The meal had been surprisingly pleasant—roasted game, hearty root vegetables, and a thick, savory stew that even Fiara admitted was delicious.

  The trolls, now treating them as honored guests, had shared stories of their village and their "dark lord," though Creed couldn't help but quietly correct them under his breath. It's a wind spirit, not a dark god.

  Sora had cautiously nibbled at some fruit, still wary but no longer on edge, while Mikalien had scribbled furious notes about troll customs, much to the amusement of their hosts.

  The elder troll studied them with keen interest, his gnarled fingers tapping against his staff. "Why were you on thiz island in the first place?" he rumbled. "And why not leave by the same way you came in?"

  Creed wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before answering. "We were searching for a missing pioneer caravan that hasn't reported on their progress. After arriving, we confirmed goblins were involved. We tracked them to their village and engaged them—"

  Fiara clicked her teeth in annoyance, muttering under her breath, "If you can even call it a fight. We ony managed to kill a few before their leader came and ruined it. We even barely broke a sweat."

  Creed ignored her and continued, "—and we managed to rescue this one." He gestured to Sora, who was nibbling nervously on a piece of fruit. "At first, we thought he was one of the missing pioneers, but after negotiating with the goblins in exchange for our airship for him, we realized he wasn’t.

  The elder troll's eyes gleamed with recognition. "Ahh, you muzt have run into the Golden Eclipse tribe, eh? That Glint… he sure knows how to make the most of thingz." He chuckled, shaking his head. "But thiz harpy they captured…" His gaze lingered on Sora, scrutinizing him. "He iz strange. Mh."

  Sora stiffened, his feathers puffing slightly under the elder’s intense stare. He let out a soft, uneasy chirp, his talons curling against the ground. Why does everyone keep looking at me like I’m some kind of oddity?

  Mikalien, unable to resist, leaned forward eagerly. "Actually, he’s a male harpy! That’s is literally unheard of! His wing structure is different too, and he has these fascinating claw-like appendages—"

  Fiara elbowed her sharply, cutting her off before she could launch into a full lecture. Mikalien pouted but fell silent, though her fingers twitched as if she were itching to take notes.

  The elder troll let out a thoughtful hum as they continue to converse.

  Once they finished eating, the elder troll rose with a grunt. "Very well. I will prepare what you need to descend from the sky island." He turned and disappeared into his tent, the heavy hide flap swaying behind him.

  As the elder disappeared into his tent, the group exchanged glances. Muta, mouth still half-full, shrugged. "Well, this is going better than expected."

  "Well, usually the tribes around the world are either friendly, neutral or hostile, so " Mikalien added.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "For now," Fiara muttered, her arms crossed. "I still don’t trust this ‘dark lord’ business. Wind spirit or not, something feels off."

  Sora let out a quiet chirp, his tail twitching.

  Please don’t let this involve sacrifices. Please don’t let this involve sacrifices

  Fiara crossed her arms. "For now. Let’s just hope whatever ‘ritual items’ he’s grabbing don’t involve us getting tossed off the edge."

  After a few minutes, the elder returned, carrying a woven satchel filled with carved stones, and a small clay pot.

  The elder troll motioned for the group to follow him to the edge of the floating island. The air was thick with anticipation as they walked, the dense foliage giving way to an open cliffside where the sky stretched below them as the clouds cover the trees dotting the bottom.

  The elder started kneeling and beginning a low, rhythmic chant.

  The group watched in silence, the wind picking up around them as the elder’s voice grew stronger. With a final, resonant incantation, he raised his staff and called out:

  "I summon the great lord Anema!"

  A powerful gust of wind surged forward, swirling into a visible form—a shimmering, translucent figure with flowing currents of air shaping its body.

  The spirit hovered before them, its presence both serene and commanding. The elder bowed deeply and, without another word, stepped back, retreating to a respectful distance as the spirit turned its attention to the group.

  When the gust of wind formed into Anema, Sora’s eyes widened. Oh wow. She's pretty.

  Then—to everyone’s surprise—the spirit let out a soft, melodic laugh.

  "Ah, mortals," it—no, she—spoke, her voice like a breeze through leaves. "I am the intermediate wind spirit, Anema. And first, I must apologize for my followers’… unique interpretation of me." She gestured vaguely toward the trolls, who were still bowing reverently in the distance. "They mean well, truly. But ‘dark lord’? Really?"

  The group blinked in unison.

  Creed was the first to recover, clearing his throat. "So… you’re not a malevolent entity?"

  Anema laughed again, the sound like wind chimes. "Oh, goodness, no. I’m just a spirit who enjoys a good breeze and the occasional offering of fruit. But trolls have a flair for the dramatic, don’t they?"

  Fiara rubbed her temples. "So all that chanting, the ‘dark lord’ stuff—just a misunderstanding?"

  "Pretty much!" Anema said cheerfully. "But no harm done. They’re lovely devotees, if a bit overzealous." She floated closer, her form shifting like a gentle whirlwind. "Now, I hear you need passage down from this island?"

  Mikalien, unable to contain herself any longer, burst forward. "This is incredible! An intermediate wind spirit with a cultural influence! Are there other spirit on the island? What did you do for the trolls to worship as a dark god? How exactly do you—"

  Fiara grabbed the back of Mikalien’s collar, yanking her back before she could bombard Anema with questions. "Later, Mika."

  Anema chuckled. "Ah, a scholar! How refreshing. But yes, perhaps another time."

  She turned her gaze to Sora, who had been nervously staying at the back of the group. Wait. Why is she looking at me like that?

  "And you—little harpy. You’ve had quite the journey, haven’t you?" She chuckled

  Sora let out a startled chirp, his feathers puffing up.

  Anema’s expression softened. "Don’t worry. The winds have been whispering about you. You’ll find your way soon enough."

  What do the winds ‘whisper’ about me?! Am I in trouble?

  Her cryptic comment about him finding his way made his stomach flip. That’s the kind of thing people say before you get thrown into some grand destiny.

  I should know because that is what Caleb does when me and my siblings play. But this is real life, not a game I don’t want a grand destiny. I don't want to fight I just wanna enjoy my life, explore the world, and maybe find a nice, quiet tree to nap in."

  Before Sora could process more of that cryptic statement, Anema waved a gust-filled hand, and a swirling vortex of wind formed at the cliff’s edge, solidifying into a shimmering, downward spiral—a bridge of air leading to the world below.

  "There you go! Safe passage, courtesy of me," she said with a playful wink. "Just step on, and the wind will carry you down gently."

  The group hesitated, eyeing the magical pathway. Muta, ever the bold one, shrugged and stepped onto it—only to let out a loud, startled laugh as the wind buoyed him effortlessly. "Hah! This is amazing!"

  One by one, the others followed, Creed giving Anema a respectful nod, Fiara muttering a thanks, and Mikalien waving excitedly. "I’ll come back to study you properly, I swear!"

  Anema laughed. "Looking forward to it!"

  Sora was the last to step forward, his talons gripping the ground nervously. Anema tilted her head. "You’ll be alright, little one. The wind favors you—I can tell."

  With a deep breath, Sora stepped onto the airy bridge—and felt himself gently lifted, the world below growing closer as the floating island shrank above him.

  Then, with one last gust, she was gone—leaving the group to their safe descent, and Sora to wonder just what the winds had in store for him next.

  As they descended, Sora glanced back at the shrinking island. Well. That happened. And somehow, I have a feeling things are only going to get weirder from here.

  I just hope everything would be alright.