Chapter 30

The following day, Mel, Bimoth, and Rue found themselves seated cross-legged on the polished, dark oak floor of Rue's room. The soft, ambient glow from neon lights tracing the edges of the ceiling cast an atmospheric hue, reflecting off posters and futuristic landscapes that adorned her walls. Rue's room, a blend of edgy decor and sleek tech, seemed to hum with anticipation, setting the perfect scene for the band practice to come.

In front of them, Piper, Leo, and Tomas stood in a staggered line, each wielding their chosen instrument with a look of determined excitement. Piper held an electric guitar, its body a deep crimson with a metallic shimmer that caught the light as he adjusted the strap over his shoulder. His fingers twitched with energy, occasionally strumming muted chords as if he couldn't wait to begin.

Beside him, Leo positioned himself behind a compact drum set that seemed custom-fit for Rue's room. The drums were sleek and black, rimmed with silver hardware that gleamed under the lights. He rolled his drumsticks along his knuckles, tapping out a quick rhythm to test the feel, his eyes focused and intense.

Tomas, standing at the forefront, clutched a microphone in one hand. His other hand rested on his hip as he scanned the room with a subtle confidence, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he adjusted his stance, preparing to bring the lyrics to life. His voice had an edge to it, a gravelly undertone that promised something raw and unfiltered.

"Ahhh!" Tomas shouted, his voice echoing through the room with a burst of raw energy. "People of Ironclad Isle! Prepare to be amazed!" His enthusiasm filled the air, and he held the mic high, as if rallying a packed arena.

But then, to everyone's surprise, Piper's fingers fell onto the guitar strings, weaving a slow, somber melody that was unexpectedly melancholic. Leo, catching the cue, tapped his drumsticks lightly, settling into a soft, almost mournful beat that filled the room with a bittersweet rhythm.

"Oh," Mel murmured, caught off guard by the unexpected shift in tone. He exchanged a curious glance with Bimoth, who shrugged, equally bewildered.

Then, Tomas launched into the vocals—a heartfelt, forlorn love song, but it quickly became clear that his voice wasn't quite matching the emotion. Each note was slightly off-key, straining awkwardly in an attempt to sound soulful. The mismatched tones and wavering pitch turned the ballad into something unintentionally comedic, as Tomas closed his eyes, singing with a dramatic intensity that didn't quite land.

Rue stifled a laugh, covering her mouth as Tomas continued, utterly absorbed in his performance, oblivious to the mix of amusement and bewilderment filling the room.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, guys!" Mel said, floating up from the floor and approaching the trio.

Tomas looked at him, a bit confused but open to feedback. "Suggestions?"

Mel raised an eyebrow. "You're trying to hype up the Ironclad Isles, right? This somber ballad's just not the vibe. If you're performing for the Isles, you need something wilder, something that'll shake the place up!" He walked over to Piper, who handed him her guitar with a shrug. Mel took it, moving confidently to the mic.

As he began tuning the strings, he glanced back at them with a small grin. "Picked up a thing or two from a man back in Caldara," he said, strumming a chord that resonated with a powerful, electric energy.

Then, clearing his throat, he leaned into the mic and belted out a rhythmic, raw scream. "AHHHHH AHHHHH!" His voice filled the room with a fierce energy, and without missing a beat, he launched into a fast, intricate tune that was as wild as it was captivating.

The lyrics he started to sing didn't exactly make much sense, but there was something infectious in his voice and rhythm. The melody was bold, unpredictable, and just plain fun, catching everyone's attention and filling the room with an unstoppable energy. Piper, Leo, and Tomas looked at each other, nodding along, realizing that this was exactly the kind of performance they'd been looking for.

As Mel flipped his hair, his fingers flying across the guitar strings with fierce energy, he leaned into the mic, his voice carrying a defiant edge. He sang:

"I'm not a shadow, not some worn-out name—!" Mel belted out, guitar in hand, voice booming. But before he could launch into the next line, he felt his feet lift off the ground.

Suddenly, he was hoisted onto their shoulders, the others cheering wildly as they chanted in unison, "Join our band! Join our band!"

"Your band?" Mel asked, adjusting his grip on Tomas's shoulder to steady himself, a bit taken aback. "Wait—is that like a group of… music people?"

Tomas laughed, giving him a supportive grin. "Exactly! And with that energy, you're a natural!" 

"Where did you learn to sing like that?!" Rue asked, her eyes wide with admiration.

Mel shrugged, catching his breath from the intense singing. "I don't know… Once I started playing the guitar, it's like everything just came pouring out."

"That's totally normal in music," Piper said, looking at him with awe. "Were you just making that up on the spot? That was incredible!"

Leo clasped his hands in a plea. "Please, Mel, join our band!"

Mel scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "Hmm… This all feels a little sudden. Aren't you supposed to propose on one knee for something like this?" he asked, sounding genuinely serious.

Rue sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "It's not a marriage proposal, Mel—just an invitation to join the band!" she muttered, half exasperated, half amused. "Honestly," she thought, "he acts so strangely around new people. Is this some kind of wizard social anxiety, or just Mel being Mel?"

"Alright, I'm in," Mel said with a grin, and the room erupted in cheers.

In the Ironclad Isles, the cheers were carried away by the sea breeze and mingled with the clang of metal and distant roars of ocean waves crashing against the rugged cliffs. The Isles were a sprawling chain of dark, rocky islands, each one marked by towering, fortress-like structures that seemed to rise out of the stone itself. The buildings, forged from iron and stone, gleamed under the overcast sky, their edges sharpened and unyielding, much like the people who called this place home.

From every direction, faint sounds of industry could be heard—hammers striking anvils, gears grinding, and fires crackling in smithing forges. The air was thick with the scent of salt and the tang of iron, a testament to the islands' fierce and resilient nature. Along the coast, massive ships with reinforced hulls bobbed in the harbors, their sails and flags bearing symbols of strength and survival.

The Ironclad Isles weren't known for their warmth, yet they had their own kind of beauty: a hard, weathered charm born of endurance and grit.

It was nighttime on the island of Hissing Haven, a shadowed stronghold within the Ironclad Isles. A towering, ancient castle loomed over the empty streets, its stone walls groaning as if the weight of centuries pressed down on them. Beneath the dim, flickering street lights, all was still, and the island's residents slumbered behind tightly shut windows and doors.

A faint creak echoed through the night as the castle's heavy doors parted. Out stepped a striking figure: a middle-aged woman draped in a flowing black robe, her silhouette cutting a commanding form against the misty night. She had a curvaceous build and long, dark hair that tumbled down her back, framing a face marked by a lifetime of cunning and mystery. This was Baba Yaga, Merlin's once-formidable trainer and mentor.

She paused, letting the cool night air sweep over her as she lit a cigarette. Taking a deep drag, she exhaled a trail of smoke that curled up toward the castle's towering turrets.

"Where are those damn kids?" she muttered, her voice low and edged with impatience as she scanned the empty streets with a keen, searching gaze. 

In Solstice City, Mel was deep in vocal practice. "Mah, mah, maaaaah!" he sang, before coughing and clearing his throat with a determined shake of his head. Across the room, Rue groaned and pressed a pillow over her ears, finally sitting up with a bleary expression.

"Mel, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Mel turned, unbothered, and replied with utter seriousness, "The performance is in a couple of days. I have to get ready!"

Rue sighed, raising an eyebrow. "Pretty sure half the city can hear you getting ready," she muttered.

"I can't stand loud noises. Maybe you should skip the performance," came a muffled voice from beneath Rue's bed. Emerging from under it was Bimoth, who stood and casually dusted himself off.

Rue let out a tired sigh, rubbing her temples. "Did you really sleep under the bed?"

Bimoth straightened up with all the dignity he could muster. "I was given direct orders to guard your body. Can't afford to slack." He then narrowed his eyes at Mel. "Though I still don't get what he's doing here."

Mel raised a finger, clearing his throat. "I was invited to sleep here, if you must know. And anyway, my eyes hurt from all that water in Atlantis." 

A soft chime sounded from the screen on the wall. Rue glanced over and perked up. "Oh, Mel, it's Elowen calling!" She tapped to answer the call.

Mel scrambled to his feet, practically launching himself toward the screen. "ELOWEN, CAN YOU HEAR ME?" he shouted, his face only inches away from the screen, like an overexcited kid.

Elowen's laughter came through, her smile bright. "Yes, Mel, I can hear you," she assured him, amused. The camera panned to reveal her standing on a majestic, mist-shrouded peak. "Check this out! I'm on Caerleon Mountain—breathtaking, isn't it?" She sighed, taking in the sweeping view. "How's everything going in Auroria Dominion? I heard you got into a scuffle with that giant, Bimoth. When I get my hands on—"

"Greetings." Bimoth smoothly stepped into view and gave a respectful bow toward the camera.

"King Bimoth!" Elowen exclaimed, her face lighting up with genuine excitement before she quickly composed herself, clearing her throat. "Ahem… I mean, what brings you here?" she asked, doing her best to sound formal.

Bimoth gave a respectful nod. "I'm here on assignment, protecting Princess Rue."

"Yep! And soon we're headed to the Ironclad Isles for a music festival!" Mel chimed in, his excitement evident. "And guess what? I'm the lead singer!"

