7. The Inn
Elliot and his group arrived at the inn, a welcoming sanctuary that seemed to embody the heart of the Realms of Isantanah.
The inn's architecture was grand yet inviting, its wooden beams curving gracefully upwards like the arcs of gently flowing rivers.
Intricate carvings of mythical creatures and lush patterns covered every surface, whispering the ancient stories of the Water Archon and legendary creatures said to roam the islands.
The roof was layered with vibrant green and blue thatch, blending harmoniously with the surrounding foliage.
Every detail—from the polished wooden floors to the woven mats at their feet—radiated warmth and a sense of history.
At the reception, an old woman stood, her figure adorned with tribal tattoos that seemed to coil around her arms and neck like the vines that grew along the Great Tree's roots.
Her eyes, sharp yet kind, gleamed as she observed the new arrivals.
She greeted them with a small smile, her voice as rich and smooth as river stones.
"Welcome, young ones," she said, her gaze lingering warmly over the children.
"This will be your haven tonight. We've prepared rooms, though there are quite a few of you, so I'm afraid you'll need to share."
This announcement sparked immediate chatter and laughter among the group.
A small boy with a scrunched-up face declared, "I'm not sharing with anyone who snores!" He cast a suspicious look at a friend beside him.
"Oh, please," a girl scoffed, crossing her arms. "Like anyone would want to share with you."
The group broke into laughter, and Elliot chuckled as he looked around at his companions.
Amiyan grinned back at him, his eyes dancing with the same humor.
Altan and Wuxian exchanged glances, each with their own calculations.
Altan, smirking, leaned over and pointed at Wuxian. "Don't even think about chanting in meditation all night, you monk," he teased. "You might be peaceful, but we need actual sleep."
Unfazed, Wuxian gave Altan a serene look. "Meditation is restful, you know," he replied with a mock sigh, drawing another round of laughter.
Maya, their ever-patient guide, grinned at the banter.
She had kept them safe on the journey, offering steady guidance and humor whenever tension rose. "Listen up, everyone," she called, stepping forward and raising her hands to settle the noise. "You'll all make do with the arrangements we've made".
"Think of it as an adventure." She winked, turning to the youngest among them. "And I promise—if anyone snores too loudly, just give me a holler, and I'll come in to restore peace."
A ripple of laughter followed, easing the children's worries.
Maya then began directing them to their rooms with a practiced efficiency.
After some playful protests and final arrangements, Elliot, Amiyan, Altan, and Wuxian found themselves sharing a room.
"Roshan, aren't you joining us?" asked Elliot with a grin.
Roshan's face turned bright red. "W-what are you suggesting? Why would I sleep with you?"
Wuxian looked genuinely confused. "Why not?"
Amiyan sighed and shook his head. "She's a girl, you fools."
There was a stunned silence as everyone stared at Roshan, each with a mix of surprise and disbelief.
Wuxian, appalled, was the first to break the silence. "Wait—you mean that rough brute is a girl?"
Elliot scratched his head. "Wow... that explains the long hair. I thought it was just a cultural thing, like Wuxian's long silky hair."
Altan nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm. I suppose we had a few gorilla girls back in Tangli too."
Roshan rolled her eyes, half-amused and half-annoyed. "Wow, thanks for the comparison, Altan."
Amiyan laughed. "Seriously? I'm the only one who realized? Guess I'm the only one with decent observation skills."
Elliot shrugged. "Hey, in our defense, Roshan, you've got the attitude of a warrior. And your punches hurt. Really hurt."
Wuxian added with a small grin, "Yeah, who would've thought the terrifying beast was actually a beau?"
Roshan smirked, crossing her arms. "Don't you forget that I can still knock you out flat if you get out of line."
Altan held up his hands in mock surrender. "No one doubts that."
Amiyan chuckled, nudging her playfully. "Alright, alright, enough teasing. Go on and enjoy the peace of the girls' room".
Roshan rolled her eyes but smiled as she turned to leave. "Yeah, try not to miss me too much."
As she closed the door behind her, the boys exchanged looks of shock.
"I can't believe we thought Roshan was a guys," Elliot said, shaking his head.
Wuxian shrugged, still looking bewildered. "I mean, she-", he stopped as soon as he saw the room, "Wow! this room is amazing!"
Their room was a masterpiece of Isantanah craftsmanship.
Sturdy wooden bunks draped with woven canopies lined the walls, each bed covered in colorful blankets patterned with waves and island flora.
The open windows invited a soft, ocean-scented breeze, carrying with it the sounds of gently flowing water and distant birdcalls.
They could hear the nearby canal, its water lapping gently, as well as the faint chirps of tropical birds that nested in the Great Tree's branches.
Altan quickly flung a blanket over Wuxian's head. "No stealing the covers this time, monk!"
Wuxian, predictably calm, merely adjusted the blanket over himself and started his breathing exercise.
Amiyan laughed, leaning over to whisper to Elliot, "Just wait till he falls asleep and starts chanting in his dreams."
They continued chatting and settling in, the easy camaraderie and laughter filling the room with warmth and familiarity.
Elliot felt a sense of peace among them—a feeling of belonging, despite how far they had come from their own homes.
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Meanwhile, within the heart of the Great Tree, the palace thrummed with life, a living entity echoing the strength of the Realms of Isantanah.
Quizig walked along grand corridors that shimmered with the light of bioluminescent moss and flowers, the walls seeming to breathe and pulse as sunlight filtered through the leaves high above.
The air was rich with the scent of damp earth, mingling with the salty tang of the sea and the cool, whispering waters that echoed from unseen streams deep within the tree's roots.
At last, Quizig reached the throne room, a sanctuary nestled within the massive trunk of the tree.
Here, natural wood and woven vines formed a chamber of remarkable elegance.
At its center sat the throne—a seat crafted from pearlescent shells and twisted corals, lined with delicate blue blossoms that filled the air with their soft fragrance, mingling with the age-old scent of the tree itself.
Upon the throne sat the Water Archon, Maguaien.
Draped in robes that shifted in hues of jade and deep ocean blue, Maguaien seemed ageless, an eternal spirit bound to the waters and land of Isantanah.
Her hair flowed like a river of silver, and her eyes gleamed with the wisdom of countless ages, as deep and mysterious as the ocean.
Quizig bowed low. "Your Eminence," he began, his voice steady but reverent. "The children have been rescued and are now safe within the city."
The Archon's voice was soft, resonant, like the low murmur of a hidden spring. "So it reaches my ears, Quizig. Speak to me then, of those who rose amid captivity. I hear tell of a young one, most valiant in heart."
Quizig straightened, speaking with a faint smile. "Indeed, Your Eminence. One named Elliot. He fought side-by-side with his Highness. The two of them were the fire that sparked the uprising. By the time we arrived, the slavers' control had already begun to falter."
Maguaien's eyes shone with a soft gleam, and a slight smile touched her lips. "A wondrous sight, courage, when it springs unbidden from the young. They are vessels of hope unclouded." She glanced thoughtfully into the distance, as though seeing beyond the walls of the Great Tree. "Let these brave souls come before me. Their courage must be honored, that they may know their worth."
At this, an elder minister with a long, braided beard and robes of misty grey stepped forward, holding a scroll wrapped in silk.
He bowed low, offering it to the Archon. "Your Eminence, the records are prepared. Soon, we shall begin tracing the families of each child, so they may return to their homelands. For those who have none…"
Maguaien's gaze softened, her voice wrapping around each word like the tender flow of water over stones. "They shall find their kin here, in the Realms of Isantanah. Here, they shall be among family, and this land shall be their sanctuary."
"And the perpetrators?" Quizig asked.
Her gaze went cold, laced with an unyielding authority that left no room for mercy. "As for the criminals," she began, her piercing voice sweeping over the room, "torture them until the truth spills from their lips. Find out who dares to back them." Her hands clenched tightly, the faint tremor betraying the fury simmering beneath her composed exterior.
"We shall purge this land of their filth," she added, her tone resolute and sharp. It wasn't just a command—it was a vow, heavy with the weight of her conviction.
The minister nodded, retreating with a respectful bow, and Quizig followed suit soon after.