Chapter Isla #2
And she knew in her very soul that this was something left behind by her mother. For her. Isla reached inside . . . and pulled out a long, thin stick made of a strange material. It looked almost like her mother’s paintbrush, without the end. It glimmered in her hand, shining silver before settling.
She felt a jolt, as if her blood was called to it.
She dropped the stick, and it clattered to the floor, rolling a few feet away. But . . . but for a moment . . . she saw it. A tiny window.
The flash of somewhere else completely.
Slowly, she reached for the stick again and pressed its point to the floor. There was a burst of sparks before a keyhole formed, and she knelt, pressing her eye to it.
There, she glimpsed a world with land that sloped high into the clouds. Mountains. She had only ever seen pictures of them in one of the books she got as a reward for training. Their tops were covered in white—snow, Isla realized. She wondered if it was as cold to the touch as her books said.
She spent the entire night looking through the keyhole, into another world, and, for the first time, she didn’t feel alone.
Isla awoke from the memory to blinding pain and darkness.
Lark was killing her. That was her first thought. She seized, reaching for her sword—only for her vision to clear enough to see her ancestor had it in her hand.
She wasn’t about to kill Isla with it, though. She was battling something above her.
“Nice of you to wake up,” Lark spat. Her teeth gritted as she fought off a human-like creature with pallid skin, sharp claws, and fangs that were already dripping blood. It wore tattered green fabric and snarled at Lark.
Isla blinked—and the beast became a beautiful woman, with long, smooth hair, glimmering skin, and eyes like diamonds.
But in the next instant, the creature was back, slashing her claws across Lark’s chest. Isla’s ancestor folded over, the sword held loosely in front of her.
She was either too weakened from this world and her injuries to fight, or she had never been skilled with weapons at all, having always relied on her powers.
Isla was no stranger to powerlessness. And perhaps that would now be the key to their survival.
She raced forward, wincing as she realized the blood on the creature’s teeth hadn’t been just from Lark. Her calf was torn almost completely. But she had been trained to fight, even with injuries.
She reached her arm out. “Throw it!” she said.
Lark hesitated. The creature lurched forward, and the Wildling wasn’t able to block it before it sank its teeth into her shoulder.
She bellowed and heaved the sword to Isla.
Isla caught it. She smiled, feeling the metal against her palm.
With one fluid arch, the creature’s head was on the ground.
Isla folded over. That one simple movement had cost her, and she panted.
This entire planet was like a poison, draining both her powers and strength.
She stared at the body, now motionless on the ground, remembering the flash of what she had seen.
The bitter luster of this place clearly wasn’t just affecting her.
“They weren’t always like this,” Isla said, and Lark scoffed as she pressed a hand to her shoulder.
Of course, Lark already knew that. She must have seen them when they were the glimmering beings Isla had only glimpsed.
Cronan hadn’t only disrupted this world . . . he had cursed it. Isla could feel the sheen of darkness everywhere, like everything that had dared to survive had been changed. Distorted.
Would that happen to them, if they stayed here long enough?
Lark looked like she was going to say something. Perhaps make a comment about what this world used to be like. But the moment her lips parted—
She froze.
Not again, Isla thought, taking her ancestor’s arm. Her shoulder was bleeding. Her chest was in ruins.
Isla had spent hours in her last memory. Who knew how long Lark would be trapped in hers? Isla could barely walk straight with her injured leg. Still, she sighed and dragged Lark along, hoping they wouldn’t face anything else.
That was when the trees to her left and right began to tremble.
Something was coming. Isla gripped Lark’s arm tighter and ran, her calf roaring with pain.
No. She was wrong.
It was already here.
Bark splintered around her as a woman fully broke out of the closest tree.
Then another, from behind her. Wood cracked like thunder as figure after figure emerged from the forest on all sides.
The women were half bark, half rotted flesh and sinew, holding gnarled roots shaped into weapons. Their eyes were onyx holes. Lifeless.
They controlled this forest. Isla took one look at them—
And ran.
Lark’s feet stumbled next to her. She was still lost in her mind, but at least she could use her legs.
“Wake up!” Isla screamed, pressing into the wound on Lark’s shoulder, hoping the pain would knock her from her mind.
But it didn’t work. And the whole forest was shaking now, as if an entire army awaited them in these trees.
Isla raced as fast as she could, ignoring her injury with focus honed from years of training.
An arm shattered through the tree she was passing, gripping Isla’s neck with a hand hard as wood.
She dropped Lark’s arm, and her ancestor stood there blankly, useless to help her.
The bark-crusted woman lifted Isla into the air with extraordinary strength.
Isla’s legs scrambled for purchase, a choking sound leaving her lips. Her vision was starting to dim.
With every shred of energy she had left, she raised her sword hand—and cut the woman’s arm clean off. Isla collapsed into a heap on the leaves and dirt and gasped for air. Her lungs felt like they could burst with the effort.
She only allowed herself a moment before she scrambled to her feet, dragging Lark behind her. But she knew there was no outrunning this. Tree after tree burst around them until they were surrounded by a legion. An army of women closing in.
And the women . . . they reminded her of—
There was a girl, in the back of the group. With green eyes, wild dark hair, and freckles splashed across her cheeks.
No. Isla clung to consciousness. Lark was already out. They would both die if she got sucked into another memory now. She ran to the closest tree and shredded her hand down it, hoping the pain would keep her grounded.
It didn’t work. Her vision began to fog. The women began to close in, jagged blades lifted, sharp teeth bared. Closer. Closer. Isla lifted her sword, but even if she could remain awake, she was wildly outnumbered.
There was one moment of stillness, of silence. Then all the warrior women lunged at her as one, weapons lifted.
And as Isla was swept back into the past, she was certain she wouldn’t survive the present.