The soft patter of rain provided a soothing early morning melody. Though tranquil and rhythmic, the subtle sound woke Isla.

She rubbed her face, shifting her hair and sighed from the warmth enshrouding her body. The unknown relaxation snapped her eyes open. She shot upwards, her body wincing as her vision adjusted to the dull, lifeless room.

With a glance, she took in the space. Cracked whitewashed walls with a wooden chair situated by the half-open window. Her soaking-wet cloak hugged the chair and her boots laid nearby. Beneath the windowsill, sat a beaten chest decorated by thin metal brackets.

Isla patted her face again then removed the rough brown blanket. She lived. But where was she?

From ankle to knee, her rolled-up pants revealed bandages coating her skin. Her arms held the same care and attention. The cloth was bound tight, but still flexible. Shockingly, she retained all her limbs from her unintended quarrel.

Her thoughts drifted as she tried to decipher her location. She reviewed the major cities and outposts of Detra. If she assumed the river laid nearby, then downstream laid Bartez and southwest was Lutenberg.

Suddenly, the closed-door sprang open and a short boy wearing an oversized cotton shirt rushed into the room. Tension tightened her body and reformed her blank mask.

"Oh! You're awake. Good morning! Will you come play with me?" the child said, firing his words off in rapid succession. "Wait, I forgot. You're hurt." The boy's gaze shifted as he fiddled with his baggy shirt.

Yet, the small shyness he exhibited quickly disappeared. Isla watched him jump and tumble around the room. She followed his bizarre movements with her eyes without a sound of protest. He stopped and ducked beneath the bed's edge.

The boy's head popped up, staring at her. His mesmerizing flawless emerald eyes drew her focus. A rare sight on Detra, unique and attractive, similar to her own translucent blue eyes.

"Hi, where did you come from? Do you have a name? By the way, my name is Leef. Do you have a father or a mother? Did you get into a fight? Do you like apples? There is this stray beast that always gets stuck up in the apple tree, she even likes to-"

"Leef, stop. Leave her alone," scolded a young man who entered the room carrying a bowl of water and fresh bandages.

"But Rydin, I just wanted to be friends," Leef whined while laying his head on the bed and flailing his arms.

"Later. Go play elsewhere for now." Rydin's voice was tender but strict. He chuckled as Leef charged from the room. "Sorry about that. We don't usually get visitors." He moved to the chair, setting his items down while avoiding her gaze.

Isla scrutinized his movements. He scratched his neck, almost knocking the chair over by his stray arm. With a quick hand, he grabbed onto the wooden back, stabilizing the makeshift table.

Rydin sighed and straightened his hunched back. His gaze inched upwards, meeting her own. She stared into his pale green eyes and waited. What was his motive? What did he plan to do? The questions drifted through her mind.

Yet, as the moments ticked by, her patience earned nothing.

He cleared his throat, the sound penetrating the silence. "How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? Your wounds didn't look too bad earlier. You've only been out for a day." He waited for an answer, but with her quietness, he instead continued, "not much of a talker, huh? Well, rest well. Let me know if you need anything." Rydin offered a strained smile before leaving the room.

Isla settled against her pillow as he closed the door. Who was he?

She expected to observe his personality transform. Perhaps, a hint of irritation or anger from her stubbornness to speak. Instead, his reactions seemed genuine, and very awkward. Maybe she thought wrong, maybe he had no hidden motive. Still, she had no desire to uncover the truth and risk her life.

With the distractions dispersed, she directed her attention towards the bandages covering her arms. The frayed ends became more distinct as she unraveled the thin fabric. Droplets of dried blood marred the pristine white, the only remnant of the arrow wound.

Isla grazed the new flesh. The blotch one shade from blending together with her pale skin.

Relief overwhelmed her. She could leave. No, she would leave tonight. Those men could still be hunting for her. How much time had she lost? Rather, would they gather strength from failure and bring seething vengeance?

She rubbed her forehead to relieve the imminent ache. For a brief moment, Isla shut her eyes. A cold gust entered the room, beating against her self-created warmth. She eyed the source, gazing beyond at the dark gray skies. She watched a single leaf flutter through the window, followed by the bobbing of golden blond hair.

"Hi," Leef spoke with his voice muffled. He inched upward towards the windowpane, resting his chin on the ledge. "Why are you removing the bandages? My brother said your wounds aren't healed yet."

