Chapter 16: Into the Shattered Isles
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The winds screamed over the open sea.
Their ship, the Whisperhawk, cut through waves of deep blue under a storm-bruised sky. Lightning danced in the distance, and a haunting hum filled the air—magic, old and wild, woven into the very ocean.
At the helm stood Kavin, his cloak snapping in the wind, eyes locked on the far-off horizon.
Beside him, Lyra tightened the ropes on her harness. "This storm isn't natural."
"It's a barrier," said Riven, who sat meditating in a circle of glowing runes. "The Isles don't want visitors. And neither does the Queen."
Theron, leaning against the ship's rail, scoffed. "Then it's a good thing we're not asking permission."
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In the captain's quarters, Seraphine studied a map that shimmered with shifting paths. The Shattered Isles were once part of the great continent of Aerenthal—until magic tore them apart in the Age of Collapse. Now, they floated like forgotten teeth across the Broken Sea.
"They say the Isles can rearrange themselves," she muttered, "depending on who's coming."
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⚡ By midnight, the ship pierced through the magical storm.
Silence fell. The waters turned mirror-smooth. Above, the moon reflected perfectly—until it split into dozens of reflections. The air shimmered with illusions.
And then… the Isles emerged.
Giant shards of land, suspended over water by ancient magic. Ruins drifted in the sky. Strange birds flew backward. Towers leaned sideways.
It was a realm without rules.
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On the main deck, Riven opened a glowing crystal. "The locator spell points east. Toward the island of Vael'arun. That's where Elyria is being held."
"But it's also where the Queen will be waiting," Kavin said. "She wants us there."
Theron cracked his knuckles. "Let's not disappoint her."
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🌿 As they approached the island, strange things began to happen.
The crew saw visions in the water—loved ones long dead, enemies long vanquished, and futures that could never be. One sailor jumped overboard chasing a phantom child. Lyra had to wrestle another from the edge after he saw his dead brother's face in the clouds.
"It's the Isles," Seraphine warned. "They feed on regret."
Kavin kept moving forward.
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That night, around the campfire after landing on Vael'arun, the team prepared for what lay ahead. The island was overgrown with twisted jungle, filled with glowing roots and humming air.
"I sense... traps," Riven whispered. "And not all magical."
Suddenly, a whistle of wind—then a blur of movement.
A blade shot out from the trees—aimed for Kavin's heart.
⚔️ He spun and blocked it with his bare hand, flames erupting to catch the edge.
A masked figure landed before them—cloaked in black, eyes glowing red.
"You shouldn't be here," the assassin said.
"Too late," Kavin growled. "We're already here."
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A furious battle exploded in the jungle clearing.
The assassin moved like liquid shadow, dodging fire blasts, lightning strikes, and even Seraphine's ice arrows. But then Lyra leapt behind him and buried two daggers into his ribs.
He hissed—and vanished into smoke.
"Scouts," Theron grunted. "She's watching us."
Kavin looked toward the glowing mountain at the island's center.
"She knows we've landed. No more hiding."
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As the group pushed toward the heart of Vael'arun, the world twisted.
Gravity shifted sideways. Time seemed to bend. Trees whispered secrets. And then... they saw it.
A tower made of cracked crystal, pulsing with unstable magic.
At the very top, a girl in chains sat by a window—her hair white as snow.
Elyria.
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But before they could act, a new figure stepped into the path.
Tall. Clad in burning red armor. A face hidden behind a dragon-forged mask.
The voice behind it was unmistakable.
General Kael.
"You want the girl?" he rumbled. "You'll have to go
through me."
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🔥 Kavin stepped forward, fire rippling from his fists.
"I've been waiting to burn you."
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