As Isla walked on ahead of him, Noah contemplated taking this chance to teleport away from here, away from her, without her catching on to him being gone. But he hesitated. The tone of her voice stayed so honeyed, so warm. There was no semblance of the cold machinery, the grasp of the Voice and the hold that trauma held. So, Noah walked on behind her. Her tail bobbed and Noah remembered the day Safrin had called to her followers—and him, the demigod of her god—to her side in the clouds. Along with healing she gave information that Dygra was not an enemy.
Perhaps, then, Isla no longer was either. Perhaps her new alignment with the fiery goddess was enough to keep her from wanting to tear his throat out because of their history (although not personal and one on one as Isla had shared with other old gods followers). When she spoke, he gave her a chuckle, though it was still laced with the uncertainty that she read as fear f heights. ”The ice is a little more predictable than free falling.” He almost snorted. ”What would happen to an ancient were they to venture to somewhere as cold as Halo?”
noah olson
the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns
