Faetality

2. The debt of promise

When Isla returned to Madame Angelica's shop, she was half dying of thirst and hunger. Considering evening was setting and the bustle of the merchant houses had died down, Isla prayed Madame Angelica would let her off the hook early before she collapsed from exhaustion. The pup in her hands had closed its eyes shut and the deep gash it had sustained was beginning to clot. Isla made a mental note to take it to the healer once she had reached home and gotten something in her stomach. As she approached her Mistress' shop, Isla bumped into Cecil, another of Madame Beatrice's apprentice. She had not been around in the morning like their contract demanded of them. Seeing the girl scan her head to toe like she was some clueless foreigner made Isla feel sick to the stomach. Her stomach wrenched, threatening to make her throw up the contents of her stomach. An empty stomach.

"If you cannot apologize, you can at least move," Isla demanded.

Cecil gave a mock laugh, looking at Isla in a belittling way before noticing the stray in her hands.

"Madame Beatrice would not like you bringing a mutt here. She is already having a hard time trying to tame one."

The derogatory statement that entitled brat spewed almost made Isla lose the little lady-like manners she had assimilated. It took so much not to punch Cecil. Someone needed to shove the girl out of her high horse and put her where she belonged. Being the daughter of an influential salt merchant had made her think she was worth more. She was not necessarily pretty. Starving herself to look thin and applying all sort of strange beauty product her father had procured from his overseas travel might have fitted her into the beauty standards society demanded fit of her but it was very obvious she wasn't born with it and that nasty attitude if hers still threw the men who dared to approach her. Though Isla could not exchange blows with Cecil the white horse, the words of her mouth were still enough venom.

"Listen here Cecil," Isla began when she felt a hand tap her shoulders from behind. She made a quick turn praying to her ancestors that it was not another ghost sensation like the one from earlier. Lo and behold, a pair of dazzling blue eyes that resembled a painting of the sky itself peered into hers. His hair was dark, short, and ruffled. His jaw was chiseled like it was sculpted when the goddess had a lot of free time in her hands. Isla also noticed he was richly dressed. Well, half-dressed. His tunic and shirt were missing but his elegant pants, a striking deep blue with patches of gold dust and lightly jeweled boot managed to remind Isla that this was no mere man. He looked like a noble but she could not find an insignia on him.

"Good day Miss, Could you lead me to the first daughter of the house of Murry?" He asked, in an accent that sounded out of this world. He certainly was not from this part of the world. A foreigner perhaps. But his request had left Isla shocked. He was searching for someone in her family. He was searching for...

"You mean her?" Cecil inquired, unable to comprehend why someone of high status would be looking for any being in the house of Murry. In her eyes, they were classless ne'erdo-wells.

"You are from the house of Murry?" He asked, a smile making its way of his pale pink lips this time.

"Yes..."

Without ado, he held unto Isla's shoulders in the most intruding manner and spoke. "You must come with me. It is time for your family's promise to be kept."

Isla was too shocked to even speak. What in the world was the man uttering? Was he mad? Cecil was the first person to jump to her aid.

"Creep," Cecil brushed his calloused hands off Isla. "I think I speak for Isla when I say no one has ever seen you in these parts of town. So beat it if you have lost your way."

The man seemed taken aback by Cecil's statement. Even Isla was surprised that Cecil would ever fight a crazed noble for her sake. But the man was not done yet.

"Your grandfather promised my father that his family would always be there for us when we needed his assistance and strange as it might be, Isla, the kingdom of Wayfay needs your help." He said, stretching his hand as if he expected her to take it.

"What promise?" Isla retorted, genuinely unaware of what he was babbling about. She had never met her grandfather. The man had been buried before she was even born and her parents had mentioned no such thing to her. If they had a noble friend, Isla knew her mother would have mentioned it at least once. This man had to have had too much ale to drink.

"Once upon a time, when the world was young and realms were torn, a sad woodcutter ventured into the forest with his dying wife as it was her desire to be with nature when her essence left her. Time trickled and as the cold hands of death began to pull two lovers apart. A voice in the shadow spoke. It said, "I have seen many come to the woods to kill themselves, to sin or to die in the hands of friends. Why aren't you snuffing life out of her?"

Isla froze. That story, only her father told it that way. It made her go insane. Wounds she had buried up and hoped never to feel again began to rip open and hurt her in unimaginable ways. She remembered being carried with her mother at the tender age of sixteen to see the remains of her father. He had been mauled by a bear. His face was covered in blood and cuts and bites were ridden all over his body. In his eyes was the look of pure horror which made Isla guess his last moments in the world of man were horrible ones. Isla put a hand to her head as her dizziness worsened. She wanted out. She needed to breathe.

"Stop!" She practically screamed at the man, shaking and crying. It was an ugly cry. The ones with the heavy breathing and blocked nostrils. Eyes flickered in her direction and a crowd was already beginning to gather as murmurs rose as to what was going on. Madame Angelica who had remained within the confines of her shop for the longest was also drawn to the commotion. Only when her mistress gave her a questioning look did Isla realize this was not a place to meltdown. As Cecil filled their Mistress on what was going on, Isla proceeded to play sane and ask, "What do you want?"

"I need you to marry me to save Wayfay," He said without a shift in his expression.

That was the last straw. Isla aimed for his face.

SMACK!

That seemed to be the only thing to stun the man. There were whispers amidst the crowd. Many found the scene amusing and others who found it disturbing sided with Isla's volatile response.

"Are you mad?" Isla stammered with a rage that could not be contained. Pointing a finger in his face, Isla continued. "Leave now and never come back. I promise you. These streets won't be so nice if you dare this again."

With everything that went down, the man still appeared unshaken. It subtly hinted that his psyche was wired strangely. He gave a bow that hinted mockery and said, "Isla Murry, you have mocked your oath and therefore you shall suffer the debt of promise."

Then he proceeded to leave. As Isla's heart began to settle, she noticed the villagers' eyes were still fixated on her. Their faces held nothing but horror forcing Isla to look at whatever they were afraid of. On her hands, the injured dog's fur had turned midnight black. It seemed to have grown thinner as its fur hung loosely on its bones. Neither was its lungs were moving.

It was dead.