Isabella had only known of Banjali as a far-away land where its rulers had once retained their royal titles despite succumbing under the King of Adarlan's claws. She had known it as the homeland of a young girl who had begged the Gods for freedom and had instead exchanged her life to be little else than pawn for a lost queen in a desperate mission to find herself and her rightful place under the crown.

But those were stories Isabella had read, webbed in silk, connected to reality and fantasy, crafted by a traveller of worlds under a disguise.

Now, she knew the truth that lay in a faraway world where she found herself in. Rowan and the others had spoken tirelessly about the kingdom of Eyllwe, where the biggest and most dangerous war camp of the Fae had taken place and birthed soldiers with the only purpose of battle.

After the Big War between humans and the Fae, immortals had given the humans the lands of the Northwest, including Adarlan, the Deserted Land -although very few ventured to that part of the territory, or so it was told-, Terrasen, and all the small and less known kingdoms in between. The Western Wastes, a realm that had always belonged to the witches -and unknown by humankind, for they were rumoured to be beings who enjoyed the taste of mortals' flesh- was left undisturbed and under the rule of the witches.

Wendlyn, Doranelle, and the Southern Continent had been taken back by their rightful Fae heirs, although all the land was now divided due to the Novyk, with camps of their own scattered all over the territory, poisoning others with their hatred and building their army of enemies.

Eyllwe, however, had been considered unclaimed land for centuries before the Big War. Due to the discovery of its crucial trade routes, the Fae asserted their dominance over the state and became its rulers. Short after the increase of strength of the Novyk, they tried taking over Eyllwe for its wide resources, and its convenient location.

Rowan confessed to her that the Fae fought really hard to keep the Novyk away from the nation, for they knew that if they possessed it, they would find a way to take hold of humans and use them as disposable soldiers in their cruel game. So they had engaged in a battle that had lasted years -known as the Ground War-. In fact, the time period had widened to such lengths that it had seemed for a moment that the Fae were going to lose. Realistically, they would have, if it hadn't been for the appearance of Anneith, goddess of wisdom and slow deaths -and consort of god Hellas- who blessed them with a warning of the Novyk's attacks. With the goddess' information, the Fae managed to secure their victory in the Ground War.

After the high ride of victory, Queen Sellene had ordered for a fortress to be built in the border between Melisande, Fenharrow and Eyllwe, a wall constructed with the purpose of separating mortals from immortals, to contain and fight against the Novyk, and to protect humans from falling prey to the tricks of the enemy.

With time, towers were built in order to maximise the sight over the land, where soldiers would stay, guarding the entrance to the fort, and to warm in case of attack. The structures were followed by houses for the soldiers and trainees to live while they trained and waited to be dispatched to join the battlefield. And, then, a castle, where the most important meetings took place, where soldiers prayed and offered sacrifices to the Gods, where royalty stayed whenever they visited the fort, and located in the exact place where it was said Anneith sided with the Fae to help them win.

As the territory evolved into a city, the Fae made sure to secure it with magic. Every piece of stone and brick used for construction was both charmed for protection, and cursed to attack if needed; spellworkings were sung to the skies and carried by the wind, until it grew with the soil and took root with every step taken into progress and advancements.

Until Banjali evolved from a land of ghosts to a land filled with hope stained in blood.

So now, as Isabella stood in place where history had clapped in delight, and where daydreams were tinted with grief, she could not help but be taken aback.

The earth had not been pavemented, and her books -along with the everyone else's- was now dirty with the soil of a land of magic. Every strong building was made of either stones or bricks, some were a mix of both; tents were scattered not very far away from what Isabella could recognize as a lake, and around an outdoor fireplace. Balls of fire were magically turned on, one by one, appearing out of thin air and remaining floating in place until the whole city was lighted up, as Isabella and the others finally came to a stop.

She squinted at one of the balls of fire as it seemed to have waved at her. She instantly rubbed her eyes, her gaze fixed on the light.

Rowan gently bumped his shoulder with hers, catching her attention. She looked up at him, and found the tiniest of grins on his lips. He gestured with his head in the direction of the fireballs. "Fire sprites, some of the oldest of the Fae Folk,"

"The Fae Folk," She repeated, dumbly as her memory reminded her of Gavriel's tale told not long ago around the ashes of a dead fire. A tale about the origin of all creatures, and the first spiritual beings to ever exist, those that were older and closer to the gods than any living soul in their world, known as the Fae Folk.

He frowned playfully down at her, "They don't like us very much, but they are incredibly nosy, so every night they light our camp and keep company to the poor souls stationed here"

She feigned to look around, "It does not seem so bad,"

He looked away, "Just wait," He murmured, his tone suddenly sombre.

His words seemed to be a prophecy for doom, for as soon as they left his mouth, Isabella noticed the figures standing in front of them. Three of them were males, almost as tall and wide as Lorcan or Rowan. Behind them, a small group of spectators had formed, and were now studying them with interest. She could feel their keen eyes on her. Instinctively, she took an imperceptible step back until the side of her body was in contact with Rowan's, the warmth emanating from his body brought her a certain type of calmness.

One of the three males, a brunette with dark brown skin that glistened in one of the most beautiful ways due to the reflection of the fire against it. His golden eyes twinkled as his gaze travelled along everyone in her group, and then fell on her.

"The Lion, the Wolf, Commander Salvaterre, Your Royal Highness," He nodded at them, the only sign of respect to their titles. "And..." She noticed the movement of his nose, and realised he had sniffed the air. "A human," He finished, and based on his tone and the way his eyes focused on her companions, he had no interest in her. Thankfully.

"Orion, it's good to see you," It was Gavriel who spoke, his voice coated in feigned cheerfulness yet serious as he could not fully pretend.

The male, Orion, merely grunted in response. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your unannounced presence?" He asked, instead, flatly.

"We have come here with the intention of rest, and to help with the training of some of the soldiers residing here,"

One of the other males, a blonde with a scar running down one side of his pale face, fisted one of his hands while the other remained in the hilt of his sword seethed at his hip. He wore the same uniform as the rest of the Fae around him, the same clothes Isabella had seen her friends wear when she first met them before they ventured on their own, with the only difference being a golden jacket with blue embroidery. The colours of Doranelle.

"Our troops needn't of your services, they are already the best of the best," He said through clenched teeth.

Lorcan snorted at the male's words. "I bet that's why you lost a dozen of them in the last interaction"

The blonde male bared his fanged teeth as he took a step in Lorcan's direction, only to be stopped by Orion's hand on his chest. "How could we ever say no to our brothers when they seek us in need?" He told them, placating the tension hanging in the air. "However," Isabella felt Rowan stiffened next to her. Orion's eyes fell once again quickly on her before his gaze strayed to Rowan's. He shifted in his feet silently, the movement shielding her from view in an act that would have been missed by anyone except her thanks to the proximity of their bodies.

