An Isle of Mirrors (A Shade of Vampire #88) - Bella Forrest Page 0,29
an hour or so.”
I quietly followed as she held the scythe against the membrane, the surface shimmering softly where the blade grazed it. Nervously looking around, I noticed wolf-like animals standing back and watching us. Well, they weren’t technically watching us, since they couldn’t see us, but they had noticed the shield’s reaction to Unending’s touch. Their nostrils flared as they tried to capture a scent, but none of them moved. There was something about this place that held them back, likely the death magic itself. I, for one, was thankful that Unending had developed an invisibility spell that no longer required physical contact for the obscuring magic to stay up. We were both unseen without having to constantly touch one another—it came in handy when sneaking around a village of spirit-bending fae protected by a ruthless Reaper. Once my wife revealed herself, she would automatically reveal me, too.
“Here…” Unending whispered, coming to a sudden stop. She put the scythe down for a moment and used her fingers to feel the membrane. It rippled under her touch, and she smiled. “There is a finite amount of energy used to cast this shield, which is why its strength is dependent on its square-mile coverage. Had this place been even five hundred yards smaller, the membrane would’ve been thicker and more resistant.”
She picked up her scythe and whispered a spell against its blade, closing her eyes for a moment. When she pressed the weapon against the shield, I could see the world beyond it shifting, as if a veil had just been raised and we were no longer blind. “This is only a window for us to see through,” Unending whispered. “It serves to further weaken this spot, too.”
“Oh, wow.” I tried to take it all in.
Beyond the protective magic, a quaint and beautiful little world appeared. The houses were round and dome-shaped, made of chalk-like bricks. They resembled igloos, but with windows and open archways for doors. There were white stone pathways that connected the residences, like a network of sorts, not only to one another but also to the village center, where a large square structure rose proudly like a giant watching over its flock.
The plants that grew beneath the protective magic were completely different from the ones in the jungle itself. I had a feeling the greenery of the soul fae was ancient, long since extinct anywhere else on Rothko. The jungle had developed around this place, but there must’ve been something else about a million years ago. Or three million years ago. Hell, ten million years ago, maybe a scorching desert had dominated this region. Either way, beneath the protective magic, time had stood still.
Flowers that resembled Earth’s orchids poked their pink and yellow heads out of clover beds, each arrangement neatly enclosed in white stone pots about three feet wide and four feet long. They filled every inch of empty space between the dome houses and the pathways. Water gushed from fountains mounted in every other yard, and birds sang from the tall, slender trees with spherical green-and-white crowns. This village had been designed to perfection, the soul fae making the most of what little space they had.
They were stunning creatures, I realized as I watched them go about their day. Some were filling pitchers of glass with crystalline water. Others were using ceramic bowls to collect nectar from the orchid-like flowers. The children were particularly joyful about this, flanking their parents, eager to dip their fingers in the golden syrup-like substance.
“Notice anything familiar?” Unending whispered, unable to take her eyes off them.
Indeed, I could see the resemblance. Each of the soul fae carried a tiny bit of the Spirit Bender in their features. The sharp, high cheekbones in particular. The inquisitive eyes were strange, however. They glistened in shades of lilac and mint green, their pupils white. I’d almost forgotten that Reapers’ eyes only became like miniature galaxies upon their creation. The Spirit Bender’s original soul must’ve belonged to a soul fae like this, with lilac or mint green eyes… Their lips were pale, and their hair was long and soft, like milky white silk pouring down their shoulders. They wore simple clothes, likely made from cotton-like threads, with various colorful embroidered motifs adorning the necks and sleeves.
They were slender, fine-boned creatures. Easy to break, I thought. No wonder Death had wanted them protected. The soul fae were the most delicate creatures I had ever seen. Like wisps of life that had somehow found a way