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Pain. Darkness. Loneliness. Cold. Empty.
There was nothing around her. The woods were gone, so were the animals. There was no dagger in her hands anymore, no sounds of people trying to find Robin or herself.
Her wounds didn't hurt anymore, it was as if they never existed in the first place. Her body was weightless, floating in nothing.
"It's over now. Her story, i mean." An unfamiliar voice carried through the nothing around her, a voice Isabel didn't recognize. It was a mere whisper, and yet there was an incredibly power thrumming in between the words spoken.
"Yes," a different voice responded. It was softer, less powerful. Kinder. The sound of it seemed to cradle her, wrapping around her cold, lifeless self like a warm blanket. "She did what she was supposed to do. What you had planned for her is over now."
A hand cradled Isabel's face softly. Caring. Comforting.
"You were always my favorite," the second, nice voice said, much closer now than when it first spoke. A thumb stroked over Isabel's cheek, as if wiping away tears. "And yet you were the only one I couldn't save."
The first voice scoffed."She had to die, we both agreed on it. You said it was better this way," it said decidedly. The coolness of the voice washed over Isabel, but she couldn't feel it's power as prominent anymore. As if something was shielding her from it, taking her away.
"I know," the warm voice replied remorsefully. "It had to happen." It turned softer as another hand cradled the back of Isabel's head. She was still floating weightless, but now it felt as if she was being held against a body. "I can save her now. She can have another chance."
"What will you do now?" The first voice sounded curious now. "Where will you take her? What place would want her?"
"It doesn't matter whether the place wants her or not," the second voice snapped back. "She will have another chance. It's up to her to take it."
"But what kind of place will that be?"
"A place where she can heal." A wave of warmth washed over Isabel again, slowly lulling her into sleep. "Where she can leave behind the scars of her past. The scars you gave her."
"I didn't give her those," the first voice defended itself. It sounded offended, but also somewhat resigned, as if that was not the first time it heard those accusations. "She refused to heal from them."
"You gave her no chance to heal them." Anger flared up inside the nice voice, anger not directed at Isabel. It was defending her from the other voice. Why, she didn't understand. She didn't understand any of this. "I will give her one now."
Laughter sounded from the first voice. "How will you even know she will take the chance to heal? What if she turns out the same way as she did here, what will you do then? There are no third chances."
"She wants to heal. We both know that." The second voice hadn't lost any of it's anger, if anything, it sounded even more agitated. Isabel still didn't feel unsafe in it's embrace. It was so nice to be held by the being or whatever the voice was. "You didn't let her."
"They didn't let her."
"You could've changed something about it, still. You are their pethron*." The last word was spoken in a way Isabel had never heard before, and yet somehow, it sounded like a familiar language.
"Oh, you are sending her there." The first voice spoke with realization. There was no hint of surprise it it's tone. "Are you sure it will work? It is very different from this world."
"Every world is different from this one," the warm voice replied amused, the anger suddenly dissipated. "No matter where I send her, she will have to adjust. I decided it best to send her to a world I am familiar with."
"But you can't guide her there. You're not an entity in that world." There was a hint of warning in the first voice's tone. "You won't be able to do anything there. Why not send her to one of your own worlds?"
"Isn't that the beauty of second chances? Of doing things yourself?", the second voice asked. "She's not supposed to heal due to my guidance. I want her to heal on her own." A hand brushed through Isabel's hair, additional to the hands still cradling her face and the back of her he
"How will you even bring her there? The barrier around that world is incredibly hard to get through." The first voice spoke with curiosity, but also worry. "It'd be much easier to bring her to your worlds and just do nothing."
"It would be, but I'd be tempted to help her," the voice holding her responded. "The barrier isn't indestructible. The glîr** can be modified to create a split where she can slip through." Again, that unknown yet strangely familiar language.
"Right, I forgot you are familiar with songs." A sigh sounded from the first voice. "I guess this is the last time you'll let me see her, hm? Taking away my own creation."
"You'll be able to observe, along with me." A kiss was pressed to Isabel's forehead. "May all the graces of this world leave you," it whispered melodically. "May you be filled with others, new ones. Graces that will guide you home."
"Isabel." It was the first voice speaking, calling her by her name. The frist time she was referred to directly in this conversation. Something in Isabel wanted to obey any command the voice spoke, but the hands cradling her soothed the itch. "You were a fine character in my hands. May others guide you from now on."
Something changed inside of her. The urge to obey disappeared, replaced by a hollow feeling in her chest. She couldn't respond. Isabel hadn't realized it before, but she was unable to do anything.
The second voice, the one holding her still, started singing. It was in a language Isabel didn't understand, different from the one she felt a strange familiarity with. The nothing around her changed. Silvery lines appeared in her vision, dancing around her to the music. They wove together like strings, changing colors to paint a picture right in front of her.
There were green fields, little hills with doors built into them. People bustling around. Then, the picture changed into something else. A dark place, lighted up by thousands of lanterns. Still a bustling crowd as present, people rushing around doing whatever. Isabel couldn't make out much more before the picture changed again.
This time, there were huge, open fields. Herds of horses were running around, occasionally there were villages or farms. The picture was moving now, as if Isabel was flying over it all. It showed her mountains covered in snow, and then, there was a white city, carved and built around a huge cliff.
The strings then stopped moving, the image presented to her freezing still. The song rose in volume and intensity, forcing the strings to move again, coming closer and closer to Isabel until they began wrapping around her, until they fully engulfed everything in her vision.
"Good luck, little one," the second voice spoke, stopping it's song. The hands holding her disappeared, as did everything else.
Isabel saw the city again, but it was different this time. She was standing on a hill, looking down at it. She could hear the sounds of the wind around her, felt it brushing over her skin. Grass was tickling her bare feet, the sun warm on her shoulders.
She was breathing again.
Bringing up her hands into her vision, Isabel turned them over, inspecting them. Her gloves were gone — where did they go? — and there were many marks on her arms. Scratches and tears, blood crusted over them still. Looking down at her body, Isabel saw that her clothes were different. She was no longer wearing her purple dress, but rather a simple, white, sleeveless dress. There was a lot of fabric piling up on the grass, covering her feet.
A gut feeling told her that her entire body was covered in wounds similar to her arms. Gently touching her face, she felt scabs on it as well, covering the majority of her face.
How am I alive?, she thought. And where am I even?
She didn't recognize this place. All she recalled was pain, so much pain, and then, peace. Warmth. A love she never felt before, didn't recognize, but still knew in some way.
Something flashed through her mind. A conversation and a song. Hands cradling her, voices speaking of second chances and different worlds. Could it be that this was something real? It certainly didn't feel like any afterlife.
A small flicker of hope rose up in her. The voices spoke of healing, of getting over her scars that everyone at home had ignored. Of fixing herself.
Maybe this was her second chance?