stories as nothing more than words to scare children, but today I found one of those stories to be true: the Isle of Mists.

The mists concentrated themselves together in one spot on the horizon and then, as if breaking under pressure, erupted in an eerily silent, outward explosion. The great white light that followed was so intense that I had to avert my eyes. When I opened them once again, I saw to my amazement that the mists had thinned out to a much less dense covering, though still thick by normal standards, hovering about what was, without question, a small and previously undetectable island. I was so astounded that I could not tear my eyes from the mysterious isle as the ferry began moving closer through the waters.

Despite all the legends built up about the island and its inhabitants, the druids of the Isle of Mist are a very simple people. Their small village consists of a few modest homes surrounding a central fire pit a short walk from the shore. The homes themselves are actually built into the trunks of large oak trees, the doorways often nestled between larger roots that both flank the entrance and serve as a front porch. I learned from one of the druids that oak trees are sacred to the druids of the isle; they believe that living in the oaks brings them closer to Mother Nature, whom they worship and revere above all else. To the east of the village is a peculiar circle of stone structures that seems to have been there since the time of the Ancient Ones. This sacred circle is a ceremonial ground, where the druids will often congregate as a community, as well as being the place where they perform their most important rituals. King Alexander, it seems, has some experience with the profound power of this place, as I could not help but notice that he seemed wary of the circle and stepping inside it. I asked our king the reason for this, but a murmur about “fire and rain” was the only answer. Were the druids always as friendly towards our king as they seem to be now?

The meeting itself was to discuss the opening of the Isle of Mist to the rest of the kingdom as well as whatever other visitors come to the Green Isles' shores who are of a friendly disposition. King Alexander deliberated with the Arch Druid, the leader of the druids, and the ferryman for a few hours about the addition of the Isle of Mist to the regular ferry route that goes around the kingdom weekly (for the new schedule, see the Travel section of The Four Winds, or inquire at the ferry office on the Isle of the Crown, or with Captain Hassan directly at any of the official docks during his routes). There was also discussion of revising the current, and apparently hidden, trade routes for supplies going in and out of the Isle of Mist, among other mundane matters pertaining the opening of the Isle. During these deliberations, I was allowed to explore certain portions of the island.

Though the Druids are a very humble, they are also a very xenophobic people. The Isle of Mists has reportedly existed since the creation of the kingdom itself, its existence acknowledged in a secret section of the Green Isles charter. The Druids decided to live a secretive life away from the other islands such that, in their words, they would not be “tainted by the ideas of others and so that we might become closer to the spirit of Mother Nature.” This reclusive outlook of their religion caused the druids to continue to favor secrecy over openness, and the Crown has agreed throughout the years to not betray their wishes to remain undisturbed, so long as their loyalty was true.

One druid was quick to state to me the situation as it exists now. “We still want nothing to do with you,” he told me flatly. “Just because we have revealed our island, it does not mean we will tolerate your presence here! Our secrets are our own and that is just the way they will stay!” Apparently, not every druid is happy about this new policy of opening their borders to the rest of civilization.

As interesting a place the Isle of Mist is, I cannot be certain it lives up to the myths and legends we’ve all heard. Though lovely and emanating a sense of peace I’ve seldom personally experienced, and with some mysteries yet remaining to it—there were parts of the island I was strongly advised to not investigate, and I was given only vaguely-worded, but chilling, warnings when I inquired as to why—it was not the fantastical place I’d heard of as a child, full of awesome displays of magic, trees that will devour trespassers, animals that spoke, and so forth. The druids are simple, and I cannot say I saw any particularly impressive magic while I was on its shores. Indeed, I cannot say I saw any magic being used.

However, should the borders be opened to one and all, it will gives the rest of the Green Islanders a unique chance to learn more about this reclusive nature-worshipping culture that is as important a part of our kingdom as any other of the Isles. So far, while the Isle has been added to the trade routes, the druids are not yet willing or perhaps not yet ready to allow visitors to come freely to their home. Or maybe they believe it is we who are not ready?  The men and women of the druids are the true mystery, make no mistake, and I believe it shall be some time yet before we know all of their secrets, if indeed we ever reach that point.

       

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