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∞ | Chapter 20 - Izla | ∞

Citadel Himmel, Sage Cliffs

"Izla wa-is my sister."

She blinked and her mouth worked, trying to form an answer to that revelation. "Your sister? You had a sister?"

"Yes." His voice was distant and eerily quiet.

"You've never mentioned her," she remarked, wondering what the hell was going on. She felt a little hurt at the fact that he chose not to disclose this fact to her.

She had shared everything with him, well, not everything but almost everything. It counted, didn't it? But at this point, she was starting to realise she didn't know a thing about Rhydderch's past.

And it bothered her.

Did she really know her soulmate?

Yes, a voice argued in her mind. You know that he is delightfully clever, brilliant at strategies, he amazes you with how his mind works. You know how to read him like a book, you know his habits, his quirks and his temperamental moods and you accept it all.

Adrastea sighed, maybe it bothered her more on the fact that Rhydderch hadn't confided his past to her, not on the fact that she didn't know him. She did know him and cared desperately for him.

And she always thought that a person's past doesn't define who the person is. Satisfied with that thought, she focused back on Rhydderch who was still oddly silent.

"She was dead when I was fifteen. And I thought she was dead until today." He finally said, his eyes focused on the exact spot where Izla had been bound earlier.

"Isn't that good?" She forced a smile. "You've been given a chance to be reunited with her."

"Is it really?" Rhydderch's voice took on a strange quality and she frowned. "Why is it not?"

"Adrastea, I've not been exactly honest with you," he began and she could feel her heart begin to pound from his words. "I've made...deals. Deals that would have negative impacts on everyone should they find out."

She blinked and waited for him to continue and when he didn't, she frowned in impatience. "Rhydderch, I know you're not exactly a saint, you enjoy giving out punishments and holding trials, it doesn't entirely surprise me. Who did you make them with?" She asked warily, afraid of his answer.

He looked up at her, the fading moonlight causing his eyes to appear even lighter than their crystalline blue made him seem almost unnatural.

"The Devil."

"What?" she furrowed her brows deeper, not knowing if she should take him seriously.

"Not literally," he replied dryly, rolling his eyes. "But the person is widely considered to be a reincarnation of him," he said quietly, looking at his hands.

"Who?" she pressed.

"I can't say."

She exhaled heavily and faced him, eyes trying to understand. "Fine, then what deals did you make?"

"I can't say that as well," he repeated before rubbing his face tiredly with his hand. "But it didn't involve Izla. I thought she was dead!" He roared abruptly and she barely flinched, used to his ever-changing moods.

"Rhydderch, please explain to me because I'm trying to understand how does Izla fit into all of this?" she pleaded, wanting to help and figure out this whole mess that her soulmate got involved in.

Rhydderch stared at her, his face akin to a blank piece of paper. And it was times like this, that she felt annoyed at his ability to hide his thoughts and emotions this well.

"You can tell me," she coaxed, her fingers reaching for his hand to grasp it. "I'm here for you," she said quietly and immediately felt foolish for saying those bold words.

Rhydderch stared at her, an unreadable look flashed across his face before it became impassive once more. But this time, she could see that his eyes held a warmer gleam.

"Izla is two years younger than me and we have always been close," he finally said, eyes averted but it comforted her that he didn't pull his hand away.

"My family are Affluents."

She blinked and gaped at him before shaking her head in confusion. "But-well, then why are you here?"

Here meaning as to running a Rebellion, tearing down cities, living like a wanderer and everything that came with it.

"They were slaughtered, I was sent to the slave mines and the last thing I saw before that was Izla choking to death on a hangman's noose."

Adrastea startled at that and she knew her mouth was gasping like a fish out of water. But the thought of a fifteen-year-old being sent to the slave mines and a thirteen-year-old being hanged seemed cruel beyond words.

"Oh god," she breathed out incredulously and her grip on his hand tightened. "Who killed your family?"

A cynical sneer appeared on his face. "Exactly like yours but not for the same reasons. Do you know what the slave mines are like?"

No, but she had heard the stories. Stories about people never leaving the mines alive. There were different kinds of mines, there were gold, salt, coal and other kinds of resources. People who were criminals or had powerful enemies were often sent there without any say and once they were there, they never left. The conditions were harsh and the punishments should anyone step out of line even worse.

"No," she whispered. That explained the multitude of scars on his body, she brooded. She didn't think it was ever appropriate to inquire about the cruel looking slashes across his back but now she knew. And she wanted to pull him into her arms and embrace him tightly.

"I was there for five years before managing to escape. And if you were ever in the slave mines, you have to learn to be fast on your feet to dodge blows and whatnot. Anyway, I settled in Deserra and that is where I met Darius first," he explained and Adrastea couldn't help but note that now his eyes were focused on their linked hands.

"I see," she said lamely, not knowing how to respond to the sudden load of information he had given her.

Feeling the weight of his stare on her, she looked up and grey met blue. "I've had a difficult life and so did you, everyone has that. I don't need your pity," he said stonily, eyes hard.

She bit her lip.

"I don't pity you," she said softly.

What she felt was the exact opposite in fact. He was someone that could do the harder things in life which she couldn't bear to do and that was fine with her. She respected and admired him because of it.

Yes, he had a debatable moral compass and sometimes, she even questioned herself inwardly if he even had any morals. But hearing the struggles he had experienced in his life and all the horrors he had gone through, she could say she understood.

She understood his skepticism of relying and depending on others. Trust was something he didn't give and he treated betrayal as a crime akin to death. It did make sense.

To be honest, Adrastea was pretty sure that if she had been in his shoes, she would have probably been dead by now in the slave mines. She wasn't strong like that, not like him.He exhaled deeply and absentmindedly, she reached out to push a stray lock of his hair away from his forehead. Feeling the contact of her hand on his skin, he shut his eyes and she embraced him hesitantly.

They stayed that way till the sun rose.

* * *

"Don't be rash," she warned as they as they climbed the stairs leading to the cells.

"I won't. I just want answers," he retorted as they went down the narrow hallway. Shadows caused by the dancing flames in their torches appeared on the walls and somehow, it made the place even eerier than it really was.

"Do Darius and Jarek know that she's your sister?" she pressed and Rhydderch shot her a glance. "No. At least, not yet. Darius has the uncanny ability to get the truth without anyone telling him anything," he remarked and stopped abruptly in front of a wooden door.

Sensing his hesitance, she gripped onto his hand and squeezed reassuringly.

He opened the door and the creaking noise from the rusty hinges of the door echoed loudly around made her flinch. The only thing separating them from Rhydderch's sister was the set of long thick metal bars positioned between them.

Now that there was some light in the room, Adrastea could see that Izla did resemble Rhydderch. They shared similar traits like the angular facial features, the aristocratic noses, haunting blue eyes and the ruffled dark hair.

"Izla?"

Adrastea waited for the woman to react but none came. She was sitting calmly on the ground, her eyes focused on a distant spot on the cobbled ground. It was as if she hadn't heard Rhydderch speak at all.

She darted a gaze to her soulmate who had a blank expression on his face before he took a step forward, arms crossed over his chest intimidatingly. "Izla," he repeated a bit more forcefully.

Still, there was no reaction or any sign that showed that she heard him.

"Izla, it's Rhydderch, your brother."

This time, she stirred and in the shadows, Adrastea could see that her soulmate was expressive as ever.

"Brother? You mean my brother, Rhydderch?" The voice she used was light and airy and she lolled her head up to look at him. "You're dead," she said, smiling before pointing to a corner of the cell. "So are our parents, you should talk to them."

Rhydderch blinked and looked at the direction where she had been pointing to see nothing standing there. "Izla, I'm not dead," he said quietly.

She turned to him but there was no recognition in her eyes. "Yes, you are. But it is alright, you and Mother always watch over me. I always see you in my room and in the shadows. Father, on the other hand, is there with me when I have my jobs. You know this, we spoke before."

A prickle of unease crept up in his spine and he struggled to think of a suitable response. But he couldn't think of one. It was as if Izla was on drugs if she could see the dead. Or was it hallucinations?

"I'm not dead," he repeated insistently, his hand reached through the bars. "I'm alive, I'm not something your mind came up with."

Assuring her that he was there and alive right in front of her was the only thing he could think to do.

Izla stared at his outstretched hand for a long while and Rhydderch was just waiting. After years where guilt had settled on him like a second skin for not being able to protect and keep his sister safe, she had been alive all along.

"You're not real," she said slowly, her voice starting to get shaky and Rhydderch could see that her eyes were looking at him with growing uncertainty. "You're not. Regnant Medeia said that our family died and I was the only survivor."

His blood turned to ice at the mention of that particular name. "Izla, I'm alive, see?" His hand reached for her and touched her arm briefly, assuring her that he wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Izla stared at him, her eyes widening as each second passed and she began to shudder. Her mouth trembled and the look in her eyes reminded him of a wild animal that was corned by predators.

