The silence extended and encouraged her mind. What had been the reason? Why thrust her into the Underworld and manifest some fallible scheme?
Her instincts climbed, chiming high. A simplistic nefarious plan felt improbable. Easy to assume, but unlikely. Emotions be damned, she had none for the witch. No, in fact, common sense denounced her. But, pure gut instincts told her the glass surface she portrayed concealed a bright sun. What a tacky and annoying analogy.
She wiped her face, the sweat, dirt, and blood caked dry. A stiffness intertwined her muscles and limbs, slowing her response. Isla zoned back, ignoring the dull, empty cavern.
Perhaps her mindset was wrong. Maybe Nirvana's purpose had been to confirm her potential and abilities. But what about the trial with Arcadia? Was the mental conundrum bestowed upon her not sufficient? Forget it. What went through that woman's mind existed outside reason.
Rest escaped her as a shiver shredded her body. The tremble sliced through her core. Her heart clenched and her muscles spasmed. She gulped air, the heat scalding her lungs. Her breathing hitched and her vision hazed.
A force jolted her, shaking her form. The quivers tormenting her ended, but the shaking continued. Her gaze refocused on Lance his mouth moving, creating words. Creases lined his forehead and his eyes darkened to amber.
"Isla?" Lance questioned.
Her heart slowed and her breathing subdued. "I'm good," she responded while pushing his touch away and sitting up. "What just happened?"
"You need to leave. Now. Let's go." He gripped her arm again, dragging her upwards.
Isla clasped his gloved paw, her hand jittering and strength seeping from within. "Calm down. What's happening?"
"He's awake."
Mere words with the power to inflict catastrophic destruction. Her shiver returned, escalating and ransacking her body. Yet this time, she could calm the reaction.
"If he finds you, he will kill you," he said before ushering her forward. "Lucifer can materialize you back to Arcadia. We need to hurry."
He yanked her across the earthen platforms towards a staircase inlaid upon the wall. The heat dissipated as they ascended, the light dimming to torchlight. Heavy metal doors rusted by time blocked the exit. But a narrow gap between unlocked their passage.
They transitioned to a bare courtyard the high outer walls surrounding them. She wriggled her nose, the sulfuric stench spurring remembrance. Her feet crunched the gravel and dirt mix coating the expanse. Black metallic pillars divided the land, their height reaching towards the red-tinted sky.
Their trek ended as they reached the keep gate. She expected an interruption, soldiers or guards, anything occupying this grand bureaucracy. Yet silence greeted them.
Her gaze narrowed on her freedom. Beside the tall keep gate stood Lucifer. At the sight, Lance's grip tightened, his force bruising.
"Lance," Isla grumbled and halted, digging her heels in.
"What?" he snapped, glancing between her and Lucifer.
"I can walk fine on my own," she said, squirming her encased hand.
His eyes widened and he jerked his hand back. "My bad."
"This way," Lucifer called, breaking the awkward vibe. He acknowledged the guards on duty before moving ahead.
She glimpsed the glares contorting the guards' faces and jogged, catching Lucifer's tail. "Will you both be fine?"
"Our King has awoken. Something as insignificant as releasing a prisoner will fall under the wind. At most, a minor punishment, but no hardship we can't face," Lucifer explained. "And Lance has Asterick's lineage and support, even if he believes otherwise. Do not fear for us."
Isla quieted her concerns. Lucifer understood the situation far better than she would, or ever could. She had to trust his decision.
They rushed through the main street, swerving between crowds. The brush of limbs and clothing swished past her. She pinpointed her attention on the outer wall confining the city. Was there a barrier? There had to be. The subtle prick nesting upon stagnant air streams provided the only indicator. Without direction, she would never have discovered the demonic energy.
They arrived at the thick walls, tan blocks layered to form the height. No gate blockaded the path, but the stationed soldiers inspected the flow. Their bare arms and plain black leather armor molded against their bodies. Spots of silken fur blotched their exposed skin, one grayish the other speckled brown.
"We won't be long," Lucifer voiced. His words cooled the soldiers' rigid stances.
Stepping from ash crusted stones to orange compacted sand, the barren wasteland unfolded before her. Heat radiated from the surface, each foot crossed, a higher intensity she faced.
"Come here," Lucifer urged as he stopped and waited for her.
