all roads lead (to the batcave)

[Isabelle Amherst]

Isabelle sat with her back against a wall, deep in the back of the cave where only a few glimmers of light reached, reflecting off the small puddles on the floor to create a faint ambient glow. Though she had developed a habit of sitting with her legs pulled against her chest, as if she could hide from the world behind her knees, that day, she seemed a bit more relaxed. Her legs were out in front of her, and she stared as if entranced by her own two feet, the toes of which she playfully clicked together a few times every once in a while.


Her eyes were fixed on the little gray robots that decorated her shoes. That morning, she found herself running late for rounds for the fourth time that week and consequently in danger of losing her privileges as a prefect, forcing her to abandon the cause of searching for her plain, uniform-compliant black sneakers and grabbing the first pair in sight: her baby blue slip-on flats, decorated with dancing, smiling robots. An old favorite.


The girl was once known as the free spirit, the wild child, the class clown, and such eccentric fashion choices were once staples in her wardrobe... but when she abandoned her love of life, she had also abandoned all color and uniqueness in her wardrobe, instead generally opting for the school uniform to save time: time that the newly broken Isabelle would rather spend getting high than picking out the perfect combination of robots, frogs, and unicorns for an outfit. It didn't happen all at once, but over time, virtually all traces of the former Isabelle were slowly erased, leaving behind a pale, raven-haired shell whose only resemblances to the old Isabelle were her heart-shaped face and big blue eyes... and that day, little robots on her shoes. She smiled a little, a rare occurrence, at the reminder of her distant past. A past where the Ashford Project wasn't completely being run by sociopathic sadists, her best friend had never tried to pull her off life support in a coma, and that best friend never died, certainly not before she had a chance to forgive him. It was a decent life, she thought.


With the pleasant nostalgia lingering in her brain, Isabelle took a long, deep puff of her cigarette.


"He loves me," she muttered for fun, even though there was absolutely no "he" in her life. At least, not any that was alive.


"He loves me not," she muttered after another drag.

She continued on for a bit absentmindedly until she wore the cigarette down to a tiny nub and could find no way to take another puff. She squinted for a moment, unable to remember what phrase she ended on, despite her best efforts, due to the variety of drugs she had taken that day, as she did on any given day.


“He loves me not,” she finished with a shrug, stomping out the cigarette butt, deciding that the conclusion was obvious, regardless of what the silly game had said.

[Liam Dalton]

"Some people care too much, I think it's called love" - Winnie the Pooh

"Hey! Wake up dumbass!" The voice called out to him through the darkness - the rude awakening echoing within the confines of his mind. "W-where am I?" Liam said with an audible groan as cracked open his eyes, only to be blinded by a bright light shinning directly over head. Flinching at the sudden sting to his pupils, he quickly put his arm a cross his forehead to shield his eyes. "Sunlight?" He muttered under his breath before waiting for the voice to answer his questions. Only for him to be responded to with absolute silence. Of course, now his 'roommate' had decided to keep his mouth shut. He let out a defeated sigh before rolling over, and trying to pick himself up, his body whining in protest. 

He collapses back onto the sandy floor with a grunt - it felt like he had been hit by a truck. With his entire body now aching with the realization that he was hurt, Liam's mind went to work trying to piece together what had happened, and why he was laying on the there. The last solid memory that he recalled was leaving his dorm in the middle of the night to take a walk. Somehow he had wandered to the beach, and started to scale the top of a rock formation. After that he.... "I fell..." He whispered as he looked back up at the light overhead. The ceiling must have gave way, causing him to fall, and blackout. 

"I'm not seriously wounded. Just a few lumps and bruises." He mused inwardly as he forced himself back to his feet, doing his best to ignore the pain. And once he was standing, he looked around. He was alone in circle-like room, and the way he had came in was to far up to be used as an exit. Clenching his jaw, he looked around once more before spotting a single tunnel on the left end of the room. Hopefully an exit. "Time for an adventure I guess." He said with a soft laugh. Attempting to keep his hopes up as he tracked into the tunnel. 

The further Liam made his way into the stone hall, the more the amazed he became with how beautiful the cavern was. It's walls were permanently dyed a shade of aquamarine that seemed to dance across the surface. Hesitantly he reached his hand out, and slide it across the smooth surface. His hand running over a small dent and scratch marks while his feet accidentally kicked a few scattered pebbles into the larger room. Just around the time that the girl had finished her game.

The squad leader watched her for a few moments as she seemed to struggle to remember something before putting out her cigarette. He couldn't see her face from where he was standing, but to someone like Liam that never held him back from striking up a conversation. He let a small smile slip onto his lips before he stepping closer to the girl. "I think you actually landed on "He loves me."" He spoke in a gentle tone while he scratched the back of his head. A nervous chuckle escaping his mouth as he looked away from her, and at the rest of the room. "It's beautiful." He thought to himself, his false brown hues looking over the rainbow colored lights and puddles.

Once he was done gazing he looked back over at the girl, and extended his hand to her for a shake. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Liam Dalton." 

 

[Isabelle Amherst]

Isabelle's eyes were shut tight. Shooting up had left her relaxed enough to forget the world around her and begin drifting into a comfortable sleep, which she welcomed. With reality resembling a bad parody of a Shakespearean tragedy, people dying left and right with no rhyme or reason, Isabelle cherished every break from it she could get. Unfortunately, her break from reality was rudely interrupted by a loud thud. The former wild child groggily opened her eyes and looked around. The short nap had erased some of the sensory-muting effects of the heroin she had taken, allowing her to see, think, and feel a bit more clearly. This wouldn't last, she knew. Soon, the price of getting high would have to be paid: the withdrawal. But for the moment, while she was somewhere between high as the sky and stone-cold sober, she had the rare and generally fleeting pleasure of feeling... pretty okay. 

Although the thud had echoed throughout the hollow caverns, it wasn't hard to discern where it had come from. There was a new source of bright yellow illumination, trickling in from even deeper in the cave than where Isabelle sat, where there definitely should have been no light. Someone must have discovered a weak spot in the earth above and tumbled through. It sounded strange but not so unlikely, once one considered that there was no shortage of earth manipulators at the school, running rampant with nothing to do but treat the island like their personal playground. Isabelle slowly and cautiously stood, testing her emaciated and abused body. Yes, you may stand, the body seemed to respond. Isabelle walked toward the source of light, rubbing her arms. With the unusual clarity, she found that it was colder than she liked in the cave, which made her unexpectedly happy. It had been a long time since she cared about the cold, or anything besides making sure she was too high to notice. 

It didn't take long for her to find the hole in the cavern ceiling, though she was not brave enough to approach. Instead, she stared from a safe twenty feet away. The opening in the ceiling, being the sole source of light in the room, looked just like a spotlight, casting a little pool of warm light down on a fallen angel. Isabelle stepped behind a wall and pressed her body against it to hide her figure, silently peering over the edge of the wall at the unconscious boy from a distance.  

W-where am I? Sunlight? I fell...

As soon as the boy came to and began talking to himself out loud, Isabelle jumped a bit in a sudden panic. That voice... His voice was handsome, low, and confident with a warm undertone. It was so familiar, though softer than she remembered. She backed away from the scene against the wall, gently and carefully setting each foot down against the stone so that it would make no sound, knowing that any noise would send an echo throughout the halls. In her disheveled state, Isabelle felt unprepared for meeting someone... not that Isabelle really gave a shit what anyone thought. But for some reason, and she had no idea why, this random stranger seemed important. She was conflicted. Her instincts seemed to be telling her two totally conflicting things: firstly, that she should hide and avoid being discovered by this person as if her life depended on it... and secondly, that she had to meet him. Settling on the median of these two irreconcilable thoughts, Isabelle simply sat down. She would not go to him, but she would not retreat. The boy started wandering. Isabelle could hear his footsteps and his private musings. "I'm not seriously wounded. Just a few lumps and bruises... Time for an adventure, I guess."

As the stranger continued his exploration, Isabelle relaxed a bit, confident that he had wandered down a different path, one of the many hallways that had branched from the room where he had fallen, and would not be finding her for a while. She found an extra cigarette in her pocket and, excited about the discovery, forgot the boy completely as his footsteps grew fainter. It would be a while before he circled back and found her, assuming he didn't find an exit first.

It was then that she rediscovered the little robots on her shoes, smiled a bit, and enjoyed her cigarette.

He loves me...
He loves me not...
He loves me...
He loves me not...
He loves me...
He loves me not..
...........
He loves me not.

"I think you actually landed on "He loves me."

Isabelle jumped again, realizing with annoyance how easy it was to startle her those days. She remembered the thud, the rubble, and the boy. He had missed the exit and found her. Just her luck, she thought. Looking up at him, she suddenly realized he was hurt-- something that probably should have occurred to her as soon as she saw where he had fallen. A frown appeared on Isabelle's lips. Even as a drug addict, she could not stop herself from being a generally kind person who did not like to see people hurt. She bit her lip, feeling disappointed in herself for hiding from the boy earlier instead of helping him. He seemed harmless as he wandered away from her and marveled at the way the light bounced off the puddles and seemed to make a little light show on the walls. Isabelle stood up and watched him until he made his way back to her. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Liam Dalton." She ignored his introduction entirely, still feeling nervous about this strange individual who she had never seen before, who sounded just like someone from her past. Rather than introducing herself, she dusted some of the rubble off his sleeve.

