Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
The sounds of children playing drew Gisela northward, beyond the palace gates.
They reached a large pond that sparkled in the sunlight.
At the edge of the water, three children dipped their fingers in, trying to freeze the surface, but the ice melted, and their smiles faded with it.
Their shoulders slouched and their lower lips pouted as they continued their attempts.
Gisela’s smile softened. Persistence like that deserved to be rewarded.
Thorne, already guessing her intent, watched her with quiet amusement.
She bent to their level, speaking in gentle tones, and nodding encouragingly. Her hand skimmed the water, and a thick sheet of ice spread across the surface, freezing the pond solid. The children’s faces lit up with joy as they jumped and cheered, playfully sliding across the newly formed glaze.
A warm smile on Thorne’s face greeted her as she walked back over to him and Silas.
“Classic Gisela,” Thorne said.
“I like kids,” she replied with a shrug.
“Mystic children,” Silas said, narrowing his eyes as he watched them conjure tiny snowballs. “Never imagined I’d see that.” He clapped Thorne on the shoulder. “I need a drink.” And with that, he disappeared down a rocky path.
“Where to first?” Gisela asked Thorne.
“I have a suspicion,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Come on.”
They headed west, passing friendly Mystics helping one another with their powers.
A man dressed in earthy tones moved his hands with precision, causing the ground to rise beneath a struggling cart, lifting it effortlessly onto the road.
The grateful merchant nodded in thanks as the earth receded back into place.
Nearby, a woman gracefully waved her hand over a garden bed. She sprinkled water over thirsty plants, and the blooms burst brighter than before.
Her heart all but stopped. She craved a world where this was possible in Mystralos—a world where powers were a gift, not a curse—where unity thrived over fear. The way the people of Mystic Isle openly used their abilities to aid one another made her realize how much her own land was missing.
Gisela let out a quiet sigh, shaking herself free from her thoughts.
They walked stone pathways that wound through the isle, leading to well-built homes and storefronts painted in pastel hues, draped with greenery.
Birds sang overhead, and further up, the two dragons that had brought them down soared through the sky.
Lampposts lined the main roads, containing sparkling lights that had a life of their own.
Gisela stopped at one of them, pausing to examine it. She had never seen anything like it back home.
“A gift from Seraphina,” a rough voice said.
Gisela spun around to find an old man sitting on a wooden bench, his presence as jarring as his words.
She cocked her head at him, and her stomach churned. His eyes were a deep blue, his hair white as snow, yet his skin bore only faint lines, as if time had barely touched him.
“Her Primal is rare, a force of light,” he explained, straining to stand from the bench. He approached her, cautiously, and Thorne stepped beside her and squared his shoulders.
The man chuckled. “It’s alright, young man, no harm will come to her here. Mystic Isle is a peaceful place. But I applaud your vigilance.” The man lowered his head in respect and Thorne relaxed a bit.
Gisela looked up at him with a glare before turning her attention back to the old man. “I’m Gisela,” she said, extending her hand.
“Darian,” he replied, offering his own.
As their hands met, a cold shock ran up Gisela’s arm. She snatched her hand away.
Darian’s smile widened as he studied her face.
“You’re a Frostweaver too?” Gisela asked.
“I am.”
“I’ve never met another one.”
“Is that right?” He winked before turning away, his slight limp barely slowing him.
“That was strange,” Thorne whispered.
“Yeah. It was,” she said, her mind still racing with questions as Darian disappeared into the distance.
Thorne kept hold of her hand, steering Gisela away from the bright streets and toward the western ridge.
The earth transformed into a moon-like terrain. Large craters scarred the ground, and smoke rose from the fissures. Lightning cracked across the sky, thunder rumbling overhead.
“What are we doing here?” Gisela yelled over the thunder. “With all the beauty that is Mystic Isle, you choose to come here. Why?”
“Would you quit complaining and come look at this?” Thorne said, throwing a smirk over his shoulder and nodding toward a particularly large crater.
