Isla muted her deliberation and returned her attention to Squirt. "Why? Because of me, why else. But the truth matters not, not anymore at least. I'll save the child."

Squirt nodded his head with slow motions. "Aye, good luck, lass."

She left his side, striding into the vacant streets. The wind breezed past, gaining momentum and strengthening with her steps. She could feel her transformation, the lightness enveloping her body, her spirit, and soul. The air swarmed to action, expelling the stench and freeing the death plaguing the living. For a mere instance, a breath of freshness.

Isla called upon Ahni, tapping her foot and waiting for words to permeate her mind.

"Our Queen, excellency, grace, the one holy sun under the sky, what goes?" Ahni chirped.

"Are winded titles needed?" Isla remarked, her gaze lost amongst the setting starlight.

"A calling card we must say."

"Drop it. What's Arcadia's status?"

A pause draped their conversation, but after the interlude, Ahni continued. "Enemies on the horizon."

Isla's heart rate accelerated. "How many? How are they armed? Are they planning to siege the capital?"

Ahni giggled. "Aw shucks, who'd have guessed, you do care. The Witch will be overjoyed."

"Shut up for a second and just answer my questions. Without side quirks too."

Another pause followed by an elongated sigh filled her head. "Fine. All's well. For now, a small group testing the waters."

"How sure are you? Details."

"The older Princess says two days maximum. The grouchy Princess says divided forces. And the Witch concludes we have time. Defenses are secured. What's your plan?"

Isla rubbed her forehead, massaging the developing knot. "Keep me posted. I might have a plan. Worse case, we'll all be dead, but a protracted war means the same thing."

"Will do. May you be blessed."

No army yet, finally, one good sign. But for one prepared and calculating like her father, she debated the reason. Did he expect her surrender, or had she misjudged the timing? Maybe the leak of information slowed his plans, instead of quick and decisive, he arranged a tight reigned annihilation. Either way, an assumed outcome was still distant. For now, she must craft her plan.

Isla relaxed her eyelids, shutting her surroundings away. She concentrated on her next destination the Chaos Realm, or specifically the Underworld. Though Lucifer warned her about returning, she neglected his advice. If all her assumptions proved correct, she had an opportunity, a single chance to end her story's tale. She would not let it go, not now.

With her resolve firm, she created layer after layer of aura around herself. She condensed her magic, forming a protective cocoon.

She imagined the mansion Lucifer entered. The darkened brick walls with flames casting shadows on the entrance. She remembered the sulfuric smell hanging upon the wind. Her body recalled the scorching heat sweating her skin dry. Her eyes knew the barren wasteland, the orange-tinted earth.

Isla breathed out a ragged breath. As she exhaled, her aura dispersed, and her gaze revealed the building from her past.

She wobbled forward, leaning against the obsidian coated structure for support. Her body required rest to replenish her depleted aura. Yet, time became critical. If she blinked, the future's flow could change.

So, how much time did she have? Would the King order her execution before her appeal? She shook the gut-wrenching feeling away and quieted her inner cries.

Her gaze shifted to the brass knobbed door, beckoning her. The reason, her reason for baiting death, she had to remember. The moment she forgot would spark her end.

With a confident stride, she closed the distance, grasping the warm metal. Her wrist twisted, turning the handle. Unobstructed, the door creaked open, the interior cloaked by heavy and hiding darkness.

Isla crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind her. She waited, granting her vision the time to adjust. The dim-lit hallway expanded as seconds passed, the interior design of burgundy carpeting and clean black paneling, augmenting the darkness. Nothing cluttered or distorted the walls. And not a soul rushed her intrusion.

Though her instincts screamed paranoia, she trekked on with fleeting steps.

Beyond the entrance, her path merged into the main corridor. An expanded area, leading to a wide-spanning staircase accompanied by thick rails. The crystal and bronze chandelier overhead flickered light fragments about completing the space.

Isla scanned the room, searching for the living. She frowned at their absence.

Heading west, she neared the first closed-door and inched the wooden block open. With a quick glance, she continued onwards.

After her fifth door, hushed voices drifted near. She gulped air and exhaled a stream of her fears. Her fingers brushed the knob before encircling and turning the knob. The hinges creaked as she inched a gap open.

"Ah, finally. Welcome! Do come in and have a seat," greeted a full, long suited Noble lounging upon a velvet cushioned chair. His piercing but flawless scarlet eyes bore into her, their depths brilliant and inviting.

Isla exposed the room's entirety. Her forehead scrunched as she spotted Lance opposite the newcomer. When their gazes connected, his darted wayward, and he sulked.

She returned her attention back, scrutinizing her receiver. His wavy black hair descended to his shoulders. He portrayed serenity, but still enacted dominance with his legs crossed and back angled.

The Noble swirled a glass while a smirk played across his face. "Come now. Let us talk... Isla?"

"You were expecting me, but don't know my name?" With a few strides, she bridged the distance, sitting beside Lance.

"I'm afraid this cordial welcome was planned last minute. If I knew before you entered my humble home, I could have been more accommodating. So do bare with my ill manners," he explained then motioned to a decanter beside him containing an amber liquid. "Care for a drink?"

"No, thanks." She clipped her response short, leaning back and mimicking his pose.

"A pity. I find enjoying my joys with a beautiful lady incomparable sweet. It heightens the taste. Perhaps another time then, I'm sure we'll have plenty of opportunities to further our relationship." He winked then tipped back his glass and swallowed the contents.

"Who are you?"

He returned his glass to the tabletop and chuckled. "Lance never told you of me?"

She unraveled his question while donning an unfazed demeanor. An acquaintance of Lance? Isla glimpsed his reaction. His slouched posture and drooped head accompanied a shut tight gaze.

"You're his father."

"Yes, Asterick at your service," he replied with a mock bow in his chair.

"Lance spoke of me, to you?" she asked while taking another peek at Lance.

"I didn't," growled Lance. "Lucifer dotes on you to him."

Her gaze shifted. "And that upsets you?"

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the arms of his chair. "I don't need to see another woman fall into his clutches."

Isla's skin heated. "You think I'd fall head over heels for your father?"

"If he wants you, he'd do anything to get you. It doesn't matter how stubborn you are. Rather, being stubborn will just entice him."

"I can take care of myself Lance," she retorted.

"Now, now. Let's not talk about me like I'm not here," Asterick intervened.

Lance snorted, looking away and falling silent.

Isla sighed. "This isn't the time for an argument over if your father will entice me or not, Lance. The Gods launched an attack on Arcadia. I need to stop them, so I've come to give your King a gift."

He jerked his head back, eyes wide. "They attacked? Wait, what do you mean a gift?"

"I know an access point into Elysium. It would bring you in range to kill the King."

"You wish to kill your own King?" Asterick asked, crossing his slender fingers.

She cleared her throat and tilted forward, smiling. "No. I wish to kill my own father."

A/N: Another update! Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter.