They had returned to the island for an investigation, or at least that was what they had convinced themselves back then. Yet as their minds became clear… Just what exactly was their reason for being here?

There was no time for thought.

A chain struck out from the ground, wrapping itself around Kaius. Like a doll he was tossed into the air… and was promptly thrashed back down. His staff snapped, his head bleeding.

There was no time for emotion.

Tamarkrh took out his knife, knocking away a chain. A second shot out from behind, the sharp tip aiming for his back. He knew, but he had no time to even turn. Four more sprung out behind Istha, the tips like fangs as they shot at him. Four. Each to a vital. He couldn’t possibly dodge them all. He brought his arms up to parry, ready for the worst.

A deafening sound. The chains bounced off, disintegrating, fizzling into the air. Sparks flew, a brief shower of light illuminating Istha’s pale face. Behind Tamarkrh, Nal panted, his pendant opened, the light inside crackling like lightning. Deilsa and Ulin held their rings out, faint light from their jewels like string connecting to a thin barrier surrounding Tamarkrh.

“We are supposed to… protect you, aren’t we?” Nal smiled as a drop of sweat fell to the ground, immediately absorbed by the stone. Behind, Luri pressed her ring on his neck, a dim light signifying the transfer of energy.

Istha merely scoffed as she took another step forward.

The ground shifted, the rumbling beneath shaking their balance. A spike shot out, barely missing Ulin’s feet. Another three grew and branched off, shallowly cutting Luri’s forearm. Tamarkrh rushed and carried Kaius in his arms, leaping over a fault line in the ground. They jumped, dodging the lethal cones of stone, but all that they found in the end was only a thick forest of treelike spikes.

The sound of chains again, dragging, wrapping around the spikes. The overlapping creaking so cacophonous, so dissonant, wreaking havoc inside their ears. They crumbled, kneeling on the ground as they covered their ears.

“Caged, caged!” Istha cried victoriously. “The island is mine. The island is me. And you dare think you stood a chance in my trap! Come, come and make yourselves sacrifices for the world! For me!”

And then there was silence.

The six of them were hemmed in a small area, the spikes so dense they couldn’t find a gap to escape. A blast from Nal, destroying a spike only for three to take its place. The fog settled in, clouding their vision once more.

They were woefully unprepared.

The sound of fluttering birds and rustled leaves. Small spike branches appeared from the darkness, pausing only for a moment before they fired like arrows. The barrier expanded, a dome protecting them all, but it was already weakening. Cracks creaked their desperate cries.

“Conduits?” Istha laughed. “They are for the weak beginners who dared touch magecraft. But it doesn’t matter. You all will not understand anyway.”

They heard a solid snapping noise. Then another, and another… Hundreds of them, breaking from the original mother spike to be floating, homeless spirits of their own.

“May the ceremony begin!”

Spontaneously, the small spikes all fired. The barrier broke like paper, unable to withstand the wave’s strength. Without the barrier, they were now helpless.

Slice, cut, stab… The spikes rushed around in all directions, cutting and carving their skin. Nal, unused to such pain, screamed in the midst of the web he had found himself in. A cut on the shoulder. Then the forearms. Then the legs. Then the chest. The six of them soon fell, temporarily shocked and paralyzed from the shallow cuts.

They could’ve been killed easily. Instead, they now lay useless on the ground, whatever magic or skills they had held now unusable. They couldn’t even approach Istha. She tore them apart, the same ones that were supposed to be more experienced and stronger than her.

Now she was toying with them before the kill.

“Too fast, too fast!” her voice echoed throughout the island. “Too fast for all of you to even approach close. But alas, this is your fate for relying on babyish magic against a master.” A blast, vaporizing a large fraction of the cage, creating a path. As chains grabbed their limp bodies and dangled them midair, Istha entered, the dark stone still as always.

“There is no need for a conduit if your entire body is one.” She picked up a chain, letting the tip sway from side to side. All of a sudden, she squeezed her palm. The chain snapped before disappearing into dust.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…” she counted loudly in satisfaction as she held up her spear, already imagining the blood soon to be on its tip. But where was the seventh?

A change of wind. She wheeled around, but it was too late. A hand grabbed her arm and flung her to the ground. Without releasing the grip, the figure used his free hand and slammed into the already weirdly bent elbow, breaking apart the forearm. Detached from the body, the arm quickly petrified, rolling away from Istha as the limb found itself at Ulin’s feet.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Rhu said not a word.

Tamarkrh smiled in satisfaction. Where others had used energy and fired them as blasts, he had simply imbued the energy within his fists, releasing it through direct physical contact. By controlling the energy inside him to near perfection, he had essentially detached himself from the energy flow of the environment, avoiding detection from Istha. It was how Rhu managed to survive back in the military despite being selectively mute even to his superiors: he was no talker, but he was an exceptional fighter.

Istha wriggled away from Rhu, completely in shock as she stared at her incomplete limb.

“You…”

Chains snaked out from the ground, surrounding Rhu before coiling inwards. He jumped, grabbing a chain before using it as a whip, entangling it with the others. Spikes flew from all directions. He charged at Istha, allowing some to lodge themselves in his body as he struck her stone spear with his fist. The spear shattered, fragments stuck to Rhu’s fingers.

