𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒

𝐦𝐮𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

Time was an odd concept. When one wished for an event to occur quickly it seemed as if the stars aligned to do the complete opposite. As Isolde waited at the edge of a nearby village for the daily markets to begin, boredom enveloped her senses. A few hours before this, when the night strongly prevailed, she had gathered various herbs and wrapped them over the various points of pain across her body.

Her thoughts floated wearily through her mind, the sight of gold-flecked eyes was enough to steal the air from her lungs but fortunately they were simply a figment of her imagination. She ignored the pang of sadness she felt at the humbling realisation. 

Isolde wondered if Xaden and Garrick had been found, if they were in trouble and if others knew what had happened to her. The only positive that has happened was that it seemed her eyes were unable to produce anymore tears. Slowly, the abrasive sensation of pain that had previously enveloped her body had started to cease leaving her in a numb state.

Currently, she had no plan of escape nor one of action but she knew that the second safest way to travel after in the night was when the towns were busy and rife with people. This way, she could wear the same cloak as the travellers did without anyone lifting so much as a finger in her direction. 

Soon voices filled the space around her, giving Isolde enough confidence to protrude out from a makeshift cave she had found earlier in the night. Pulling her flight goggles over her eyes and the hood of her cloak over her head she stalked forwards keeping her head down. Sellers shouted over one another, begging for the lone customer to purchase their product instead of their neighbours. Specks of dry mud flung themselves up into the air, threatening to inflame the eyes of those who walked through them. 

Shoulders bumped against Isolde's, she was bumped from side to side repeatedly and struggled to keep both of her feet steady on the floor due to the rate that the market area was filling up. Her chest pounded, after all she was not used to being in places with many people. Unconsciously, her feet decided to move in a hurried manner, which resulted in her engaging in a light sprint until she ended up in a rather barren area. 

Her body threw itself rather unceremoniously onto the floor, allowing her back to rest up against a moist tree trunk which seemed to be the home to many species of mould and fungi. Fresh air stung her lungs as they worked with various systems in her body to calm it down after the previously administered adrenaline started to wear off. 

Suddenly, similar to how the needle of a compass will always point north it felt as if a light filled Isolde's body, telling her where she needed to go. Luckily, her destination was not too far from where she was.

***

Half an hour had passed until Isolde reached the place her heart wished to go. Calldyr city was previously a gorgeous place that was filled with life and nature. Or at least that is what Isolde had been told. The last time she had visited she had to say goodbye to one of the only men that had ever truly been kind to her and the thought of that was enough to make her want to crumble all over again.

The once-charred stone which she remembered being engulfed in bright flames was now weathered, with moss and vines creeping through the cracks. The blackened platform remained but had begun to crumble, a haunting reminder of the past. Gothic buildings loomed in the background, their banners tattered and faded. The sky was overcast, but faint rays of light broke through, casting an eerie glow over the desolate square. Though time had softened the scene, the weight of history lingered in the air, a silent testament to the tragedy that had unfolded there.

Isolde thought over Fen Riorson and how disappointed he would have been in who she had become. Not only had she brewed the intention to become a rider, she enacted upon it, which would only result in her working alongside those that killed him. Thoughts of what were later named the Calldyr executions filled her mind. How Fen locked eyes with her mother as General Melgren's dragon Codagh slaughtered him. How he spoke in such an eerily quiet yet furious voice as he spoke him last words. 

She fell forward onto her knees and rubbed her calloused palms against the covered skin of her knees. Her eyes screwed themselves shut tightly as she tried to imagine her mother or Fen being with her. Rain started to pour down from the skies above, in a manner that summed the pair of them up perfectly. 

Her mother always filled Isolde with a delightful feeling of cleanliness and security whereas Fen whilst strong and intimidating her never once used a tone of malice against Isolde which allowed her to always feel a potent sense of security when he was nearby. 

Isolde however did not appreciate the finality in the way that her mind thought about her mother. She was not dead. Isolde refused to think any further about what was happening with her mother and where she was because there was only so much heartache she could deal with at any one time.

Instead she took the time to lean forward, press her head against the cold stones beneath her and prayed to Malek in the hope that her would listen to her and convey a message of apology to Fen. Thinking over him, she allowed herself to replay the awful events in the hope that if she spoke over them they would no longer follow her. 

A/N:

Criminally short chapter. I am not a fan of how short this is but it's been a couple of months since I sat down and wrote so I had to re-read the entire story again so I didn't accidentally bring back or kill off a character that I shouldn't have. I am looking forward to the next chapter though as we will get to see Isolde's POV of the Callydr executions. Don't worry I haven't forgotten about my king Xaden.

p.s. 15 thousand reads!! You guys are crazy and I love you so much. 

p.p.s. I have started to learn how to drive and the clutch is my no.1 enemy. #stallingqueen

-L