Gisela approached the edge and peered down.
At the bottom of the crater lay a large egg. Its surface was dark and mottled with an iridescent sheen that glistened in the flashes of lightning. Before they could examine it further, the two dragons they had ridden landed in front of them. The impact shook the ground.
Gisela stumbled backward in surprise, but Thorne stood his ground, staring into the dragon’s eyes.
The dragon returned his stare, its head tilting curiously back and forth.
Thorne cautiously approached the dragon, extending his hand as he did when they first met.
The dragon lowered its head and pressed its nose into Thorne’s palm.
“How the hell do you do that?” Gisela asked, watching in disbelief.
He was a natural, as if he’d seen a dragon before. But of course, that couldn’t be it.
Thorne shrugged. “It likes me.” He slid his hand along the dragon’s scales.
The second dragon descended into the crater, curling around the egg in a protective coil.
“Is that your baby?” Thorne asked.
“It doesn’t speak, Thorne, I think we can assume—” Gisela began, but the dragon huffed a low rumble through its chest.
“See,” Thorne said with a grin. “We mean it no harm.”
“How did you know to come here?” Gisela whispered.
“I had suspicions that they lived in this part of the land since no one has built homes here.”
Gisela walked toward the dragon and extended her palm as well.
The dragon huffed, but she stood steady. It swerved its head into her palm, nuzzling it. A smile spread across her lips. “How can something be so terrifying, yet exhilarating at the same time?”
Thorne glanced at her, his gaze softening. “I know the feeling.”
He reached out, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. The gentle touch sent shivers down her body.
Their connection felt unusually strong here, a palpable tether that was thick and sturdy.
He closed the gap between them, his firm abdomen pressing against her. He placed his hands on both sides of her jaw, cradling her face, and lowered his mouth to hers. With only an agonizingly soft brush of his lips, he pulled away, earning a scowl from Gisela.
He smirked. “Let’s head back.”
Gisela could only stare, her mouth agape, as he retreated.
The dragon softly nudged her forward, a silent push to follow him.
She raised a brow as it spread its wide wings and ascended into the sky once more. The sudden blast of air sent her hair whipping behind her.
By the time they reached the pub, night had settled over Mystic Isle, painting the streets in silver light. For the first time today, they could just be—no trials to endure, no beast to slay, no tension in the air. A dream of what life could be like with him.
She wanted more of it.
Inside was thrumming with voices. Laughter and clinking glasses filled every corner. As Gisela and Thorne walked in, they spotted Marina, Silas, and two other Mystics at a large table in the back.
Marina caught Gisela’s eye and waved them over.
They weaved their way between tables before sitting down in the two empty seats.
“Gisela, Thorne, this is Eva and Adrian Hale. Eva’s a Stormcaller and Adrian’s a Windbinder,” Marina said.
“Pleasure to meet you both,” Adrian said. He rose to greet them, his movements precise, each one measured like a dance. His auburn hair caught the light as his green eyes settled on Gisela.
Eva, shorter and nimble, mirrored his poise. She inclined her head, her sharp eyes softening as her Primal appeared in a shimmer beside her.
“I am Tempest,” the Primal said, her voice soft and crackling with electric energy.
Her translucent violet form shimmered with streams of white light that flickered around her.
Tempest was lithe and agile, a living storm captured in humanoid form.
Tiny bolts of lightning sparked at her fingertips, her deep purple eyes glowing with raw power.
Above them, Adrian’s Primal hovered lazily, draped like a hammock in the air.
With a slender form like Adrian’s, he appeared as a swirling vortex of mist. His eyes were clear and calm as the sky itself.
He glanced down at them with an expression of indifference.
“Aerion,” he said, giving a casual wave of his hand.
Gisela peered up at Aerion with amusement. “I like him already.”
He looked down at her and gave a playful wink.
“My sister, Eva, doesn’t speak. So, I can translate, if need be,” Adrian said. “We’re twins.”