"I believe I speak for everyone in our camp when I ask: what is a human doing in such fine company?"

"Is she a halfling?" The blonde asked, disgust written in the curve of his mouth. "We needn't any more half-bloods," He looked into Lorcan's eyes as he spoke his next words. "We've already got enough of those dirty half-breeds" It was said in a sneer.

"Or maybe she's their whore," The third male said, his hair the same colour as the flames of the sprites. "Although I'm surprised they would fall so low as to bed a human," He said with a smirk that Isabella wanted to wipe with her own fist.

Around her, Rowan's body appeared to be vibrating with ire, his hands clenched in fists, and she could recognize the electrifying prickle against her skin as the humming of his magic.

But it was Lorcan's darkness, the one which erupted from his surroundings, engulfing the scenery in blackness that made it impossible for her to see even her hands. Faintly, she heard the sound of swords being unsheathed, low moans of pain, gasps for air, a great number of steps moving in different directions.

All in the blink of an eye.

When the shadows returned to Lorcan's side, the fire sprites burned brighter as if awakened by his magic, and illuminated the actions done while hidden under the cover of his night. The nameless, blonde male was on his knees, his sword lay forgotten to his side on the floor, and he was clutching his wounded neck with both of his hands as he gulped. A trail of blood stained the front of his clothes and hands.

The red-haired male lay unconscious on his back, and although no visible injuries covered his body, the rise and fall of his chest was barely perceptible.

Orion stood in the middle of it, untouched. He looked from one of his males to the other, and plastered a tight smile on his face as his gaze went back to those responsible for the quick attack.

"We have no tolerance for undisciplined, childish, abhorrent warriors under our watch. The four of us outrank every single soldier in this compound, and now that we are here, we intend to correct the mistakes done by incompetent figures of power, starting from now " Rowan's voice ran loud in the space. She could have sworn some even shivered as they noticed the gravity his words carried; the threat and firmness. She had never heard him like that before.

Orion bowed to them, "Of course, Your Royal Highness,"

Isabella noticed the way Rowan pursed his lips at the title.

"We will see our accommodations to ourselves. The rest of you may continue as you were, tomorrow training begins at 4:30. Be ready to work or be ready to pack your things and go back to Doranelle as a deserter." Gavriel spoke to all the people. Everyone followed their orders as they scattered away.

Orion motioned for two soldiers to carry the red-haired's male body but Rowan stopped them with a sharp "No,". The soldiers stopped in their tracks, and Orion stiffened. Rowan looked at the male on the floor with a certain kind of cruelty that had Isabella inching closer to his side. The curve of his lips tugged upward in savagery as he ordered, "Leave him there. Let the dirt on the floor be his bed"

The soldiers nodded and rushed to leave. Orion remained and cleared his throat. "Will he wake up, Your Highness?"

Rowan cocked his head to the side, "Only if I deem it so," He began walking, Isabella and the rest with him, and left Orion standing there, surrounded by his two injured companions, and forbidden from helping.

It was as she passed their side to leave them behind that she noticed the magic still running through the unconscious male, and recognized it as Rowan's.

-

"We could have stayed at the palace," Fenrys said for the third time in less than an hour as he prepared his bedroll on the floor.

"I don't want to stay there," Rowan replied, busy with his own preparations.

"I know, but it is quite selfish of you to force us to sleep on the floor, outside, when there is a perfectly available palace with beds awaiting for us. Furthermore, your modesty is quite inconvenient right now,"

Rowan sighed, and looked up as if asking the Gods for patience. "I didn't force you to sleep here, if you want to go to the palace, go. You are free to do so."

"Right, but then how would that make me look? Terribly vain-"

"You are abysmally vain," Lorcan interrupted from his corner in the tent.

"-and that would merely gain me a horrendous reputation. In fact, I can already imagine the kind of nasty gossip they would start about me" Fenrys continued as if his ears were not sharper than most of the population in this world.

"I cannot deal with him anymore," Lorcan groaned onto his made bed.

Fenrys sniffled, clearly bothered by his comment. "Why is it that nobody understands the dilemma I am in?"

"There is no dilemma," Gavriel answered, already in position to sleep.

The wolf gasped, "I beg your pardon-"

"That's it!" Lorcan exclaimed, exasperated. "I cannot bear with this nonsense anymore," He grabbed the few things he had unpacked and bolted to the opening of the tent. "I'm leaving"

"To where? If you are going to the palace then I'm going with you," Fenrys said, excitedly.

"No!" Lorcan hurried to say, but it was already too late, for the wolf was already on his heels and wiggling his tail enthusiastically.

Gavriel sighed, "I should probably go with them if we want them to survive the night,"

"Do we?" Rowan asked absently.

"Unfortunately, yes" In less than a minute he had packed his things and left them alone.

Isabella glanced at her own backpack, then at Rowan, who continued to ready his possessions to bed, with no hint of following his friends.

With the intention of not making things awkward, she lay on her bedroll and covered herself with a blanket. He hummed lowly to himself as he finished getting ready and practically threw himself on his own bedroll.

There was little space separating them from each other, for the tent was not very spacious, and although they were now the only two people inside, Rowan had made no effort in moving his resting place to the other corner. She would not be the one to complain, anyway.

A jar with a small flame was the only light illuminating the space where they found themselves in. She had asked him earlier if it were a small spirit that was trapped inside, but Rowan had explained that it was actually a single tear from one of the fire spirits, given willingly to them. Apparently, their tears did not turn off even after they had run off, and since they did not generate any smoke, they were used as a replacement for candles. Under the explicit permission of the spirits, of course.

She found it truly fascinating.

Silence reigned between them now, and the only sounds she could hear were the ones coming from outside. The water from the lake she had peeked at, the steps of those in patrol, the low, gentle voices from the sprites talking with each other; and the tender whistle of the wind.

Isabella found that while she did not mind the change of environment, she could not bear the absence of words between them.

She shifted so she lay on her side, looking at Rowan's handsome profile, and dared. "Can I know why you don't wish to sleep in the palace?"

His eyes remained on the ceiling, although she knew his attention was now on her. "Yes, of course you can know," A small smile curved her lips. "The truth is I hate most of the 'privileges' that come with a royal title, they are just lines that disrupt the order of everything they find, and bring nothing but discontent to those around"

She blinked. "You mean you would rather sleep on the floor instead of a bed because then others would disregard you for the benefits of your blood?"

"They would dismiss my accomplishments to a position, my diligence to authoritarianism, and my kindness to falseness" His voice held no emotion, but she could tell the topic bothered him quite a lot.

