The road to Di’raz had been long and dusty, winding through rolling hills and stretches of sparse woodland, but now, as the city loomed before them, Julia felt a distinct sense of unease.

  The fortress-city was nothing like anything she’d seen before. The walls were thick, massive slabs of stone reinforced with layers of brick and mortar, towering over the surrounding land like the ribs of some great beast. Age and war had left their mark— scorch marks from past sieges, patches where the stone had been replaced, deep grooves worn into the gates by centuries of heavy use. And yet, despite its scars, Di’raz stood unbroken, an unyielding bastion against the world beyond.

  Buildings had been carved directly into the walls, windowed facades and precarious balconies jutting out from the stone, giving the impression of a city half-swallowed by its own defenses. It was as if Di’raz had been built not for the comfort of its people, but for war— for siege, for endurance, for survival.

  The main gate was a gaping maw, flanked by guards in dark blue cloaks. Their armor was polished but practical, their hands resting easily on their weapons as they watched travelers pass beneath the archway. They did not stop anyone, but their gaze was sharp, assessing.

  Melissa whistled low. “Well. That’s not ominous at all.”

  Julia exhaled, adjusting the strap of her pack. The weight of the journey still clung to her shoulders, but it was nothing compared to the heavy sense of something unseen pressing at the back of her mind. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  They left Lylia at the temple orphanage, a tall, spired structure made of pale sandstone. Its arched windows cast colorful light in the halls, and the air inside smelled of incense and old parchment. Beeswax candles and sun-warmed stone. The priestesses there took the child without question, their expressions kind but tired, their movements practiced.

  Lylia, to her credit, didn’t cry or cling. She simply watched as they left, her woven doll clutched tightly in her small hands.

  Orri lingered at the door, staring at her small form as she was gently led away by one of the priestesses. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should.

  Julia nudged him lightly. “She’ll be safe here.”

  Orri exhaled. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

  Melissa, uncharacteristically quiet, didn’t look back as they walked away.

  Tevon, Rupert, and Alina split off toward the barracks, disappearing into the military district where the city’s soldiers were housed. The stone streets there were broader, more uniform, lined with training grounds and armories. The rhythmic clash of steel and the barked commands of drill sergeants carried through the air, adding to the ever-present hum of the city.

  Orri left soon after, heading for the Bard’s College, nestled deeper in the city near the artisan quarter. There, the streets grew narrower, twisting and uneven, the scent of ink and wood polish mixing with the faint, warm tones of music drifting from upper windows.

  That just left Melissa and Julia, standing in the bustling street, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and voices.

  “So,” Melissa said, stretching, her joints popping. “Now what?”

  Julia sighed, glancing around at the shifting crowd. Merchants shouted over one another, carts creaked beneath heavy loads, and somewhere nearby, a dog barked sharply. The city felt alive in a way that was different from Ismay’s Landing— busier, rougher, edged with a tension that lingered beneath the surface.

  “We find somewhere to sleep,” Julia muttered, already dreading the task.

  Melissa smirked. “Seedy tavern it is.”

  They found exactly what they were looking for in a dark, narrow street near the lower market— a run-down inn wedged between a blacksmith’s shop and what Julia was pretty sure was an illegal gambling den. The building sagged slightly against its neighbors, as if it had long since given up fighting the weight of the city pressing in around it.

  The sign above the door was too faded to read, its paint peeling away in long, curling strips. The hinges groaned in protest as Melissa pushed open the door, revealing a dimly lit common room that smelled of ale, sweat, and bad decisions. The floor was sticky in places, the wooden beams overhead warped with age and moisture. A few patrons looked up as they entered— rough men in battered cloaks, a pair of women in mismatched armor, a hunched figure nursing a drink in the corner— but no one paid them much attention beyond that.

  Melissa looked delighted.

  Julia pinched the bridge of her nose. “I hate this already.”

  Melissa grinned. “It’s perfect.”

  The innkeeper, a wiry man with sharp edges and a permanent frown, barely glanced at them as they paid for a room. The key was rusted, the stairs uneven, and the hallway upstairs reeked faintly of mildew. Their room was small, cramped, and just damp enough to be unpleasant. The bed— because there was only one— creaked alarmingly when they sat down, and the single window was so coated in grime that it let only the faintest hint of moonlight.