"Exit's this way, boy wonder. No adventures for the crippled," Isabelle teased as she motioned for him to follow and began leading the way to the nearest opening in the cave. Isabelle didn't even realize, when she offered the sarcastic nickname, that she had referenced her dead best friend. Batman's apprentice was simply the first young superhero that came to her mind.

Though she was silent for a while, she stole a few glances at the boy from the corner of her eye. He was so familiar. But she didn't dare let herself ponder it. Some memories were just too painful to explore.

[Liam Dalton]

He loves me...
He loves me not...
He loves me...
He loves me not...
He loves me...
He loves me not..
...........
He loves me not.

"I think you actually landed on "He loves me." The words fell from Liam's mouth gently, nervously, but also eagerly. After falling into an underground cavern, and walking around directionless in the dark for an unspecified amount of time, Liam was a tad bit excited to see another student. Even if he couldn't see her face. It was just a huge relief off the boy's shoulders knowing that he was no longer alone. Although, the girl didn't seem to exactly share this feeling with the Prefect. "I'm so sorry!" He hastily said with his hands moving up in a worried fashion. "I didn't mean to startle you..." His voice soft - not wanting to scare the girl off as if she was some woodland creature. 

He watched as she stood up - his eyes traveling down the length of her body now that he was able to get a better view of her, and what he saw... didn't look good. Even with the lack of lighting, Liam could tell that the stranger was incredibly thin, to the point that it was sickly. And she was just... so pale. As if all the color had been drained from her face. Worry flashed over his face like a light-switch as his eyes shot back up to look at her. "...." He mouth hung open speechless. 

He didn't even care that she had completely ignored his introduction. The only thing he cared about right now was "Are you okay...?" He asked in a hushed tone as she swiped the dust off of him. Subconsciously treating her like she was fragile, and already damaged. He might not have known what was wrong with the girl, but he did know something was. However, he was quickly taken back when she teased him, dubbing him as the Boy Wonder. A small smile cracked through his worried expression, and tears started to stream down his cheeks. 

Something that surprised the young man - his eyes widening in confusion before he used his sleeve to wipe them away. "I'm sorry. I must have gotten dust in my contacts." Pulling his arm away he gave her a reassuring smile.

Then he started to follow her through the cave. 

[Isabelle Amherst]

Isabelle's wide eyes and alarm faded into a calm but heedful stare as the boy profusely apologized for startling her. Though the frightened little "woodland creature" was still too nervous to give much of a response, she nodded a bit to let him know that it was okay as she stood up. She bit her lip and played with her long black hair, observing with both caution and curiosity as the boy circled around the room before returning to converse with her.

Introductions went by quickly, and Isabelle felt herself shriveling up like a ball as Liam's eyes went up and down her figure. She vaguely remembered a time when she was fifteen, rich, popular, and known for being more "experienced" than the average girl. At that time, it wouldn't have been so strange for a male to explore her figure with his eyes, but presently, it just felt bizarre and uncomfortable, especially since she was sure he wasn't looking at her with lust. No, it was quite obvious that the stranger did not like what he saw, and even worse, once his eyes had reached the end of their trip and returned to meet her gaze, he looked at her with... concern. Isabelle had become quite content in her own little world, having no friends except the heffalumps and woozles. She wasn't quite sure she liked the feeling of this stranger seeming to care about her. Having someone care for her meant being responsible for another human's feelings, a responsibility she hadn't dealt with in ages.

"I'm fine," she lied. Her voice came out like a tiny peep from a mouse, barely audible. She realized how pathetically flimsy it wounded and quickly cleared her throat to muster up a more emphatic response. "I'm not the one who fell through the ceiling. Exit's this way, boy wonder. No adventures for the crippled..." She gave him a little smile, hoping that the lighthearted teasing would be enough to convince him that everything was fine, that there was nothing to see.

Isy started to lead, only the boy did not follow right away, forcing her to turn, pause, and see that he was actually crying. Oh no. This was bad. She twiddled her thumbs awkwardly, hoping she wouldn't have to hug him or anything. Isabelle Amherst did not do comfort, especially not for strangers. Luckily for her, he let her off the hook, claiming the tears were just from dust. She nodded, letting herself believe him since it was easier than allowing herself to feel empathy. Feelings just weren't her friends as of late.