Immediately, he took a step back before turning around to face Adrastea who was starting to look concerned at his sister's reaction.

Focusing his attention on Izla, he turned to see that she was now on her feet, hands clenched around the bars of the cell.

And she screamed.

Panicked, he tried to reach out to her but the small form of his soulmate pushed him aside before injecting something in her neck.

Immediately, his sister collapsed onto the ground. "What was that?" he demanded, turning on his feet to look at Adrastea who was now checking the pulse on Izla's hand.

"A sedative, now open the cell and so we can get her treated," she ordered before keeping the syringe in her pocket.

"Treated?"

"She's malnourished, and I'm sure she's been through hell," she said shortly as he unlocked the cell. "Haven't you seen the scars on arms? And the one on her neck?"

No, he hadn't. He had just been so surprised and overwhelmed with her being alive that he didn't see anything else.

"We'll bring her up to the infirmary and we'll see."

The look on his soulmate's face wasn't very positive and he could feel dread curl up in his gut. He looked down at Izla and could feel the pain and sorrow at what she must have gone through for fifteen years.

* * *

"Possible burns, several lashes on her back, I'm sure some of her bones have been broken, loads of scars on her body from blades and bullets and she's severely underfed."

He could feel his stomach turn at their findings. He was supposed to protect her. He was her big brother. What kind of brother was he for never thinking of her being possibly alive?

From what he remembered, Izla always liked pretty things, from dolls to dresses, she had always been delicate and girly. But looking at the woman in front of him, marred by scars and dirt, he couldn't see them being the same person.

They were in the infirmary in Citadel Himmel and now that Izla was looked over and cleaned, he could now see the scars from old wounds on her neck and limbs. Rhydderch was pretty sure that if the nightgown she was wearing was removed, there was sure to be more present.

Izla was pale, unnaturally so and it made the dark circles around her eyes even darker and even in her unconscious state, her face was pulled into a harsh expression and her fingers dug into the sheets on the bed.

"So your family is from Vallisrem?"

He turned, slightly relieved from the change in subject. "Yes. They were," he corrected.

Silence ensued and he couldn't help but stare at his sister again. He had failed her. A small hand touched his shoulder gently as Adrastea settled beside him.

"There's one more thing," she said hesitantly, chewing on her lip.

He tensed. "What is it?"

"Based on her saying she sees people who are dead, I strongly suspect she has been drugged."

"Drugged," he said flatly and his medic nodded. "Yes, she was lucid, her motor skills were there and she was able to communicate clearly so there must be something in her system causing her to see things," she explained.

"How long will the drug be in her system?" He pressed urgently.

"It depends on whatever drug it is but," she paused and chewed on her lower lip. "I don't know how psychologically well she'll be."

He furrowed his brows, his posture tense. "What?"

Adrastea stood up and paced around. How was she going to break the news to Rhydderch that his sister might not be mentally well?

She licked her lips. "I assume strongly that she's been abused for fifteen years and that amount of damage she had suffered could lead to her being psychologically unwell."

She stopped in front of him before reaching out to point at the scarring on Izla's forearm. "This was her doing," she pointed out. Rhydderch swallowed harshly.

"When she was she speaking to you earlier, she thought that it was her dreamworld or something similar but I have no idea how she'll react when she's back in reality," she explained quietly.

"I see." Now, Rhydderch had composed himself and she could see the stark difference in the way he held himself in private and when in public. He was no longer the man that had been showing how concerned and worried he was for his sister. In short, he was back to his confident assured self.

However, she could note that his eyes were pained and were full of guilt. Truthfully, this was probably the first time she had seen such an emotion on him. His stance wasn't entirely perfect as well. He was slightly hunched as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Which he actually did, when you thought about it.

But never had she thought that she would see Rhydderch feeling the emotion guilt in her life, but here it was. It didn't take a genius to figure out why he was feeling that way. "At least she's alive and here with you," she reassured softly, hoping that it would break through his defences.

And it did.

He raised his head, looking at her before exhaling deeply. "We'll just hope for the best," she offered quietly before slipping a hand into his.

He tightened his hold on her hand before interlacing their fingers.  

* * *

A/N: Hi all! Sorry for the late update! It seems I can only update on Wednesdays now as school has started and all. I hope you enjoy the background information on Rhydderch. I know this chapter isn't entirely exciting but it has to be done. Hope you guys enjoyed it and please let me know what you think! 

Chapter dedicated to @Missbooknmusicfreak :)