Isla beheld his curious look, her lips twitching. What harm would come from responding? For once, she smothered her foolish fears and logical reasoning.

"I don't need them," she voiced with an anchored vice-like stare.

"That's cool. When I get hurt, the cut doesn't go away for a long time. I always pick at it and my brother yells at me. If I leave them alone, will they heal as fast as yours?"

She entwined the blanket between her fingers. Did she just unleash an unquenchable spring of questions and intrigue? Isla relaxed against the pillow as Leef tilted his face, his expectations seeking fulfillment.

"No," she responded.

"Are you special like my brother?" Leef asked, hanging halfway into the room.

Special? What did he mean? Did his brother heal quickly like herself? She clamped her mouth shut, re-phrasing her direction.

"What do you mean?" Isla questioned with an even and deflated tone.

"He can make water move in the air and fire with his hands," Leef squealed. He flapped his hands, mimicking his brother's ability.

"Your brother uses magic?"

"Yes, he can! You believe me, right? The others call me a liar. When I ask my brother to show them, he won't do it. He claims that magic shouldn't be used without purpose," Leef phrased while stretching his eyes and grating his voice. His mockery disappeared and he continued, "I don't know what he means, but he says I will learn why when I get older." Leef's head sunk to the windowsill and his words lacked energy. "That's why the other kids make fun of me."

Isla fiddled with her hair. What did this child crave? Did he desire sugar-coated words or fairy-tail level encouragement? Detra rarely saw magic. They glorified magic as mythical or a sacred art handled only by the Gods. Yet, contrary to popular belief, anyone could practice the skill, a fact society obscured.

"So what?"

He mumbled, "But they say I'm wrong and dirty because I'm an orphan. They say our parents didn't want us anymore..."

She rubbed her thigh, searching for the right verbal tone. Her straightforward attitude could be destructive for a child. Would he understand her meaning? She clicked her tongue, forget it. "Who cares. Ignore the ignorant fools, and become strong. Only the weak complain. That's the only path for our type."

Leef perked up, smiling. "You're the same? You're like me? Then I can be strong like you one day?"

She smirked. "Sure. But only if you stop listening to those weaklings."

He giggled. "I will. I definitely will. Can I ask one more thing?"

Isla sighed and shook her head. "When did I ever stop you?"

"What's your name, pretty lady?"

"Isla," she responded and witnessed his smile transcend from a bud to full blossom, grand and adorable. "Are you really that happy from finding out my name?"

"Yup," Leef exclaimed.

The sound of light footsteps approached, followed by Rydin's returned entrance. He came empty-handed. His arrival razed Leef's foolish, but happy grin.

"Leef, what are you doing?" Rydin asked, protracting the syllables in his younger brother's name. Leef turned-tail, sprinting from the window. "That kid never listens." Rydin groaned long and heavy. "I don't care if you tell him off next time."

Isla remained quiet, watching Rydin fidget beneath her gaze. To her: Leef was pure and innocent. For now, the dirt and filth soiling Detra had abstained from tainting his soul. Summing their minor interactions and Rydin's competence in raising Leef, and honestly, her hostility against him dissolved.

"It's fine," Isla said.

Rydin's eyes widened, but the action was brief. Instead, his mouth warped and expanded with teeth shining bright. "Leef seems quite taken with you." His view dropped to her exposed arms, studying the missing bandages. "Your wounds. Are they healed already?"

"Yes."

He inched forward, towards the bed. "Is it from magic?"

"No."

Rydin cupped his chin and paced. "Interesting. I've heard about beings capable of regenerating their wounds at incredible speeds. Are you a Seraphine by chance? No, that can't be right. Though I've heard they possess the ability to heal wounds quickly. Your injuries were deep. Naturally healing them in a single day seems impossible."

"You're familiar with magic?"

A slight red blemish appeared on his tan-skinned face. He turned away, scratching his neck. "Some, but mostly stories from others."

"Really? Sounds like you practice," she paused, observing his creased brow then continued, "your brother told me."

Rydin remained silent and walked towards the open window. After closing it and shifting the water bowl, he seated himself. "I'm not proficient, if that's what you're getting at."

"I don't follow Detra's thinking," Isla added.