Elowen's eyes lit up with surprise. "That's incredible, Mel! You're going to rock it!" She glanced over her shoulder and sighed. "Oh—looks like Aunt Abigail's insisting I go cave diving with her. Gotta run! Bye!" With a quick wave, she disconnected.

Mel sighed, a soft smile spreading across his face. "It's been a while since I've heard her voice," he murmured, a hint of warmth in his tone. "Dorian, though—he never calls. Wonder why that is."

With a sigh, Mel leaned back, then bounced up to settle comfortably on Rue's bed. "We have approximately nineteen hundred hours until we head to Ironclad," he declared, stretching out his arms with a lazy yawn. "I should probably rehearse with the band."

Rue chuckled, ruffling his hair. "You know, the festival's in five days, right? That math doesn't quite add up. Also, shouldn't you rest a bit? Your vocal cords are delicate; you don't want to strain them."

Mel nodded thoughtfully, processing Rue's advice. "Good point. I'll stick to guitar for now and give my voice a break." Glancing at the time, he realized, "Oh, it's five already. I'm supposed to meet them at the Mirrored Basin—a lake here in Solstice City that's supposed to be perfect for band practice." He stretched, cracking his shoulder, and pointed two fingers from his eyes to Bimoth's. "Don't tell him about weapons #1-5," he said with a smirk. Then, as light as a cloud, he drifted out the window.

As he left, Bimoth glowered, crossing his arms as he turned to Rue. "Can't believe you're actually going to that place with him."

Rue raised an eyebrow, her mouth quirking in a grin. "Where's this coming from?" she asked, amused.

Bimoth's expression darkened, his voice carrying a note of irritation. "I'm serious. I should be the one here. I never used to be in your room, but we were best friends."

Rue's smile dropped, her eyes widening as his words struck a nerve. "Are you seriously playing that card?" she fired back, her voice sharp. "You left! You ran off to fight the King of Slesan, to become ruler, and left all of us behind. Even Mel's a king, but he still makes time for his friends. What's your excuse?" Her voice trembled, laced with hurt and frustration.

Bimoth's gaze hardened. "My excuse? I was protecting you, Rue—something he clearly couldn't do, which is why you're in that wheelchair," he shot back, pointing at her.

Rue's fists clenched around her sheets. "Mel's saved my life more than once, and he even fought you to make things right. Attacking him with a spear the first time you saw him wasn't 'protecting me.'" She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Maybe you should just go, Bimoth. You haven't been yourself lately."

With a hard glare, Bimoth turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Left alone, Rue buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. "I'm so tired of being the damsel in distress," she whispered, her voice barely more than a choked sniffle.

In the Mirrored Basin, the lake stretched like a vast, glassy mirror under the evening sky, its surface so calm it perfectly reflected the heavens above. Stars began to dot the twilight, casting a silvery shimmer over the water. Encircling the lake were towering trees with branches that draped like a natural canopy, their leaves a mix of emerald and sapphire hues that deepened as the night fell.

Flickering fireflies drifted in lazy circles, their soft golden glow illuminating the reeds along the lake's edge. The water was so clear that, near the shore, smooth, rounded stones and clusters of delicate lilies could be seen resting beneath the surface, adding texture to the lake's tranquil beauty. The air held a crisp, earthy scent mixed with a hint of pine, and a gentle breeze stirred the surface just enough to send ripples across the water, distorting the mirrored stars with a serene, mesmerizing motion.

"Five, six, seven, eight!" Mel's voice rang out with a spark of excitement, and with his cue, he, Piper, Tomas, and Leo launched into a burst of high-energy rock. Mel's fingers moved with precision and intensity over the guitar strings, each strum building up a fierce, electrifying rhythm. Piper's fingers flew across her own guitar, matching Mel's intensity, while Tomas belted out the vocals with raw passion. Leo's drumsticks blurred as they hit the drums in perfect sync, each beat filling the air with thunderous power that echoed around them.

Together, their sound rose into a thrilling harmony of energy and skill, filling the lake's surroundings with an unforgettable pulse of music.

"I think we sound amazing!" Mel grinned, practically glowing with excitement as they finished the last chord.

Piper laughed, her smile matching his energy. "Yeah, we're definitely ready for Ironclad!" She exchanged a knowing look with Leo, who spun his drumsticks with a sly nod.

"Hey, Mel," Leo called out, a casual smile on his face. "There's this pond nearby that's supposed to soothe your throat. You should go grab us some of that water—might help keep our voices in top shape for the performance."

Mel wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, catching his breath. "Sure thing!" He gave them a thumbs-up, then floated off in the direction of the forest, humming to himself.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Tomas let out a low whistle. "Man, that guy's relentless. He knows he's good at everything, and it's like he doesn't even try. 'Just learned it from a guy in Caldara'—yeah, right." He flopped onto the grass, an exasperated smile on his face. "Not gonna lie, I thought he'd figure it out when King Bimoth dropped that we were just using him for his fame."

Piper rolled her eyes but chuckled. "It'll be worth it when we cash in that fifty-thousand knightdollar prize. He's our golden ticket; we just gotta keep him hooked until then."

"Yeah," Tomas agreed, stretching out with a sigh. "All part of the plan."

On the island of Hissing Haven, preparations for the upcoming music festival buzzed with life. Strings of glowing lanterns hung from trees, casting a warm, flickering light over the main square, where a mix of vendors and performers bustled around. The scent of grilled meats and exotic spices drifted through the air as food stalls were assembled, while nearby, artisans arranged their handcrafted jewelry, masks, and painted fabrics on colorful, woven blankets.

At the center of it all stood a massive, intricately carved stage with twisting designs of serpents and vines, a nod to the island's infamous reptilian reputation. Teams of stagehands hurried back and forth, unrolling thick cables and positioning massive speakers that would soon blast music across the island. Musicians tuned their instruments under torchlight, their silhouettes blending into the growing festival scene.

Locals gathered in clusters, talking excitedly about the event. Children darted between the stalls, giggling as they peeked at the array of vibrant decorations. As the evening sky deepened into hues of purple and indigo, the glow of the lanterns and bonfires transformed the scene into a dreamy, enchanted wonderland, promising a night that would linger in memories for years to come.

The Hissing Haven was alive, and every soul on the island could feel the anticipation thrumming in the air, eager for the music that would soon take over.

"Is everything in order?" barked a burly, square-jawed man, scrutinizing a clipboard with a frown etched into his hardened face. This was Varek Ironbound, a man of few words and strong lineage—a direct descendant of the notorious wizard hunters of old, infamous for their ruthless pursuit of magic-wielders. The Ironbound family name struck fear into wizards across the Ironclad Isles, and he had once nearly bested Merlin Shadowbane himself. Varek's eyes held a steely glint, but beneath that, a restless hunger for the power and control his family had sought for generations.

"Yes, sir! Everything's coming along perfectly for the festival," replied a smaller, wiry man, shifting nervously before beckoning Varek. "But, uh… I think there's something you'll want to see."

Intrigued, Varek followed him to a shadowy corner of the setup grounds, where an imposing iron cage sat under guard. "Well? Open it," Varek ordered, his voice low and commanding. The smaller man eagerly unlocked the cage, revealing three teens seated casually inside, appearing almost bored by their confinement. Sera, Lumi, and Caius—Baba Yaga's adoptive children, —unknown to anyone—regarded him with unimpressed eyes.

"Who are they?" Varek demanded, his gaze narrowing as he took in the young faces.

"Check this out," the smaller man replied, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. "They're wizards, sir."

Varek's stern expression cracked, his eyes widening in shock and something that could almost be called exhilaration. "Are you certain?" he asked, the weight of his family's history bearing down on his words.

"I know your family's legacy of wizard hunting. I know how Merlin's escape haunted you. But these kids—well, they might just be the key to clearing out any rogue wizards that still plague the Isles. With them, you could finish what the Ironbounds started—"

He was abruptly cut off by Sera, who rolled her eyes and sneered, "Can we get something to eat around here, or what?" Next to her, Lumi spat on the ground with a cold smirk, and the saliva crystallized instantly, shattering into a spray of ice shards upon impact. 

They brushed off the teens' request for food, dismissing their complaints with a wave. The smaller man, however, couldn't contain his excitement, practically bouncing as he held up a slim data tablet. "But here's the real prize," he said, thrusting the device toward Varek with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

"What am I looking at?" Varek grumbled, his interest wavering until the smaller man tapped on a section labeled Performer Registry. "Take a look at this name," he whispered, tapping to highlight a particular entry.

Varek's eyes scanned the list, his expression flat until he read a name that stopped him cold: Melanthius Shadowbane. His brow furrowed, and then his eyes widened, that glint of ambition sparking once more as he realized the opportunity before him. Merlin Shadowbane's legacy—right in his grasp.

"This is…perfect," he murmured, a cruel smile curving at the corner of his mouth. "the son of Merlin, here of all places, performing in my territory."

The smaller man leaned in eagerly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "If this Melanthius is anything like his father, he's bound to draw attention, maybe even an audience of powerful wizards. Imagine the effect on our festival, the way we could control the narrative."

Varek's smile grew colder as he clutched the tablet tightly. "Indeed. If we play this right, the Shadowbane name will be just as cursed in death as it was feared in life. I heard how he defeated four of the abyssal wardens so this'll be fun."

In the distance, the festival setup continued, with bustling vendors, raised platforms, and thrumming anticipation. The Hissing Haven was coming alive, oblivious to the dark intentions being set into motion by Varek Ironbound.