Sorn's eyes slowly opened to a dark, damp room. He felt an unfamiliar coldness seep into his feet as he slid off the bed and stood, the chill biting his bare skin. The faint scent of something warm drifted through the air, pulling him towards a narrow staircase. He slowly ascended it, finding himself in a modest floor boasting two small rooms. In one, a pot bubbled, filling the room with a comforting aroma. The other room was barren, containing only three empty beds. Sorn’s eyes landed on a door, and with nothing else to do, he opened it, stepping outside.
The cold hit him instantly, stealing his breath. There, standing against a backdrop of endless snow and barren trees, was the blue-haired girl from earlier. Her name escaped him. She turned, catching his eye, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Hey, you’re finally awake."
"Hi."
His breath misted in the air, just like hers, and for the first time, he took in the landscape. An endless expanse of snow stretched around them, blanketing everything in sight. Barren trees reached toward an empty blue sky, their branches frozen and lifeless. In the distance, two massive structures commanded his attention. The nearer one was a fortress, tall and brooding. It's stone walls were frozen throughout. It looked as though the base had been carved into what once was a mountain. Farther away was a towering narrow wall that dwarfed the fortress and the mountains alike. Sorn tilted his head, straining to see the top, but it disappeared into the sky.
He glanced back at the girl. Her eyes, the same icy shade as her hair, held a curious glint as she looked him over. She was shorter than him, but her confident demeanor made her presence seem much larger.
"This is your first time seeing snow, I take it?"
"What? Oh, yeah."
She tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "And you don’t remember anything that isn’t your name, correct?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Alright then." She pointed back toward the door. "I’ve left a fresh set of clothes downstairs in the room you were sleeping in. Take a shower, and then we’ll eat something."
Sorn looked at her blankly, and her shoulders dropped, a sigh escaping her lips. "I’m not going to have to explain what a shower is, am I?"
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Sorn stared at himself in a mirror, oddly at ease in a clean uniform. The fabric was simple but functional, the same white and blue as the outfit Keilan had worn, though his own lacked the sleeveless design. A small emblem in the shape of a crown was pinned over his heart. He took another moment to look himself over in the mirror. His skin, darker than Crystal’s pale complexion, was a warm brown, a stark contrast against the blue and white of his uniform. His thick, black hair curled over his forehead, and his gaze landed on the scar that ran across his left eye, a harsh line from his brow to just above his cheek.
When he returned upstairs, he found Crystal waiting, seated at a table by the window, her gaze fixed on the snow-laden landscape outside. Two empty bowls of stew sat in front of her, and she nodded at him as he approached.
"Ready?" she asked.
Sorn nodded. The silence hung heavy between them, but he couldn’t deny the strange comfort in her hospitality. They had exchanged few words, and still, he felt a sense of security in her company. For now, he would follow her lead.
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Back outside, Sorn felt the crunch of snow underfoot as he followed Crystal, who seemed to float above it. Her gaze drifted back to the colossal structures looming on the horizon—the distant fortress and the towering wall.
“You don’t even remember the bridges?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Sorn shook his head, glancing toward the taller structure. Was it meant to be a bridge?
They walked until they reached an open ledge, the ground falling away sharply. From this high vantage, Sorn could see what was underneath.
“We’re on one of four floating islands,” she said, glancing down at the vast sea of clouds below, rolling and dense, stretching endlessly across the sky. “Long ago, the bridge you saw connected our island to another. But those bridges were raised, sealed off until what we call the Promised Day.”
Curiosity sparked in Sorn. He stared down into the clouds, layered in various textures and thicknesses, shifting below them like an ocean in slow motion.
“What’s beneath the clouds?”
Crystal’s expression flickered, her tone almost dismissive. “Nothing.” Seeing Sorn’s dissatisfied frown, she elaborated. “There’s an old tale, about five people who made the longest rope of ice and climbed down as far as they could. They vanished the moment they touched those clouds, swallowed by nothingness.”
The tale made Sorn take a step back, and Crystal’s amusement showed as she moved to a nearby boulder. With a single kick, she sent it rolling, revealing a hidden passage below. Gesturing down into the shadows, she said, “After you.”
Suspicious but wary of the strength she just displayed, Sorn descended into the tunnel, his steps echoing on the damp stone. The walls were dotted with faintly glowing blue crystals, casting eerie shadows. The passage twisted and turned, and he noticed carvings along the walls, though most were faded beyond recognition.
“What was I talking about?” Crystal asked absently.
“Uh…the Promised Day?”
“Oh, right.” She continued as they moved into a wider chamber, where the blue crystal light danced across the walls. “There was a being named Seraph, said to be chosen by the Gods to keep the islands afloat. An angel, they called him. But during a dark era, he fought against a Devil’s army. It was a legendary battle in which my ancestor, Aelon, joined him as a Champion. Seraph emerged victorious, but he was sealed in the process. With him gone, a successor was needed. Instead of appointing someone, he decreed a final game. The bridges were raised, isolating each island. On the Promised Day, the bridges will lower. And whoever reaches the middle first will inherit his title and powers to rule the world.”
Sorn took it all in, his eyes tracing the carvings on the walls of this chamber. They showed scenes of battle: a trident-wielding creature facing a winged figure, others showing scenes of the islands surrounded by clouds. In the center of the chamber sat a large, circular stone table.
“Why not just pick a successor?” Sorn asked.
Crystal shrugged. “Some say he wanted a fair race. Others claim it’s a ritual that has to be performed.”
Her expression softened as she looked around the room. “I used to hide here with my brothers. You’ve already met Keilan.”
Sorn remembered Keilan’s stern face and cold demeanor.
“Ten years ago, my brother Draco, the second-oldest, left. He vanished without a word.”
Sorn opened his mouth to ask why, but Crystal suddenly punched into the table’s surface, making him flinch. She pulled a hidden book from beneath the surface, the cover well-worn and faded.
“This was Draco’s,” she said, brushing dust from its cover. “After he left, a hooded stranger appeared and gave me this book, claiming it was from him. The man had a tattoo—a ‘VIII’ marked on his cheek. At first, I doubted it was truly from Draco, but the handwriting…” She opened it, showing pages mostly blank, except for a single entry.
Sorn’s curiosity was piqued as she glanced up at him. “You can’t read this, can you?”
Sorn shook his head, and she read aloud. “He didn’t tell me why he left, but he wrote to wait for one of two things: Keilan’s ‘sacrifice,’ or a boy who fell from the sky.”
Sorn immediately recognized the second part to be about him. However, the apart part made him feel something wasn't right. “Sacrifice?” he asked cautiously. “What’s that?”
She sighed, looking at him intently. “In the absence of Seraph, the true rulers of our kingdom, the Council, has enforced a sacrifice tradition: a male of royal blood is sacrificed on his twentieth birthday to ‘appease’ the Gods. In return, they will keep the islands afloat. Rhaen, the eldest of us, disappeared right after I was born. Draco swore to stop this cycle but…he, too, left.” She paused, a shadow crossing her face. “Keilan resents him deeply for it.”
“What about you?” Sorn asked. “How do you feel about it?”
Crystal’s face tightened. “I don’t know enough. I need more context, which Draco promised in the book I’d get by finding him. You’re the signal I’ve been waiting for, Sorn, and I’m taking Keilan with me. Draco wrote that the ‘sacrifice’ is a lie fabricated by the council.”
Sorn absorbed the words, his mind hardly overwhelmed by this information. His life since waking had been filled with questions. Though this was unrelated to him specifically, they were answers. And they felt comforting.
“So you just plan to get Keilan and go?”
Crystal laughed, a wry, almost exasperated sound. “It won’t be so simple.”
“Why not?”
“Keilan doesn’t know about the book. Even if he did, his loyalty to the Council runs deep. Their words would always hold more weight than Draco's. But with you here, I finally have a reason to put my little plans into action.”
Her grin spread wide, and Sorn sensed a mixture of mischief and determination in her expression.
“How much time do we have until his twentieth birthday?”
“Three weeks.” Her eyes sparkled with a thrill of excitement, and Sorn could see in her expression the weight of years of planning. She hopped off the table, and Sorn realized just now that she had been sitting upon it. She seemed to enjoy doing that.
"Alright, let's go."
"Where?"
"You'll see."