. “I’m Bjorn, sir, it’s an honor to finally meet you. I’m in love with your daughter. She is my sun and moon.”
Gisela pouted and nudged Silas with a grin. “That’s so sweet,” she cooed.
“I’m very grateful for the opportunity to meet you, sir,” Bjorn added earnestly.
Silas nodded, his features softening slightly. “I’d like to speak with you later. In private.”
“Of course, sir, any time.”
Thorne smirked at Bjorn and extended his hand. “I’m Thorne, and this is Gisela. She’s my sun and moon too.”
Gisela laughed and nudged Thorne, shaking her head. “It’s nice to meet you, Bjorn.”
Bjorn’s Primal appeared beside him, a striking figure of orange and red flames. It shared the same impressive structure as Ignitus but had its own distinct fiery presence. “This is Pyraxis.”
Pyraxis bowed and the other Primals followed in a gesture of respect. Pyraxis lingered a moment longer, studying Ignitus with curiosity.
“The Sovereign will see you now,” Bjorn said, leading the way inside.
The palace gleamed in pristine white, the glare stabbing at Gisela’s eyes. Whimsical spires climbed toward the ceiling, and the air smelled faintly of flowers. Light, airy corridors and open courtyards blurred the lines between inside and out, inviting gentle breezes and sunlight to stream through.
White stone and vaulted ceilings opened around them as they stepped into the throne room. At the center of the dais, a regal woman sat poised upon a seat of carved gold.
There was something about her presence that made Gisela’s pulse slow, as if time itself had stilled.
She wore a flowing white gown and a small silver crown, woven with flowers. Behind her stood a towering ivory Primal who radiated pure light.
“Thank you, Bjorn,” the woman said in a silky voice.
Bjorn bowed his head, winked at Marina and left the room.
“Welcome to Mystic Isle,” the woman said, scanning her guests. “Marina, nice to see you again,” she added with a warm smile.
“Likewise,” Marina replied.
“You all may call me Seraphina,” the woman said with a smile that met her eyes.
Gisela maintained steady eye contact. “I’m Gisela, and this is Thorne and Silas.”
Seraphina inclined her head toward them, gaze lingering on Thorne and Ignitus before settling on Silas. “Helena’s husband,” she said. “I am terribly sorry for your loss.”
Silas inhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging. “Thank you.” His fingers twitched at his sides.
“You are all welcome here for as long as you need,” Seraphina said. Her gown trailed behind her as she stepped from the dais. “But I suspect you are here for more than a mere visit.”
“We are,” Gisela responded. “We were hoping for some insight on what’s going on in Mystralos. We wanted to find the person who warned Helena about our land.”
“Our Seer?” Seraphina clasped her hands in front of her. “He glimpses the future. Omens. The threads that bind our world.”
“You know what’s happening in Mystralos?” Thorne asked.
Seraphina lifted her chin. “I am aware the land is in peril and that your tyrant King continues to harm Mystics under the guise of duty.”
“He’s also taken the Life Stones from our villages. He’s been targeting our scribes and forcing awakenings,” Thorne said.
Seraphina looked taken aback. “Forcing awakenings?”
“A potion of some sort,” Gisela explained. “He’s using it on the Mystics they find. To awaken them.”
“That’s an abomination. Corruption.”
“That’s part of why we came too. Can we speak to your Seer?”
“Of course. He gathers at the Guardian Tree here in Mystic Isle to deliver his prophecies.”
Gisela blinked, caught off guard. “You have one?”
“Yes, of course,” she said with a smile. “But your Life Stones . . . they must be returned to their pedestals. They, along with the Guardian Trees, are essential for maintaining a thick veil between your realm and Noxis.”
Gisela frowned.
Noxis.
The name soured the air. She reached into her bag, fingers grazing the edge of the old map she’d stolen from the Village Lord’s study, but let it go.
The map had marked Noxis clearly. It wasn’t simply a forbidden place, a secret.
The realm itself was a threat to Mystralos.
“Noxis?” Silas asked.
“Yes, the realm to the north,” Seraphina said gravely. “There is great evil there. Terrible beasts will enter Mystralos through that veil.”
Gisela pictured the northern expanse on the map. Frosthaven just south of it, unaware and unprotected. Tension knotted her fingers. “They already have. There have been attacks. We have families over there. They aren’t Mystics. They won’t stand a chance.”
Seraphina studied Gisela, eyes narrowing. “You certainly have lineage.”
Eira spoke up, sensing Gisela’s rising frustration at the repeated inquiry. “We have not been able to establish who that is yet.”
“It isn’t anyone,” Gisela said. “Don’t you think I know my own family?”
“You hid your mark from them, did you not?” Crag interjected.
Gisela shot him a glare, letting her silence speak for her.
“When can we see him?” Thorne asked Seraphina, diverting the conversation.
“Tomorrow evening, although, I cannot guarantee he will speak.”
“Understood,” Thorne replied.
“We didn’t even know about Mystic Isle until recently,” Gisela said. “Why is it that you have to be awakened to see it?”
“Mystic Isle is the original land of the gods,” Seraphina explained. “They created the outer lands as testing grounds—places where one must prove their worth to earn passage back to the isle.”
“Prove themselves worthy? So, completing the Trials?”
Seraphina nodded. “It is why we have Mystic children here, and the other realms do not. The children born here are granted with the Six gods’ gifts. Their powers manifest slowly, giving them time to learn and adapt.”
“I’ll be damned . . .” Silas whispered.
Seraphina smiled. “I will help you in any way I can. You can use any of the open palace bedrooms. I can take you to the Seer tomorrow.”
The breeze was refreshing as Gisela stepped outside of the palace. In the quiet of the courtyards, the air drifted past her, so light it seemed to lift the weight of Seraphina’s words from her shoulders.
Marina guided them to the garden gates. “I’m going to find Bjorn. Feel free to explore, it’s completely safe here. Just don’t piss off the dragons.”
As Marina disappeared down a path lined with flowers, Gisela took in the gardens around her. The air was light, the land thriving—so unlike home. For the first time in a while, she felt safe.