FOURTH BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭. 𝘈 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘈 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵. 𝘈 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦.
Xanthiene Vivenca, a fairy with a bounty for her soul, is caught between...
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"So we're looking for a cliff, right?" Cirasa's eyes followed a group of shirtless men hauling a long fishing boat towards the water.
Xanthy hopped over a fallen tree trunk. "Yeah," she yelped as she swerved out of the way as a butchered carcass with blood still dripping from it speared towards her. The water sprites carrying it across the two ends of a pole muttered their apologies. Xanthy nodded before jogging to catch Cirasa who had gone a few steps ahead.
If Aresving lacked order, Orayta was chaos redefined. Xanthy lost count of how many topless water sprite men had she and Cirasa passed on their way. They were either rowing boats with long paddles, heaving baskets upon baskets of fresh fish from the boats and into the sandy shore, or driving nails into hulls of upturned boats with a hammer. The cacophony of laughter, metal hitting wood, rustling leaves, and the waves slapping the sand mixed in one cloud in Xanthy's ears.
Pointed shadows made by the salvia trees slashed across the sand, giving Xanthy enough respite from the harsh midday sun. These thin-trunked trees grew in clusters of four or five and peppered the vast expanse of the sand, forming the first line of vegetation that led to a deeper and hazier forest beyond. Where would the forest even lead to?
A smattering of high-pitched laughter made Xanthy turn to a group of women sitting under the shade of a single cluster of salvia. They wore sleeveless tunics and had bare feet resting against the warm sand. Bright orange salvia leaves pooled around the women's feet having fallen from the trees above them. Girls not older than Marin sat inside the circle, giggling with the women as they wove the orange fronds into what looked like baskets.
"Whoa!" Xanthy scrambled out of the way as children younger than Malin sped past her, dragging salvia leaves by its stem in the sand. A smile crept up in Xanthy's lips as she watched the children weave along the boats, the men hauling crates of fish, and the women hefting baskets of corals up their heads.
It's a simple life. One that Xanthy would trade anything to have.
"Xanthy!" Cirasa called. When had his voice sounded so far away? Xanthy shook her head and turned to her companion who stood a good distance from her. When did he get there?
She jogged towards him as she cursed. Focus on the job. Worry about other things later. She tucked her hair behind her ears when a breeze shuffled it out of order. Ugh. She exhaled when she caught up to her companion and craned her neck up. "Was that the cliff?"
A steep incline bled off the line of salvia trees and led to a single patch of land that rose over the flatness of Desara. At its edge stood a single cylindrical structure that was tall enough to block most of the sun from where Xanthy stood.
"That would be the Bardon Lighthouse," Cirasa pointed at the triangular roof of the structure.
Xanthy propped her hand over her eyes and looked around. "How do we get there?"
"Way ahead of you there," Cirasa turned to a shady ravine not far from where they were. "That should be it."
"Let's go." Xanthy pushed past Cirasa and trudged towards the spaces between the salvia trees. How bad could it be?
