Rowan and his friends travelled non-stop for two days. Isabella's horse was left at an inn in a town close to Bellhaven.
The animal had flared its nostrils at the male when he had grabbed its bridle to guide it while Lorcan carried the unconscious girl.
"I know" Rowan had told the animal -which he had no idea if Isabella had even given it a name-, trying to relax the horse by massaging its neck and muzzle. "I know very well you prefer her presence, rather than ours, but behave until we are back"
The male didn't know if the horse preferred Isabella just because she fed it and shamelessly spoiled it, or if just because of the animal's personality.
Maybe both.
During their journey, they didn't stop to eat or rest. Fae were fast, and the group of four males was adept. Exemplary. Stupendous. They were faster, stronger, and more powerful than the ordinary folk. That had been why they had claimed such high ranks in their military. Because their superiority was undeniable, and their wits and willingness to leave everything on a fight utterly scintillating.
So they ignored their bodies' demands, and instead focused solemnly on the most important task: getting Isabella to Kilax.
They succeeded.
And in record time. A fact to which Lorcan was unbearably pleased with.
They found the ancient healer's residence due to the fact that they had known him before. The male was almost as old as time -though his appearance had frozen in youth, like most immortals did- and could will magic unknown to most creatures who wandered the earth.
Rowan had met the healer, by pure luck, almost two centuries ago, when he had been struck by a poisonous arrow and abandoned to die by his cowardly fellow soldiers. Kilax had found him almost dead, lying on the grass stained with his blood and those who had bled and left their lives behind before Rowan.
Miraculously -and still unexplainable- the old male had surveyed Rowan's condition, and decided to help him. He'd taken him to his house, and healed him. And when Rowan had awoken from his close call to death uninjured, the male'd presented himself.
"My name is Kilax" He had offered, his voice gruff, as if he didn't use it often. "You should rest, Prince Rowan, even if your body is not bleeding anymore, it still needs to acclimate"
Rowan hadn't spoken his name, but the male had known it, anyway. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised by that fact, since he was one of the five members of the royal family in line to the throne of one of the most powerful kingdoms in their world, but Rowan's lips had parted in astonishment, regardless.
Shortly after that, Kilax had introduced himself entirely to him -or as much as the male tended to- and notified him that if he ever needed his assistance, he would be willing to help.
So he had asked him why, for Rowan was still wary of the strange male, but the healer had left his question unanswered. Instead, his eyes had hinted a glow -of mystical, powerful magic that stirred something primal in Rowan: fear. And respect- and his had merely said, "You will need me in the future. And I shall welcome you in my home, when that happens. My existence is unknown to most beings, but now that you know me, your magic will remember me. That will guide you back to me when the time comes. Do not disturb me before that"
And that had been that. Rowan hadn't seen the healer since that only time, but had shared his experience with his trusted friends, for he had often wondered if they had encountered the timeless male, too.
None of them had even heard of his name before Rowan had mentioned it. But they all knew that he was the only option they had of saving Isabella, for the poison in the arrow shot at Rowan centuries ago should have killed him. It was incurable. Neither Fae, or Witches, could have healed him from the venom that had burned in his veins.
But Kilax had.
So it was doubtless that they needed him, and Rowan was sure that this was the time the healer had mentioned in the past.
Once they arrived, the door to the small cottage surrounded by wildflowers quietly swung open, and the male merely inclined his head in recognition before allowing them all to step inside.
Lorcan left Isabella on a double-sized bed with four wooden posters -where Kilax had gestured off him to take her- and then stepped onto the kitchen where Gavriel and Fenrys were already waiting.
Rowan remained by her side, however.
The healer placed his dark-skinned hands on her neck to examine the wound, and Rowan had to physically refrain himself from tearing the male apart for daring to touch her.
Kilax glanced sideways at him, the only sign that he had noticed the buzzing tension on him, but remained silent. The palm of his big hands glowed faintly, the color not white, nor grey. But ashen. His magic sent a foreign wave of power and energy so intense that Rowan took an involuntary step back.
His power bounced against the yellow wallpapered walls, against the small rectangular window, against the low wooden ceiling, against the carpeted floor, and against Isabella. The potency of his magic felt both cold and warm, new and old, unknown and seen; it was like a claw against Rowan's own magic, as if daring it to wake up and fight but also dominating it and ordering it to stay back.
Rowan ignored the feeling, for he knew that it was a primal instinct of magical immortals awakening. When magic surfaced, the first reaction of those around it was to use their magic, too. As protection. It didn't matter that Rowan's instinct was worse than others, since it was intensified by the recently aroused intuition produced by his discovery.
When the first roaring scream erupted from Isabella's throat, however, any reasoning submissive instinct he had forced to repress came back stronger. Her scream was like a trigger to him. It tore something at him, at the meticulous way in which he controlled himself, and he lunged for the healer.
He was stopped by a transparent ward around Kilax and the bed where she laid. Rowan pushed with his strength and power against it, trying to break it so he could snap the neck of the male who was torturing Isabella; but the shielding was immaculate.
Most magic had a weak spot, a loosen thread to which others could yank at and break entirely. But Kilax's defense, just like him and his magic, was utterly flawless.
Despite that knowledge, Rowan was beyond reasoning. He kept punching on the ward, trying to shatter it with his claws and icy wind. He sent all he had at it, but it was all pointless.
The magical wall separating them remained untouched.
He snarled, growled, and yelled again and again as Isabella let out cries of pain. Even in her unconscious state. They pierced through every part of him, fracturing his heart and leaving only fragments of it. A small part of Rowan resented her for having so much power over him, for being able to wield him as she wished and being completely oblivious to his suffering.
He hated her for it.
But not more than he hated himself for having such thoughts.
Not more than he hated the whole situation.
And definitely not more than he hated those who hurt her.
Rowan was restless. Possessive. Mad. Uncooperative. Absurdly gone. He kept trying to find something -anything- to disturb the transparent wall of protection and get to Isabella, the wish burning in his ears and heart, blurring the rest of the world away.
He was so absolutely blinded by his stirring emotions that he didn't notice that he had been moved outside the house until cold dirt pressed against his cheek.
He blinked. Once. Twice. And studied his surroundings.
Kalix's house was in the middle of the White Fang Mountains, secured by high trees and vivid vegetation. Most of the time, this part of the Adarlan's territory was covered in snow and misty cold, but Kalix's magic kept the earth he inhabited from being affected by the laws of nature.
"Are you finally thinking with your head and not with your dick?" Lorcan's voice rang through his ears, and Rowan realized that it also sent a trembling through his whole body because his friend was literally on top of him.
He tried to move, and was quickly frustrated from doing that by hairy paws. Fenry's wolf form. Rowan managed to move his head to the side, and saw a massive golden-brown mountain lion with a pair of tawny orange eyes. Gavriel. The lion was also restraining Rowan from so much as lifting a finger.
His three friends were on him, not only physically but with their magic. Sending wave after wave of glamours to keep him in place. No, to refrain him from slashing at them, too. Just like he had tried to do with Kilax.
"So," Lorcan said, his voice ragged. He was out of breath. A masculine pleasure sent the curves' of Rowan's lips upwards. He had given them a fight. Enough to tire them. "Are you going to keep trying to kill us for saving you from hitting yourself with that ward or are you going to behave?" His voice was teasing, but Rowan knew he meant it, seriously.
"I promise not to kill you"
Lorcan started to peel himself away from him, when a glow in the corner of his eye distracted him, and then a lighter weight settled over him.
"Stop!" Fenrys said, now in his fae form. "He promised not to kill us, not that he wouldn't try to"
Rowan felt Lorcan shrugg, "That's enough for me" His friend stood up, and Rowan did so, too.
He smoothed down his clothes, and tried to scrub at them. Then, he tilted his head to the side, like an animal would. His good hearing only detected the far-away sound of chirping birds, wild animals rooming their land, and the uneven breaths coming from his friends.
"The house is completely glamoured. And warded. You cannot hear whatever happens inside if you are here" Gavriel told him, his voice firm.
Busted, Rowan thought.
"You were like the wildest animal, there" Lorcan narrowed his eyes at him, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet separated. Fighting stance. He was ready to attack Rowan again and pin him down if the situation required it.
Rowan pretended not to notice the slight insinuation in the male's words.
He shrugged. "I'm tired, the screams and my exhaustion must have triggered something off" He was a very good liar when he needed to, so he couldn't understand why for the life of all Gods had that lied been so blunt and unbelievable just left his mouth.
Fenrys snorted, "You? Tired? I once saw you survive a week without sleeping, nor eating more than a chicken's wing" The youngest male circled him, his hands clasped behind his back.
Rowan rolled his eyes, Fenrys was too dramatic for his own good.
"I don't remember such thing"
"But I do," Lorcan insisted.
Gabriel sighed, rubbing his temples while doing so. "Listen," He looked Rowan dead in the eye, his tone firm but not unfriendly. "You can tell us as much as you want, we will not force you to do so. We have all been through unspeakable things, we know better than to try to get you to talk when you don't want to, but the way you reacted inside that house? That was something I have never seen before. You were beyond any reason, Rowan. I have never seen you like that before -and I've known you since you were a birdling-. Could you at least try to explain to us why you reacted like that?"
"And since you are at it, tell us why you've been acting so stiff since she came around" Lorcan hissed.
Remaining tension from his early reaction fuddled with his new found tension to his friends' demands. He knew very well he owed them honesty, at least. And a big, terrified, part of him wanted to share what he had discovered. What he had suspected since the moment she had seen her, and what he had realized the moment she had opened up to him.
But Rowan was a coward. And a killer. A broken piece of that could not even resemble a man.
A person unworthy of many things.
Her, included.
So even though he wanted to speak, he couldn't. The words died in his throat as soon as he opened his mouth to try. But he couldn't.
Sweat began forming in his lower back, and covered his temples. He was nervous. Afraid. Still buzzing with too many emotions at the same time from his maddening instincts.
Lorcan placed a firm hand on his shoulder, snapping him from his depressing thoughts. "Breathe" His friend ordered him.
Rowan tried, and failed. He tried again. The second time, he managed some air inside his lungs. He shook his head.
Another big, firm hand fell on his free shoulder. Gabriel's scent hit his nostrils. "We know," He murmured.
Rowan's body tensed at that, and then relaxed slowly as he forced himself to do so. "What do you know?" He choked out.
He was looking down at the floor when a pair of shiny black boots stopped in front of him. Fenrys put each of his hands on a male's respective shoulder. Uniting them all. The four of them. A group. Friends. Comrades. Unified by an unbreakable bond of friendship.
"We know about you and her" The youngest male said.
Rowan closed his eyes, and he didn't know if it was because he couldn't dare to look at his friends' faces at that moment, or because he needed to compose himself. Maybe both.
He needed a minute. A minute to breathe. To organize his thoughts. His emotions. And to reunite courage.
When he opened them again, he found three pairs of eyes -that he had seen almost every day for most of his immortal life- already looking at him. Not with pity. Or jealousy. Nor disgust. Disappointment. Disapproval. Anger. Misunderstanding.
No.
It was neither of those things.
They were looking at him with openness, with joy and understanding.
Rowan breathed, and he spoke.
He told them everything.
~
When he finally returned to the house, Isabella was still lying on the bed, with a reddish blanket atop her. Her complexion was still awfully ill in color, but he could notice the slight improvement in her skin, a bit of color slowly making its way to her face. The dark, deep bags under her eyes were still there -ever since he had met her- but he hoped those days of rest she'd obtained as a consequence of her wound would help to that.
Rowan placed a hand on her wrist. It was so small, so thin and delicate and poorly treated that a new wave of despair crashed against his chest. He searched for her pulse, and found it steadier and stronger than only mere hours ago. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. With his free hand, he touched a loosen strand of hair that brushed against her temple and tucked it behind one of her ears. One of her rounded, mortal ears.
He brought his hand back to his side quickly, as if burned by the thought. The dreadful reminder of her short life span, so brief in comparison to the seemingly unending years ahead of him.
An agonizing feeling settled in his chest, and he rubbed it, hopelessly, as if it would do any good. Though he knew it wouldn't.
"I see you have calmed down" A rich, silvery voice interrupted him from his thoughts. Rowan didn't need to turn his face to know to whom it belonged.
Rowan breathed through his nose, loudly, in an attempt to make the male understand that he was angry, and did not want to talk.
Of course, Kilax ignored his wishes.
"You need to learn how to control it, otherwise you will scare her off, and ruin your chances before you even get them"
Rowan let out a growl of displeasure, and clenched his jaw. The healer's words bothered him enormously, for he knew he was right. Isabella had been treated horrendously before. She had been psychologically abused -and Rowan suspected that also physically- for years, since she had been nothing but a youngling for his kind. A child. She had been a child. And it had been men who had done that to her, who had broken her repeatedly until a drying shell of the girl she had been was all left in her place.
His hands were in fists. Anger. Madness. Sorrow. Misery. Hopelessness. Those were the only feelings he seemed to experience lately. Ever since her arrival. The more he was around her, the worse it got. Although he knew it was natural, even expected, to feel that way; he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.
"How are you going to deal with it?" Kilax inquired, his words laced with curiosity.
"With what?" Rowan snapped.
Kilax didn't even blink as he answered calmly. "With the mating bond"
Rowan's posture crooked, as if he were folding on himself, as if his protective bubble had snapped, and now he was utterly, and irrevocably exposed.
The truth was that he was exposed. So much that he wanted the earth to swallow him entirely.
Mating bond. Mates. He had a mate, one young and with gloomy eyes. A mortal mate. From another world.
"So?" Kilax prompted.
"I don't know," He confessed.
"Not a good start"
A low rumble, close to a growl, a warning, was all the answer he gave him.
"How long have you known?"
He swallowed, he didn't want to speak of this with him. "Don't you know it already? I thought you could see the future" He said, instead.
Kilax tilted his head to the side. The movement was so still, and precise. "Why would you think that?"
"You told me I would need you in the future. You knew I would have to come back for your help, what else am I supposed to believe if not that you are a seer?"
"I'm not a seer"
"What are you, then?" Rowan asked, his voice guttural, full of exasperation.
"The name you want has been long forgotten in this land, your kin cannot even pronounce it, nor remember my kind" He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, but the action was not defensive.
"So you are a really old bastard" He murmured, the words to himself, but loud enough that the male heard him.
Surprisingly, Kilax let out a raspy laugh. "I am," He conceded.
"Are you a stray god?" A stray god, a forgotten god, a lost one. Those were the names for creatures whose powers were unexplainable, unprecedented; whose mere existence was an enigma.
The male blinked. "No"
Rowan didn't believe him, but he didn't insist, either. "Will she be alright?" He said, instead, pointing at Isabella with a nod of his head.
"She will recover profoundly, as if nothing had happened"
Rowan let out a sigh he didn't know he had been holding. Perhaps since before her injury. "Good" Then, he thought better about his company -about what his real presence was-, and added. "Thank you, I am in debt to you"
"It is never good to owe to the gods"
A curve of his lips tilted upward, but even that small gesture was tiring. "I thought you said you were not a god"
"And you still haven't said how long you have known about her bond with you"
Rowan rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. The topic always made him nervous, anxious. He wasn't sure he could explain why. He shrugged. "I suspected it from the moment I saw her, but it wasn't until she told me certain things about her life that I knew"
"How?"
He shrugged again, his gaze locked on the floor. "I don't know. I think the bond snapped into place at that moment. It was...it was as if a part of me had always been tied to her, and I had just realized it" An understatement, that's what his confession was.
When Isabella had looked up at him, after finishing her story, after telling him more than he had ever imagined she would; something strong, powerful had tugged at his chest. In his heart. Deep in his soul. She was crying, her cheeks and eyes wet, her hair messy and her skin pale; and he thought he had never seen anyone as beautiful as her before. Immediately after, a wide tide of emotions had struck him, and left only his raw soul. An offering. To her. And she had not even noticed it.
After that, he'd known he had to stay away, that his emotions, instincts were too much, too soon, that she would want nothing to do with him if she knew. So he had tried to keep his distance. For both of their sakes. For her, because she needed space and time to refind herself. For him, because he needed to learn to control how the mating bond made him feel.
"It's interesting, you know, the way love changes those who are subject to it"
"I'm not in love with her" He said fastily, his tone clipped.
He knew that, he knew he didn't love her. How could he? He barely knew her. She barely knew him. The mating bond could not force the bearers to fall in love with their mates, it could only deepen lust, and sharpen the primal instincts that immortals had.
And that wasn't love.
Not even close.
Kilax hummed, in agreement or not, Rowan didn't know, but the male didn't utter another word. He just left the room.
Rowan stayed by her side all night, until the first signs of dawn were visible in the sky; but not even then did he leave. He stayed. And stayed. He checked her pulse, counted her breaths, tucked her blankets in. It wasn't until Gavriel had to force him to go to the kitchen and leave when Isabella woke up.
~
There was pain.
Only pain.
She wasn't sure where it came from, for she felt it everywhere. All over her body, buried deep in her soul.
She hated it.
It felt like drowning, but still managing to get enough air to be alive, but the ache so hard she wanted to die.
Then, it stopped.
Her torment turned into something else, molded into another thing, travelled through different roots; until it wasn't there anymore.
Isabella didn't know if that was worse, for she now coulndt feel a thing.
Only a vast emptiness.
Hollowness.
It made her open her eyes.
She blinked, trying to adjust to the sunlight slipping through the open curtains that hung from the window. She blinked again, and realized she was on a bed. An unknown bed. Just like her surroundings. Another blink, and all her memories rushed in, as if she had been poured with them instead of water.
She felt cold.
Isabella brought a hesitant hand to where she still could feel the fangs of that creature on her neck, like a ghost. She found no injury, no scar. Nothing. She wondered if she had imagined it.
The sound of incoming footsteps startled her, and soon after the only door in the room swung open. A strange man stood in the doorway. Gazing at her. He had long, mocha hair, his skin dark like the feathers of a raven. His shoulders were broad, and full of muscles, though his complexion was smaller than Lorcan's or Rowan's, but still bigger than Fenrys'. He had sharp, high cheekbones and the nose of a model. His eyes were gray, and the teeth revealed by his wide grin were spotlessly white. He was beautiful. Painfully so.
"I knew I would find you awake" He told her, in a singsong tone. Cheerfully.
Isabella flinched, and faltered back. Away from the strange man in front of her. She stopped when her back collided with something hard, firm. The headboard.
The man lifted both of his empty hands in front of her, to show her that he meant no harm. "I will not do anything, I just came to check on you now that you are awake. I healed you, though you don't know that because you were unconscious" He said the last past with a crooked smile, as if he were trying to joke.
"Who are you?" She muttered, brittlely. "Where am I?"
"My name is Kilax, and we are at my home"
Isabella glanced around the room again. It was small, but comfortable. Like a home. "Why am I here?"
"Rowan and the rest brought you to me"
"Why?"
"Because they knew I was the only one who could heal you" He told her, flatly, but not rudely. "You were on the bridge of dead when you first arrived, it was a miracle they brought you just in time"
Isabella clasped the blanket tight against her chest, trying to cover herself, though she was still dressed in her travelling clothes.
"May I inspect you? I need to make sure you have fully recovered"
She swallowed, and clasped the blanket even tighter. Her knuckles were white. "Where are the rest?"
He tilted his head to the side, as if he were listening or seeing things too far away from her senses, and studied her. "Outside"
"Why?"
"Because Rowan is rather unstable, so I ordered them all to go flower picking"
The last sentence made her pause, and she frowned. "Flower picking?" She repeated, confused.
Kilax nodded, "They complained a lot, but in the end, I convinced him"
Isabella snorted, "They are stubborn people"
"Stubborn yes, they are, people, I'm afraid they are not"
Right. They were Fae. Mythical creatures. Not people.
"Can I inspect you?" Kilax asked her, again. He was insistent, but she had the impression that if she refused, he would let her go.
She nodded. He nodded back, and stepped closer. Isabella tried to relax, tried to loosen up her muscles, tried to breathe. She didn't want to have a panic attack in front of a stranger -not again-. She faintly registered his hands glowing as she tried to convince herself that she was safe and that he was only going to examine her as a healer. Two heartbeats later, he stepped back and dropped his hands. They had stopped glowing and she had not even noticed.
Isabella blinked, and understood that he was finished. So fast? She wondered internally. He offered her a polite, warm smile that made her almost return it.
"You're fine. Malnourished, and with past injuries that even I cannot heal, but you will live" He informed her, as if he were talking about the weather. "You are as healthy as you can be"
"What-?" She started, and then cleared her throat. It was dry and it ached. As if she had been yelling until her lungs gave out. She tried again. "What past injuries do you mean?"
He waved a hand in the air, dismissively. "You know, the natural consequences of malnourishment" Then he started counting them with his fingers, "Your immune system is notoriously lower than most mortals, therefore your chances of falling ill are higher, the development of your muscles is weaker than the ordinary, your impairing wound healing is slower, your kidneys may stop working at any moment, your reproductive system is heavily harmed, so much it has made you infertile, you also suffer from impaired temperature regulation.."
He would have continued if Isabella had not stopped him, "Did you say I was...infertile?"
Kalix nodded, and pointed with his index finger to where she knew her uterus was, "Your malnutrition has been going on for a long time, and although you were not really a child when it started, you were still undergoing natural growth of your age. The fact that you didn't inherit the nutrients and calories that your body required made you stop bleeding, correct?"
Isabella nodded, the last time she'd had her period was years ago, and she knew that her lack of food had caused it. Till that moment, she had thought that with her new regular diet, her period would come back with time. She had never thought, or believed, for a moment, the possibility of infertility; that her body had weakened so much that she had irreparably hurt it...
"Hence, your reproductive system was irreversibly damaged" He finished, and stood in his place. Silent. Studying her. But Isabella was too stunned to care.
Never in her life had she considered the idea of having children, she had wanted a family -yes- but the idea of bearing children of her own had always seemed too distant and foreign for her to picture it. But now...now that that wasn't a possibility anymore, now that she knew they had taken that prospect from her, without her consent...
It was another thing that had been stripped away from her.
She wondered when it would be enough.
Kilax made a napkin appear out of thin air, and offered it to her. She frowned at him, confused, but took it anyway. It wasn't until she brought it close to her face that she realized she was crying.
Her eyes were burning, her lips were pursed together in a pout, and she was trying not to breathe too fast while also trying not to blink. Isabella brought her arms close to her, hugging herself, in an unsuccessful attempt to contain the twisting emotions inside of her.
"I want to be left alone" She managed to choke out, her voice more of a whine than actual words.
"I shall bring you some food, you were unconscious for a-"
"No" She cut him off, quickly. Severely. Angrily. Not at him, or at her -though maybe a little- but at the situation she had been involuntarily thrown into.
Kalix didn't utter another word. He just left her alone, the sound of the door closing the last thing she heard before her inner cries became audible so that those wandering through the house with a particular good hearing could realize what was happening to her.
She allowed herself to fall back on the bed, and she hugged herself so tightly she thought she would break her own bones. But, of course, she could never do that, because she was weak. Already broken. Unsalvageable. Atrociously ruptured.
Isabella sobbed, and hid her red-crying face on her pillow. She was so tired.
So,
so,
tired.
~
There was a knock on her door, and Isabella heard, absently, the sound of a door knob being twisted, and then opened. She ignored it. She was too busy looking through her window from her bed. Too busy admiring the way the sunlight danced on her room, the way it bounced from the glass to her bed and walls.
"I brought you food"
Rowan. That was Rowan's voice.
Isabella was aware enough to realize that. But not more.
"You should eat"
She kept glancing at the brilliant light illuminating her room, so in contrast to the fatigue she felt inside of her. That burned through her.
"You've been locked her for days"
What did he pretend to care about her wellbeing? Why would he do that when not even she could bring herself to do so? Perhaps he did not worry for her, but rather for the hiatus that she had caused to their mission.
Whatever.
She felt nothing. Not worry. Not a drip of caresome. Not a want, nor a need. She was just...living -no-, existing.
Isabella didn't even care that she had become the dead weight she had so dreadfully feared to be, before. Lately, that word was all she could manage to keep with her no matter what: before. And after.
Always both.
Her life before the war. Her life before she realized no international help was coming to their aid. Her life before her kidnap. Her life before those soldiers. Her life before that war camp. And the after of it all...
There was no after.
She didn't even want one.
A sigh. Followed by retreating steps, then a door being shut.
Good.
She wanted to be alone.
Isabella was so tired.
~
There was light in her room since dawn broke. Every day. Without a miss. And then there was darkness. That came not only from the night sky, but from within herself; eating everything in its way.
There had once been a girl who believed in magic, who believed in ever-lasting love, who believed in the power of good.
That girl was brutally tortured, until the last strap of her sanity was broken; and then she was mercilessly murdered.
The girl could only lay in bed, now.
She only felt tired.
She was tired of trying.
~
"You have to eat," A familiar voice begged her in her dreams. She stirred in her bed, something close to fear settled in her -for a moment- before the plea in his voice twisted something in her guts, but even that was too tiring. "Please"
One word. So raw. So full of emotions.
It made her feel overwhelmed, like it was all too much, and she was too little.
"You need to at least try"
She had. She had tried so hard. For so long. But she couldn't. Not anymore.
"You can't die"
Of course she could, had she not been killed, already? Was she not dead already? Was she not a ghost of the living girl she used to be?
"Please"
That word again. Over and over again. Said like a prayer, sang like an oath, offered like a part of a soul.
Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please.
Live.
~
Her door swung open, she registered as much, but not much more. Then, she felt an added weight on her bed, shifting her. Someone was sitting on her bed. The door was closed. Perhaps she should have felt a drip of fear, anxiety, perhaps she should have panicked.
She couldn't.
"You are pathetic"
The words bounced on her, as if nothing had been said.
"You are a disgrace to the human kind"
It slipped away from her like water.
"You are so full of self-pity, so self-centred, so self-conscious of yourself. You cant even see that there are others who have suffered the same hardships as you, some even worse"
What did it matter what others had been through? Why did her experiences matter?
They didn't.
"You are drowning in a pool barely filled with water, ignoring the rest, and focusing only on yourself. You are ignoring the future that could lay ahead"
Something tugged at her. It purred at her, clawed at her mind.
"You are ruining your future"
What future? She wanted to ask.
"The one awaiting you after"
After what?
"After the before"
The bed shifted again, and as Kilax left, Isabella was once again finally alone.
~
Perhaps she was drowning in self-pity.
Perhaps...
The trail of her thoughts vanished, and she embraced her familiar darkness again.
~
"Tell me something"
He was in her room, again.
He came regularly. To talk. To beg. To see her.
She ignored him every time.
It was hard to understand why he acted like he cared. So hard.
"I will tell you about my past if you tell me about yours" An offered hand. A bargain.
The moonlight danced in her room, like people in a ballroom.
"I was six when my parents died. They were the best, all a child could ever ask for. They were old, even for my kins' standards, and I think that made them love me even more"
Parents. Kids. Yes, she knew those words. They had meant a lot to her, once.
"When they died, I was young, but I understood what their departure meant. It broke me. And for some time, I didn't know how to act. But then, one day, Lyria cried. I heard her cry from my room. She was whining and sobbing so hard I thought she would choke"
The female's need sounded familiar, it was a name she should know, but one she could not bother to remember at the moment.
"I was so worried about her, frozen in fear, until I recognized her cries as mine. I hugged her until she stopped, and we fell asleep together. Every night after that."
What was she listening to?
"We grew up together, and she was everything I cared about. All I did, it was all to protect her. To make her happy. I loved her so much. She was all I had" His voice came out tight, and Isabella vaguely realized he was crying. "When we were older, she told me she wanted to move to another city. Somewhere she thought it was safer. But I didn't want her to go. I was selfish -I still am- and she was everything I had. We fought, and I forbidden her from leaving. So when I left for a mission and enemies I had made throughout my military life broke into my home, she was the only one they found"
Something about the story made her clench her jaw, she couldn't explain why. She didn't want to listen anymore.
"I came back from another kingdom in a rush, flying as fast as I had never done before. But I was late. Too late. When I arrived, all I found was the cut parts of her body scattered through my house. The place that used to be my home. And her blood everywhere"
She didn't want to listen. She didn't want to listen.
She closed her eyes, silently begging him to stop.
"I died that day. And I was dead for a very long time after that. But, believe me, there is an after. We can live with missing parts of our souls and heart. We can learn to do so. We can adapt. It's hard. And painful. And there will be days when real death will feel like heaven" He was whispering now, as if he knew she didn't want to hear his words anymore, but he was forcing himself to continue.
Stop. Stop.
"There is a life after death, Isabella. Love after pain. And peace after torture"
She was crying, wetting her whole face and the pillow that silenced her sobs.
"There is a worthy after"
Those were Rowan's last words before he left.
And she cried. And cried. And drowned in her misery. In her self-pity. And when dawn broke the next morning, she found she could breath with no problem again.
~
"And then this idiot grabbed the wrong flower and ate it and his face swollen-" Lorcan's words were interrupted by the small figure standing in the kitchen's doorway.
Five pairs of immortal eyes turned on her, and instead of cowering and hiding back in her room, Isabella stared back.
She strode to the table, and sat on a close chair. She looked around at the wooden floor, and the blue kitchen walls. Then at the hearth were a finely made teapot boiled water, and then at the beautiful drawings of marvelous landscapes Isabella could not recognize.
Someone cleared their throat, and Kilax walked to the fireplace and took the teapot to bring it to the table. Gavriel poured everyone a cup of tea -in matching teacups- and casually moved a plate full of sandwiches closer to her side of the table.
Nobody moved to drink or eat. No one. Until she did. Until she brought a hand to the plate with food -and everyone seemed to have stopped breathing with fear of scaring her off- and grabbed one sandwich. She brought it to her mouth and took a tentative bite.
It tasted...good. She took another bite, and then everyone visibly relaxed and started eating. Cabinets hanging from walls were opened with magic while everyone remained at the table, and more food and drinks were brought.
She ate two sandwiches and drank three cups of tea before she stopped. She didn't want to force her stomach. It needed to readjust to eating. And Isabella needed to adapt.
Once everyone was done, and chatter died, Kilax moved a hand in the air and everything disappeared. The table was suddenly clean, but she remained with them.
Lorcan cleared his throat, and looked down at anyone but her as he asked, "Are you feeling better?" From under the table, she felt a foot moving and hitting Lorcan's shin. The male cursed under his breath.
Isabella placed her bony hands over the table, widening them, and stared at them as she nodded. "I think so"
"That's great," Fenrys said.
"I'm -" Her throat closed, and her eyes began burning. She blinked once and tried again. "I'm trying"
"Trying is the first step," Gavriel's gentle voice told her. "You are already doing fantastic"
She remained silent, but she hoped the male could hear the silent thanks that she sent his way. Based on the small, warm smile playing at his lips and softness on his face, she imagined he did.
"Thank you for saving me," She said. To all of them.
Lorcan shrugged, smugly. "That's what we do"
"We are heroes" Fenrys added, always the brat.
"I need repayment, nonetheless"
Kilax's words made her head snapped up. She stared at the male for a long time in search of a trace of mockery. She found nothing. He was serious.
From a side of the table, Rowan growled, and Isabella noticed the way the three males eyed Rowan, the way they moved -almost imperceptibly- closer to him, as if ready to stop him. The confusion their behaviour caused was drowned by the healer's next words.
"How are you going to pay me for my services?"
She looked him dead in the eye. "What do you want?" She asked him, flatly.
He showed him a wide, cruel smile. "Memories"
Rowan growled again, and this time Lorcan stood abruptly from his place to move to stand next to his friend. Magic coming from all males was buzzing in the room, as if in a fight for dominance.
"Imagine the value of the memories from a mortal bred, born and raised in another world"
The world stopped spinning, and her breath caught. She dared a glance to the boys at her side, and found incredulous expressions blanked by decades of training. So they hadn't told him about her origins...
Isabella considered lying to him, but it was clear Kilax was powerful, more than Rowan or Lorcan -who were said to be the most powerful Fae in history-. Even if she lied, Kilax would know. Somehow, he would. Her false act would be pointless and a waste of time.
So, instead, he asked him. "What are you?"
The male raised a single eyebrow, "I am the ashes of a died fire, and the sparkles of a new one"
"A poet, then"
He laughed, "A powerful poet"
"Artists are always powerful creatures"
"So I've heard, they are to be feared, for they hold the power to break and unite thousands of lives"
"What memory would you like?" She inquired.
He smiled, pleasedly. "All of them"
She tried to hide her shock, "And would they disappear if I gave them to you?"
Kilax shook his head, "You wouldn't give them to me, not really. I would just be a spectator"
Isabella tilted her head to the side, considering his words and payment. She glanced sideways to the three males she had travelled with, and found them already looking at her. There was a solemn graveness in their eyes, piercing through her. It's your choice, they seemed to say.
It was her choice.
Finally.
She nodded, "Alright. What should I do?"
The excitement in the healer's face was nothing like what she had seen before. His eyes were buzzing with intensity. "There is nothing you should do. I shall do it for you"
Then, the world stopped again as a wave of magic collided with her mind. It penetrated her weak shields and tore at her thoughts as if they were light layers of papers. It hurt. A warm feeling spread around her, and Isabella realized it was light. Around her. Over their heads. In Kilax's eyes. Flashing, beautiful light; and in the middle of it all, there were her memories. Her life.
Isabella was nothing more than an eight-year old kid holding her older sister's hand. They were walking through a beautiful set of woods she recognized from her childhood.
"You need to walk faster, Isa" Her sister told her, already a little bit exasperated with her.
"I'm trying, Eris" She told her in return.
Her sister laughed, the sound filled with youth and joy, and started running, draggin a young Isabella with her. They were both running, their uneven breaths in sync with each other as their small feet burned with every step. But they were happy. Laughing and calling each other as they ran through their home's woods.
The memory dispersed, and another one replaced it.
"I'm scared, Isa," Her younger sister told her.
She looked sickly pale, and now that all her hair had finally fallen, she truly looked like a cancer patient. Isabella hated it.
"It's going to be alright. Just a quick surgery and then you will recover. We will play with Salchichas for hours" Their dog. Isabella promised her.
Her sister's eyes widened, a wave of bravery like nothing she had ever seen flashing behind those eyes. "Yes, we will"
Isabella nodded, "Of course"
"I will get better"
"I know you will, Ana"
Less than a second later, the image changed, and turned into something else.
"I'm tired, Isa," Ana murmured. She was back in the hospital,her face barely older than when they had taken her sister from her and her family with promises of recovery.
There were no promises this time.
"I know, but wait until dad and mom get here"
Ana shook her head, her eyelids closing. "I can't. I want to sleep"
Isabella clasped her sister's hands tighter in hers, "You can't, mom and dad have not said goodnight to you, yet"
"But they have already said goodbye"
Tears welled up in her face, but Isabella forced herself not to cry. Ana hated it when people cried in front of her. Because of her.
So Isabella merely stood by her sister's side while she prayed for her parents and older sister to come faster, for Ana was dying. She knew it. They knew it. Ana knew it.
It was Isabella who felt her little sister's hand going limp in hers, it was her who saw the last breath she took, it was her who didn't cry until the nurses came rushing and told her to wait outside.
It was Isabella who saw her sister die.
The pain from each memory was crashing her heart, drowning her in tears.
"Will they come to our aid?" A fifthteen year old Isabella asked her parents.
She already knew the answer, but she wanted a confirmation. Needed it.
Her mother forced a sorrowful smile, and kissed her on the forehead. "No," She whispered.
"What will happen to us, then?"
Her mother hugged her, and did not answer. Her mother shook, and Isabella realized she was crying. Uncontrollably sobbing. She didn't know what to do, so she just hugged her back.
"I love you, Isa"
"I love you, ma"
Time rushed, it went fast. Just like her memories of them.
Isabella was running, trying to escape the Main Plaza and the airplanes flying over the place. She tried to run to her home, to her parents, to her sister.
But her legs were not fast enough. And the air around her smelled of burnt flesh.
She was only three blocks away when the sight of an airplane coming from behind her made her stop in her tracks. She prayed it would keep straight. But of course, it did not. The plane stopped, only for a second, over a building, and dropped a bombed.
Her heart stopped, and all she could think of was about her family, for she knew the bomb had been dropped exactly in her home's street.
Her mother, father, sister, aunts and cousins had been hiding there.
Everyone.
The only remaining members of her family.
Another explosion, this one closer, made everything around her go white.
Almost four years ago, that had been almost four years ago, and it made her ache just as much as it had the moment it happened.
Isabella laid on the streets. Junks of exploded buildings atop her, pressing against her, when a foreing soldier appeared in her vision. He called to another, a comrade of his, and together got her out.
They surveyed the damage that their attack had done to her, and then took her somewhere else. In a truck with a black blanket blinding her. When the vehicle stopped, they dragged her through the dirty floor and threw her on a cell.
That night, another soldier came in to inspect the girls on the other cells. There were many. Some cried. Some yelled. Some begged. But all of them came back silent when a new soldier took them somewhere else for the night,
Days, weeks or months later, one of the girls tried to escape. The general of their camp had been so enraged that he had brought the girl back with blood running all over her body. Then, he unbuckled his belt and torned at the girl's pants. He thrust into her violently while the rest watched.
It was a punishment as much as a warning. Not just for her. But for everyone.
"This is what happens to whores who do not follow the rules" He finished on her face. He slapped her, and then he took another girl.
Isabella didn't want to watch, but more soldiers had come in and were forcing all of the single girls to keep their eyes open.
The room was filled with pained screams, with prayers in her native language, with cries of help, the sound of masculine violence, and skin slapping against skin.
Isabella watched. And watched. And at some point, she became every single one of the girls who had been raped -despite the fact that they hadnt touched her.
She became them, and they became one.
A group united by their wish for death.
It happened many times throughout the years.
They always made her watch.
And when another girl was found dead -for they had managed to kill themselves- new ones were brought in.
The cycle continued.
For years.
Isabella was panicking, struggling to breath as the last memory -of her last day- played in her head. Over and over again.
The dead body of a thirteen-year-old girl brought only a month ago was thrown in the middle of the woods as they moved. No burial. No prayers.
That night, the general arrived, and by that time, all the girls in the prison knew what it meant: another warning. More punishment.
He passed along Isabella's cell but stopped in the one next to hers. The girl Isabella knew was called Antonia cried out as the man grabbed her wrists and threw her on the floor. In the middle of the room. For everyone to hear.
"Please" She begged, though it was pointless. "Please, no" They did not speak our tongue, but they knew the meaning of those words.
The general unbuckled his belt, and Anotnia cried harder. She tried to stand up and run but he stopped her, throwing his body on top of hers. He thrust into her from behind. Blood ran down her legs. He continued until his semen joined the girl's blood.
Then, he turned, and left her there on the floor. He thought she wouldn't dare to do anything. Knew it. And his eyes landed on Isabella.
She tried to hide in the shadows of her cell, but it was too late. He had seen her. He ordered another soldier to open her cell, and dragged her next to Antonia's body.
"You are too ugly, even for fucking, but you deserve to suffer just as the rest of them" He hissed in her ear.
He pressed his member against her back, and Isabella felt bile rising in her throat. She had managed to survive without being noticed, without being touched, but her luck had finally ran out.
He was going to rape her.
Despite knowing that crying would be helpless, she did so anyway.
She cried and yelled, she buried her bloody nails on the floor until they cracked. She raced herself for the first, painful thrust, but it never came. Instead, she heard the sound of a body falling.
Isabella turned her head, and saw Antonia with arm raised in the air, a rock with stained blood in her hand. She followed the girl's gaze, and saw the body of the general on the floor. His member free, and blood running from a wound on his head. A wound Antonia had inflicted on him.
The few soldiers in the room started yelling, and they tried to seize the girl. But Antonia was like a wild animal finally free. She snapped and struggled against them. They hadn't expected her to fight, they never did, but Anotnia was a force of nature. She fought with all the remaining spirit left in her.
Dumbly, Isabella began to stand, and started stepping back, close to the door that led outside their prison. The soldiers finally took hold of Antonia, and the two girls shared a last glance before a soldier shot a bullet to her head.
Antonia's dead body fell on the floor, and the blood never stopped running.
Isabellla had seen and understood, however, the last words she had mouthed at her: RUN.
Soon, the soldiers remembered her existence, and started walking to take her back to her cell, when another girl screamed "RUN"
Her voice was followed by another, and another; shortly, all the girls in the room were singing in unison; a song for her, a wish for all of them, "RUN. RUN. RUN"
Isabella did as she was told. She forced herself not to look back at the girls who had buyed her time, at the girl who had died saving her, and those who would be punished for helping her. She ran faster than ever, even as the yells of the soldiers calling for her followed her.
She ran and ran and ran; and, at some point, she didn't feel her feet touching the grass; she was flying.
She ran.
She escaped.
The others did not.
Kilax's magic retreated from her mind, and he stared intensely at her. They all were. Had they seen her memories too?
She cried, and cried. She cried as she remembered the cries of the girls who had died in front of her, and for those who had cried for help.
She cried.
She cried.
And stood up. And left.
~
The next morning, at breakfast, nobody spoke. Nobody looked at her.
When she was done eating, with her eyes still swollen and red from the night before, she said, to no one in particular. "I want to learn how to fight"