Idris was on his fourth lap around the island since dawn, having added an extra one to save face. His muscles burned, covered in a fine layer of sweat. With the top of his tunic tied around his waist, the morning heat bit into his skin like a familiar threat. Running helped him think, sorting through the tangled thoughts in his mind. Since the events of the previous day... or the last four days—he could hardly keep track with all this talk of time stopping and starting again—he felt lost in a fog of uncertainty.
His strides were steady, but his thoughts were anything but. No matter how hard he tried to focus, Aisling's face kept imposing itself on his mind. The tension between the three of them had only grown recently, and he feared that their differing views might ultimately divide them. He saw their future in the reclamation of Earth, a world that belonged to their people. He was obsessed with the idea of reclaiming what had been taken from them, while Fenja remained stubbornly attached to Nimrach. For her, this place was home, a location she refused to abandon, while for him, it was a prison—a gilded cage, safe but not free.
The stories his grandparents had told him about the last days of Earth echoed in his mind like a distant reverberation. They had spoken of rivers, vast forests, cities so large they stretched as far as the eye could see. A lost kingdom, their true home. But now, more than Earth, it was Aisling who concerned him. His friend seemed indifferent to where they were—Earth, Nimrach, it hardly mattered to her. She saw only the human, the essence of what they were, without understanding that without a world of their own, they were just as doomed as by this strange soul sickness that kept their species at a ridiculously low number. The stories of the old days spoke of thousands, millions of humans. Today, they were but a handful against the vastness of memories.
As much as Idris wanted more soldiers for their cause, for their fight against the ruin that loomed over them, he knew that Nimrach only offered them a temporary reprieve. More humans meant fewer resources; the islands were small and fragile. There simply wasn't enough room for humanity to survive here indefinitely. One more reason to fight, to reclaim Earth.
Yet, he had to admit that, despite everything, he understood why Aisling pursued this particular quest. He had accepted the idea of the Watchers to the point that one now rested around her friend's finger. If he listened to the voices of his ancestors, he knew it was madness. His mother, especially, would have been horrified. She would have likely gouged out his eyes for allowing such closeness with beings so dangerous, ancient servants of the Council that had worked towards their destruction.
And yet, he had done it. He had let Aisling venture into places he would never have dared. Worse still, a part of him, buried yet present, recognized that what she was doing made sense. That her fight, her desire to understand this evil that was gnawing at their species, might be more relevant than fighting for a ravaged land.
The rhythm of his footsteps quickened, as if to expel the dull frustration that was eating away at him. He came into view of the training grounds, located on the other side of the village, where the terrain was well-suited for military exercises. The hard, dry ground had been trampled many times by soldiers and hunters training for combat. He slowed his pace, jogging gently to catch his breath, and offered a teasing smile to his mother, who was watching him with her arms crossed. She had taken note of his fourth lap around the island, and her stern gaze betrayed both satisfaction and exasperation. Idris maintained his smile, almost amused. After all, he had done what he was asked to do, hadn't he?
With a glance, he spotted Aisling and Fenja a little further away, engaged in hand-to-hand training. The difference between them was striking, almost caricatural. The huntress, faster, muscular, and perfectly suited for combat, moved with the feline grace of a predator. Idris watched her for a moment, admiring her fluid movements and calculated dodges. He had to shake himself to avoid lingering too long on the scene. Aisling, for her part, knew she didn't possess the physical skills, but she compensated with her cunning and strategic sense. She was capable of observing, waiting for the right moment to surprise her opponent with an unexpected counterattack.
It didn't matter, Idris thought, shaking his head. If they ever truly had to join the war, Aisling would stay behind, as a healer and future Guardian of Memories. Her role would be to preserve the wisdom of their people, and perhaps, one day, generations would come to her seeking pearls of wisdom... she did not yet possess. Idris watched her, amused, as in a burst of pride she attempted a bold maneuver to catch Fenja off guard.
A well-placed wrist lock sent her to the ground, disoriented. Fenja, relentless, hadn't needed to exert herself; her movement had been almost instinctual. Idris approached, chuckling, extending a helpful hand to Aisling to assist her in getting up.
"Too ambitious," he teased with a sly smile.
As she rose, rubbing her sore jaw, he glanced toward the hill in the distance. His eyes narrowed as he saw four figures stationed there, observing the scene from afar.
