The wind at the mountain's entrance was strange.
It was warm, as if welcoming her back toward the world below, but there was something else too. Something final. The kind of breeze that felt like it wanted her to say goodbye to whatever she had carried with her up the mountain. Fear. Pain. Confusion. Anger.
And Osiris.
Isabella turned to him with a tired sigh, shifting her weight on one leg. Her clothes were dusty. Her hair was tangled from the wind. Her eyes were still red from crying over her best friend. She felt like a wreck, but somehow she still stood straighter than any queen ever could.
She jabbed a finger toward his chest.
"I am serious. You are not coming with me," she said.
Osiris stared down at her, silent.
The silence made her uncomfortable and annoyed.
He never shut up.
Not once.
Not ever.
So why was he quiet now?
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