"Would it be too cliche if I told you that you are so much more than your title?"

He chuckled, "Quite so, yes,"

"Then I should reassure you of it by confessing that you look and behave very little like a prince, so there is nothing for you to worry about"

Rowan snorted at that, "Your honesty is noted and appreciated"

"Thank you, Your Highness,"

He groaned onto his hands and shifted so he also lay on his side, his eyes peering at her. "Don't call me that,"

She grinned at him, "Alright"

"I'm serious,"

"Me too,"

"Liar," He shook his head. "And it's Your Royal Highness," He corrected as a joke.

She gasped dramatically. "That was quite princeling of you, you must remedy it quickly"

He raised an eyebrow, "And how should I do so?"

She shrugged, "If you want to be seen as a peasant, then you must think as one. I cannot help you"

He let out a loud laugh at that. She joined him, her body shaking with laughter just as his. When it resided, he stared intently at her. "Do you wish to stay at the palace?"

"What? No," She frowned at his question. "Wel, it certainly wouldn't bother me, but neither does sleeping in here. I have gotten used to it"

Although the fortress had houses and towers with plenty of available rooms, soldiers of little experience and their superiors tended to stay in tents close to the lake, Gavriel had told her. They were small things of fabric enchanted to be shielded from water and the strongest of winds. The shelters were scattered all around the lake, one the same as the other.

He seemed to doubt the honesty in her words. "Are you sure? You could sleep on a bed if you wanted to,"

She made sure to look him straight in the eye as she spoke. "I do not mind at all where I am right now,"

But Rowan looked far from relieved, for his brow pulled in a frown. "Are you not afraid they will believe in Elijah's words if you sleep in the same place as me and the others?" There was so much concern, so much gentleness and care in his words as he said them. Something in her chest clenched at him.

It took her a moment, however, to realise that Elijah was the red-haired male. And that his words had meant for her to be a whore.

Immediately, she remembered the way Rowan had attacked him and left him alone on the floor. She warmed up at that.

"Not really. I have been treated like a whore for years even though I was just a victim, I have no disrespect or prejudice for that word or those who may be called that. And I certainly do not care what strangers wish to think of me," Not anymore, at least.

He stared at her for a very long time. For so long, in fact, that she could have sworn she felt a gentle breeze caressing her cheek. But the sensation disappeared almost as soon as she perceived it.

"If anyone asks or says something about it to you, you can always tell them I am your whore," He told her as a joke.

She choked with her own saliva as she howled in laughter. She had no doubt that everyone around them could hear as the sound of their laughter reached the depths of the night.

-

"Did you hear that?" Fenrys asked from his place.

"No," Lorcan grunted.

"How could you not? It is very loud"

"I don't care"

"They are just laughing, Fenrys, just go to sleep" Gavriel muttered.

The three of them lay on his bedrolls, in a tent not very far away from the one where Isabella and Rowan were howling with laughter.

"Laughing? Why are they laughing ? I didn't leave so they could laugh" The wolf sounded truly offended.

"Even so, laughter is good,"

" Still , I left so they could get intimate, not so they could laugh. Especially if they are going to sound like that"

"Stop being so nosy and sleep. This was my idea, anyway" Lorcan said against his pillow.

"How can you two even think about sleeping when we could instead be eavesdropping?"

Both eldest males grunted in annoyance and prayed that the night wouldn't be too long.

-

Isabella woke up with the sound of a wolf's loud howl. She jumped in her own place due to it, and looked around in confusion. Rowan's side of the tent was empty, and as she touched it with her hand and found it cold, realised that he had been gone for quite some time.

She willed herself not to panic, for she knew that they would not abandon her and let her fend for herself, and put on her boots. She had slept fully dressed, after all. She was considering not to bother with a hair comb when Rowan stepped through the opening.

"Oh, great. You are awake"

"How could I not be? Was that a wolf?" She stood up and dusted off her pants.

He nodded, "It was actually Fenrys,"

"Why?" She asked slightly horrified. She knew it could not be very late in the morning, for her body could feel the little hours of sleep it'd had.

"Training starts early from now on, and I want everyone to run a few circles around the lake before breakfast,"

"Oh," She rubbed one of her eyes tiredly with the back of her hand. "I'm going back to sleep then,"

"No, you are going to join the rest and run"

Isabella stopped mid-turn. "What? No,"

"Yes,"

"No."

"Why not? We've been training you for weeks, why stop now?"

"Because," She began through gritted teeth. "This is not the same"

He raised a single eyebrow. "How so?"

"You know why"

Rowan pretended to think about it. "No. I don't, actually"

"They are obviously more advanced than I am, there's no way I'll be able to keep up with their training,"

"Then you'll do all you can and with great consistency you will be able to match their pace in no time," He sounded so sure of it.

She covered her face with her hands as she moaned. "No, stop it. Don't be that kind of friend"

"Do you perhaps mean a good friend?" He sounded completely amused, now.

"Yes, exactly. Don't. Please be a bad friend, a terrible one. Be a bad influence and tell me to go back to sleep and to forget about training at all" She peeked at him through her fingers.

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest, a small smile revealed how entertained he found her. "I will not,"

"Pretty please?" She tried.

"Close, but no"

"Agh," She threw her hands in the air in a show of defeat. "Fine,"

"Great, let's go, then" He turned in his heels and left as fast as he had entered. With a good number of curses muttered in vain, she followed.

The camp looked different now than it did last night. There were no floating flames lining the sides and shore in sight, the sunlight permitted her to appreciate the beauty of the grass and the dancing of the tall trees. A wooden dock had been built for the lake that she had not been able to see the night before.

A hand fell on one of her shoulders, "Good morning," Fenrys greeted her cheerfully.

"There's nothing good about it"

"Why the long face? Did you not sleep last night? Why? Was it fun?" He wiggled his eyebrows repeatedly.

She frowned in complete confusion. "Huh?" It was too early for his unusual sense of humour.

Lorcan appeared right behind her and smacked Fenrys' backhead. "Ignore him, he didn't get enough beauty sleep and it's making him act weird"

"Oh," It made sense, anything was possible when it came to the wolf and his beauty sleep.

Isabella followed them until they reached a wide group located close to the border of the lake, in front of the dock where now Rowan, Lorcan and Fenrys stood. She glanced curiously at them, at the stance in which they were on their feet, at the hands clasped behind their backs, the still position of their shoulders and the dangerous expressions on their faces.

With no knowledge of what to do, she positioned herself to one side of the group. Not too far away to be a mere spectator, but not too close so as to be truly considered a part of assemblement.

The Fae were grouped together and were composed of both males and females, all taller and broader than Isabella by a wide scratch. She wondered if perhaps their greater height and complexion was related to their blood, for even the shortest and smallest of them was much bigger than her.

