Chapter 19: Islands

Professor Quillmere didn’t waste time.

The moment we were all seated—some of us still rubbing the sleep from our eyes—he rapped his cane against the edge of his desk and began.

“Now that we’re approaching the floating isles, I imagine many of you have questions,” he said, his voice crisp but almost melodic. “How are they suspended? Who built them? Why do some shimmer like stardust while others spew mist like broken cauldrons?”

He paused and smiled, brushing imaginary dust from his green robes.

“Well, I shall not rob you of the joy of mystery, but I will give you four prevailing theories. Take notes. One may appear on a test. Or in your nightmares.”

The room chuckled softly. I glanced across the table at Caelan, who was already scribbling in his notebook like the quill might catch fire if he stopped.

Professor Quillmere tapped a rune on the blackboard behind him. The surface shimmered, and a glowing diagram of a floating island appeared—a large mass of land hovering over clouds, surrounded by flickers of mana and debris. Several smaller islands surrounded it.

“Theory One,” he announced, “is the one favored by archaeologists and ruin-hunters. It suggests these islands were created by an ancient civilization. One that mastered gravity-defying magic, rune-weaving, and structural enchantments far beyond our current capabilities. Evidence? There are ruins. Pillars with runes we cannot read. Doors that lead nowhere. Statues of people no one remembers.”

The image shifted to show a crumbling temple, its walls cracked and overgrown, but runes still pulsing faintly with power.

I felt a faint shiver as I looked at it. Something about the shape of the statues—it reminded me of the Lady in Black.

“Theory Two,” Quillmere continued, “is championed by dungeon scholars and combat-minded folk. It claims the floating isles are, in fact, one giant dungeon. A multi-tiered, fragmented labyrinth built to contain monsters. This would explain the presence of dangerous monsters on certain islands, as well as the unique nature of wildlife on the islands.”

He gestured again, and the diagram morphed into a map filled with glowing dots, some pulsing red.

Orrin shifted in his seat beside me. “Wouldn’t we have found the dungeon core by now?”

“A fair question,” the professor said. “But we’ve never searched beneath the roots.”

That shut us up.

“Theory Three,” he said, now pacing slightly, “is the least romantic and perhaps the most disappointing: the islands are natural phenomena. Perhaps a rare circumstance in nature caused them to float. In short, floating because the world is… odd.”

A few students chuckled, but it didn’t seem like Professor Quillmere found the theory amusing.

“It has some merit,” he admitted. “But not enough to satisfy anyone with taste.”

Finally, he returned to the front of the class and faced us.

“Theory Four,” he said, his tone softening, “is the oldest. The wildest. And the one that some whisper in temples and taverns alike.”

The board dimmed to show only a single glowing image: a radiant figure holding a floating island in their palm.

“The gods made them.”

Silence.

“No structures. No accidents. No dungeons. Just… divine will. A sanctuary in the sky. A haven during times of war. Some say the gods made them for themselves. Others believe they created them as a test—or a gift—for mortals. I cannot say.”

He looked at us, really looked at us this time.

“But whatever the truth may be, I will say this: the deeper one goes into these islands, the more… unusual things become. Unexplainable. Sacred, perhaps.”

He tapped the board again, and the glowing image vanished.

“We land on the first island soon. Until then, I encourage you to observe with curious eyes. And skeptical hearts. History hides itself from the lazy.”

And just like that, class was dismissed.

The floating isles were no longer just a silhouette on the horizon.

By the time our next break rolled around, the academy had drawn close enough to one of the smaller islands that we could see the details of its surface—rolling green hills, towering trees with trunks wider than houses, and thick roots that arched like bridges between floating land masses.

From the main balcony near the western wing, we had a perfect view. Most of Class 1S had gathered there, faces pressed to the enchanted railings or craning out windows. The sky around us shimmered with bits of water, casting rainbow glints across our clothes and skin.

“It’s like… someone carved up a forest and stitched it into the sky,” Marza whispered, awestruck.

“No—like the trees grew first, then pulled the land with them,” Orrin said, pointing. “Look at how the roots twist under that cliff. They’re holding the whole thing together.”

The island closest to us was covered in rich, grassy meadows that swayed despite the lack of wind. Every tree towered so high that the tops vanished into the clouds above. Their roots hung beneath the islands in massive braids, wrapping around boulders and glowing stones, then extending down to the next isle below—almost like ropes tying everything in place.

A few small beasts darted through the tall grass. From this distance, they looked like rabbits or foxes, but something about their movement was… odd. Too smooth. Too coordinated.

Sköll huffed quietly beside me, his blue eyes tracking one of the creatures. Geri sat calmly at Rias’s feet, tail curled neatly around her paws, but her ears were up and alert.

“They’re watching too,” Caelan muttered, rubbing his arms. “That can’t be good.”

“Relax,” Seraphine said with a teasing smile. “We have two dire wolves and the Crown Prince with us. What could possibly go wrong?”

I shot her a look. “You’re tempting fate.”

“Oh, I am fate,” she replied with a wink.

Rias chuckled beside her, then tilted her head. “What color is the island?” she asked.

“Mostly green,” I said, stepping closer. “Like summer grass. The trees are white and silver. Some of the roots glow.”

“That sounds beautiful,” she murmured. “It smells like flowers.”

It did. Sweet, earthy, and just faintly metallic.

Elaris stood beside me, her hands resting lightly on the railing. Her blondish yellow hair was braided over one shoulder today, and the breeze kept tugging loose strands free.

She caught me staring and raised a brow. “You’re doing that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re either about to say something sweet… or trip over your own words.”

I grinned. “Why not both?”

She snorted and turned back to the view. “They’re almost here.”

“Yeah.”

We watched in silence for a moment longer. As the academy slowly descended onto the island. With a sudden shake, the school had finally touched down on the island.

“Do you think we should… tell them?” Elaris asked suddenly, voice just low enough that only I could hear.

I blinked. “Tell them what?”

“You know.” She glanced sideways at me. “That we’re… a thing now.”

“Oh. Right.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too. I mean… it’s not a secret, but it’s not exactly public either.”

“Is it supposed to be?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of new to this whole ‘relationship’ thing.”

She laughed. “You? The Crown Prince of Dival? Don’t tell me this is your first royal romance.”

“Stop,” I groaned, but I couldn’t help smiling.

Behind us, someone cleared their throat.

We both turned.

Rias stood there, arms crossed, her head tilted slightly. “You’re what now?”

My stomach dropped.

Elaris stiffened beside me.

“I—uh—” I began.

“Seriously?” Rias said, lips twitching. “You two are just now talking about telling us?”

“Wait, wait,” Marza said, spinning around. “Are they dating?”

Seraphine gasped dramatically. “I knew it. I told Caelan!”

“You did,” Caelan said, not looking surprised. “Toren owes me a silver coin.”

“I hate being wrong,” Toren muttered.

Orrin blinked. “So… wait. You guys are officially—?”

“Yes,” I said, holding up my hands. “Yes. We are. Please don’t make this weird.”

“Too late,” Seraphine sang.

Elaris rolled her eyes, but I saw the smile tugging at her lips.

Rias walked forward and gently took my arm. “I’m happy for you,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.

“Thanks,” I whispered back, relief flooding through me.

“Wait, wait,” Marza said, spinning on her heel and pointing. “So the brooding crown prince and the ghostly bookworm are dating?”

“I prefer mysterious,” Elaris muttered under her breath.

“And I prefer private,” I added.

“Too late,” Seraphine said, linking arms with Rias and leaning in. “You two are now officially the class couple. We need a ship name.”

“No, we don’t,” I said flatly.

“Artlaris,” Caelan said instantly.

Elaris choked. “Caelan—”

“Toren and I had a betting pool,” he continued casually, hands in his coat pockets. “You were odds-on favorites after the library scene.”

“I knew I should’ve bet,” Marza groaned.

Orrin looked genuinely confused. “Wait—what library scene?”

Seraphine wagged her eyebrows. “It’s always the library.”

