Recent content by Isilya

Isilya watched them scamper off, their giggles trailing behind like wind chimes in the breeze. She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “They're bold, I’ll give them that,” she mused, folding her arms. “And coordinated, too. A little more practice, and we might actually have something to...

Isilya startled at the sudden outburst, her body tensing for battle—only to find herself staring down a band of pint-sized warriors, their tiny hands crackling with harmless little sparks. For a heartbeat, she simply blinked, caught between astonishment and amusement, before their mischievous...

Isilya’s breath hitched as the first bolt of lightning struck. The raw power of it crackled through the air, illuminating the skies in searing blue light. It was both awe-inspiring, and a little unsettling. Her grip on her bow tightened as her gaze snapped to Tyde, watching as the last...

Isilya’s gaze softened as she listened to Ilion, the weight of his words sinking deep into her chest. The thought of a time when the land was full of such magic, such life, was almost too much for her to imagine. She had grown up knowing only the shadows that crept across the world, the constant...

Isilya was a whirlwind of motion, arrows flying as she picked off monster after monster. Her bowstring sang with each pull, and her focus never wavered. Each bolt found its mark, sending creatures plummeting from the sky or crashing to the deck below. She didn’t pause to consider the chaos...

Isilya listened in rapt silence, her steps slowing as if she could linger in the echoes of the world he described. A world she had never known, only heard of in stories too distant to feel real. Yet here he was, speaking of it not as legend, but as memory. As truth. A land without scars...

Isilya had been so focused on the chaos below—nocking arrow after arrow and loosing them into the creatures clawing their way onto the ship—that she almost didn’t hear Filn’s warning. Almost. She twisted just in time to see the Gwathui above her, its claws outstretched, its empty eyes locked...

Isilya cast a sidelong glance at him, her steps careful and quiet. She had slowed, just a little, as if the weight in his voice had settled onto her own shoulders. She had no memory of a time before this. Before the creeping shadow, before the whispers of another war. Before fear had rooted...

Isilya had been thrilled. Flying—actually flying—was a marvel beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. The wind roared past her ears, and the ground stretched endlessly below, so far away it felt as though nothing could touch them. She had laughed, exhilarated, relishing the weightless freedom...

Isilya cast him a sidelong glance, her lips twisting slightly as though tasting the question before answering. Clever. He had shifted the ground beneath them, turning the chase into conversation, slipping into camaraderie as though it had always been their course. And yet, beneath the light...

Isilya did not move as he rose, though there was a quiet intensity in the way she held his gaze. His anger flared bright, his words sharp, but she did not shrink beneath them. Instead, she studied him, the way his voice carried the weight of something beyond this moment—something old, something...

Ilion. Third Sword. A name she was certain her father had uttered before. And yet, whatever weight it carried did little to temper the slow-burning fire in her chest. She had seen his kind before—men who placed duty before all things, who wielded authority like a blade and expected others to bow...

Isilya remained still, crouched behind the boulder, her breath shallow and measured. The Gwathui had come and passed like a storm on the edge of a horizon, never quite striking but leaving the taste of thunder in the air. She had felt them, the way they moved—like hunger given form, like shadows...

The chill swept through the forest like an omen. Isilya felt it first in her bones, a sharpness that clawed at the edges of her mind. She paused, a flicker of unease twisting in her chest. Her senses, already honed, tingled with an unfamiliar presence—something that lingered just out of sight...

Isilya moved through the forest as though she belonged to it, her footsteps light upon moss and fallen leaves, her breath steady and measured. The trees stretched high above, their shifting canopies casting restless patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor. She slipped between them...