Skye stood alone on the deck as they approached the Island, next to a black tarp draped over Ogred's massive corpse. The crew had struggled to move the body, so the captain had, against the better judgement of every superstitious seafarer onboard, instructed them to cover up the body instead until they made land.
This close to the Island, Skye could now see a lone pier, stretching a sizable distance over pearl-white sand and lined with torches. As the sun waned, the torches flickered to life, though Skye had not seen anyone coming to light them.
Farther inland, Skye could make out the silhouette of a blockish building, with the roof sloping upwards to form a bowl-like shape. A spherical object sat within the 'bowl', though Skye couldn't quite figure out what it was.
Skye heard Wynn approach, the pots and pans in her backpack clanging softly against one another as she moved. She turned to regard her friend.
"We're almost there."
Wynn glanced at the black tarp and made a face.
"Have you been standing next to that monster this whole time?"
Skye smiled wryly. "He's dead, Wynn. Show some respect."
"I asked Tang if he knew about him," Wynn said. "He said Ogred the Giant was a wanted criminal in several nations, including Sen. He murdered eleven people, more than half of whom were women and children. He lived as a monster, and died as one, too."
"We're all equal in death, Wynn."
Gently, Wynn reached out and touched her shoulder. Then she turned her attention to the Island, changing the subject.
"It's quite beautiful, seeing it up close."
Skye nodded. She pointed to the spherical thing above the rectangular building. "What do you think that is?"
"No idea. Some kind of symbol?"
"It's a divining stone."
Both Skye and Wynn turned to see Tang emerging from the lower decks. He cast a sideways glance at Ogred's corpse and made a face not unlike Wynn's earlier expression. But he crossed his right hand over his chest, palm open, fingers closed, and gave a slight bow of respect.
Skye narrowed her eyes as the boy came to join them. How did she not sense his presence?
"What's a divining stone?" asked Wynn.
"It allows the Islanders to receive orders from the gods."
Skye's eyes grew wide. "The Islanders speak directly to the gods?"
"Not exactly," said Tang. "The divining stone is made from a rare mineral that can only be found on the Island. They resonate and change colours according to the will of the gods. The Islanders have priests who are trained to interpret the shift in colours and thus, the divine intent of the gods."
"How do you know so much about the Island, Tang?" asked Wynn.
Tang blushed slightly. "I'm a Sennese Monk. I've been taught about the Island since before I could talk."
"You're pretty young for a monk," said Skye.
"Well, I'm still an apprentice. I haven't taken my full vows yet. But I grew up in the monastery, raised by the monks."
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Monks, and not parents. Skye felt a slight pang in her chest for the boy.
“Could we move somewhere less…” Tang trailed off, tilting his head in the direction of Ogred’s body.
Skye nodded, and the trio moved further up the ship. They stood on the deck as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, and a blanket of stars and darkness covered the sea.
As the Island loomed closer, the other passengers had begun to gather on the main deck, marvelling at the iridescent divining stone and the multicoloured fireflies that had emerged from the forests. Skye led the others towards the gangway to avoid the growing crowd.
It wasn't long before the ship finally arrived at the pier. On the captain's orders, the crew lowered the gangway.
Skye, Wynn and Tang were the first to disembark. As they stepped onto the pier, Skye noticed that the wooden planks were ingrained with a silvery substance.
"What's that?"
"Sylphwood," said Tang. "Made from the most common type of trees on the Island. Legends say Sylphwood trees were once gods themselves, but they loved the forests so much, they decided to transform themselves into trees and stay in the physical realm forever."
Skye nodded. She had heard about Sylphwood in Azura, though they were usually described as glowing. The material was supposed to be extremely durable, and could last several lifetimes even if kept in unfavourable conditions. More importantly, they possessed supernatural properties, though the rumours rarely agreed on what those were.
Skye made a mental note to ask Tang about that last point later. For now, they continued their walk down the pier, across the stretch of immaculate beach and towards the stone sphere that seemed to beckon to them with its steady pulse. Already the crowd had begun to press in behind them, though no one seemed to be in a hurry. Now that they were actually on the Island, there was a palpable change in the atmosphere. The air smelled sweeter, and each drawn breath seemed more refreshing than the last. And there was something else, a prickling sensation against the skin, nearly unnoticeable.
Magic, Skye concluded. That's what that sensation was. It permeated the air all around the Island, emanating from the silvery veins of the Sylphwood and the shifting colours of the divining stone, and who knows what else.
As she realised this, Skye felt a sudden, dangerous thirst: a part of her, having learned of its existence, now yearned for this: this raw, godly power.
She shook the thought away, focusing on the path ahead.
They soon approached the blocky building upon which the divining stone sat. The building's exterior was startlingly white, and seemed to glow. Yet it paled in comparison to the stone, which shone like a full moon in a starless sky, casting its warm, colourful glow on the participants.
On the front of the building was an archway made from stone much more crude than what was used to construct the rest of the edifice, and inscribed with several runes which Skye did not recognise. She gestured at the runes to Tang, who shrugged. He didn't recognise them, either.
A set of double doors were set beneath the arch. These were made from Sylphwood, and bore no visible handles or hinges, but swung open soundlessly as the participants drew near.
Everyone halted. Across the threshold stood a tall, lanky man. He wore no clothes save a dark grey loin cloth held up by a belt of vines and flowers. Similar loops of fauna were wrapped around his wrists, neck and forehead. The man's hair fell in long, dark rivulets around his alabaster face and jutting shoulders; his cat-like eyes were a mesmerising shade of indigo.
"Welcome, participants, to the seven-hundredth Battle Festival," he said, his voice loud and booming. Immediately, the murmurs behind Skye fell silent. "My name is Lark. On behalf of the Ophyr Tribe, I thank you for gracing us with your presence. You have travelled far, as is tradition, to enter into the Festival and seek the gods. We applaud your bravery, and have prepared a grand feast in your honour."
There was a spattering of excited voices at the back.
"However," said Lark, "before you can enjoy the feast, the gods have deemed it necessary to put you through a test."
A test? Skye exchanged a glance with Wynn, who shrugged. They turned to Tang, but the monk looked confused as well.
"We passed through the gods damned storm," shouted an angry voice from the back. "Haven't we proven ourselves already?"
"Yes, you have indeed survived the Godsveil," said Lark, unperturbed. "Fret not, for this test is far simpler. All you have to do is cross this threshold."
He gestured to the doorway, across which he stood, then to the stone arch where the runic symbols sat.
"What's the catch?" asked another voice, this one female.
Skye thought she saw a flicker of a smile cross Lark's ghostly pale face.
"The runes on this archway are Godstongue. Its true meaning bears no mortal equivalent. But its rough translation is this: 'Turn away, you unworthy of heart.' You may all step through the threshold, but by doing so, you allow the gods of our Island to peer into your soul. Those they deem worthy will pass through unscathed."
"And the unworthy?" Skye said.
Lark's eyes twinkled like gemstones as he said, "They die."