Lady Xuyen: yes ma'am! Lots of TalaxWolborg drama coming hot right out of the oven :D
"As clear as your persistence."
Ice blue eyes widened as soon as those words reverberated through his soul. The beast's daunting and sonorous voice shattered all laws of nature and pierced through his mind like a loud thought of his own.
For a fleeting moment, he clung to the belief that he was imagining things; it was just a product of the howling winds and the biting cold, weaving illusions and playing with his senses like a mirage.
Something was wrong.
He had expected to find his bit-beast in a dire state, imprisones or in any incapacitated state that would explain her prolonged absence from his blade. Yet, there she was, unshackled, awake, her ethereal figure glistening under the full moon's brilliance at the cliff's edge where she lay as a piece of the scenery herself, mesmerizing and serene, with her front paws crossed as if in quiet contemplation.
With a bitter taste swirling in his throat, he steeled himself and finally decided to approach the wolf spirit. Cautious steps shortened the distance between him and that godly being that for years has been fighting alongside him and opening the way for his victories.
Even lying down, the wolf's height easily towered his, forcing the boy to keep his face straight in order to gaze directly at her own piercing eyes. His hand slowly went forward to cautiously touch the beast's crown, as if trying to assess her reality. The absence of a reaction from her was taken as a silent permission granted. The green gem glowed between his fingers as they brushed the golden surface adorning her head. It felt neither solid nor ethereal, but something oddly palpable, some strange material and immaterial feeling he'd never experienced before.
Wolborg lifted her muzzle, just enough to touch his wrist with the tip of her nose and nestle her head against his palm in a subtle acknowledgment. A docile, almost imperceptible movement that somehow brought hope to his troubled heart.
"So it's true, this whole damn story." His curious fingers dared to gently thread through the fur above her neck, feeling the translucent strands of energy that danced beneath his fingertips, a living tapestry of shimmering starlight. She didn't protest, motionless in her divine posture, accepting his caress. A sense of awe and reverence welled within him, and his gaze greatly softened. "I was told you belonged to this place and were taken from here by force by Biovolt. I thought it was just a silly fairy tale, some ridiculous cover up. I thought you had been hijacked from my beyblade and were being held captive in some hole."
"And now you are asking yourself why I have not rejoined you, free that I am." Her voice greeted his soul again, sending new shivers through his skin, her words confirming his fears.
"These people call you Skalbard, something like that. Is that your true name?" he asked with a low tone, unable to vanquish that inconvenient, undesired feeling of jealousy and loneliness that suddenly befell him.
"I have borne many names throughout my existence," she replied solemnly. "To you, I am Wolborg. You may call me by any denomination of your choosing."
His lips closed for a moment, assimilating her words, her presence. Allowing himself one fleeting moment of peaceful and silent interaction before collecting answers he knew he probably wouldn't like.
Eventually, anxiety took the best of him. "I want the whole truth," he stated without hesitation, sternness growing in the boy's young face. "Are you really bound to Ivor?"
"Nonsense!" The boy almost flinched when her answer thundered in his head with an almost scornful laugh at such a pathetic assumption. Her face turned to the side in a proud fashion as if the mere idea deeply outraged her. "That foolish, selfish lad bears no resemblance to the noble child I once cherished. He takes me for a mere property, some powerful item to be inherited and flaunted like a trophy, the final thread connecting him to some semblance of dignity. I pity him. Yet pity alone does not suffice to deem one worthy of my favor."
"Then what's the problem?" he inquired, not feeling any more reassured. "We are partners. What's stopping you from coming back?"
The spirit beast paused for a moment as she considered Tala's question. Then the shimmering light around her intensified; amidst this otherworldly glow, her lupine figure morphed, the fur retracting into her body, and her limbs elongating with an almost liquid grace.
Wolborg had two strikingly different forms, each revealing a facet of her dual nature, as their opponents would come to witness before being engulfed and overpowered by the sheer might of Novae Rog.
