Sofia Mystic Isles Novels & Stories

As we reached the peak, the gold and emerald light of our resonance surged through the skiff, clearing the mist for miles and revealing the islands in their raw, terrifying beauty. "You're here, Emma," Félix rasped against my skin, his forehead resting against mine. "This is the only map that matters." We made landfall on Mnemosyne, the largest of the isles. The ground wasn't soil; it was a fine, violet sand that felt like powdered glass. The trees weren't wood; they were crystalline structures that projected images of the past into the air like translucent fruit. Lyra and Caelum were entranced. They ran through the crystal groves, their tiny hands reaching out to touch the "Memory-Fruits."

After a while, the yacht came to a halt near an island, and Leonardo helped Sofia disembark. As their feet touched the sandy shore, the yacht sailed away, leaving Sofia feeling bewildered. She looked at Leonardo, seeking reassurance, and he nodded, instantly calming her fears. "But what's the name of this island?" Sofia asked, realizing that he hadn't mentioned it yet. Leonardo placed a gentle hand on her shoulders and turned her to face a direction. Sofia's eyes landed on an illuminated board, adorned with LED lights. Her jaw dropped in disbelief as she read the name written in bold capital letters: SOFIA.

" I totally forgot to tell you, I am really sorry. Its within but in city S " Sadie nodded in understanding, at least not out of America. City S is not fa from were they are which is City Y. " Okay, you can go back to your office " Mia stood up with her thinking faculty blank not knowing how else she is suppose to convince Sadie about Sofia. That lady is very dangerous. More dangerous than she looks. Mia is afraid! Afraid that she does anything she wants here, if she wants it blue, it must be blue. That's Sofia Huang!

"Moonstone Inn, 1847 Shadowbrook Lane, Mystic Valley, New Orleans." Mystic Valley. The name had sounded mysterious when her finger jabbed the map orb in frustration, searching for anywhere that wasn't home. Anywhere Marcus and Jenna wouldn't be. A tiny corner of New Orleans parish she'd never heard of, barely visible unless you zoomed in close enough to see the dust motes. Her mother's voice replays in her skull. "Ivy, sweetheart, maybe you should wait. Research this place first. You don't just fly somewhere because it has a pretty name."

“Matteo needs me for a minute. Are you good here?” “I’m fine.” Same word, same tone. I kissed the top of her head and left. Matteo waited in the foyer, he wore a black tactical jacket, his earpiece was still plugged in, and his expression grim. He didn’t waste time on greetings. “We found her,” he said. “Sofia’s on the island, she’s on Funchal marina. She arrived two days ago. We still don’t know how she got to know your location, Boss.”