39 | ACT II, SCENE XI

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P R E V I O U S L Y

Three seconds later, the air around me changed as my feet hit solid ground. We were there.

VEZORT ISLAND, OCEMOND SEA

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VEZORT ISLAND, OCEMOND SEA.

EDWINA

THE TANG AND SALT OF the sea around us filled my sinuses, alerting me to my location. I opened them to find the five of us standing on the shore of the mysterious Island, the wind ruffling and blowing our hair in the evening light of the full moon.

Before us stood a huge brick wall, stretching upwards as far as the eye could see. Streams of ivy and honeysuckle climbed over it, twisting into a gnarled tangle of roots and leaves.

Set into the wall was a door of wrought iron, painted black, but its edges were still rugged with rust. It had no knocker or handle of any sort, only elaborate twisted vines growing all over it.

Helios tried pushing it. It wouldn't budge. He began to gather his power, preparing to hurl, but Eric stopped it just in time.

"Wait," he said, "somehow, I don't think it will help."

"But the gate should be open," Nyx protested. "It's eight already!"

"Wait a minute," Tristan authoritatively pushed everyone aside. He pulled out his knife and plucked his finger with it, a knowing look plastered on his face. The god squeezed the dark drop of blood on his finger and pressed it to the gate where the handle ought to be.

It swung open.

"How did you know?" Eric gasped in unconcealed amazement.

"The goddess of witchcraft taught me that. Blood usually forms the payment in dark magic," he shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing. "Summoning spirits, calling on shades, doing the Blood Oath at weddings... they all demand blood."

"Goddess of witchcraft?" Nyx looked at him queerly. "That's the elder daughter of our uncle, Emerick. Sarette Rotavelle? Angry, cruel lady?"

"She is Olinda Rotavelle's sister," I added sourly. No one gave a look of recognition, staring at me. "Seriously?" I said. "Olinda? That tall woman who likes to dance and prepare for weddings the whole day? Goddess of festivities?"

"Ah... the goddesses of witchcraft and festivity are sisters? Olinda is such a sweet little being, Sarette is the complete opposite of her," Nyx huffed acidly. "Biggest bitch I ever saw."

The men indifferently shrugged with a roll of their eyes and motioned angrily to the open gate, which had swung around inwards. I shot them a glare as we all peered in.

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