COMPLETED | ❝ Some journeys take us far from home. Some adventures lead us to our destiny. ❞
━ in which a peculiar girl with gifted abilities and natural wit named ophelia wellington finds herself burning the entire world with a single spitefu...
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THE PROCESS SHOCKINGLY proved to pace at a fast speed, success blooming to my victorious relief. For the moment I have arrived again from my conversation with Aslan, the retrieval of another star had graced my presence. Although it was already at least fourteen days after we left that island, the memory was clear as if no haze was present to let me ponder on what has transpired:
I had landed safely from my travel back, the ethereal lion delivering me with no sense of discomfort. My travel on this time around was refreshing, dissimilar from the other ones which held a small churn to my insides. So then I observed, seeing my surroundings shift from the road of Cambridge to the defined greenery of someone's yard. Leaves were shaped into pleasing sheared, round, spiral, sharp, whatever the owner liked.
Even the grassy floor had some sort of pattern, patches of the ground being emphasized into a bizarre cut. Then, front, was a fairly huge mansion. There was a hint of translucency laced before it, every piece of structure billowing magic into the wind. My feet had long started its journey to enter through the large double doors, the glow of the glaring sun dimming to an eerie little glow. The interior served the castle exterior a great impression, everywhere you looked being intricate carvings of shiny, polished designs. Floors weren't tiled, rather they were jade with hints of gold, so clear you could see your reflection from it.
Both muffled sounds and the stringing of my abilities guided my way through the chandelier embellished hallways, leading me to have the noise go audible by every step I took.
“Dark Island. A place where evil lurks. It can take any form. It can make your darkest dreams come true. It seeks to corrupt all goodness . . . to steal the light from this world.” A deep, gruff, mysterious voice went unfamiliar from my hearing.
It was followed by the sweet voice of Lucy, even despite how her words were serious. “How do we stop it?”
“You must break its spell. That sword you carry, there are six others.”
“Have you seen them?” His buttery accent came by next.
“Yes.” For unknown reason, I stopped as I arrived right as I can enter the entrance, moving to the right then leaning there.
“The six lords, they passed through here?” Caspian question, getting a quick answer, “Indeed.”
“Where were they headed?”
“Where I sent them. To break the spell . . . you must follow the Blue Star . . . to Ramandu's Island.” Something inside me trickled with a response that the mentioned Blue Star went somewhat irrelevant from my mission. “There, the seven swords must be laid at Aslan's table. Only then can their true magical power be released. But beware . . ,” Perhaps I was never the only one quite fond of the dramatic flair. “You are all about to be tested.”
