“These islands have been this way as long as anyone can remember,” explained Penelope. “But I have no idea why the druids are here. I heard the last druid monastery burned down somewhere in the Silverspike Mountains, which is where all their monasteries used to be.”
“What if the druids refuse to help us?” I had to ask.
“They might,” said Rafe, lifting a dark brow. “The druids have shut themselves away for centuries. They don’t trust mages, fae, or witches for that matter.”
Penelope nodded. She glanced over at Tristan, who was carrying Kalen in his arms. There was barely any time left. Kalen had fallen unconscious on the ship. He was still breathing, but his strength was failing; soon, it would be too late to help him. “Rafe is right. The druids are an order unto themselves, and their knowledge of the ancient world is vast. Their magic is powerful, and the secrets they guard so closely make it worth trying to find them.”
We walked the rest of the day, only stopping to eat a few chunks of bread and cheese we had brought with us. Captain Jarvik led us farther and farther into the depths of the mysterious island. The setting sun’s rose-pink hues lit up the trees around us as we walked up a winding path through the hills, inward to the heart of the island where Captain Jarvik said the monastery was situated.
The mist started to creep around us again, and a cold wind blew down from the mountaintops.
Captain Jarvik hurried forward. “It’s just over this hill in the next valley.”
We crested the hill, stones slippery as we scrambled forward, eager to get out of the cold. But when we reached the valley, there was nothing there.
Rafe turned to the captain, our guide in this misty land. None of us had ever been here before, and Captain Jarvik was the only one who had ever seen the monastery of the druids. “Jarvik, you said you knew where they lived. There is nothing here.”
Captain Jarvik scratched his scruffy white beard. “It was here—I’ve seen it. Twenty years ago, I brought a wounded soldier here. He knew where it was and showed me the way. He had been badly injured in the war, so I had to help him from the boat to the monastery.”
“Twenty years is a long time, my friend,” said Rafe, coming up to put his hand on the old mariner’s shoulder. “Maybe it was another valley?”
The captain shook his head. “Nay, it was here. I saw it. A huge giant of a fortress. Like a castle, it was.”
A shriek rent the air. It was coming from within the mist.
I looked up, and a dread colder than ice raced down my spine. A black shadow that looked like a Drakaar formed entirely out of mist and darkness came flying at us from the trees.
“Drakwraith,” growled Tristan, drawing his sword as it lit up with silver fire. He could only use one sword as he slung Kalen over his shoulder, holding him with his other arm.
Ashara aimed her staff at the Drakwraith, and the creature screamed as witch-fire slammed into it. The Drakwraith dissipated but immediately started to reform.
It gave us the seconds we needed.
Rafe took my hand. “Run!”
“What is it?” I shouted. My heart raced and fear pooled in my stomach. My legs burned as we ran across the valley, slipping and sliding on wet rocks, but there was nowhere to hide. If we could make it back to the forest and the safety of the giant trees, we could hide ourselves. But there was no time—the Drakwraith was gaining on us.
“Soul eater,” Penelope shouted back. “Shield yourself!”
Penelope and Ashara were behind us, with Tristan and Captain Jarvik following after.
A scream!
I turned to see the Drakwraith pounce on the old mariner.
“It gets stronger with every life it takes,” yelled Penelope as the Drakwraith devoured him, sucking out his soul. His life force was gone as the soul eater reduced him to a husk of skin and bones, his eyes a dark pool of black.
Rafe had turned back to help the mariner, but it was too late. The wraith looked up, fixating on him.
Rafe blasted the Drakwraith with mage fire, but it wasn’t enough. He slashed the Drakwraith with his sword, but it only hissed and attacked again.
Falling backward, he scrambled for his sword, which had dropped beside him.
“Rafe!” I screamed as I ran to his aid.
Tristan handed Kalen over to Ashara swiftly, rolled his eyes, and turned to help me.
His swords lit up as he slashed through the Drakwraith. It hissed and faltered with the power of the dark prince’s silver fire.
Rafe and I scrambled out of the way.
“The Drakwraith cannot be killed, only sent back to the dimension it was summoned from,” Penelope shouted as she shielded Kalen and Ashara.
I gathered my mage magic and flung it out in a large arc, creating a shield between the Drakwraith and us. Pain seared through my skull as the Drakwraith tore through my shield, ripping at my defenses and magic. I fell to my knees.
The Drakwraith turned its burning-red eyes on me. “Dawnsssssstar,” it hissed. The gleam in its eyes was enough to confirm it was here for me. It flew toward me, a dark and evil cloud, ready to suck out my soul and destroy the Dawnstar forever.
Seemingly out of thin air, a brown-robed monk appeared beside me.
A druid!
He held a sleek wooden staff in his right hand, the top glistening with a large crystal that changed color. He banged it on the ground, his left hand stretched out toward the Drakwraith. The earth shook as a shield formed around us all, shimmering with a bluish-white light. The Drakwraith hissed and tore at the shield, shrieking its fury at the