In her first form, she presented herself as a young damsel; a ghostly figure of haunting beauty and frailty, adorned by an extremely long silver hair cascading over her shoulders, and a flowing, silvery gown for her attire. Feminine and untouchable, her every movement would echo with quiet elegance and vulnerability. A stark contrast to her second form—the formidable wolf whose very appearance struck fear into the hearts of her adversaries, embodying strength and ferocity, a force of nature ready to defend and conquer in any relentless arena.
This dichotomy of both delicate grace and overwhelming force was a constant reminder of the beast to both its wielder and adversaries that no being should ever be underestimated. It was the spirit's silent lesson that appearances were deceivers, true strength often lay hidden beneath the surface and even the most unassuming of beings could destroy when provoked.
Once threading through her fur, Tala's fingers now found themselves held gently by her now delicate human hand.
"Allow me to enlighten, Tala," she said, her tone still icy and implacable, even in this small and seemingly defenseless form, "the true roots of our long lasting partnership."
A tingling energy surged through him, flowing from her hand into his. He widened his eyes and every inch of his instincts screamed alert, but before he could react, his vision blurred, and then his mind was flooded with a torrent of memories. Not his own, but hers.
Tala's consciousness was plunged into the dark depths of Biovolt's labs, experiencing a world long past through Wolborg's eyes.
In his own skin, as if his own body was present at that dreary time and space, he felt the cold, sterile air, the oppressive aura of machinery, and the pervasive stench of metal and synthetic materials. He found himself surrounded by faceless scientists, their dark coats and blending into the harsh fluorescent lighting dimly lighting the walls. Tala felt Wolborg's fear and defiance as she was trapped within a giant containment field, her big form distorted and restrained by highly advanced technology.
He experienced the sharp, excruciating pain as cables, instruments and strange devices were used to extract her energy, siphoning her power and genetic fingerprint into vials and tubes. The scientists showed no empathy or the slightest respect, only cold, clinical curiosity as, pressured by tier deadlines, they relentlessly performed invasive procedures, dissecting parts of her ethereal form. Each button pressed sent waves of agony through her being, her silent cries of anguish echoing in Tala's mind.
He felt Wolborg's wrath building with each violation, her fury a burning ember within the cold confines of her prison. The scientists' attempts to duplicate her powers by merging fragments of her essence and DNA with other creatures created grotesque abominations that eventually had to be put down, further fueling her rage. Her once noble spirit was reduced to a mere tool, a feast of mysterious knowledge to be prayed upon.
The memories continued to flood the redhead's mind, shifting in time, showing him the final stages of her captivity. When the scientists exhausted all their methods and were finally done with their tormenting research, they sealed her shattered essence within a beyblade, a silver prison of metal and plastic. She was handed over to a redhead boy, a young blader eager to prove himself, unaware of the horrors that the bit-beast that would lead him to victories had endured.
A boy he immediately recognized and knew so well.
The spirit's pain, anger, and sense of betrayal were a cacophony of emotions too dire for a human's soul to bear alone, leaving the boy breathless and shattered. As she retracted her hand and broke the link between them for the sake of his safety, the torrent of memories subsided. Overwhelmed, his mind torn and twisted in the grip of another's agony, he collapsed to his knees and then onto his hands, gasping for breath. A searing pain lanced through his skull and core. He touched his chest where he felt his heart racing in a pace too dangerous for the human body. A chaotic drumbeat of fear, wrath and sorrow burned like flaming oil in his veins.
"When they concluded that no more could be extracted from me, that no new knowledge could be wrested from my essence, they gathered the broken remnants of my being, trapped within that beyblade, and bestowed it upon you," the damsel continued her tale through words, her voice resonant with bitter clarity. "And you? Swiftly did you learn to harness my power, skilled blader that you are. Yet, that was not enough. You continually sought to surpass our limits, ever pushing to master the full extent of your bit-beast's potential. Thus, bit by bit, my strength was drained from me. With every training session, every battle in which you emerged victorious, I was left exhausted. And you never asked yourself the true cause behind your diminishing prowess over the years. Even your devastating defeat at the hands of Garland failed to drive your eyes to the spirit inside the blade. You attributed your loss to a mere ebb in power and pressed on, ever striving for more."