She ignored the stares directed in her direction, the subtle sneers and condescending looks as they looked down their nose at her. Although she did not look at them right back, she did lift her chin.

"Alright," Lorcan called from his place. He looked terrifying and powerful. Isabella wondered how many of the people here knew he secretly liked to be tucked into bed. "I want everyone to run a few laps around the lake, then you'll do some crunches, followed by squats and finished by more laps around the lake"

She forced herself not to glare at Rowan as she cursed at the fact that the exercise was way more than just "a few laps around the lake". Fuckers.

A male's hands shot straight to the air and awaited in silence. Lorcan made a show of ignoring him for a few seconds before dragging his stare in disdain as he scrutinised the male. "Speak," He ordered.

"Sir, how many rounds of each set?"

The smile that blossomed across Lorcan's face was one full of savagery, one that promised brutality. "As many as I deem necessary," She was sure she didn't imagine some of the fae shifting uncomfortably on their feet. "Now, start running before I add more exercises!"

And so her stay in Banjali began.

-

Isabella could not move her body, she could barely feel her limbs, she only knew they were still attached to her as a whole because she ached all over. She had spent her morning trying to keep up with the rest, and after breakfast, when she had confessed -and maybe even begged- that there was no possibility she would be able to also do any training for the rest of the day, the males she called friends -and that she was reconsidering to call authoritarians, the fuckers- had then insisted she observe the lessons if she was not going to participate. So she did.

Well after lunch, her body began aching due to the extent to which she had pushed it this morning. Unbearably so, she had just gotten up and started leaving when Fenrys called for her to stay, she merely showed him her finger and continued walking as the echo of his laughter accompanied her to her tent.

She was still resting on her bedroll when night fell. Truthfully, she had no intention of leaving her bed until the next morning, and she could not bring herself to care or be bothered by the stink of her sweat, for she was sure she could not get up to clean herself even if she wanted to.

Her eyes were drifting shut when she heard the sound of incoming steps and then the rustling of the opening.

"What are you still doing here? It's dinner time" Fenrys called from inside her tent.

Lorcan followed suit, he smirked in her direction knowingly. "Already feeling sore, aren't we?" She threw her made-pillow at his head, but even such an unimportant movement caused her to groan in pain. The two males chuckled.

"C'mon, you need some food"

"I don't want to," She mumbled against her arms, currently using them as a pillow.

"Too bad you still need it,"

"Fenrys, just leave, please. I'm not even sure I can stand"

"Not moving will make it worse. You need to warm up, I bet you didn't do it before you threw yourself on your bed like a cow,"

She hadn't, and he was shamelessly right, but she was not going to admit it. " You 're the cow" Childish, yet the only thing she could think of to say.

"No," She could genuinely feel the grin on his face just by listening to the sound of his voice. "I'm a wolf"

She groaned. "Go away,"

"Now, now, don't be acting like a little brat" She snorted at that, for everyone knew that there wasn't a bigger brat than Fenrys. "You can either come with us on your own two feet or Lorcan will carry you like a sack of potatoes"

She hated her friends, sometimes she was really convinced she did. And yet, she stood up. Slowly. Painfully. Begrudgingly. And accompanied them to the dining hall.

It was located inside one of the biggest buildings, and it was composed of simple walls of stone, long wooden tables and matching benches to sit. Food, mostly different types of meat, plates, cutlery and glasses adorned the counters. There was only one table different from the others, positioned horizontally instead of vertically, and it only had chairs looking down at the rest of the room. Orion sat in a chair farthest to the centre of such a table, sipping from his glass. Nobody else sat there.

Fenrys gripped both of her shoulders from behind as he guided her, with Lorcan, through the space of each set of tables to an empty seat next to where Rowan and Gavriel already sat, chatting.

She ignored the evident stares, the stop of conversation as they walked, and the few fingers pointed in her direction. As soon as she sat, Gavriel smiled kindly in her direction, though his eyes betrayed him. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Like my body gave up a long time ago and I'm just a jelly brain" She mumbled.

They laughed at her predicament. "Did you warm up?" Rowan asked her as he passed down a plate already full of food to her.

She busied her mouth with food so as to not answer.

"She hasn't," Fenrys chirped in, the snitch.

Rowan frowned, "Why not?"

She swallowed, "Too painful, too tired"

He shook his head in her direction, "I'll help you later"

"She hasn't showered either," Fenrys added, a bit too cheerfully for her liking. He looked at her, "You stink, by the way. Maybe Rowan should help you with that, too"

Heat highlighted her cheeks with a reddish blush that she covered with distraction by putting more food in her mouth. She heard a pumping sound under the table followed by a moan in pain coming from Fenrys, she smiled against the glass in her lips.

Conversation flew as food continued to be served. Isabella noticed that soldiers were also tasked with cooking and cleaning. More fire spirits lined the stone walls as they floated in the air as flames, even though transparent jars with their tears were scattered along each table.

"Fuck," Rowan cursed lowly, catching her attention. She noticed Orion's presence behind the males sitting in front of her. "Can't it wait?" He asked the golden-eyed male.

"I fear not, Your Royal Highness"

His nostrils flared in annoyance. "Fine, let's go" Rowan stood up and Gavriel, Lorcan, and Fenrys followed. She had begun mimicking their actions when Rowan's apologetic expression stopped her in place. "We have a meeting to attend, it'll be very boring. Why don't you stay here and finish your food and then go back to the tent and rest?"

She tried not to let the hurt from the isolation be noticeable in her face as she nodded. "Sure," The males nodded in her direction and left them alone. Surrounded by strangers who were openly staring at her.

Isabella willed herself to ignore them as she finished eating, but then she heard it; whispered in a hush, said in accusation, told in a story, carried in a murmur: fallen .

Her body stiffened at the word, goosebumps breaking all over it. She hid one of her hands under her tight so they would not notice it trembling. She looked at one group seated next to her, they were all hunched together and staring at her. One of them spat the word in her face, " Fallen cunt" The rest giggled.

She stood abruptly from her place, her food forgotten as she tried breathing to leave with dignity. Yet, as she did so, someone else spoke to one another, "She's one of them . I'm sure. A fucking fallen monster"

Isabella froze in place, she turned to look in the eyes of whoever had dared speaking so poorly of her with no knowledge of her. "What did you say?"

The male that had spoken bared his teeth, his fangs at her in a cruel, threatening sneer. "I called you a fallen. Monster."

She pursed her lips in anger. "I'm not a monster, and I'm certainly not the one who resembles such a creature the most" She made sure to pointedly look at him as she spoke her last words.

He stood from his place, his hands falling heavily on the table, making a loud sound and the cutlery to rattle. He narrowed his eyes at her, "What did you call me?"