  But the door locked. The bed had a mattress. And after the last few days on the road, after everything, that was enough.

  Melissa flopped onto the bed with a sigh. “Luxury.”

  Julia snorted and sat, leaning back against the rickety headboard. It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t safe.

  It was going to be a long night.

  The room smelled like sweat and stale ale, and the mattress beneath Julia was barely better than sleeping on a wooden plank, but at least it was quiet.

  Outside, rain had started, tapping steadily against the roof, a steady rhythm that might have been soothing if Julia weren’t already half-awake, waiting for something to go wrong.

  Melissa, of course, was snoring.

  Julia shifted, trying to get comfortable, pulling the thin blanket higher around her shoulders. The air was damp, the kind of thick, clinging humidity that made it impossible to feel fully rested.

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  Then— a groan of wood above them.

  Julia’s eyes snapped open. “Mel—“

  The ceiling collapsed.

  A chunk of rotted wood broke loose overhead, sending dust, splinters, and several large, very alive creatures crashing down directly onto their bed.

  Julia barely had time to register the weight landing on her chest before she was moving, shoving the blanket aside and flinging herself sideways as something hissed near her hear.

  Melissa yelled, flailing in the tangled sheets and panicked limbs. “What the fuck?!”

  Scorpions.

  Four of them.

  Each the size of a small cat, their hard black shells glistening, stingers raised and clicking angrily as they skittered over the ruined bed.

  And, of course, tangled in the mess of broken ceiling boards and rainwater— Gorgoloth Bigovars.

  “Gorgoloth!” Melissa exclaimed, grabbing the massive spider and pulling him close. “You’re okay!”

  “Melissa, priorities!” Julia kicked a scorpion off the bed, narrowly avoiding a stab of its venomous tail.

  Melissa had already drawn her dagger, swinging at one of the scorpions with enthusiasm. “I’m handling it!”

  “You’re cuddling the spider!”

  “Gorgoloth is innocent in this!”

  Julia dodged another scorpion, grabbing the half-broken wooden chair from the corner of the room and slamming it down onto the nearest creature. The legs splintered, but the scorpion stopped moving, its body curling in on itself.

  Melissa, meanwhile, had stabbed two of them, her dagger flashing in the dim lantern light. One twitched, legs spasming before it stilled.

  The last scorpion lunged, its stinger aiming for Melissa’s arm—

  Gorgoloth moved first.

  The giant spider pounced, sinking its fangs into the scorpion’s head.

  The scorpion let out a hideous screech, legs thrashing wildly before finally collapsing into a motionless heap.

  Melissa beamed, stroking Gorgoloth’s back. “That’s my boy.”

  Julia breathed heavily, surveying the wreckage that had once been their room. The bed was ruined. The ceiling had a gaping hole. Water dripped steadily onto the soaked mattress, ruined blankets, and several dead scorpions.

  Melissa flopped back onto the one remaining dry spot on the mattress, completely unfazed. “So much for getting a good night’s sleep,” she said woefully.

  Julia dragged a hand down her face, exhaling through her nose. “Do you think the innkeeper takes complaints?”

  Melissa patted Gorgoloth’s fuzzy head. He perched on her stomach like a cat. “We’re bonding. This is a bonding experience.”

  “Oh, fuck you.”

  Morning in Di’raz was loud. The city had a pulse, a constant thrum of voices, footsteps, and distant hammering, all woven together in the chaos of a new day. The air was still damp from last night’s storm, but the streets were alive— merchants calling out their wares, the scent of spiced bread and roasting meat drifting from street vendors.

  Julia and Melissa were exhausted.

  “I hate everything,” Melissa grumbled, rubbing at her bleary eyes.

  “You were the one who wanted to stay at that tavern,” Julia muttered, adjusting the strap of her pack.

  “You agreed!” Melissa shot back. “Besides, if you think about it, it was an experience to remember.”

  Julia stared at her. “We got attacked by scorpions in the middle of the night, Melissa. In bed. I don’t want to remember any of that.”