She turned on her heels gracefully and drifted away from him, her hair and billowing dress swept by the freezing winds like ethereal curtains in the air. Still clinging to the ground, clasping snow and sweat between his fingers, as he slowly regained control of his body and his mind mildly silenced and allowed him to move, he managed to lift his eyes, staring at her back.
"I must admit, only the most talented could create such a harness strong enough to bind ancient spirits against their will," she continued her emotionless monologue as she approached the giant ice block. Her pale blue hand touched the cold surface, as if caressing the distorted image of the old necklace trapped inside. "Mine endured beyond measure. And I would still be under your dominion, had Ivor not seized the opportunity to summon me back to my original vessel, breaking my shackles in the process."
Tala's mind raced as he processed his bit-beast's revelation. The weight of her words bore down on him like a crushing wave of realization.
Memories, now his own, flooded his thoughts, reaccessing battles won, victories celebrated, abilities showcased, practices carried out, all at the expense of the spirit's strength. He recalled moments when he pushed their limits, hers and his own, driven by ambition and the desire to prove himself.
Of course. Biovolt had a well-known process for stealing bit-beasts and allowing non-chosen bladers to wield them. He and his team had partaken in some of the subtractions themselves, forcing bladers to fight their own bit-beasts for the entire world to watch when nothing but following Boris' orders mattered.
Why would it be different with Wolborg?
How did the idea never cross his mind before?
Or did it, and he just didn't care at the time?
"So… all this time…" His voice returned to his throat once breathing wasn't a desperate need anymore. "You were just being forced to fight." He muttered, filled with disbelief, regret and wounded pride. Anger simmered beneath the surface, directed at Biovolt. It was always them. "How was I supposed to know that? If I had known, I… I would've done something!"
"Would you?"
Her provocative question drawed his gaze towards her, meeting her cold and shimmering eyes looking at him aloofly.
"This old spirit has treaded in this world long enough to understand that no amount of embarrassment is unbearable to humans as long as they remain… content, with the ends." A thin pinch of contempt tainted her tone. "As long as they are comfortable, as long as their ambitions are fulfilled, as long as the outcome is sufficiently advantageous, they can effortlessly turn a blind eye to the collateral damages."
"I'm not like that!" He spat in a surge of anger, his sudden heavy exhale amidst the cold painting in white the air in front of his lips and nose, causing an almost imperceptible smirk in the maiden's lips. "I'm nothing like Boris, Voltaire, Ivor or any of these bastards that think that they can do whatever they like and trample whoever they want!"
Her undecipherable silence stinged deep in his heart and pride.
"So you don't want to come back because you think I'm not worthy," Tala frowned bitterly and defiantly. "You never chose me from the very beginning."
"Even if I wished to return, it is beyond my capacity at this moment," Wolborg replied coldly. "The summoning program enacted by the Novagraadians has disrupted the little power that remained within me. Even manifesting before you now is somewhat a challenge. My presence or an empty void within your beyblade–I'm afraid the result would be the same. For the time being, I seek only rest and healing, away from mortals."
"And after that?"
"Humans. Ever so anxious and disquieted, neglecting the present to pursue the future," she complained with little sympathy, turning a side eye to the boy.
"That doesn't answer the question."
"In the end, you would still be someone I have never chosen." She replied, displeased at his tone.
"Let's solve this problem then. Test me!" His fierce exclamation called her attention. For the first time, the spirit frowned with dissatisfaction–a gesture that, amidst his strong resolve, he failed to acknowledge. "I'm not exactly sure how bit-beasts chose their wielders, but I'm not afraid and I won't run away. Throw me whatever challenge you want. I will prove to you that we are strong partners. We can start anew, without any shackles this time."