She forced herself to repress the urge to take a step back. Instead, she feigned for an unbothered, innocent expression. "I did not call you any names," She blinked for emphasis. "What do you mean?"

"Don't fucking play with me or I'll-" He began only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. It belonged to a new presence, one of a male. His short hair was a rich colour that reminded her of cherries, he had high cheekbones and a straight nose, accompanied by beautiful silver eyes.

He was one of the handsomest males she had ever laid eyes upon, but beauty was meaningless, a facade of webbed lies filled with senselessness. It was absurd. Worthless. Inconsequential. Still, Isabella could not look away as the new male gave the other fae a tight smile as he continued to grip his shoulder.

"Vinhen, I-" The fae said, his face a mix of confusion and wariness.

The attractive male, Vinhen, shook his head once. Slowly. Firmly. In an act of power. The unnamed male slowly sat down, a frown adorning his face as he blinked a few times.

Vinhen patted his shoulder twice before taking a step back and one toward the place where she stood. He offered her a soft-hearted smile, but Isabella wanted nothing to do with anyone right now. She turned in her heels before the male could speak a word to her. And as she passed the empty space between the tables, she could still hear it;

Shouted at her as nothing more than a murmur, carried in the air as if the air had been enchanted against its will to carry the message to her ears,

Fallen

Monster

Fallen

Fallen.

-

She almost tore open the fabric that served as a door for her tent. She had practically run there, to the space that was now a sanctuary which brought her comfort in its emptiness and relief in its privacy.

Isabella clenched at the fabric in her chest, she felt like she was a little girl again. Whimpering in fear as she walked the hallways of her school, sweating with nervousness and anxiety as she wished she could talk with someone -anyone- and make a friend. While all she had were insults thrown at her and stares that made her skin crawl.

But-

But, it was not the same, she told herself. For she had spoken back, for she had refused to back down, for she had willed her heart to bear the chains squeezing it and stand her ground. The realisation that she would have fought that male regardless of her possible unfavourable outcome eased her spiralling thoughts.

An almost hysterical laugh escaped her lips at that. She touched the edge of her mouth with the tip of her fingers in surprise and smiled. Another laugh got free. Surprisingly, unprecedentedly, Isabella was quite satisfied with herself.

She was...elated. So much that she felt the absurd urge to run back to the dining hall with a knife in her hand and make the male repeat his words again as she pressed the edge of the sharp weapon against his neck.

It was an unrealistic fantasy, of course. A delusion triggered by the excitement of her new pride and unintelligent bravery.

And yet...No. She told herself to stop contemplating such ridiculous thoughts, but it was as if she could not stop. She found herself as if empowered, almost as if a presence, as if an external energy guided her to her backpack and encouraged her to grab the knife she kept in there.

Isabella hid it inside one of her knee-high boots and went outside. The veil of night had fallen and wore no stars. Even the moon seemed to be partly hidden as she walked to the trees to calm herself instead of back to the hall, where the erratic beating of her heart was telling her to go.

She almost dropped to her knees and fell on the grass with the strength she was using to fight against the thirst for blood that was threatening to overtake her. Her mind was going crazy, listening to whispers from beings that were not there. A roaring wing brought a couple of fallen knees to her feet, it lacked the scents of Rowan's magic. It was something else entirely.

Something old, raw. Powerful and starting that was pulling on the strings of her heart and mind to command her to do its bidding.

She was-

"What the fuck?" A voice she recognized had her looking up at the intruder. It was the male from before, he who had spoken ill of her, who had taunted her with his eyes and the sneer in his lips.

She wanted to tell him to go away, to ask him what he was doing here when she was sure nobody ventured so deep into the woods at such an hour.

She asked the skies what kind of coincidence was this, and then wondered what kind of game fate was playing with her. Lastly, she questioned to herself why would anyone wish to guide her to murder.

"Hey, are you listening? Are you alright?" His voice felt too pitch high to her ears. She forced herself to look away from him. He must have confused her restraint for fear, because he chuckled. "What? You are not so brave now that you are all alone, huh?"

She stuttered. "L-leave me alone,"

He laughed loudly at that, the sound vicious and barbaric. "The mouse got your tongue?," Then, his mocking face transformed. Fury twisted his features until they were something horrible and wicked. "Maybe I should teach you what oughts to be done to fallen shit like you,"

He dashed to her, until their faces were inches away from each other. "Don't worry, you can scream all you want, we are too deep for anyone to hear. And even if they could, silencing charms have always been my speciality"

She spat on his face in response.

His eyes turned feral, "You bitch, " He lunged at her. His body collided with her own, causing them to fall on her back with him on top of her. She trashed under him, in a wild attempt to try to get him away from her, but it was futile. His wide size was too much of an advantage in comparison to her thinner, frail body. It took him no time for his legs to cage her own, straddling her as his hands circled her wrists and pinned them harshly above her head.

"I really hate it when whores don't know their place," He whispered, ferociously.

Isabella wiggled her legs even as the weight of him on top of her made it almost impossible for her to do something as simple as that. She could not get her legs free, she could not even manage to lift her knee to kick his balls. Oh, how she wished she could.

His grip on her wrists tightened with such a force that she could not help but wince, they were tighter and more painful than manacles. He spat on her face, his saliva tainting her eyes and running down her cheeks. She felt bile rise in her throat.

He smiled devilishly down at her, "How does it feel to get back what you deserve?" Isabella remained silent, too focused on looking inside her mind for any ideas to get him away. "Answer me!" He screamed.

Despite the fact that all thirst for blood and murder had abandoned her, that all external energy she had felt neglected her as soon as she needed it; her heart still beat with the will to live, and blood ran through her with the need to fight. It was quite exhilarating.

"I told you to answer me, you dumb, stupid, filthy slut"

Her only response was the raise of her chin and the defiance she allowed to shine in her eyes.

He struck her cheek with his hand in anger. "I was going to be nice, you know? I was going to be a gentleman and fuck you before killing you, but now I think I'll do both at the same time. How does that sound? Like fun, right?" He promised slowly, before his tongue swiped along the curve of her neck before he bit on it, strong enough that she felt her blood sprouting from the recent wound.

Only one of his hands encircled her wrists now, and yet she could not free herself. She was disgusted with her own body due to what he had done, and she was as helpless as always.

Still, "Touch me and I'll make sure you regret it," She bared her own teeth, unafraid and beastly, in spite of the fact that she had no fangs of her own.

He laughed, as if truly entertained with her words, and shook his head as he gazed at her. He raised his free hand so she could see as his short nails turned into gigantic, long claws, at the same time that the one hand holding her wrist grew them too, piercing her skin with his new form.

