Shattered Line

Chapter 31: An Error

Her plan reached an overwhelming success. Finally, after days of a harsh mental drain. After, pushing her mind and concentration to maximum. She found him. She found Lucifer. Her father from a past life.

Her age differed, but the form remained the same. He would recognize her, if not visually, then from her soul.

Keeping a keen eye on the Lesser Demons she manipulated provided ample feedback. Their surveillance and search of the major cities proved fruitful. The sweet taste of victory was delicious—well for a minor one at least.

The Rat-Bats continued to stream intelligence back. She lost track of time with the unchanging sky and weather. Yet with this lead, the exhaustion doubled. Useless information riddled the stream, forcing her to skim or weed through the thicket.

She fixated on the Rat-Bat who spotted him. The Rat-Bat flapped its black rubber wings, scouring above.

Lucifer wore the long leather coat fashionable amongst male High Nobles with his insignia pressed into the back—twin horns. His short-cropped black hair clashed with Noble formalities. Yet, the silken threads framed his narrow face and soothed the face creases encasing his velvet-toned eyes.

From her vantage point, he entered a mansion and disappeared from sight. The front, a simple structure of blackened stone. No indentations or marks marred the surface, instead, placid and smooth. Flames twitched and flickered from metal cauldrons, hanging from rods strutting out of the wall. Still, the holdings conflicted with the city's dull sandstone buildings.

Manipulating the Demon would have granted his exact location, but the ability surpassed her. Instead, she followed the miniature speck and waited. Yet, the chance became lost. Her senses buzzed, the aura sustaining the barrier balking.

Her eyes flashed open, the barrier's energy fluctuating. Isla groaned. Of course, she lost the feed. Now what?

Isla narrowed her gaze on the pale darkness before her. She listened, the hushed voices sounding outside her dwellings. Shit.

With a delicate shift, she changed her stance to a crouch. Her hand clenched her sword's hilt. The blade gliding from the sheath.

She breathed deep, the sulfur stinging her lungs. A cough urged forward, but she suppressed the action, her eyes watering.

Isla quelled the urge then crept towards the sheet-covered entrance. She peered upwards from the side, at an angle, through the gaps.

Strength radiated from their muscled biceps, lean but condensed. Combined with confidence, a degree towards arrogance, and they showcased their supremacy. A thick bloodlust coated their bodies, her instincts pummeled with the oozing scent. Their characteristics surmounted the previous Nobles she encountered. In fact, textbook knowledge portrayed them perfect. They were High Nobles.

Who needed to look at their souls? No one, not even a Sight See-ers' ability was needed.

The barrier hummed louder, cracks cascading through the blue shimmering hue.

Her body moaned, voicing a solid truth. Magic consumption had drained both her physical and mental stamina. A drawn-out fight, impossible. Rather, a frontal confrontation with ordinary weapons spoke foolishness. Heightened senses stripped her chances of escape. Still, what choice did she have?

Her grip tightened on her sword. What could she do? What were her options?

At best, she could hold the entrance and limit her foes. Isla straightened her posture with her knees still bent. This would not go well.

She bit her lip, her heart racing. Her adrenaline exploded as the barrier shattered. Those plotting outside slashed through the flimsy barricade, charging in.