“I am the ruler of this island! The foolishness of—”

There was nothing that could defend Istha in time. The body of the young mage was simply too slow and too weak against the agility and strength of the former soldier. Rhu landed another punch to Istha’s face and pinned her down. A sturdy hand held her neck firm as the other repeatedly slammed her previously uninjured arm on the stone ground. Soon, that arm, too, had become useless. In the cage that Istha had planned to be the sacrificial ground for the seven adventurers, she instead was soundly defeated.

Her head in concussion, she had little concentration as the chains binding the six disintegrated. Her mind was turning blank, her life fading as she found it. It was so fast, just… so fast…

With the exception of Kaius who lay in pain on the ground and Deilsa who stayed to treat him, the other four approached Rhu, breathing heavy sighs of relief.

“What should we do with her?” Ulin asked.

“Is she even technically alive?” Luri questioned, looking at the lack of bleeding from the broken arm.

“I presume we should pry open the stone in her chest,” Nal suggested. “It seems to be the source of her power and dominance over this cursed island.”

Tamarkrh went up to Rhu, silent… and patted him on the back. “You had us worried when you disappeared into the fog.”

Rhu nodded.

“Great job, everyone, especially Rhu,” Tamarkrh congratulated. “I may have forgotten the reason for coming to this island again after so long, but I thank you for coming here with me and defeating this… figure. It was certainly an interesting adventure, and I’m thankful none of us have perished or suffered severe injuries.”

“Can I request something?” Nal asked.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“I would like to keep the stone in my possession to study its properties and to use it in my experiments,” he said. “I’m quite sure most of us here won’t have a practical usage for this item.” He stared at Istha, already returned to a petrified state, her mouth open but without any sound.

“Oh… If you want, then I don’t mind,” Tamarkrh said. “It was disappointing there weren’t any particular findings other than this stone, but if you want to keep it for your use, I am not opposed to it.”

“I don’t mind as well,” Ulin agreed.

“Agreed,” Luri added.

“I don’t mind either,” Deilsa shouted.

Only Rhu did not nod.

“Please, may I borrow your knife?” Nal asked.

“Oh, of course!” Tamarkrh handed over his knife as Nal bent towards the stone.

Carefully, he began scraping out the sides. The stone was quite strong, but to his delight, it wasn’t too deeply embedded inside, and he soon pried it out without too much effort.

“What a beauty,” he remarked, admiring the black surface. Rhu looked at him anxiously.

“We should depart now that our expedition is complete. Luri, can you bandage Kaius’ head?” Tamarkrh stood up and began walking, with Ulin, Rhu, and Nal following closely behind. For the first time in ten years, a ray of light from the Elyfesta penetrated the thick fog, beaming its light on Istha’s body.

By the time they had returned to the ship, the fog had almost completely disappeared. As they departed, they saw the many spikes still on the island of Atrurh, an island inhabited only by stone. The light shone on it in all its glory, but there was no vegetation to receive it. The tower still stood tall, standing proudly but lonely amongst the spikes and pillars. The old camp remained petrified, reminding future adventurers the inhabitance of another group of people a long time ago.

“It’s such a peculiar beauty,” Nal murmured, still staring at the stone as the others all surrounded him.

“I never thought I’d say this, but you’re right,” Luri agreed.

“How strange to stare at one small stone when the vast seas are around us,” Kaius, his head bandaged, commented.

“Well, you’re also looking at it, aren’t you?” Deilsa laughed.

“It does look interesting, I guess,” Ulin said unsurely.

“To think Istha was able to be so powerful because of this stone…” Tamarkrh marveled.

Rhu sighed quietly.

Suddenly, he felt something. Was it some kind of rumbling from the ship? The screams of someone distant? The bubbling of something about to burst?

“Wait—” he warned.

Spikes exploded from the stone, impaling all seven of them through the heart. One by one, they fell, petrified like Istha before they disappeared into dust along with the spikes that killed them.

Gradually, the stone bled itself into a crimson red, the light reflecting off it making waves and splashes of color. A thin ring enveloped its perimeter, and it read:

Eight mages forged this gem. Their lives in one weapon, Their names in one Spirit, Their power in one stone.

The ship continued drifting until it somehow found its way in front of a blacksmith’s home, with only the stone still on board. It was definitely strange, given the fact that despite living near the coast, the blacksmith never saw any boats or ships pass by the horizon.

Years later, the blacksmith would present a fine sword to a king, decorated only by an immensely beautiful red jewel. They sought for the eight legendary mages who created such a fine gem, but there was nothing, no one to be found. The sword never rusted, the color of the jewel never faded. With every battle came victory after victory as the king led his soldiers, raising the sword in pride and glory. The kingdom grew, but so did the envy of the surrounding nations. With success came jealousy, and with jealousy, came violence and desire.

Thus, the endless thirst for power was introduced to the world once more.

The ship rotted away, the rusted scraps sold for little by scavengers. The island, although once again bathing under the light of the Elyfesta, never regained its beauty. People quickly forgot the place where the stone was first found, the blacksmith’s home long demolished and the land reclaimed by nature. Yet in the shadows where the wreck once lay, one could still hear at times:

Let there be night.