"Who are they?" he asked, his tone becoming more serious as he pointed his chin in the direction of the strangers.
Aisling, still slightly dazed from the blow she had just received, grasped Idris's hand to pull herself upright. She shot a glance at the strangers perched on the hill.
"Visitors. I don't know exactly which island they come from, but… they are strange. Very strange."
She glanced around, then signaled for Idris and Fenja to follow her a little further away, out of earshot.
"Last night... I overheard a conversation between Ren and those people. They're definitely not from here. They knew things about the soul problem, that it comes from the Tree of Life."
"What does our little spy have to say on the matter?" Idris discreetly pointed at her ring.
"She confirmed that the Tree-Temple wasn't what we're looking for… and… we heard them say that the Tree of Life in this world has been destroyed."
"Destroyed?" Fenja bit her lip, her fingers nervously tapping the bow slung across her back, her posture tense. "What does that mean exactly?"
"They said that human souls can no longer find their way to Nimrach, that they are returning to Earth." Aisling's voice trembled slightly, a sign of the growing concern weighing on her. "I don't know exactly what that means, but Ren seemed to treat them with a sort of... unusual reverence. That's not like him, and it makes me uncomfortable."
Idris nodded, a furrow of concentration forming on his forehead. He, too, had to admit that all of this troubled him. Their little group had always fought for a better future, for the survival of their people. But if even Ren seemed to be playing a game whose rules they didn't know, then everything might be far more complicated than they had imagined.
"This stinks," Idris sighed, crossing his arms in turn. "We'll need to keep an eye on them. And on Ren too."
"With the wedding, it'll be easy to keep an eye on things," Fenja, still pensive, broke the silence with that unexpected remark.
Aisling and Idris exchanged puzzled glances, not seeming to understand where she was going with this. Fenja rolled her eyes.
"Gwen and Kael are getting married tonight. You haven't forgotten, have you?"
Idris shook his head, annoyed by his own confusion.
"I... I completely lost track of that. With the time going haywire while we were in the Twilight Realm, I don't know where I am anymore."
Aisling stifled a yawn, looking exhausted.
"Me neither. Add to that that I had terrible nightmares last night…"
They were about to continue discussing the concerns, but Briana, Idris's mother, arrived with a firm stride, arms crossed and a stern expression. She shot them a piercing look.
"Enough lingering! Back to training, all three of you," she ordered sharply, her authoritative tone leaving no room for discussion.
Idris let out an exasperated sigh but obeyed without protest, casting one last glance at the four mysterious figures still on the hill.
The evening was in full swing, with Gwen and Kael's wedding marking an important event for the entire island. The Tree-Temple, usually calm and solemn, vibrated with laughter and song. In front of the massive trunk, tables laden with local dishes—crispy bread, grilled fish, fresh fruits, and honey—lined up, all washed down with sparkling cider and golden mead. Villagers danced beneath lanterns hanging from the branches, their feet joyfully pounding the wooden and earthen floor, while children ran among the guests, carefree and excited by the festivities.
As Aisling moved through the crowd, she searched for her friends. All day, they had been busy with a thousand tasks—preparing for the celebration, decorating the temple, attending to guests. Not a single moment to discuss what truly concerned them. A part of her wondered if it was intentional.
She spotted Ren happily chatting with a group of elders. He laughed wholeheartedly, his cheeks flushed with simple joy and mead. Seeing him like this warmed her for a moment, but her gaze quickly drifted to the strangers who continued to capture her attention. The man with dark skin, the most extroverted of the group, clapped his hands in time with the music, a flower crown awkwardly perched on his head. He seemed completely immersed in the festive atmosphere, his face radiating good cheer. The woman stayed back, leaning against a column, observing the scene with an imperious expression, as if she were sizing up each villager. A slight smile lingered on her lips, perhaps pride or simply self-satisfaction; it was hard to tell.
As for the giant with white hair, younger than the others, he appeared somewhat uncomfortable. Several single young women from the village, their cheeks flushed from the alcohol, tried to catch his attention by flirting. He avoided their gazes, clearly uninterested, focusing instead on his drink, which he turned in his hands.
Aisling scanned the crowd, searching for the fourth member of this strange group, the man with gray eyes, the one who inspired the most distrust in her, when suddenly, a wave of dizziness struck her. The scene around her blurred, the lantern lights and laughter faded away, merging into screams of terror. Before her eyes, fragments of nightmares surged violently. The sky had turned red and black, a veil of smoke and ash floated in the air. She heard screams, panicked voices, and amidst it all, the Tree-Temple, immense and sacred, was engulfed in flames.
This lasted only a fraction of a second, but the impact was enough to make Aisling lose her balance. The nearest villagers immediately noticed her.
"Are you okay? Feeling faint?" a man asked, extending a helpful hand.
"Maybe you've had a bit too much to drink?" joked another, although her tone betrayed real concern.
The commotion around her quickly drew other glances, and Aisling hurriedly regained her composure. She offered a faint smile, raising a hand to reassure those around her.
"No, it's fine, just a moment of fatigue... I'm going to head up and rest for a bit, that's all."
But she felt even then that it wasn't true. Her discomfort ran much deeper. She nodded to them, assuring them she was alright, before turning away and heading toward the spiral staircase that led to the upper floors of the temple.
As she climbed, the joy and laughter still echoing in the great hall mingled with the panicked screams of her nightmare. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her vision blurred again. When she reached the halfway point, Aisling had to stop, placing a trembling hand on the railing. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes in an attempt to regain her balance. But the image of the Tree on fire remained imprinted behind her closed eyelids, like a silent threat that refused to leave her.
"Are you planning to collapse here? Just so you know, I'm not carrying anyone," a gravelly voice called out to her with a cynical tone.
Aisling looked up and took a moment to make out the man with gray eyes in an alcove. He sat in a chair next to the old chessboard that had belonged to Ren's father. Leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out and ankles crossed, he didn't even bother to glance at her, absorbed in the wooden piece he seemed to be carving with meticulous attention.
"If you want to faint, pick another spot."
Aisling tried to gather her wits as best she could, leaning on the railing to observe the celebrations below.
"Aren't you going to the party?" she asked, having no intention of engaging in a real conversation; she was simply trying to buy time for her unease to subside so she could reach her room.
"I enjoy solitude... and silence."
His tone made it clear that he had no desire to chat. She took a deep breath, attempting to push down the nausea that gripped her as she prepared to continue up the next staircase.
"Do you know where else the daffodils grow?"
Aisling stopped and turned to look at him, almost doubting that he had actually spoken, as he seemed so still. Yet, he eventually lifted his gaze to her with disconcerting nonchalance.
"In Hell."
Aisling didn't know how to respond to such a retort, her mind in a state of confusion. She wanted to continue on her way, but that enigmatic phrase held her in suspense. With deliberate slowness, the man placed the missing piece on the chessboard.
"Care for a game?" he asked, not turning around.
"I thought you enjoyed solitude and silence."
"I appreciate answers even more," he replied, starting to arrange the pieces, turning his back to her with a casual disinterest.
Aisling could have left him there and continued on her way, but she had to admit he intrigued her. Her nausea was gradually fading, and she retraced her steps, cautiously taking a seat across from him.
"I propose a deal," he said, his gaze fixed on the chessboard. "For every piece taken, we get to ask a question, and the other must answer… truthfully."
Aisling hesitated for a moment, imagining all the ways this little game could go awry. She could already sense the underlying danger of this challenge, but she was intrigued.
"Alright, I accept," she replied, resolute.
They began their game in silence, the only sound being the festive murmurs of the guests below. Aisling quickly leaned forward and took a pawn.
"First question. How can we bring the souls back to Nimrach without the Tree of Life?"
He leaned back against the chair's backrest, a cold and cynical smile forming on his lips. To her surprise, he didn't seem shocked or angry that she had overheard their conversation. On the contrary, he looked almost pleased.
"You can't," he replied curtly.
"But…"
"Play."
Aisling bit her tongue without a word, redirecting her focus to the board. She launched another attack, but in a swift move, he advanced his bishop and intercepted her, trapping her in her haste.
"Where did that ring come from?"
"I found it."
"The question was where, not how."
"Near here…"
He paused, a rough sigh escaping his lips. He seemed jaded at her playing this little game. They resumed. Again, she managed to capture one of his pawns.
"Who are you?" she asked, challenging his gaze.