Marina toyed with the rim of her glass. “Eva is the only Stormcaller on the isle.”
“The only?” Gisela asked. “Where are the others?”
“As you can see, Mystic Isle isn’t crowded,” Adrian chuckled. “But Stormcallers are rare. They aren’t quite like the other elements. My mother was one, my father a Windbinder.”
“Was?” Thorne asked carefully.
“They’re dead,” he said, picking his nails. His shoulders lifted in a careless shrug that fooled no one. “What’s up with the black flames?”
The chatter dimmed, as though the pub itself had paused to listen.
Thorne inhaled sharply, his eyes meeting Adrian’s with a steady gaze. Ignitus opened his mouth to speak but Thorne held up his hand. A silent exchange passed between them, and Ignitus fell quiet.
“My father’s an evil bastard,” Thorne said simply, his voice even. “So, I bear that mark. But I’m not him. I’m nothing like him.”
Gisela gave his leg a gentle squeeze under the table.
He intertwined his fingers with hers.
Silas leaned back with his ale. “I can attest to that.”
Adrian raised a brow and shrugged. “Hm. Okay.”
“Which brings us to why we’re here,” Gisela cut in. “My Village Elder spoke of a prophecy . . . he said that the ‘willing’ could unite the six to save our realm. I—I believe that includes us, Mystics with each of the six elements.”
The group exchanged glances, each acknowledging their unique abilities. Eva, being the last Stormcaller, made the situation even more dire.
Silas nodded, fingers drumming on the table.
“Our realm, Mystralos, is in danger,” Gisela began, her voice barely rising above the noise of the pub.
A burst of laughter erupted from the far corner, jarring against her words.
She envied how easily these people could laugh. “Our land is dying, and our people will die if we don’t act soon.” As Gisela recounted their journey from Frosthaven to Seraphina’s palace that day, the light in the room dimmed.
Adrian and Eva listened intently, their expressions reflecting the gravity of her words.
Adrian finally exhaled, setting his drink down a little too hard. “We knew about executions. But . . . everything else? It’s a lot to take in. Marina, you know we love you, but Eva and I need some time to talk it over. How long are you planning to stay?”
Marina and Gisela exchanged glances. “Not long,” Marina said. “We can’t afford to.”
“We know it’s a huge ask,” Gisela added. “I know it might seem like we’re going on a hunch by asking you to join us, but . . .”
Eva grabbed Adrian’s hand, her eyes widening.
Adrian looked at her with curiosity as she moved her hands in a series of quick, fluid gestures. Eva's expression was intense, her brows furrowing as she communicated with her brother.
Adrian’s eyes shifted from Eva to Gisela. “Eva says,” he interpreted, “that it’s not a hunch.”
Marina raised an eyebrow. “She clearly said more than that, Adrian.”
Adrian smirked. “Nothing gets past you, pirate queen.”
Eva gave her brother a nudge before signing again.
Adrian’s expression softened as he continued, “Eva also says that she feels a deep connection to the cause.” He glanced at Eva. “Give us a couple of days to prepare, if you don’t mind. I have some things to tie up here.”
“Of course,” Gisela said.
“Thank you,” Silas added, shaking Adrian’s hand before rising.
They all left the pub, and Adrian tossed an arm over Gisela’s shoulders as they walked. “I think we’ll make great friends.”
Thorne cleared his throat behind them.
Adrian scoffed. “Oh, don’t fret. She’s not my type,” he said playfully. “You, on the other hand . . .” He winked before striding down the pathway into the night.
Thorne’s mouth twitched, and he swallowed hard.
Gisela laughed. “Now that, I didn’t see coming.”
Thorne stifled his own amusement, shaking his head as Gisela continued to find the exchange hilarious. With a sudden grin, he scooped her into his arms and carried her back toward the palace, her laughter ringing through the night.
As she tossed her head back with a sigh, she glanced toward the pub and spotted Darian sitting outside.
A knowing smile played on his lips, then he gave a slight nod before melting into the shadows.