“It’s not always the library,” I muttered, ears burning.

“Definitely the library,” Toren confirmed.

Elaris just buried her face in her hands. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Caelan said. “You just don’t know how to express affection verbally like a well-adjusted person.”

“Shut up.”

Caelan smirked and gave her a thumbs-up. “See? Progress.”

Rias giggled, while Geri let out a low yawn beside her, unimpressed by all the excitement.

Sköll stretched beside me, massive jaws parting in a wide yawn that looked suspiciously like a smug grin.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered to him.

He sneezed in response and licked my hand.

And just like that, the moment softened.

The laughter faded into silence as the school shuddered beneath our feet—docking anchors finally locking into place. The closest floating isle now loomed like a dream pulled into reality. Silver leaves shimmered in the wind. A waterfall traced a glowing arc across the sky, feeding into a lake nestled between hills of luminous grass.

We all stared.

Caelan was the first to speak.

“…Okay. That’s actually kind of breathtaking.”

“Kind of?” Seraphine asked.

“Okay, a lot.”

Orrin nodded, eyes wide. “Feels like we’re standing on the edge of a painting.”

Marza leaned on the railing, chin on her hand. “If this is just the first island… what else is out there?”

Elaris didn’t say anything. She just reached over and slid her fingers into mine.

I didn’t let go.

After a brief break to let the school finish anchoring, Professor Quillmere gathered our group by the northern courtyard gate, a carved archway that opened directly onto the floating island’s lush terrain.

“Would you all care to stretch your legs a bit?” he asked, brushing a stray tuft of windblown hair from his brow. “There’s nothing quite like the real thing when it comes to applied knowledge.”

We didn’t need convincing.

The moment we stepped onto the island, it was like entering a dream.

The grass brushed our knees—tall and soft. Towering trees stretched overhead, their bark a deep silver-gray, and their roots almost as big as the trunk. Some of them arched like bridges over narrow ravines, connecting hills to distant plateaus, weaving the land together like the strands of a living tapestry.

We wandered without a path, letting curiosity lead.

Birds with translucent feathers flitted above us, leaving shimmering trails of light behind them. At one point, a herd of tiny, long-eared creatures bounded across our path, hooves barely touching the ground. Geri barked once, low and cautious, but Sköll merely watched them pass, tail swaying slowly.

“This place feels alive,” Orrin whispered, awe in every word.

“It is,” Professor Quillmere replied. “These islands are saturated with ambient mana. A perfect blend of natural evolution and magical mystery.”

We kept walking until we heard it—a roar in the distance. Not a monster’s cry, but water, crashing and cascading. We followed the sound through the trees and emerged at the edge of a wide cliffside.

What we saw left us all speechless.

A massive white tree—easily five stories tall—stood at the center of the clearing. From its branches and trunk, crystal-clear water spilled like tears, flowing down into a sparkling lake below. It wasn’t raining, and yet the tree wept continuously, as if mourning something forgotten by time.

Seraphine stepped closer. “It’s beautiful.”

“Think the water’s safe to drink?” Toren asked.

Caelan crouched and dipped his hand in. “Feels clean. Cold. And… tingly?”

“Mana-rich,” Quillmere confirmed. “You’ll find many such phenomena across the isles.”

Marza kicked off her shoes and waded into the water. “If we’re not getting graded today, then I’m swimming.”

“You are so not going in without me,” Seraphine said, unfastening her cloak.

Orrin laughed. “It’s not even deep.”

“Doesn’t need to be deep to be fun,” Marza called as she splashed toward the center.

I looked at Elaris. “You want to…?”

She was already pulling off her boots.

I glanced at Rias, who was sitting on a flat stone, her hand trailing in the water beside Geri. “You okay?”

“I’ll stay here,” she said with a small smile. “Geri doesn’t like swimming, and I think I’d rather listen to everyone’s voices from here.”

Fair enough.

I turned just in time to dodge a splash from Caelan, who grinned like a child and tossed another handful of water—this time directly at Toren.