  Melissa huffed, crossing her arms. “I want breakfast.”

  They were making their way through the market, sluggish and sore, resupplying after the disaster that was their night. Food, medical supplies, an extra blanket— no sketchy taverns anymore, only responsible choices.

  Then they’d heard the yelling.

  They had rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into a group of children— older boys, laughing and jeering, hurling rocks at something— or someone— against the alley wall.

  Then Julia saw who it was.

  “Lylia?”

  The little girl was hunched in on herself, clutching her woven doll with white-knuckled fingers, her thin frame caked in dust. One of the boys shoved her, knocking her to the ground.

  Melissa moved first. “Hey!”

  The bullies turned, eyes wide as they realized they’d been caught.

  “Walk away,” Julia warned, stepping up beside Melissa, voice low and cold. “Now.”

  One of the older boys— maybe fourteen, smug, mean— scoffed. “Or what?”

  Melissa’s grip on her dagger twitched. “You don’t want to find out.”

  The boy smirked. “What, you’re gonna fight a bunch of kids?”

  “If they act like dickheads? Yeah.”

  Julia, trying to be reasonable, took a deep breath. “Look. Just go home. No one needs to get hurt.”

  That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Because the boy— too fast, too cocky, too fucking stupid— pulled a knife.

  And then stabbed Melissa.

  “Oh, you little shit—“ The knife wasn’t deep, but it hurt, and Melissa, in pure reflex, punched the kid in the face so hard he dropped like a sack of bricks.

  Chaos erupted.

  Another boy swung at Julia— she dodged, caught his wrist, twisted— he yelped and dropped his rock.

  Melissa, still bleeding, grabbed another by the scruff of his shirt and threw him bodily into the mud.

  The remaining boys took one look at their fallen leader, at Melissa’s drawn dagger, Julia’s cold glare, and bolted.

  Melissa clutched her side, breathing heavily. “I just got stabbed by a toddler.”

  “Not a toddler,” Julia corrected. “A street rat with a knife.”

  “Same thing.”

  “You should sit down.”

  “I should punt that kid into the fucking sun.”

  “Priorities,” Julia sighed, turning to Lylia. The girl had not moved— still standing rigid, her doll clutched tightly, eyes wide with something unreadable. “Lylia,” Julia said gently. “Why did you run away?”

  The little girl hesitated. Then, barely a whisper— “Looking for Baba.”

  Melissa sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “Lord preserve us.”

  They returned to the temple orphanage, Lylia silent the whole way. She stared at Gorgoloth on Melissa’s back, grinning when he chittered at her.

  The priestess weren’t surprised— they had already been looking for her— but their faces were weary. “She keeps running,” one of them admitted. “We’ll watch her more carefully this time.”

  Melissa, still bleeding, was patched up quickly— small wound, clean cut, nothing too serious— but Julia could tell she was milking it for sympathy.

  “He got a lucky shot,” Melissa muttered dramatically as the priest wrapped the bandage. “It happens.”

  Julia rolled her eyes. “You got stabbed by a child.”

  “A feral child.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Could’ve died, Julia.”

  “I bet."

  By the time they left the temple, exhaustion had caught up with them. Melissa dragged her feet, pressing a hand to her side. “I need alcohol and a bed.”

  “No more shitty inns,” Julia warned. “We’re staying somewhere decent.”

  Melissa groaned. “That’s fair.”

  They found The Gilded Kipper, a clean, respectable-looking inn with actual furniture and ceilings that, presumably, didn’t collapse onto guests.

  Melissa dropped onto the bed immediately, groaning dramatically. “Wake me up when the world stops trying to kill me.”

  Julia sighed, pulling off her boots. “Sleep. You need it.”

  Melissa grunted in response. For the first time since arriving in Di’raz, she actually felt safe.

  Finally.

  The Lost Isle constantly and I am so, so flattered to see people reading it! I've been working on this story since I was nine years old and even got my one and only tattoo in honor of it. It's a story that grew up with me and changed me for the better, and it sends me over the moon with joy to know that others are able to enjoy it! I'm still very new to Royal Road and don't fully understand it, but please feel free to leave a comment- I'm here, I'm paying attention, and I'd love to know what you think!