The First Memory Implantation (3)

"This place is creepy as hell. Seriously, why do we have to go through every island? You said that you went back in time and saw all of Erna Isles so why come here?"

Narisva said bluntly, glaring around at the bleak expanse of sand and frost. She kicked the black sand with her boot, as if testing its solidity, before folding her arms.

Adelasta flinched as Narisva's voice carried toward her. For a moment, she felt as though the other girl had actually seen her, but that illusion shattered when Narisva strode forward—and passed right through her.

Adelasta froze, the sensation strange and disorienting. She looked down at herself, her hands trembling slightly as she realized the truth.

"I'm... like a ghost in here," she murmured aloud, glancing at Vastarael—the present one—standing beside her. He gave her a wry smile, his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

"Yeah," he said, glancing at her as if reading her thoughts. "You're not really here. You're just an observer in this memory. Don't worry, it's weird for me too when I do this."

Adelasta frowned but nodded, still trying to shake off the unnerving sensation. She turned her attention back to the group gathered on the black sand. They were all talking now, their voices blending together in the stillness of the eerie island.

"This place doesn't feel right," Xander muttered, his usually stoic expression shadowed with unease. He glanced at the darkened horizon, the bioluminescent glow of the manta ray reflecting in his sharp eyes.

"It's like... something's watching us."

"I feel it too," Farrynelle added. She rubbed her arms, as if trying to ward off a chill. "It's like the whole island's alive. And not in a good way."

The younger Vastarael stepped forward, his boots sinking slightly into the sand, and turned to address the group.

"Relax, there's no one here but us. It's just an empty island. Creepy? Sure. Dangerous? Not yet."

Adelasta narrowed her eyes, noting the hint of bravado in his tone. The younger Vastarael always had this air of confidence—sometimes to the point of recklessness—but she could see now, with the benefit of hindsight, that he was just as wary as the others.

He just didn't show it.

Siranna's calm, melodic voice cut through the tension.

"We shouldn't linger here. This island may be empty now, but it's clear something powerful resides here. The permafrost covering everything except the beaches isn't natural."

Adelasta's gaze shifted to the island itself. Beyond the black sand, the land was nothing but a sprawling sheet of ice, the frost shimmering faintly in the light of the manta ray's glow. There were no rocks, no vegetation, nothing to suggest this island had ever supported life. It was barren and cold, an isolated wasteland frozen in time.

Phaenora rolled her eyes, though her usual teasing grin was absent. "Well, that's comforting. An ancient presence on an island that looks like death incarnate. Why don't we just pitch a tent and stay the night?"

The group collectively ignored her sarcasm, though Adelasta couldn't help but let out a quiet snort. Present Vastarael glanced at her with a knowing smirk.

"Not as funny when you're actually here, is it?"

Adelasta shot him a sharp look. "I'm not laughing because it's funny. I'm laughing because it's insane. And speaking of insane, why the hell were you even here in the first place?"

He shrugged, the motion casual, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze.

"Curiosity. I told you before, didn't I? I was trying to see all of the Erna Isles. That includes this lovely ice trap."

"Lovely," Adelasta echoed, her tone dry. She folded her arms and looked back at the memory, her eyes narrowing as the younger Vastarael turned to address the group.

"Alright, let's keep moving," Memory Vastarael said, gesturing toward the icy expanse ahead. "The faster we figure out what's up with this place, the faster we can leave. And Phaenora, don't worry. We won't pitch a tent."

Phaenora smirked faintly at his jab, but the tension didn't dissipate. The group began to move, their footsteps crunching softly against the sand. The oppressive stillness of the island seemed to close in around them, each step heavier than the last.

Adelasta shivered involuntarily, though she knew it wasn't from the cold. She glanced at Vastarael, the present one, who stood silently beside her.

"You didn't answer my question," she said after a moment, her voice quieter now. "Why really were you here? What were you looking for?"

He didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on his younger self as the memory group disappeared into the icy distance.

"You'll see."

Adelasta frowned, unsatisfied with the answer, but she let it go—for now. There was something haunting about the way he looked at the memory, something that made her chest tighten with unease. Whatever had happened here, it was clear that this island held more than just bad vibes.

°°°°°°

The trek toward the center of the island was unlike anything Adelasta had ever experienced, both as a ghost-like observer and as a participant in Vastarael's eerie memory world.

The group moved cautiously at first, the oppressive silence of the permafrost-covered landscape seeming to grow louder with each step. Adelasta, standing alongside the present Vastarael, watched the memory unfold, her sense of time warping as days blurred into fast-forwarded motion. Occasionally, moments slowed down, forcing her to witness specific scenes in vivid detail.

"This is taking forever," she muttered after what felt like hours, though she knew it had been days in the memory. She crossed her arms and glanced at Vastarael, her brows furrowing. "Eighteen days to get to the center? What kind of sadistic endurance test is this?"

"Endurance was an understatement. The cold wasn't the worst part. It was the nothingness. No Krepsunas, no wildlife, not even a gust of wind. Just ice, silence, and the occasional dread creeping up on us. Believe me, nothing is creepier than silence."

