Shattered Line

Chapter 38: Leef

Isla sprinted forward from the middle aqueduct lined section to the lower residential area. Ash fluttered down like artificial snowflakes, masking Lutenberg's demise.

She turned, following her memory. A weakened panel crashed down beside her, sparks spraying from impact, firing towards her.

Dodging left, the embers brunt hit her cloak, the effects nullified. Still, the warmth seeped through, hitting her skin. Though slight, the uptake amplified the surrounding heat, dehydrating her body. Another smoke-filled breath and she wheezed, pulling her cloak near.

Almost there. A few streets more.

She slowed her stride, before her, the metal crafted gate had pierced the stone aqueduct post. The inviting mood this placed had evoked plummeted. She rounded the corner, noting the perfect cylindrical holes dotting the front walls and the wide-open door.

Squirt stood before her, leaning against the doorframe. His poor bleak attire had reaped burn marks and cuts. The brown slacks had darkened to black, matching Lutenberg's charcoal remains. Minor lacerations and blistering burns perforated his skin. His sunken eyes had intensified, reflecting a somberness beneath the sleepless nights.

He craned his head, a spark of life lifting the corners of his mouth, a subtle action but a break for his soul. She exchanged nods and joined his position at the entrance.

The mayhem which dyed the streets burgundy had ruffled her core. She expected the same scene. But the iron scented splashes of red across the walls and floor painted a pained sight.

They had not been spared.

Vale's corpse laid like a crumpled mess across the room. Fear coated his face, his last breath traumatizing to the living. Isla looked away and covered her mouth as vomit coated her throat.

She hesitated but turned back. She had to see for herself. Would Leef be among the dead? Yet, she spotted neither his emerald green eyes nor blond halo-like hair. Instead, reddish-brown hair on a burly frame lurked beside the dead. Within the bloodshed, kneeled Callum cradling Eve's body. Isla inched forward, halting when he moved.

Callum raised his head, peering beneath bushy eyebrows. "Lass," he hailed. "Ye came back. The young man not with ye?" he asked as Eve wheezed. "Shh, my dear." He shifted the bloody rag placating her wound.

Isla surveyed the large gash damaging her chest. The injury tore her clothing, soaking her wool dress. "He isn't with me."

Callum dropped a kiss on Eve's forehead. "I see."

Eve choked, pulling Callum's attention and a quiet babble escaped her lips. He lowered his ear to listen, her lips moving, but the fleeting sound resembled an incoherent chirp to Isla. She watched as Eve's hand raised for his face, caressing his beard. Yet, the sweet moment faded as the hand plummeted and her body slacked.

"She wants me tae save the boy. Those louts took him," he croaked.

Leef was still alive.

Isla moistened her lip and parted them. "Let me. I'll save him," she intoned.

Callum nodded, his unfocused eyes hollow and dead. She stepped back as he pulled Eve closer. His head dropped and he sobbed.

Isla pivoted, tracing her route out and cursing her damn father. Her fist slammed the stone post, the remaining support pillar forming the gate. The structure represented her with one foothold for support. Her father had planned to chisel her foundation away. He never planned for her response. Lutenberg's annihilation came quick, too quick. If he organized his men, forget hours, days would have elapsed before this outcome. He wanted to corner her.

Isla chuckled, her chest tight. She was never strong. Even now, she failed again.

"Ma'am?" Squirt interrupted.

"What?" she whispered.

"Are ye goin' tae save the boy?"

Her resolve dissolved. Save? How could she save Leef? "I'll try," she murmured.

"Try? But ye did it before."

"So?" she sneered, tilting her head, her eyes watching him.

He flinched. "He sure be waitin' for ye."

Her body snapped towards him. "Waiting? Why would he be waiting for me? He doesn't know me. No, he's waiting for his older brother. The one I killed. So tell me, who's he waiting for?" Isla growled.

Squirt's eyes widened. "The young man be dead?" he mumbled. "But how? There's not a way ye did that."

Isla smoothed back a stray lock, her face warm. "Same people that took the boy. The Gods. And I let both happen."

Squirt's brow furrowed. "But why?"

Why? She knew the answer—to torment her—why else. But knowing why and acting upon the knowledge had incomparable levels. The first possible, the second preposterous.

But wait—why did he demand her help? He explained his strategy, but for what purpose? Had he planned to challenge or mock her? Isla tapped a finger to her chin, her thoughts jumbled.

If he kidnapped Leef, she could assume he expected her return. Would he contact her? This confusing situation broadened further with him tolerating her alive. A sensible, direct decision meant her death. Arcadia lost major defenses and she exited the picture unable to thwart his actions. So, what did he want?

Isla huffed a sigh, relaxing her mind. What did she miss? With her gaining the rulership, the blood contract restricting him from attacking had been absolved. But then why restrict her?

She paced in circles, mirroring her reality to mind. Perhaps viewing his pathway to victory would suffice.

If he set foot upon the battlefield, the Arcadians relinquished victory. They would fight a pointless, tragic war even with her involvement. Rather, he could command from Elysium with his manipulation. Maybe he feared the Demons intervention? No, close but far, the Demons lacked organization. However, their King spawned a different story. Their King existed beyond the normal boundaries of logic. Her father must fear this unknown factor.

She paused her direction. Could just the Demon King be the reason? Had Nirvana been right. Logically, an unknown could alter a battle's flow, decreasing the chances of victory. Smart commanders and leaders countered each and every outcome. They planned for the worst.

At a bare minimum, Arcadia could endure a day's attack. Now, if the Demon King delved into the fray, all would change. Better yet, attacking him directly would prove far more rewarding. Afterall, a being capable of striking the cynical Lance with dread, was powerful. Though brief, she felt his strength herself and understood. His strength exceeded her father's.

With her connection to the Demons uncertain, her father had no choice but to maneuver the straight narrow ridge towards triumph. Even the King of Gods had no overarching reach within the Chaos Realm, both her movements and actions were hidden from his sight.

Isla smiled broad and deep. If her assumptions were correct, this changed everything.

A/N: Finally, an update! I was away on vacation for a week. Hopefully this chapter was interesting! :)