Frost flecked lava coursed through Noah’s veins and his head was still fuzzy, but his eyes moved ahead of them. Isla didn’t seem to react. There was no explosion of fury or burst of claws, or feathers, or scales. No volcano eruption of assault. Noah’s breath hitched in his throat for a moment and his heart skipped a beat. Did she really not know who he was, or had she been the one to forgive them all? Had she been the one to desire enough for her own survival that she could wipe away all that had happened?
Or, a spark in the back of Noah’s mind — had Dygra taken it all away from her when Isla sacrificed blood and bone and pledged her fealty to the awakened goddess?
Noah acquiesced with Isla’s assumption of his apprehensions a the way his body reacted. If he needed to be able to explain it, the bridge would be an ample excuse. ”That might help.” He lied. ”Once we are back on solid ground I’ll feel better.” He lied again.
Or, a spark in the back of Noah’s mind — had Dygra taken it all away from her when Isla sacrificed blood and bone and pledged her fealty to the awakened goddess?
Noah acquiesced with Isla’s assumption of his apprehensions a the way his body reacted. If he needed to be able to explain it, the bridge would be an ample excuse. ”That might help.” He lied. ”Once we are back on solid ground I’ll feel better.” He lied again.
noah olson
the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns
