The Journal of the Isles - Entry I
Please let me start by prefaceing this with a few things. A majority of this is (obviously) headcannon. I may have gotten a few of the details wrong when I pulled information from the lore that's been officially written. If I do have something wrong please feel free to kindly point in out in the comments.
Also below you will see a portion of text that falls between a few page breakers. This text was supposed to be italicized, but for some reason thie forum wouldn't let me do so without retyping the whole section from scratch. When I create my short stories I pre write them in Google Docs, then move them over here, but sometimes the formating doesn't always like to follow.
Thank you for your interest and I hope you enjoy~
This place, This island, these woods… they’re all now a home for wayward souls. For here, we are contained. This Isle of Shadows was once a great place, at least that’s what I’ve found in the long forgotten books I’ve found in castle ruins. This land was ruled by a great king, before he fell into the grips of insanity and became known as the Ruined One. It has been told that the veil between life and death is almost nonexistent here, and the spirits and entities of the afterlife would make constant attempts to slip into the land of the living. The King was the sole knight that fought to prevent this from happening, that fought to keep the veil closed. He was tasked to keep the evils of the afterlife sealed away, to protect his home, and his family. Legend has it that the King possessed some unknown magic that had been passed down from father to son throughout his lineage, but when he fell… that magic was lost, never to be seen again. He was strong, but the constant visions and contact with the dead, slowly wore down his armor. Eventually, they made him lose every ounce of sense he had. It was the spirits that made the King lose his mind, his daughter, and eventually his throne. When he fell, the already too thin veil collapsed completely, and the dead were able to walk among the living once more. However, the living did not last long, and were soon corrupted and taken over by the spirits as they flooded into a world they had not known in a thousand years. Soon there were more spirits and corrupted living than those whose souls remained untouched. They were the ones who fled, and told the outside world about what had happened to the home they once loved. They told of the Creatures of Darkness that now infested the land, living off of fear and suffering. How those who were once dead… lived again.
As the years drew on, the Isles because a shadow of their former glory. And thus dawned a new era as they were renamed The Shadow Isles. The dark spiritual power and energy the land now radiated bled into the surrounding ocean, and drew in concern from the outside. So, without seeing any other option, the outsiders gathered their best, strongest, and most well versed magic users and put in place a series of wards meant to hold in our darkness. However, even the best were not all powerful. There is one time a year where the power of the Isles, our power, cannot be contained. It is during this time that those who dwell within the prison of the Isles can be free. Where our power is at its absolute height. We break free and swarm the mainland, feeding off the fear that our shadows bring. They call it the Harrowing, but we who live on the Isles, call it by something far more sincere to our heart. The Reckoning. It lasts for but a few weeks, and it serves us so that we may taste and feel the true power we have over the mortals. Every year my soul aches for its sweet release. I remember each trip I take so vividly. Even my first. Even my most recent...
* * *
The full moon rose high in the clear star filled sky. We raced over the oceans murky waters, delight and determination filling me to my brim. In the distance the lit lanterns of Bilgewater reflected off of the sea, and the only thing standing between us, and our prey, were the fleet of pirate ships. This was the one time a year they stopped fighting each other, and banded together to fight the common enemy. Those of up who had acquired physical bodies, by either taking one by force, or stealing enough life force from the living to create one of their own, could be stopped and wounded by their cannons and gunfire. But the rest of us, such as myself, whose bodies were still spectral entities, could push right through, like smoke and shadow. Onward we soared, rolling over the ocean appearing as a great black storm clouds or fog. As the ships grew closer, we began to fill the two quiet night with our banshee screams. We hear the commanding shouts come from the decks of the ships, but at this moment we could not be stopped. This was out exhilaration. This was our freedom. I sped up, faster, and faster, until the ships were upon me. I easily phased through them, not stopping to care about the others that came with me, for now I was only focused on myself. I did not care for the hardened pirates of those ships either, as feeding from them was exhaustingly difficult. They showed no, and had no fear. They had to face it every day doing what they do, so it became nothing to them. Now the people of Bilgewater are by no means soft, but they are far easier to crack then the ones who lived on the sea. Those on land were easier to manipulate, to get inside of their heads and flood them with your terror so you could feed off of their life force and fear. Ah fear… I could almost taste it on my tongue. Sharp and metallic, it was so fulfilling. I let out another excitement filled scream into the night as I reached the shore. I sped across the sand and into the maze of buildings that was the town. Darting in and out of streets and alleyways I searched for my first meal, listening as the screams of the humans began to filter into the night. There. I stopped at the entrance to an alley towards the outskirts. Partway down the alley there was a makeshift tent comprised of a tattered piece of an old ship’s sail, and three decaying wooden posts. As I approached, a crack of thunder lit up the sky, silhouetting my form against the darkness of the alley. The heavens opened up and rain began to pour down. How I longed to feel it on my skin once more… I inhaled and brought myself back from my momentary distraction, and refocused on what was in front of me. My ethereal glow illuminated the shadows as I lifted the cloth to reveal three children, huddled against the wall of the building their shelters was propped up against. A slow hunger filled grin spread over my face as I looked them over, and met their fear filled eyes. Finding them was exactly what I wanted. The fear that came from children, was fear in its purest form. All of children’s emotions were pure and full. Nothing clouded them, or locked them away. Their fear washed over me like a warm blanket, bringing heat to my cold limbs. I reached out and that’s when one of them started to scream, but made no move to run. The sound was music to my ears as I began to drain from one of the three. I pulled her fear and life form from her and it filled me, renewing my strength, and adding to my power. A low, wheezing cackle filtered out of me, harmonizing into a beautiful symphony of sounds with the screaming of the children. Soon the one I was draining fell over into a limp heap, and that’s when the other two began to plead with me. Their voices annoyed me, so with a wave of my other hand I took away their mouths, leaving the two with smooth skin where they used to be. Their piercing voices, now turned to muffled screams. When the last breath left the first child I turned towards the other two and gazed upon their tear stained faces. Raising both hands I let out a groan as I felt myself growing stronger. Tonight was the night I would finally gain my physical form. I made quick work of the other two and left all three corpses lying on the wet pavement. Looking down I saw my limbs begin to solidify, and I smiled.
The of my night was spent racing from house to house, building to building. I felt myself grow stronger and more solid. As I fed my power grew, and i was able to conjure more of the thick fog like shadows I carried with me like a blanket. When I got into my prey’s head I could force upon them more believable visions, forcing them to life out and see their worst fears and darkest nightmares. Their terror was a succulent meal, and I gorged myself as I went in and out of houses and taverns. Each place I walked into filled with my shadows as the inhabitant mortals fell to their knees. Every nerve tingled as their eyes glazed over and their life force ebbed from them. I entered a tavern and made quick work of those inside, and when I looked out one of the windows I saw the sky had begun to lighten. I wove my way through the bodies and stepped outside. Looking down at myself, I saw I was no longer transparent. I smiled as I closed my eyes and let the last remnants of their fear wash over me. I launched myself into the sky to retreat to the Isles, and await the next night where I would feast once more.
* * *
Every year I go to the mainland to feed with the others on this accursed Isle. The rest of my days are spent wandering this place I now call my home. I have found myself recently getting lost in old books I find in castle and building ruins. They paint a picture of what we once were. Now I write what I’ve learned down in an empty journal I found in some vine covered desk amongst the King’s Castle ruins. I use ink I took from a tavern on the mainland and have found that time passes quicker as I write down what I know. Now you may be asking yourself ‘Why?’ or ‘What’s the purpose?’ Well, not much is known about what the Isles became after they lost their King. While there are very few outsiders that willing visit this place, perhaps someday one will come and find this collection of though and history, and share it with the rest of the world.
If you would like to see more Shadow Isles journal entries, please let me know! I absolutely enjoyed writing this and I can't wait to write more!