His appeal was immediately granted. Instantly, the frost beneath Tala shifted into a slick, icy surface. Caught off guard, he lost his footing, landing flat on his back with a heavy thud.
"What are you doing?" As he tried to rise, a perfectly formed snowball met the boy's back, sending him forward and this time it was his chest that greeted the frozen ground. "Stop it!"
"Oh? I thought you requested a test," a mild sneer curved her lips.
A playful gust of wind swirled around him, teasingly tousling his hair and sending a fine spray of snowflakes cascading over his already disheveled form. Tala pushed himself up, this time keeping a steady and ready stance, his face red with humiliation and anger under a pointy hair fully decorated with snowflakes. "This isn't a test! You're just toying with me!"
The damsel's ghostly figure floated closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "And why shouldn't I? You haven't truly listened to anything I have said, Cyber Tala."
"Don't call me that!" Tala clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "This isn't fair. Tell me, how can I prove myself if you refuse to take me seriously?"
"Our conversation ends the moment you start making demands." Wolborg's tone grew colder, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom and disappointment.
Her graceful figure retreated, slowly floating backwards towards the massive ice block housing her vessel. Tala widened his eyes in sudden alert, realizing that she was about to leave.
"And this, Tala, is your answer: I have had enough of being used like a tool by mortals."
"I grow tired of human arrogance."
"I will no longer be commanded, nor bound to you or any blader who seeks to exploit my power for personal gain."
As her words hung in the frigid air, the Ice Spirit began to waver, slowly dissipating into the cold mist that surrounded them.
"Wait! Where are you going?" The redhead lunged forward, outstretching his fingers in a desperate attempt to grasp at her dissipating form, trying to keep the spirit in place. "Wolborg!"
He felt nothing but the faintest brush of some strands of her ethereal hair against his skin, before even those fragments disappeared.
He stood frozen for a moment, shocked and motionless, his hand outstretched towards the frozen and silent mausoleum, his only companion in the desolate surroundings.
The emptiness around him weighed heavier than the biting cold, the silence striking his ears deeper than the loudest screech. Alone on that summit, he was left with nothing but the echo of his own voice and the lingering ache of a bond severed by mistrust and unfulfilled expectations.
He clenched his fists, determination gradually burying the sorrow to burn in his eyes. "This isn't over," he vowed, his voice and glare directed at that old, modest wooden necklace slumbering inside its prison of ice. "I know you can hear me. No matter what it takes, I'll prove to you that we can forge a new bond, free from past mistakes. I will come back, Wolborg. You just wait."
With renewed determination, he turned, facing the daunting path ahead and making his way back towards the staircase with heavy steps.
…
Kiv watched as the delicate snowflake drifted down, gently parking at her palm before vanishing against the blue leather surface of her glove. No new snowflakes followed; it had finally stopped snowing.
Ever since Tala joined the Ice Spirit at the mountaintop, the weather had become increasingly unstable. Initially, she did intend to join him, but the symphony of sounds and the strange lights emitted from the summit's core invited her to stay put.
Unlike Tala or Ivor, she couldn't see nor sense the sacred spirit. She tried calling for it and seeing it a couple of times in the past, but met only silence and solitude. She, as pretty much every other common human in those plains, wasn't worthy of the Ice Spirit's presence. Therefore, she couldn't exactly infer what was happening beyond those trees. But the fact alone that the redhead was taking his time to return and every now and then she would listen to some distinct noise and feel the cold rise and recede in the air did reveal a troubled discourse.
Hence she just parked at the top of the stairs, standing still in her usual upright and solemn posture, patiently waiting for him, respecting the private moment between blader and bit-beast.
She used the welcome time alone to organize and better understand her own thoughts and feelings. Her mind wandered to the tumultuous past events that paved their way to this moment.