"You won't like the answer," a joyless laugh echoed in his voice.
"We agreed on no lies."
"That's not a lie…" He thought for a moment. "I'm old…"
"You don't seem old."
"You don't seem stupid, and yet you're doing a marvelous job of being so. Play."
Aisling resumed the game, but on the next turn, he captured one of her pieces with disconcerting ease. She realized he could have done it much earlier. He was letting her make mistakes, playing with her like a patient predator.
"Where were you and your friends these past four days?" he asked, his voice tinged with sharp curiosity.
Aisling's heart began to race in her throat, an uncomfortable feeling of being trapped tightening around her.
"Far away," she replied, skillfully dodging the question.
"I would very much like you to take me there…" A teasing smile played on his lips.
The game continued, but this time Aisling was more cautious. She could boast of beating almost anyone at this game on the island, but her opponent was giving her no room for maneuver. His moves were precise, relentless. Despite her focus, she finally managed to capture one of his pieces, but with a palpable hesitation.
"Are you here to harm us?" she asked, her voice barely steady.
He didn't seem surprised by the question. Perhaps he had been expecting it much earlier.
"No," he sighed, his voice heavy with ancient fatigue. "It would be more the opposite. You have no idea what has been sacrificed for you…"
"I don't understand…"
"It's better that way," he replied coldly. "Stop trying to understand… and I won't have any more questions to ask you."
Aisling understood, in so many words, that he was offering her a way out. She could stop the game now, on the sole condition of abandoning her inquiries, giving up everything she was hiding, the quest she pursued in silence. But as she stared at his profile, an idea began to germinate in her mind, soon becoming impossible to ignore.
"You're not human…"
He barely lifted his eyes, the shadow of a cynical smile on his lips.
"You didn't take any of my pieces to ask me a question."
"That wasn't a question."
He remained still for a moment, then reached out and grabbed one of the pieces on the chessboard, placing it in front of her. The knight. A horseman. He looked at her for a long time, then his joyless smile spread across his face.
"I told you wouldn't like the answer," he murmured darkly, his gaze sliding over the piece between them, heavy with meaning.
Aisling turned her head toward the hall, remembering that there were four of them. No... impossible. And yet, the way Ren spoke to them, and they talked about humanity... could it be...?
The young woman was about to ask another question, her lips ready to articulate the flood of thoughts racing through her mind, when a loud explosion suddenly rang out. The ground beneath her feet began to tremble violently, and the walls of the tree quivered as if struck by thunder or an earthquake. The music stopped abruptly, muffled by the rumble, while the bursts of laughter and joyful conversations turned into anxious murmurs.
Aisling glanced around her, her heart racing faster and faster. She then turned her gaze to the man. His face had stiffened, his brows furrowed in a dark expression. He stood up slowly, a glint of alertness in his gray eyes, and she followed him. They moved closer to the railing to observe the festivities below.
The villagers, surprised and disoriented, scanned the outside, searching for the source of the noise. Earthquakes were common on this island, but this... was something else. A new explosion, even closer, shook the tree down to its roots, forcing Aisling to cling to the railing to keep from toppling over. Below, screams rang out, and several people fell to the ground, unbalanced, in a mix of surprise and panic.
The rumble intensified, a threatening vibration drawing nearer. Then, without warning, the man with gray eyes grabbed her and jerked her backward just as a gigantic fireball erupted through the trunk of the tree with a deafening crash. The fire exploded a few meters away from them, sending scorching fragments flying.
He placed his body in front of her, shielding her as the flames gradually receded, revealing a monstrous creature. Bright red, all fangs and claws, the beast emerged from the ashes. Aisling recognized immediately what she had seen in her books.
A demon.
A chilling terror seized her.
She briefly turned her head toward the staircase, where villagers were running in all directions, desperately trying to escape the danger. When she returned to the man facing her, something had changed.
In the blink of an eye, the one standing in front of her was no longer the same. The man with human features had vanished, replaced by a colossal figure. His skin was a dark gray, almost ashen, contrasting with his long black hair that fell in thick strands over his shoulders. When he turned to her, his features were both angular and inhuman, and an overwhelming aura of power radiated from him. His eyes burned with an orange glow, indifferent, almost deadly. Not human, indeed.
"Run."