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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Xanthy stepped off the final step, breathing in relief as her boots slapped solid rock once more. She took in the drab setting. Dust carpeted the floor and coated the objects present.
A huge bookshelf guarded the stairs, stacked with tomes both thin and thick. Beside the arched window ushering the sun stood a wooden chest gilded with tarnished metal. A thick lock clamped it shut. Xanthy approached it. It must contain a lot of treasure if it's here standing up to her thighs.
A rolled and bound mattress leaned against the wall beside the chest. A closet with strange carvings and at least seven drawers and two large compartments with doors stood beside the mattress.
Xanthy glanced at the centerpiece of the room—the tubular thing that jutted out of the window. It was hoisted by a stone slab and two poles that supposed the tube's side. Hinges screwed below it allowed the tube to be re-angled and swiveled around.
A saucer-like contraption was suspended in the middle of the tube's diameter. The glass inside it was charred black after being almost melted. Two pieces of stone rested on the stone slab and gathered dust for who knew how many years.
Large rolls of yellowing parchment coated a moth-eaten chair pushed against the wall to the stone slab's right. Maps peppered the wooden board mailed against the bricks and when Xanthy drew near to it, she noticed the mass of faded words scrawled in ink that had long dried. She squinted against the words. They were written in squiggles that looked worse than the Keijula ones.
Below the board sat a rotting crate with more rolled parchment, three sets of spare clothing now thin and crisp, a dusty pair of leather boots, and an instrument that resembled a dushim despite its more compressed hull and more strings. Xanthy clenched her fists. Don't pick the dushim up. Just...don't. Those strings could snap at any time and Xanthy couldn't afford getting a bloody eye as of this moment.
She faced Cirasa and propped her hands on her hips. "Alright, this is it?"
Cirasa peeled back a few of the maps by the couch, stirring more dust. "I think so."
"Where's the clue to start the hunt, then?" Xanthy stomped her foot on the floor. The thud echoed downwards and rattled the stairs.
"Xanthy, look at this," Cirasa called.
Xanthy grunted but she took the space beside Cirasa and peered down at the map. All that blinked back at her were the squiggles and even more unfamiliar blobs of what's supposed to be land. "Okay, what am I looking at?"
"A map of Umazure during the olden times," Cirasa breathed. He tapped a finger against one quadrant. "Look, the cities are named differently. Even Umazure is called Uma Siore."
Xanthy peered closer and saw. "Huh," she hummed before pointing to somewhere west of the island. "Look, there's not even a place called Cardina. It just says..."
"Jatoma," Cirasa read. "The old name for a territory disputed by a number of fairy races. A wasteland. Nothing grew there but somehow fairies spent years going to small-scale wars with each other just to claim that piece of land."