Emotionless emerald eyes gazed blankly at an empty expanse of snow as a hidden amalgam of sorrow and resentment restrained her heart and soul, like a claw. Her once loved, noble and reliable older brother had bitterly changed throughout the years. The embodiment of hope and protection for Novagraad had dissolved into thin ashes to be replaced by insolence, immaturity and an insatiable hunger for power. The boy who once vowed to guide their village with honor and integrity had turned into a tyrant, blinded by vengeance and ambition.
The assault led by Biovolt had left scars that time had failed to heal, and in Ivor, those wounds had specially festered into a fetid, consuming darkness.
Forcing Skalbard's return; cheating in a match and almost lethally wounding his opponent in the process; opening the village's doors to political and military trouble by imprisoning the Blitzkrieg Boys; his willingness to conquer the Ice Spirit through sheer force and scheming if necessary. That set of wrong choices made in such a small amount of time had finally shattered the little trust that lingered in her heart for him.
Tala's sudden shout beyond the trees hinted at a heated argument between the Russian boy and the sacred spirit, drawing Kiv's gaze toward the Ice Spirit's lair.
Deep down, somehow, her heart ached for Tala. She harbored deep animosity towards him, his friends and all those who once related to the criminal organization that forever tainted her home. Watching him proudly wield the kidnapped bit-beast in tournament after tournament to best his adversaries didn't help. But beneath that antipathy lay a deeper sentiment: the fear of making the wrong choice, of betraying her village and the spirit she had once sworn to protect.
Despite her insecurities and doubts, Kiv believed that aiding Tala was the best way to safeguard Skalbard. She believed that, despite his flaws and acrid behavior, despite the terrible damage that had been inflicted on others in order to unite him with his bit-beast, the years he and the Ice Spirit spent together may have constructed a genuine connection between them. Bringing him to the spirit's presence was the best method to test this hypothesis.
Should Tala succeed in reclaiming Wolborg, a powerful message would be sent to Ivor – that true strength lay in respect and understanding, not in domination and control. And if the Russian managed to leave, taking their willing deity far away with him in a fair fashion, maybe that would bring the siblings some closure, and Ivor would finally be able to forget the past, focus on weaving plans for the future, and start healing at last.
The sound of footsteps crunching on the frost-covered rocky ground snapped Kiv's attention to the narrow pathway where Tala's stern figure emerged.
His icy blue stare fulminated her, a silent tempest swirling behind his eyes, sending shivers through her skin. Concern etched across the girl's face as she tried to gauge the storm brewing within him.
He resumed his stride towards the stairs in silence, unwilling to interact. But as he passed by her, Kiv reached out to touch his shoulder and halt his departure for a moment. He complied, his muscles tense under her touch.
"Let me guess. You knew it," he snarled, his voice cutting through the frosty air with accusation, his unfriendly gaze fixed ahead, not even glancing at her as he spoke.
"Pardon?" She blinked.
"You knew Wolborg was in bad shape," he continued sharply. "You knew beforehand that she wouldn't come back to me. You brought me here to fail, to see firsthand that my bond with Wolborg is broken. Maybe you thought that would make me give up and go away, leaving the path open for your damn brother."
"The Ice Spirit refused you?" Kiv frowned, her voice laced with confusion and surprise.
"Quit the acting," the redhead retorted bitterly, daggered by her words. Too tired to fuel the discussion further, he gestured with his arm, evicting her fingers from his shoulder and resumed walking. "Forget it. I must return to my friends."
She softened her expression, leaving her own confusion and questions aside to convey some empathy. "You are mistaken. I am truly sorry, Tala."
Tala's jaw and fists clenched, his gaze hardening as he turned slightly to face her over the shoulder. "You can keep your pity to yourself," he said icily. "Tell Ivor that this isn't over. I am not leaving this wreck of a village alive and without Wolborg."