Isla reached him, a comfortable distance between them. He removed a glove, cupping her face, his warm fingers delicate upon her skin.
"You're worrying more for me than yourself. Take care," Isla said.
He chuckled, but sadness swarmed his smile. "All is fine. Let us meet again, dear."
The distinct outline and colors constructing Lucifer's shape pulled apart. The lines severed, their ends frayed and the colors blended, whirling the landscape into a vortex. Her mind crammed the visual phenomena, the information overloading her mind. She had no choice. Isla clenched her eyes shut, damming the sensual flow.
Yet, the disorder continued, amplifying to her body, interrupting her balance and sense of self. She swayed, fumbling for support. Her skin chilled then heated, the temperature change numbing then blistering. But still, the quick fluctuation ended as it began, and her equilibrium returned.
Isla peeked open, the colors and shapes had recreated themselves. The red sky and barren wasteland of the Underworld transformed into a dazzling blue sky. Clouds sprinkled the wide expanse, leaving a halo to announce the single star which brightened this world.
She was back. Back in Arcadia.
Scanning her surroundings, her gaze traveled up the white cement walls casting shadows upon her. Had she been returned to Erose? How did Lucifer determine her prior location? She had not mentioned meeting the Queen here. But his assumption was precise.
She glanced both ways. Neither direction identified an entrance. Well, one way or another, she would run into a gate.
Turning around, she examined the ash woodland saturated with blue treetops. The south entrance had woods, but not this close. Perhaps the northern end?
"Left or right," she mused. Isla pointed one direction then the next. "Oh, whatever." She dropped her hand, stepping forward.
Her advance ceased and her gut twisted. Her skin perspired, the hairs astute. Something was here. Was bloodlust what she felt, or her own fear?
She twisted around, searching for her discomfort. Her eyes skimmed the woods, seeking the cause within the elusive depths. What pricked her senses? The feeling enlarged upon the woods, the source hidden but radiating this desire.
The purpose eluded her as a speck of red shot from the woods. Her aura seeped out, forming a barrier before her.
The red blaze pounded her shield, the blow heavy, but bearable. She watched the spell fizzle, the aura dissipating.
She applied another protective measure and pooled her aura into her hand, fueling an offensive spell.
Her eyes enlarged as the dark canopy revealed her foe. From the woods, strode Skye. No twitch or nuisance warped his face, his stone mask cemented.
Her fingers numbed. The mere sight of him spurred her hesitation. Attack or wait? No, forget it. Remember what he did. Because of him, Rydin died. Skye shared responsibility for his death.
Isla clenched her teeth then released the force. Relax, remove the tension. Her own weaknesses were responsible. Rather, this situation presented the perfect chance to surmount her earlier failures. What was the worse outcome, death? Not the first time.
She muted her indecision and concentrated. With her hand, she formed and directed thick shards of ice, blasting him.
He stepped left, dodging, his speed slow but timed. The motion weaved into his movements, his pace never slowing.
Isla conjugated waves of ice, the quantity, and ferocity amplifying with each strike. She spelled earthen restraints for his legs, coupling her attacks. But Skye shrugged the encasement off and advanced.
As he deflected her last wave, he spoke, "Is that all?"
Sweat moistened her face and she panted. "What do you want?" Isla growled. Did he plan to eradicate her hope by countering and defending against her efforts? Only after everything, would he then kill her?
"He has summoned you."
His gaze shifted away, leaving himself vulnerable. What an odd sight. Was he hiding something or displeased?
Isla narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
Skye returned his gaze. "He wishes to speak to you. Why else?"
"Oh, of course, I'd love to see my murderous father," she drawled. "Do you honestly think I'd say that? Why for a God-forsaken reason should I agree?"
"You don't have a choice." He crossed his arms, stance widening. "Or has some meager victory made you believe you could defeat me," he retorted. "With your pathetic skills."
"Pathetic skills or not, it won't be quick nor easy. You start fighting here and the Arcadians will trounce you. Or do you believe you're superior to an army?"
He could be right for all she cared. Not that she would admit it. But times had changed, and dying without a fight sounded like a bore. Isla shifted her stance, ready to launch herself at him. One strike to his face would prove encouraging. Heck the sweet memory would last an eternity.
"Start fighting? I have no need to fight you. If you don't come, I'm ordered to kill your sisters," he stated. "Make your choice."