“You gremlin!” Toren sputtered, shaking out his drenched sleeves. “That’s it, you’re getting tossed.”

“Oh no—”

Too late.

Toren barreled forward and tackled Caelan into the water, sending up a giant wave that hit Seraphine and Marza square in the backs.

Chaos followed.

I laughed, trying to dodge the crossfire, but Elaris tugged my arm and dragged me into the lake before I could escape. The water was freezing—and perfect.

We splashed, shouted, slipped, and laughed until the sun began to dip, casting gold and amber across the treetops. Even Professor Quillmere sat on a nearby log, watching with an almost nostalgic glint in his eyes.

When we were finally exhausted, soaked, and breathless, Quillmere rose to his feet, raised one hand, and murmured something.

A soft breeze swept through the clearing.

And just like that, we were dry.

Clothes, hair, even my boots—bone dry.

“That,” Caelan said, flopping down on the grass, “was the most useful spell I’ve ever seen.”

“Take note,” Professor Quillmere said. “Wind magic is not only for battle. It’s for moments like these.”

As we walked back toward the academy, the island behind us glowing in the early evening light, none of us said much.

We didn’t need to.

We were already thinking the same thing.

This place… was magic.

By the time we returned to the academy, dusk had cloaked the sky in violet and gold. Mana lanterns lit the path back to the main hall, glowing softly like captured starlight. The scent of roasted meats, fresh breads, and spiced fruits drifted on the air long before we reached the grand dining chamber.

Inside, it was just as breathtaking as the first night.

We found our seats near the center, the same group as always—me, Rias, Elaris, Caelan, Seraphine, Orrin, Marza, and Toren. Even Geri and Sköll had a comfortable spot tucked against the wall near a bowl piled high with roast cuts, bones, and dried strips of meat.

“I swear,” Seraphine said, biting into a flaky tart, “if every banquet is like this, I’m never leaving.”

“They want to lull us into comfort before dropping homework like anvils,” Caelan muttered. “It’s a trap.”

Rias sipped from her glass. “At least it’s a delicious one.”

The room buzzed with cheerful voices and clinking silverware until the floating chandeliers dimmed just slightly—and a gust of air swept through the chamber.

All eyes turned to the elevated stage near the head of the hall.

Headmistress Lysandra Mourne stood at its center, cloak billowing behind her as if caught in an invisible storm. She didn’t rise from a chair—she simply appeared, the wind announcing her presence before we saw her.

She raised her hand.

Silence.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your first few days here at Dival’s Magic Academy,” she said, voice smooth and cool like mountain mist. “You’ve taken your first steps—some more gracefully than others—into a world that is vast, dangerous, and filled with mystery.”

She let the words settle before continuing.

“As of this evening, the academy has completed its landing on the floating isles. For the remainder of this year, your classes, training, and growth will take place here.”

Murmurs spread throughout the room.

“Yes, the floating islands are as real as they are ancient,” she said with a small smile. “Their origin… is a topic of great debate. But that is a lesson for Professor Quillmere’s class.”

The old man gave a humble bow from his seat among the staff.

“Now,” she continued, “a few announcements.”

The room tensed—every student leaned forward just a little.

“First: as of tomorrow morning, club registration will be open. Whether your interests lie in spellcraft, swordplay, music, or mystery, I encourage you to explore. Clubs are an essential part of life here, and you may just find yourself where you belong.”

I glanced at Elaris. Her expression was thoughtful.

“Second,” Lysandra said, and her tone grew sharper, “a matter of safety.”

The room stilled again.

“You are not to leave the school grounds at night. The floating islands are unpredictable. Monsters grow bolder under moonlight. And while our protective wards are strong… they are not limitless.”

A ripple of unease moved through the students. I caught Rias shifting in her seat, her hand brushing Geri’s fur.

Lysandra scanned the crowd. “You’ve made it through your first test. But your real trials begin now. The islands are not here to coddle you. They are here to challenge you. Adapt, survive, grow stronger.”

With that, she offered a final, elegant nod.

“That is all.”

And just like that, the chandeliers brightened again, and the hall erupted into conversation.