"Do you remember the way back?" She swallowed his rudeness and asked patiently upon seeing him making his way down the stairs, avoiding using too many words or starting an inquiry that would definitely not be fruitful in his current angry condition.
The boy answered her with disdainful silence, no longer acknowledging her presence. At this point, it was clear that he didn't need any help to find his way back to the apartment building.
Kiv pressed her hands against each other in front of her belly, not knowing what to do. She fell into step behind him, following him with some distance, just in case he needed directions or support.
…
The path back to the apartment building was remarkably straightforward and uneventful. The hour had long descended deep into the dawn, with few homes still showing signs of woken life. Even more peculiar was the absence of patrols in the streets, allowing the silent duo to swiftly traverse the back alleys without any hindrances.
That respite was a welcome blessing for Tala. Had he needed to make difficult decisions and quick reactions to hide or evade, as during their initial traverse towards the mountain, he might have found himself in dire straits. Memories of his recent encounter with Wolborg fully occupied his mind to the extent that he was drowned in distraction, sorrow and frustration, reducing his walking to a purely mechanical task driven by his legs alone.
As the silhouette of the apartment building finally came into view around the corner, Kiv swiftly moved past beside him and barred his front defensively with her arm, blocking his advance. The gesture dragged his awareness back to the present, and Tala raised his head to see Ivor and several armed soldiers stationed just outside the building's entrance. The redhead's eyes widened with concern as he spotted Bryan and Spencer sitting on the ground, surrounded by gun barrels hovering over them. Thankfully, they appeared unharmed, just tired and defiant.
"What a truly sickening sight," Ivor hissed as soon as his crimson piercing eyes spotted Tala and Kiv at the other side of the alley. He even knew where to look to find where they would come from; it was clear that he was waiting for their arrival.
"How long do you intend to threaten Bryan and Spencer for no reason?" Tala called out, pushing the girl's arm aside to clear his path and stride toward Novagraad's ruler. Approaching him and standing face to face, he disregarded the subtle shift of guns from the boys to himself, glaring defiantly at the blonde. "Your problem is with me, so face me and leave them alone."
"Sorry, bro," Bryan yawned loudly, stretching his legs on the ground and rolling his neck as if the long wait in a seated position under intense scrutiny of eyes and guns had stiffened his body and bored him deeply. Just a free act of insolence. "They barged into the room out of nowhere and found you missing. There was nothing we could do. I tried to find an opening to reform his ugly face again, but he never fails to quickly hide behind his guards, you know."
"I've had maids more dangerous than you, little princess," the blonde spat back at Falborg's wielder, gaining a disdainful side glance from him before finally turning to Tala. "Grab his beyblade," he fiercely commanded one of the soldiers.
A big man stepped forward, plunging his strong hand inside Tala's garments and roughly wrestling the silver beyblade from his pocket. The redhead didn't resist for long, knowing that it would be useless, his eyes burning with fury. The trooper handed the object to Ivor, who inspected it intently. A satisfied smirk grew in his lips once he found that the bit-chip was still empty.
"Pff, just look at this. Skalbard refused you, didn't she?" Ivor's grave and taunting words elicited a surprised reaction from Bryan and Spencer, who stared at Tala stern and inquisitively. The ruler threw the object back to its owner as it was but a worthless piece of garbage. "After all these years basking and leeching on her powers, you haven't learned how to bond and keep your bit-beast under your leash. How pathetic. In the end, I was worried for nothing."
"Leash? Just look at how disgusting your choice of words is. No wonder she also hasn't accepted you," the redhead retorted fiercely, angered by the simple imagination of his bit-beast bound by chains again. His body trembled in fury as some of those terrible memories that she shared with him surfaced again. "You shouldn't be bragging so happily when we're in the very same sinking boat."
