The Island's Inhabitant

The Capture

The angelics took Zoey high above the clouds, leaving shadows of the Valley of Tears and the battlefield behind. Just as the sky-born mist enveloped her vision, she noticed more deceivers encamping her friends. Fear and worry for their safety seized her heart. There was nothing she could do to warn them.

The sky above the clouds was clear and blue and completely ignorant of the slaughter below. Zoey gave up struggling against her kidnappers. Even if she did escape, falling to her death didn't sound any more pleasant. Besides, now she could get a good look at the new creatures. Better than having Edward or Orrick describe them to her anyways.

Angelics, in the easiest sense, were human birds. Their legs were thin and spiny like an eagle's, with talons long and sharp enough to slice the scales off a dragon if given the chance. Instead of arms, the angelics had wings that held an abundance of sleek, black feathers. Long, black hair sprinkled with down feathers whipped in the wind, as several tiny chains and rings were pierced into their ears. Their faces were hauntingly handsome, like when a familiar friend wears makeup for the first time.

After studying the angelics, Zoey's shoulder suddenly screeched in agonizing pain. She winced and looked over at the wound. Blood seeped into her dress, tainting the sky-blue clothe into a hideous purple. She couldn't move her fingers or elbow, and it was likely the entire shoulder had been fractured beyond repair.

"Isn't that my luck...?" the Bladekeeper muttered to herself. "There's no possible way I can ever fight again like this..."

The Sword of Nahora, caught in the talons of another angelic, flickered for a moment then faded to its usual faint glow.

"Sucks is one word for it," Zoey answered. She started and stared at the blade. Surely... surely it did not speak! And yet, she thought she could hear it so clearly. No... no, it was all just in her head. It was only her imagination. Right?

The thin air and pure exhaustion caught up to Zoey. She began to lose consciousness. "Maybe that's what happened," she panted to herself. "The air's so thin... I can't breathe... I can't..."

***

Zoey awoke and screamed. Her shoulder sent clear messages of agony and distress to her brain. When she slowed her cries to heavy panting, she glanced at the wound. It had been treated and wrapped tightly in blood-soaked cloths. She suspected they had once been white. Her dress was torn away at the collar, slightly falling away from her chest but otherwise still protecting her modesty. Even despite being cleaned, her fingers were stained with her blood. What little of her arm was visible from under the bandages demonstrated a hideous and dying purple.

"Let's get this over with."

Zoey turned her gaze upon a moving shadow in the corner farthest from where she sat. A tiny streak of light entered the stone room m, but it was hardly enough to detect the shadow. Judging by the underlying rasp, however, the Bladekeeper had a feeling her roommate was a deceiver. His voice sounded like he had trouble speaking words.

The shadow approached her and lifted Zoey to her feet, making her cry out in pain. Without missing a beat, he dragged her to the door, where he shouted something in a foreign language—if it could even be called a language, for it sounded like a series of whistles, grunts, and tongue-clacks. Several seconds of clanking, then the door swung open. Light flooded Zoey's face, and she blinked at the brightness.

"I will take her from here."

The Bladekeeper looked up into the yellow eyes of Grenua. She jerked free from the deceiver that held her to attack the other, but her shoulder jabbed in pain against her will. She tripped and fell to the ground, sweating and hardly able to breathe. Grenua looked down at her unsympathetically and said, "Get up."

"I... I hate you... you lying cheat," Zoey panted, still unable to move.

Grenua leaned over and whispered in the Guardian's ear, "I didn't know about the angelics."

"I don't care. I will never trust you ever again."

"What is she talking about?" the deceiver questioned, narrowing his eyes at his commander.

Grenua slowly looked up at him. "I am Grenua Evers. I have mastered the Death Trials, received the Stoning, and been in the presence of the Crafter at least thrice. I am your commander, yet you have the audacity to question me?"

The deceiver bowed his head and muttered something in his native language. Whatever he said irritated Grenua even more, for she jabbed him in the stomach and slammed his throat against the dungeon wall. She whispered something into his ear, ending with, "...it is no longer beneficial to us."

With a trembling nod, the deceiver backed down. Grenua released him and lifted Zoey onto her back. "Tell the others," she commanded as she carried the Guardian away.

After a long while of walking, Grenua brought Zoey into a round kitchen. Pots and pans and cooking supplies were neatly scattered in their appropriate places. A small fire crackled from inside the oven. On the floor above, bookshelves lined the entire walls, filled top to bottom with books of all sizes and ages. In the center of the library sat a chair, and upon the chair sat a woman. Her beauty was intoxicating, competing with the greatest models on Earth. Zoey imagined she had no trouble drawing in the men. Across the woman's knees rested the Sword of Nahora. Grenua carefully placed the Guardian in a chair opposite the woman.

All the movement had jostled Zoey's shoulder too much, and she panted in terrible pain. She focused on a knot in the carpet to distract her mind from registering the signals from the wound. The woman who sat before her narrowed her eyes upon the girl, and Zoey's suffering disappeared.

"There, isn't that better?" the woman said, revealing her perfectly white smile. "Now we can talk business, Zoey McKnight, the Handless Bladekeeper."

**
Short chapter, I know. And it's pretty rough to read but I'm not sure how to improve it. Apologies. There's just too much in the next chapter to combine this one.

Dani | [words]