"Do you like them?" He asked her, and seemed to genuinely wait for her answer. When she didn't give him one, he brought his free hand down on her cheek, drawing more of her blood. The injury burned, joining the wrath keeping her from giving up.

"You should learn to do as those stronger than you order you," His hand went to her neck, and pressed down on it, choking her. He brought his face closer to hers, and bit down on her lip. She tasted her own blood in her mouth. "How do they fuck you? Do they take turns? Or are you so much of a whore that you take them all at the same time?" Taking advantage of the short distance between each other, Isabella lifted her head and she bit down on his lips. Long and hard enough that her own teeth hurt. When he pulled rashly away, she noticed that she had actually managed to not only cut his lip, but also to come back down with a piece of his lip between her teeth.

He looked at her in disbelief, and she smiled diabolically at him. She knew her mouth and lips must have been covered in their blood, and that the sight was one to behold. So she spat on his face again, only this time it was her saliva mixed with her blood. And his.

He was frozen in shock, and she took advantage of the opportunity to sit up and throw him off her. She considered running and to only come back once she got the help of Rowan and the others but she found she didn't want to.

She was now itching to see more of his blood, and that urge was all her own.

So, instead, Isabella grabbed the knife hidden in her boot and brought it down on his face. He roared in pain as the weapon made contact with his eye, and his blood stained his face and clothes, and drops of it splashed against her face.

A human would have been driven blind with pain, but he was no mortal. He was a Fae soldier, and even though she raised her knife to strike him back while he was still shaking as he ached, the male grabbed her occupied wrist with his claws and tore at her skin. His hold perforated her skin, and muscles; and when he twisted his own in a sudden movement, she knew he had broken her bone.

Black dots painted her vision as she fell on the grass in pain, tears ran down her bloodied face as she cradled her broken wrist. She had never known that kind of pain before. But she should have known- she should have known he did it only to incapacitate her, to weaken her so she would not be able to defend herself.

He did. He claimed back on top of her, and Isabella could barely try to wriggle free as he began to unbuckle his belt. Her bloodied, unbroken, wrist was raised in a last attempt to push him away. She managed to place her palm on his shoulder, but she was half-conscious as pain turned her feverish.

She saw the weird stain of blood she left on his skin as he pushed his hand away and pinned her wrist above her head once again. The movement caused the stain to become wider and even stranger, but she could not bring herself to care as he fisted his cock with his free hand.

Finally, Isabella realised the depth of her situation, and looked around frantically as she tried to get away, but just as she understood that there was no escape, and her mind prayed for him to die, the male above her started to choke.

The savage sound had her eyes snapping to his face. She saw his skin begin to redden as couched, smoke curled around him and came out of his nostrils. His eyes turned wide and pleading as he stared down at her. She could not comprehend what was happening, all she could do was stare.

He started to tremble, convulsing with every shock that rocketed his body while he gasped for air. Blisters appeared on his skin in the blink of an eye, more blooming with each passing second. The parts of their bodies that were in contact made her grasp that he was burning. As hot as if he were being boiled alive.

The male could not even get a word out as his eyes froze in a faraway look, the life deeming out as his dead body collapsed on top of her.

Isabella looked at the night sky for what felt like an eternity as she tried to process what had happened. When she did, she struggled quite a bit to get his corpse off her.

She sat crossed leg on the grass, her healthy wrist curdling the one in pain, and continued to stare at the now dead male in front of her. She could not understand what had happened. She looked around in case someone had anonymously murdered him for her, but she knew in her heart that she was alone.

The skies held no answers as she asked it for one.

With only the moon as her company, she slowly stood up and snatched back the knife the male's attack on her wrist had made her drop. She looked one more time to the corpse before she left him behind.

-

When she stepped into her tent, she found Rowan seated on the floor, waiting for her. His eyes took in her state, and he moved with the speed that only his kin possessed, and went from being in the middle of their space to her side in a breath.

He cupped his face in between his big, calloused hands and inspected her face with care, concern and meticulousness. "Isa, you smell like someone else's blood," He whispered. There were lines of worry around his eyes. "What happened?"

She blinked, "I'm not sure"

Rowan nodded, "Okay" He ran a hand through her hair in an act of reassurance -although she was not sure if it was for her or him- and held her undamaged hand in his. He gently guided her to sit on the floor, but she refused with a shake of her head.

He frowned in her direction, "Why not? What happened? Who did this to you?" The last question was spoken with a coldness that promised nothing but death. It warmed her, for some reason.

"I can't stay for long. I came here because I need your help" She confessed, still too much in a trance caused by the shock and the decrease of adrenaline in her blood.

Rowan merely nodded, "What do you need me for?"

-

Rowan stood in the middle of the woods, away from possibly bumping into anyone. So far away that she wondered if he noticed the distance they had walked.

She guided him to where she had left the body, and moved to the side so he could see it for himself. She inspected his face to analyse his reaction.

Honestly, she was not sure what she had expected. Confusion, certainly. Worry, undoubtedly. Fear, improbable. Disgust of her, fearfully so.

But his face bore none of those emotions. No, his eyebrows were raised in surprise, his eyes went from the corpse to her figure, and as he rubbed his lips with one of his hands, she noticed that he was smiling.

He was amused .

"I take it you killed him," He said, then. She nodded. "How?"

Isabella shrugged. "I don't know. I had my knife with me, so I cut him with it" She began explaining, the words tumbling out of her mouth. "But he overpowered me, and then I was tripped under him and then-"

"And then?" He prodded her, kindly. Encouragingly.

"And then I think he burned from the inside out,"

Rowan blinked. Once. Twice. "Pardon?"

She ran a hand through her hair, nervously. Anxiously. "I don't know. He started choking and his skin felt feverish and I think there might have been smoke coming off his skin and suddenly he was covered in blisters and he just...died"

She had closed her eyes as she told him the events, and as she popped one eye open to peek at him, she was once again pleasantly surprised by his reaction. He was shaking his head, a hand rubbing his temples as he silently shook with laughter.

Her mouth fell open. "Are you seriously laughing right now?" She asked in disbelief.

"Can you blame me?" She smacked his side with her unperturbed hand. He merely laughed harder. "When you asked for my help I never imagined you would require of my assistance to get rid of a body"

She looked down at her feet. "Well, it's not like I know how to get rid of one"

"Certainly," He told her, smugly. She smacked him again.

"Are you not baffled by his death? I surely am"

"Oh, yes, I am too," He reassured her. "This is an unexpected turn of events, but I am too fascinated by your accomplishment to duel too much in his cause of death"

" Fascinated? " She squealed.

He ignored her question. "You pierced his eye, didn't you? Incredible aim, the cut shows great strength and control of the weapon. Good job,"

" Rowan, "

He pointed at the missing meat on his lips. "And that wound? Outstanding" He turned to look at her. "I'm very proud and impressed by this"

She crossed her arms over her chest -and immediately regretted it as pain shot from her wrist- and looked away. "Something tells me you shouldn't actually be proud of me right now?"

"Why not? It is clear he attacked you," His voice turned dangerously low as he spoke his next words. "And that he planned to take advantage of you. The only thing you did was defend yourself. I'm obviously going to be proud of that"

Isabella looked at him at that, her voice lowering to a whisper and her shoulders dropping in relief. "I kind of killed him,"

"Kind of? He looks thoughtfully dead to me,"

Her chuckle came out as a watery sound as she contained the tears pooling in her eyes and threatening to be spilled.

Rowan came to her, a warm hand running up and down her back, his chin resting on her head, and his other hand curling at the back of her neck in an act that made her feel safe. "Look at yourself. You did nothing wrong," He placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head before he brushed her ear with his lips as he whispered. "You little murderous thing, you are nothing short of enchanting,"

Isabella hoped he did not notice the shiver that rocked through her body, caused by his words and the closeness of their bodies. He probably did notice it, though. Whatever. Friends, friends, friends.

There were many things she wished to do in that moment, but chores that were urging her to act differently. So she asked him, a whisper of her own against his chest. "Does that mean you will help me?"

"Always,"

-

Due to her injury, she couldn't help Rowan carry the body. But he was strong, and did so alone with no complaints. They went even deeper into the woods so as not to risk any unexpected witness, even though he reassured her that if he ordered it, nobody would utter a word against the male's death if they happened to find out.

Still, they considered their options. He told her he was considering throwing his body on the lake with stones put inside his stomach, but that it was too much work. She told him if burning his corpse to ashes was not a better idea, but he said the smoke and the sting of burnt meat would bring too much unwanted attention.

So, they had no other option but to bury him.

Rowan himself made the hole with his magic and hands. And when he had thrown the body inside, and Isabella looked for the last time at his face -forever etched in immeasurable pain- her eyes caught the weird looking sign she had drawn with her blood on his shoulder.

He was finishing smothering the dirt when a deem light from her peripheral vision had her head turning in its direction. She only managed to catch the small head of a fire spirit looking at their secret as it hid behind a tree and disappeared.

-

It started raining as Rowan healed the bone in her wrist. "The fates are on our side. The rain will erase our footprints and mask our scent,"

She tried not to move as he wielded his magic inside of her body, through her skin and deep into her blood, and cured the mistakes of the night.

"What does fallen mean?" Isabella asked him as he worked.

He stilled for less than a second before he went on as if no reaction had escaped him. "Why? Where did you hear that?"

She opted for the truth. "Many of the soldiers in the dining hall were calling me that when you left" He cursed under his breath. " He called me a fallen monster ," Rowan knew who she meant.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he continued with his ministrations on her body. "There is a story told by parents to kids who do not behave. It is nothing but a tale to make sure children behave, but there are some Fae who, ironically, believe in fairy tales"

"It is a story about our world, back when it was not more than forests and oceans, snow and rain; when all beings lived in harmony and time was yet young. It is said that, one day, strange creatures fell from the sky, painting it red as the blood those same creatures spilled as soon as they stood in our world. They looked quite similar to us, but they were wrong. There was something chronically erroneous in their existences, or so it is said.

Some believed them when they said they were Gods that had come to rule and live among them while others did not; for they discovered they were not Gods, but parasites, feeding off our magic and everything that was alive and thriving in our world. They were accused of being demons sent by our Gods as punishment, and many tried to fight against them. Too many lives were lost as battle reigned on.

But, after so much grief and loss, we managed to exile them from our world forever, and the balance in the universe was restored. Magic vibrated once more, and life blossomed as bright as the sun. Our kin called those creatures the fallen ," He finished, right as her wrist was fully healed. Nonetheless, his hands remained on her. She could not complain.

"So they believe I am one of them? One of the fallen ,?" Utter disbelief coated her voice. "How? Have they not noticed I have no magic? That my blood runs human and my skin ages as a mortal?"

"Some are cowards, some are stupid, and all are scared of the unknown" He clasped his hands with hers. She held on tightly.

"How could they be scared of me?"

He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, and smirked. "Why would they not? Or are you not a little murderous thing?"

"I'm serious," She said to him, even as she laughed.

"So am I," He told her, his face focused solemnly on her. "I have no justification for fears based on stories which held no evidence of real existence, but I know that many of those soldiers who called you that are probably terrified of what your presence means, and are choosing to look for an explanation to you being here in everything they can hold on to"

"What do you mean?"

"I believe they fear you may be a bad omen. A premonition for grief and sorrow, and that you will bring death to their doors,"

Her laugh sounded hysterical even to her ears. "I'm just a human,"

"Yes," He agreed with her. "But you also world-walked, and murdered a fae male in a way I had never witnessed before,"

She made herself smaller as apprehension ate at her chest. "I'm not- I'm not bad . I'm not evil. I- I don't think my existence is a prophecy meant to bring horror to your world," She wanted to believe her words so much, and needed Rowan to agree with her with such ferocity that it threatened to ruin her if he didn't.

He cupped her cheek with his hand, the warmth from his body made her skin tingle. "Of course you are not," He whispered, as if the words held too much emotion to be spoken any louder. "Isa, you are a miracle"

She blinked, "Let's not exaggerate" She tried to joke as the blush in her cheeks made a very noticeable appearance.

"I'm not" He said, matter-of-fact. "And do not worry about nothing, I'll make sure they understand you are the farthest thing from a bad omen or a fallen "

"The others, -Lorcan, Fenrys, Gavriel,-" She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "They don't think I am...that, right?"

Rowan laughed loudly at that, the sound eased some of her worries. "Of course not. Lorcan does not believe in such tales, Gavriel believes fate is wielded only by ourselves, and Fenrys may be dramatic, but not so much as to entertain such silly ideas"

"Okay," She relaxed against his touch.

"Do you believe me?"

"Of course,"

"Good," He cleared his throat, then, and stood up from his place in front of her. She did not want to admit to herself that she already missed the heat of his closeness. "I'll prepare a bath for you, how does that sound?"

She waved him off, "That's not necessary. I'll just clean the dry blood with a handkerchief and call it night,"

He raised an eyebrow at her, "You do stink, and I do have to share a closed space with you, so you are getting a bath."

"So bossy tonight," She murmured, but he merely laughed it off and left to fetch her some hot water.

-

He got her a bath, soap, oils for her hair and body, new clean clothes, and hot water for her to clean herself. It was so splendid she stayed in the water with her eyes closed for a very long time.

"Are you done?" Rowan asked from outside the tent.

"No,"

"It's been an hour already," He accused.

She rolled her eyes, "It's been certainly less than that"

A moment of pause. "Well, it feels like an hour has pass for me"

"Don't act like Fenrys, he's not here" She expected him to curse at her as she laughed at him, but he did not.

"You know what? I'm tired and it's late. I'll just-" His sentence was cut short as he entered the tent and found her still in the bath. Naked. And wet.

She hurriedly covered herself as much as she could, even if the bubbles he had secured for her were already more than enough coverage. "What are you doing?" She shrieked.

His mouth hung open long enough that Isabella's lips almost curved into a smile. He closed it, then, and looked away from her, down at his feet. "I told you, I'm tired"

"That's not enough of an excuse!"

"We have nothing we haven't seen already in other people's bodies. We are friends. It's fine. I'll just lay down, close my eyes and sleep while you finish bathing"

He seemed so...unaffected now by her nakedness that she agreed. "Fine, but I don't want to see you peeking,"

Rowan snorted -or maybe, coughed-. "Don't worry"

He did as he said, and laid down on his bedroll without sparing another look in her direction. For a single moment, she wished he would look at her body and flare with desire. She shook the thought off as soon as it came. There were boundaries she did not want to cross, and she would not.

So she finished bathing, clothed, and lay next to him.

-

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck,

Fuck.

He begged the gods for strength, and thanked them for Isabella's human sense of smell, for the fact that she could not smell the arousal in his scent. It was so strong and thick that he could not sleep, so instinctive and powerful that he wanted to rip his skin off.

What had he even been thinking? He was old enough to think with his head instead of his cock. It was time he acted like it.

Fuck.

-

"Rowan," She called for him, after an hour of turning in her bed as sleep could not find her.

"Yes?" His voice sounded husky, had she awakened him?

"Were you sleeping? I'm sorry"

"It's okay," His words sounded strangled, and he cleared his throat. "What is it?"

"I cannot sleep,"

"You have suffered from a traumatic experience. Again. It's been a long day. I'm not surprised you can't" He sounded normal again.

"I suppose," She mumbled. Then, "My body aches"

"Also, normal"

"I think I'm going to warm up," She said suddenly, standing up. She elongated her arms and legs even as the movement caused her to wince.

After a few minutes of painful grunts coming from her mouth, Rowan sighed. "You are doing it wrong"

"How can you know? It's dark in here, you cannot see me" She accused.

"My eyes can adjust better to the darkness than yours ever will" The bastard sounded smug.

"Whatever,"

"Let me help you," He said after a moment.

She paused in place. "How?"

He petted the side of her bed. "Come here," She did, and jumped in her place as his hands fell on her bare legs.

"What-?" She started.

"I'm giving you a massage. It will loosen your muscles and help you sleep" How could he sound so casual about it when her skin was burning up with every brush of his fingers.

"Have you ever given any of the guys a massage, too?" She tried to distract herself from the sensation of his hands with a lighthearted joke.

Rowan chuckled lowly. Huskier. "All the time,"

"Oh,"

And so in the dark, with his hands on her body, and the secrecy of the night, she allowed herself to enjoy his ministrations. And when he finished, and he turned and fell asleep, but she could not, she allowed to admit to herself that perhaps she may like Rowan.

-

In the morning, Rowan told her that she could take the day off from training if she wanted. Unashamedly, she agreed. But it was well into the day, when she was sure no one was wandering around the tents outside, and when she knew no one would walk into her space, that she grabbed her backpack.

Isabella did not own many things. In fact, it could be said that she owned very few things, and yet, she treasured every single item she had collected. But there was one of them that puzzled her even in its wonder.

She retrieved from her backpack a thick, old book. The pages were yellow, marked with time, and the cover had only the faint outline of a once painted title in its cover and spine. She opened it, and read the letter inside.

Dear Isabella,

I must apologise for the way I treated you while you were under my care. It is of my knowledge that I said awful, regrettable things when you were in a state of sorrow and emptiness that required another kind of help.

Truthfully, I thought I was helping. I know it may sound like a poor excuse, but I'm not the kind of being who bothers with such things. I can see many things, I can see into many places, and I can see things that are yet to occur. But visions are fragile, unreliable things, and so even I can make mistakes due to a misleading Sight into a pool of possibilities.

I thought that my words would help you, for there are many who can only recover after truth has slapped them in the face. I thought you were one of them, and I was wrong. So I deeply apologise for all the horrible things I said to you while you were staying at my home. I hope you know that I meant nothing of it, and that I was just trying to play a part in a story that never unfolded.

With that being said, and the air cleared, I have decided to give you this book. Since I can not only see but also travel, I have acquired quite a few prizes under my possession. I am more than aware of my incorrect behaviour, so I hope that, if my words were not apology enough, this book will be.

I believe you will find it rather useful as you unfold a story I am yet to see.

-Sincerely yours, Killax.

Isabella read and reread the letter in her hands, even if she had already done so a dozen times since she had discovered the book -that she had not packed when she had left the male's place- weeks ago. As soon as she had taken it into her arms, she had opened it only to find that the pages were empty. She had shown it to Rowan only for him to confirm that there was nothing written in it.

And yet, as she held it in her hands, -and the weight of it felt suddenly heavier than she remembered- she could not help but think that perhaps it held the answers to questions she had not yet voiced to a soul.

Perhaps it was a fool's hope, a delusion of a young girl, but still, she opened it. As soon as the first page was in front of her eyes, she did not dare blink as the blank, old page had a sudden stain of blink that appeared out of thin air, and transformed into words.

It read, Scientia ipsa potential est.

Isabella recognised the language, and although she was sure of her lack of knowledge about it, the words were translated into a language she knew as soon as she opened her mouth to read the sentence out loud.

Knowledge itself is power .

Her fingertips traced the old language, and her skin itched where it connected with the page. A thrumming in her ears had her heart speeding, she could feel the hair in her neck rise in alert, at something her mind did not know but her body could respond to.

She passed the page, and found that none of the pages in the book were blank anymore. No. They contained paragraphs, and paragraphs full of words, drawings for better understanding, sentences written in every possible margin, and signs that made her catch her breath.

Isabella stopped scanning, and opened the book in a page that had sketches, sign after sign with words written under each of them. A name for what it each meant. She read them all, until her gaze stayed glued to one she recognized; one she had found strange even as she had absently, mistakenly, drew it on a now dead male's shoulder with her own blood.

It was easy, simple. A not so straight line and a single curve. It should have not been possible for it to be now in the book, for said book to wish to reveal its secrets after she had drawn that sign in someone else's skin; not as coincidence after coincidence made the events feel like fate.

She read the word under the sign. Death .

She recognised it for what it was, a wyrdmark.