Manuscript 2 (Fantasy)

Chapter 3

Jalissa stirred the next morning, her head throbbing dully, like a distant drumbeat echoing through her temples. She gradually opened her deep brown eyes, blinking against the harsh morning light as the previous day's events played back in her mind like a grim tapestry. A soft moan escaped her lips as she recalled the tumultuous journey, the terror that gripped her heart, and the deaths that seemed to surround her like a shroud. Nausea swept over her in waves as she remembered the rotting corpses, their images burned into her mind's eye. She slowly sat up, clutching her stomach as if trying to keep herself anchored in the present. Tears streamed down her face, carving paths through the grime and dust that still clung to her skin, as she processed everything—the thought of her own mortality and the men who died beside her consuming her every thought.

Several minutes passed as she cried silently, her shoulders shaking with each suppressed sob. This was not the life she had envisioned as a child, filled with dreams of adventure and heroism. Nor was it the mission she imagined when the Queen asked her to accompany Isaac. This realization troubled Jalissa deeply; she wondered if the Queen expected them to lose their lives on this quest. Were they intended as sacrifices for the fugitive? The thought made her shudder, as she believed the Queen aimed to bring good to the world, not further harm. She clung to the hope that there was a greater purpose behind their trials.

Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, standing up with newfound resolve and clarity. Jalissa moved towards the door, her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room. She opened it, seeing Nicholas in the kitchen, his hands deftly preparing a meal. The scent of cooking food filled the air, but she felt no hunger, only a gnawing unease. She looked around for Isaac but couldn't find him anywhere in the small dwelling.

"Um, Nicholas?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she approached the kitchen. Nicholas glanced at her and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth.

"Good morning, my lady! Hungry?" he asked, gesturing to the food he was preparing.

She shook her head, despite her stomach's protests. "Maybe later? Do you know where Isaac is?"

Nicholas gestured towards the door with a nod of his head. "He's been up for hours and went to take care of the bodies. Not wise to leave them in the alleyway for too long, especially in this heat." Jalissa nodded, thanked Nicholas, and headed outside. The bright sunlight made her wince, and she raised her arm to block it, stepping out and closing the door behind her with a soft click. As she approached the dark alley, she found Isaac sitting on the ground, the bodies now gone, leaving only empty shadows where they once lay.

She walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, kneeling beside him. She noticed a clump of his hair missing and a knot where he had been struck the night before, a testament to their harrowing ordeal. Isaac turned to her, his expression despondent, his eyes reflecting a deep well of guilt and sorrow.

"I failed you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Immediately, Jalissa wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly, as if trying to shield him from his own doubts.

"No, you didn't," she reassured him, her voice steady and sure. "We're both still alive. We can continue and complete our mission." She marveled at how much Isaac had opened up to her, how the walls he once kept around himself seemed to crumble in the face of their shared trials. "You were so brave last night. We were outnumbered, and yet you fought with everything you had."

Isaac looked at her, his gaze searching hers. "That wasn't the fugitive."

"He was trained by him," she explained, her voice low as if sharing a secret. "If the fugitive could train Nicholas that well, imagine how skilled he is."