Adelasta turned her attention back to the memory. The group trudged across the frozen terrain, their breaths visible in the biting air. The island's permafrost stretched out endlessly in every direction, a barren wasteland of frozen death. There wasn't a single sign of life—no snow, no trees, no rocks, just endless sheets of ice reflecting the faint bioluminescent glow from the manta ray that had long since disappeared into the horizon.

They didn't want to gather too much attention so they decided not to use it.

Narisva, ever the impatient one, had her arms crossed and was scowling as she spoke to Memory Vastarael.

"I'm going to lose my damn mind out here. How are we even supposed to get to the center if this stupid ice keeps trying to kill us?"

She stomped her foot but immediately lost her balance, her boots slipping awkwardly against the impossibly slick surface. Even the ice was incredibly hard to break.

If it wasn't for the Heat Runes the three Raukerai and Vastarael placed on everyone, they would have been turned to frozen statues.

Memory Vastarael caught her arm before she fell, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Easy there, Narisva. Can't have our Celestial bloodline descendant cracking her head open on some glorified frozen water."

Narisva shot him a glare, yanking her arm back. "Ha ha, very funny. How about you do something useful for once instead of making jokes?"

Memory Vastarael raised a brow, unbothered by her attitude. He crouched down and placed a hand on his boot. Small sapphire spikes materialized beneath the sole, glinting faintly in the dim light.

"here. Problem solved."

He stood and clapped his hands together, turning to the rest of the group. "Alright, everyone line up. Sapphire spikes for all of you to gain traction in the ice. Unless you want to risk breaking your tailbones and ankles."

Adelasta watched in fascination as Memory Vastarael conjured the spikes, affixing them to the soles of everyone's boots. Even the normally stoic Xander muttered a quiet word of thanks, his usual wariness toward Vastarael momentarily forgotten in the face of practicality.

"I'll admit," Adelasta said to the present Vastarael, "that was actually smart. Though I'm surprised you didn't make them pay you for the service. Saving two heirs of a Dynasty comes with pretty good rewards."

"Don't tempt me," Vastarael replied with a chuckle. "I considered it. But trust me, after eighteen days on this hellhole, even I was feeling charitable."

The group resumed their journey, their pace slightly quicker now that slipping wasn't a constant threat. Adelasta watched as the fast-forwarding resumed, though certain moments stood out.

There was Narisva, balancing on one leg as she attempted to prove she was the most agile of the group, only to promptly fall on her face. Phaenora laughed so hard she had to sit down, her usual teasing grin even more pronounced.

"That was pure satisfaction," present Vastarael commented, clearly enjoying the memory as much as Adelasta was. "She didn't speak to me for two days after that."

Adelasta rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. The camaraderie between the group was evident, even in the bleakest of conditions. They joked, bickered, and occasionally shared stories to pass the time. Farrynelle and Xander, who had recently begun to have feelings for each other, often walked side by side, their quiet conversations a stark contrast to Narisva's loud complaints.

"Was it really this... lively?" Adelasta asked. "I mean, considering the circumstances..."

"It had to be. Without the jokes and arguments, the silence would've driven us mad. Sometimes, we create noise just to remind ourselves we're still alive. As I said, silence is the creepiest existence."

The days stretched on and the group encountered little of note beyond the ice. Every evening, they would huddle together, setting up small rune barriers of to block out the biting cold as they rested. Vastarael often took the lead in maintaining morale. Even Narisva, for all her bravado, seemed to rely on him more than she'd admit.

"Alright, let's talk about the elephant in the room," Phaenora said on the tenth night, her voice cutting through the quiet. She leaned back against one of the sapphire barriers, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

"Why is this island so... empty? No Krepsunas, no wildlife, not even a damn snowflake. It's unnatural."

Memory Vastarael, sitting cross-legged nearby, shrugged.

"Probably because whatever's in the center doesn't want company. And considering we've been walking for eighteen days without seeing so much as a crack in the ice, I'd say it's doing a damn good job of keeping visitors out."

"That's comforting," Narisva muttered, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. "Remind me again why we're doing this?"

"Adventure," Farrynelle replied, her tone dry but her lips twitching into a faint smile. "And because Vastarael dragged us into it."

Adelasta smirked, glancing at the present Vastarael. "So this is what you were like before the arm thing? Cocky, reckless, dragging everyone along on your insane quests?"

"Pretty much," he admitted, unbothered. "Though I like to think I had my reasons. I have a feeling that the Epoch Cycle won't let us leave this island at all."

"Uh-huh," she said, unconvinced.

By the eighteenth day, the group finally reached the center of the island. Adelasta watched as the obsidian spire came into view. It was enormous, its sharp edges casting shadows across the ice. The group stood in awe, their chatter momentarily silenced as they took in the sight.

Adelasta, still in her ghost-like state, felt a chill run down her spine.

"That thing looks like it shouldn't exist," she said quietly. "It's... wrong. That's the Obsidian Runic Spire?"

"It is," Vastarael agreed, his tone unusually somber. "But that's not what makes it interesting. It's time to learn how the Halo Islands became a frozen wasteland."