"You are mad," Isla rebuked while wobbling upwards.

"I thought you wanted power," Skye countered.

"Wrong," she barked, planting her hands on both knees for stability. "All I want is for you to leave me out of your troubles. I don't care about the Gods nor how they act. Let them find a new leader. But it will not be me."

He sighed, rubbing his temple. Again, he glanced away, searching the dense woods. "Fine, but know this: the Gods have amassed in Arcadia. They've lost ground." With his warning delivered, Skye wrapped himself in a dense golden light and materialized away.

Isla collapsed, resting her head on the grass. Skye was mad. Where did he conjugate this appalling plan to place her atop their throne? Did he believe she'd accept his request, desiring the power it granted?

Foolish.

She covered her eyes, shielding against the pockets of light shimmering through the layer of clouds high above. Arcadia was still in trouble. They'd been under attack when she died. The fighting had been minimum, even Fin Ardin had escaped the looming battle. But things always changed.

Still, she had no obligation to help. Her involvement could make their plight worse. If the Gods knew her the cause of their power decline, the aggregation of pests in Arcadia would only grow.

Clenching her fist, a dull pain shot up her arm. The queasy, unstable weight she carried had diminished. She rolled onto her knees, using her hands to support her rise. Though her feet trembled, their uncontrollable nature desisted.

Isla wiped both palms on her damp pants. She eyed the hole littered leather, frowning at their resemblance. Did she wear the same outfit from before death? A shiver traced her spin. It couldn't be?

The snap of a nearby twig drew her attention. Isla widened her legs, lowering her stance. Run or fight?

Her breathing hitched, and she scrutinized the forest. What was coming?

She pooled her aura, feeling the familiar and soothing presence of her strength. Her palms throbbed with power, growing numb each passing moment. Isla paused, her body taut and alert. Something was coming, but what and where? She glanced from the woods to the dirt trail nudged between the two halves.

He stood basking in the sun, his full height augmenting his glory. The minimal light highlighted his deep red hair and glowing tanned forearms. He lacked his characteristic heavy armor, instead, donning obsidian leather. The simple elegant design a creation even the Gods wouldn't know.

Calimitrin. The Demon King.

The skittish aura, pacing her palms whined. Isla lowered her eyelids and relaxed her hands, channeling the energy into nature. She sighed, the torrent of power quiet and stable.

"Cali?" Isla blurted. Her hand flew up to cover her blunder. Heat tinted her cheeks as she watched his eyes crinkle and burn vigorously. She coughed, clearing her throat. "It's easier to say," she countered.

Dropping her hand, she steadied herself and concealed her own rebuttal. Yeah, giving the strongest being alive a pet name was a poor decision. Yet, payment would be withheld if he killed her. Not the best decision, but a manageable one. Right?

She watched him cross both arms, his biceps bulging. Still, he remained silent. Even the slight change her naming incited dulled and disappeared.

"How did you find me?" she questioned.

His mouth twitched but remained a firm line. He stepped forward, his gaze combing her form.

Isla's skin chilled and her hairs stood. Was it the water, her drenched clothes, or the way his eyes bore through her? They held such depth and wisdom, verging on dangerous. How old was he?

"So? Are you going to tell me, or just stand there glaring at me?" she chided. Isla crossed her arms, mimicking his stance.

Calimitrin stepped closer, towering over her lean frame. "Your aura." He cocked his head with narrowed eyes.

"Because I'm a God?"

He growled, forcing her back. "Gods? The trash hides. No," he voiced, pausing to limit her breathing room, "you're an Immortal." His eyes glowed, intensifying their original burgundy.

Immortal—Isla flinched from the word. Osiris died delivering the same proclamation. Her an Immortal? What fantasies did he spew? Immortals were myths. They didn't exist.

"Immortals don't exist."

He smiled, showing full white sharp teeth. Yet, the fleeting sight transformed into a frown. "Then, what are you?" Calimitrin leaned close, sniffing her hair. "We smell similar."

Isla's heart lurched forward, beating fast. The sound traveled to her ears, pacing the flow of blood through her veins. She stepped back, but tripped, falling down. The impact bruised her and the previously present pain crescendoed. Yet, her gaze remained entranced by the man looming overhead.

Her throat constricted and the water lining her insides evaporated. "I'm not-"

"Not a monster?" he interrupted, flashing a grin.

She climbed upwards, regaining balance and control over her own body. She knew he was right. Yet, how could this be possible? The idea was unfathomable. Logically, his conclusion tied the knots concerning her ability to reincarnate. She couldn't die. But didn't immorality mean extreme regeneration of the core form, preventing degradation? Instead, she lost her main body only to reborn into another vessel and relive her years—a literal hell.

Isla clutched her knees, stooping as her thoughts swirled. An Immortal and God combined?

Her head tilted. She stared straight, her gaze enraptured by the man claiming a similar weight from life. "And you? Why does this matter to you?"

He ground his teeth and glowered. "It is none of your concern."

"It's alright for you to learn every aspect of my life, but not the other way? Fair." She sighed but fixed her standing posture. A vague response. Yet, the question flustered him. Her status as an immortal held worth to him. Was he alone or inhibited by his half Demon fate?

"A Demon and Immortal, do you consider us similar?" she added, pushing the bounds of his control. Memories of his malicious strength surfaced. He killed Gods without restraint and overseed a race more dangerous than the Gods. A shiver traveled her body as she recalled how the Demons overpowered her magic with brute strength.

"A Demon?" His brow rose from her declaration.

Isla frowned. "Is that wrong?"

"They are a part of me. Nothing more."

She suppressed a smirk. He actually told her. Where did his pride go? "Fine, but do you have to spit in my face?" Isla wiped her cheek, removing the spray. "And unlike you, I have no reason to pry."

Though she lied, she'd relent for now. Other matters gained importance over meddling in his life. Arcadia—she created a bond with Ahni and even now she could feel her presence. She was crying. She was in pain.

Before, the world's emotions had been minimal, present but sparse. Now, her brain throbbed from the constant banter and screams of Ahni. Her cries echoed through her mind. Worse, if Ahni couldn't withstand the strife erupting, then Leef could be facing terrible unknowns without Rydin.

"I need to go to Arcadia," Isla stated while clenching her fists. She watched the hard lines on his face remain cemented. Her words caused no change. "Please."