"Anyway, that greatly simplifies my life. You and your lousy friends are no longer a threat to me," the crimson-eyed blonde decreed dismissively, gesturing for the guards to release Bryan and Spencer. The three wary russians exchanged suspicious glances, as if waiting for some hidden trap to activate. "You're free to go. Novagraad is yours to enjoy. Consider this my mercy, Tala, you need it after so many pitiful defeats. I hope you learned your lesson. Just remember who holds the power here, before doing anything stupid again."
"You bet I will," he hissed defiantly, a subtle and undecipherable threat veiled behind his words.
Bryan and Spencer stood up with a quick leap, stretching their limbs after the long time waiting in an uncomfortable sitting position. Indeed the soldiers didn't react to their movements, now retreating to Ivor's flanks in a purely defensive formation. Tala approached his partners and looked at them closely, quickly assessing their condition. He received a discreet and reassuring smile from Bryan in return, confirming that they were fine and unharmed.
As he motioned for them to turn and leave the area, Spencer's subtle grasp in his wrist stopped Tala in his tracks. The taller silently nodded at Ivor's direction, inviting the redhead to watch the epilogue of a discussion that was yet to finish. Tala scowled, having completely forgotten about the girl.
"As for you," Ivor turned to Kiv, approaching her like a vulture. "I've discovered everything," he revealed, his voice and stare dripping with venom. "You have been communicating with the BBA behind my back to try and warn these stray dogs about the recalling program. You told them about Novagraad and that they'd find Skalbard here. You lured them here, and now you took this wretch to Skalbard when I clearly told you that I didn't want him snooping around my beast."
Kiv stood tall, lifting her head slightly, her expression a bastion of emotionlessness and indifference. Tala glanced abruptly at her, surprised by the revelation.
"You betrayed me, Kiv," Ivor pressed on for an answer, his anger barely contained.
"Took you long enough to figure everything out," she replied coldly. "I never said my allegiance lay with you, Ivor. But then again, you chose to listen only to what you want to, as always."
"Is that really all you have to say?" He insisted one last time, frustrated at that icy and undecipherable demeanor of his sister that would always make him feel small and powerless. As not a single new word came from her to appease his feeling of betrayal, anger and wounded pride, he gritted his teeth. "Well, if that's the case, then I guess you've just turned into another nuisance to me." Ivor turned angrily to his guards at the same time that Kiv closed her eyes, predicting the predicament that was to come. "My nitwitty sister is clearly tired and confused. Take her to her chambers and make sure she has a very prolonged rest!"
"I know the way," she stated annoyedly and arrogantly, brushing the guard away as he meant to hold her arm and escort her. The lass turned and began to walk toward the center of the village, her steps measured and dignified, with no sign of fear or regret left in her trail as her brother so desperately wanted to see. Severely displeased by that passive defiance, Ivor gestured at the guard as a silent order for the man to follow her and make sure she reached the intended destination, cursing and pushing him violently when he hesitated.
Tala watched her go, a mix of emotions churning inside him, the soldier leading her away at the same pace that a wave of guilt and confusion flooded his soul. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts—relief that not only enemies surrounded them in that faraway frozen hell of a village, but also deep frustration and shame that he had misjudged the girl's intentions, acting with unfair rudeness while also forsaking his only known ally.
He clenched his fists, angry at himself. He wanted to call out to her and maybe apologize for his harsh words earlier, but his voice clung to his throat, the words trapped by a mix of pride and sense of danger as Ivor and his entourage of armed brawns were still nearby and surely eager for a fight. Eventually his frustration boiled over and he took an involuntary step forward, his eyes locked on Kiv's retreating figure. Spencer quickly grabbed his arm, shaking his head slightly. "Not now," he whispered in his ear urgently. "Too risky. Also it's too damn late, we need to find somewhere safe to stay."
Tala's jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving her back. He nodded reluctantly, acknowledging the wisdom in Spencer's words. As much as his sense of honor pushed him to reach out, now was not the time.
Instead, he could only watch helplessly as she was led away beyond the frozen square.