He nodded. "I see." His gaze ascended and braved her own. "My parents were Centurions. They taught me before their passing. Be careful of exposing yourself, they said. People fear magic. The nobles preach practicing as a sin. They claim it loses our favor with the Gods."

"Is that why you don't live in Bartez?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Ah, yeah. But they already know about us. When the Gods were missing, my parents protected them instead. The occasional Demon attack causes quite the panic."

Demons—they should be his last worry right now. She grimaced but concealed her concerned thoughts quickly. "I'm leaving soon, tonight even."

"You know, you don't need to be in a hurry."

He waited for her response, but minutes elapsed as she refused his peace offering.

Releasing a huff, Rydin stood. "Well, do what you want. Get some rest at least. I'll keep Leef away."

The door shut once again, leaving her alone. Centurions, huh? She much preferred their slurred naming of Purebloods. A mockery made by Seraphine standards, but who would expect less from the Betrayers. Still, only a handful of Purebloods inhabited Detra. A pity for Rydin since he stood out with blond hair and green eyes. If he traveled elsewhere, his treatment might improve.

Isla settled back and closed her eyes. Her thoughts wandered through Rydin's small actions. From his statements and behavior, she further constructed his character. Her gut instinct warned her. The warmth he produced could prove disrupting, like another before, he would bring disorder. She knew logic dictated his innocence and dissolved her groundless suspicions, but her nagging judgment lingered.

One more direction, and another, but before her mind could grasp a conclusion sleep had snatched her weakened state. Time skipped quick and her heavy eyelids inched open. The dismal colored room darkened tenfold with night smothering the room's outline.

Isla rose and stretched her muscles. She swiveled her neck and twisted her back, her body unlocking its restraints. Bending over, she removed the bandages adhering to her calves. She winced as the paste pulled her skin.

She dropped the cloth bandages, brushing the healed spot. Smooth skin with only a thin line marring the area. With time, even this reminder would disappear.

Her hands swept upwards, unrolling the bunched black leather. A few holes and tears marked the leather, but nothing substantial.

She straightened her back as her vision adjusted. Ahead, the window's clean edges became defined. Walking over, she opened the squeaking panel, granting herself a cool misting breeze. Lightning struck the sky upon the horizon, the location still miles away.

The night's silence ended by a loud crash outside. Her heart accelerated, drumming loud. Had they found her? Isla eased her writhing tension and steadied her breathing. Her gaze dropped towards the floor and around the bed, the sword she once had was missing. Damn, she should have checked earlier.

Hurriedly, Isla threw her cloak on and slipped her boots up. She exited the room and crept past closed doors towards the direction of the noise. The kitchen stood upon her guided path. A quick glance around, and she rummaged through the drawers, grabbing a knife and eyeing the blade. Temporary, but a good replacement. Isla pocketed another then inched the nearby door open.

The chilled breeze sifted through the crack. Widening her exit, she peeked outside. Good, nothing.

Isla increased the gap, enlarging her view. She checked both sides, adjusting her angle. Still, no sign of her pursuers. But a faint light shined from beyond.

Taking one step outside, she stopped, shutting the door behind. Crouching low, she sneaked forward towards the light flooding the night. Though near, a small storehouse concealed the source.

Reaching the wooden shack wall, she checked her blindspots. Again, no sign of enemies.

Once more, she sneaked towards the entrance. Her fingers inched upon the kitchen knife and she nudged the half-planked doorway open.

Isla's heartbeat stopped.

Leef wrestled with a small black and white spotted twin-tailed beast. He stopped fighting the animal, his emerald irises enlarging.

"What are you doing?" Isla stated.

"I was feeding it," Leef stammered as the four-legged creature bounded free, escaping outside.

"Done?"

"Yeah," he peeped.

"Get inside."

"Okay!" Leef squeaked, running past her.

"That child," she grumbled as her senses settled. She sighed before blowing the waning candlelight out, and followed Leef's departure. "Shit," Isla muttered.

Lightning ignited the sky, granting a view of the three remaining black-cloaked pricks. Their bodies melded against the midnight backdrop as the quick light faded. They stood before the house, staring her way. One detestable brute held a struggling Leef, their maskless faces headlined well-earned sneers.

"Drop the knife ye witch," barked the remaining fool from the bar. "Or else this lad be joinin' ye in Demons Hell."

Isla subdued her quick rejection and grit. Of course, this would happen.