Once the boy started to follow her, Isabelle relaxed a bit, since he was no longer staring at her emaciated body or randomly crying. But then silence started to settle in, and an old habit revived itself; the former free bird just couldn't let a quiet moment go by, so she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind to say to a person who had fallen from a hole in the ceiling.

"So, you an angel or something?"

[Liam Dalton]

"I'm fine" The moment those words reached Liam's ears he knew she was lying to him. Of course she was lying to him. What reason would she have to him tell him the truth. After all, Liam had found her by her lonesome in a cave. She clearly hadn't been expecting company, but even then. Even though the Prefect knew she was lying he didn't say anything. He just respond with the smallest of nods and smiles. He knew when it was best not to push.

But Liam couldn't help, but stay worried. And that feeling only grew in size when she tried to give a pathetic attempt to play it off, as if she was teasing him. However, even Liam didn't feel this amount of sympathy for a stranger. Seeing this girl like this. In this kind of condition. It caused a great deal of stress and panic for something deep within him. The two magic words were just the final nail in the coffin. It made him both happy and incredibly sad. So. He started to cry.

"I'm sorry. I must have gotten dust in my contacts." Now it was his turn to lie, and similarly, Liam couldn't bring himself to open up to someone as broken as her. He was just happy that she seemed to go along with it. Luckily, she was like him, and simply nodded before moving on. And for a moment the two of them walked in silence until she was unable to deal with it anymore, and blurted out a question. "U-um. No, I'm just your typical Prefect. How about you? Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" He said with a nervous chuckle as his hands moved to scratch the back of his head. Trying to comfort himself. "Um do you mind if we stop real quick. I think my contacts are drying out." He came to a brief halt to quickly removed the colored contacts before patting his pockets for the case.

Which wasn't on his person... He must have dropped it when he fell, and didn't realize. "This day just keep getting better and better." He mutter under his breath sarcastically before flicking them away. Then he rubbed his eyes for a bit to help readjust his vision before looking down at her. "Shall we?" He said politely. His vibrant sapphire blue hues glazing straight into her's.  

[Isabelle Amherst]

Isabelle did not know what to make of this Liam person asking if she was from Heaven. It did not seem even a little bit logical to ask her such a thing. She even folded her arms in a contrarian posture. She was not blonde, or blue-eyed, or full-figured, or beautiful. Her skin shot way past fair and landed in the realm of ghostly pale. Isy was certain she had no aura of warmth of piety about her. Besides, she had just made that joke. He didn't get to change the wording and throw the line back at her. Rather than dignify his transparent attempt at pity-flirting, Isabelle simply chuckled a bit and muttered a playful "Nah bro."

Liam Dalton. With time, the name began to sound familiar. She had heard rumblings of a new prefect who was quickly climbing ranks and stealing hearts. If he was a prefect, then they had crossed paths before at those stuffy meetings where Isabelle made sure to arrive as late and and as stoned as humanly possible and invariably sat in the back. Realizing that she had missed the chance to meet this Liam earlier almost made her wish she had shown up lucid and paid attention once or twice. Maybe then, she'd know more about this mysterious Liam Dalton whose voice belonged to her best friend.

Chandler Fernandez... All at once, Isabelle realized why Liam was so familiar. The eyes were different, the hair was a new color, but the voice made him a perfect dead ringer. And those rumors she heard, the stories of this Liam showing up out of nowhere and taking the whole school by storm... it was classic Chandler.

But Chandler Fernandez was dead. Everyone knew that. And what were the chances of one person cheating death twice?

"Um do you mind if we stop real quick. I think my contacts are drying out."


"No problemo, broski," Isabelle casually responded, spinning around on her heels to face the boy while she waited.


... Which was a mistake. The more Isabelle looked at Liam Dalton, the more her heart broke. Once the connection clicked, everything about this boy seemed to scream Chandler. This made no sense, since by all accounts she had heard, this boy was almost the dark knight's antithesis. He was kind. He was nurturing. He was mature. He was not known for sarcastic retorts or self-assured smirks. And yet... his tall, lanky form and confident stroll sent Isabelle's mind spiraling into flashbacks of the smoldering teen she loved. The soft, tousled white locks on his head reminded her of a certain blonde who cared deeply for his looks yet kept his perfect hair calculatedly shaggy.

"You remind me of someone...," Isabelle heard herself declaring aloud without her brain's permission as she watched the man poke at his eyes. But once she caught herself speaking, she did not dare say her best friend's name. "... Santa Claus. Definitely Santa Claus. It's the white hair and red shirt." Isabelle internally face-palmed. It was the best lie she could come up with on short notice, but it still sounded incredibly stupid.

But as soon as the man rubbed his eyes, looked down at her through sapphire blues, and invited her to continue leading the way, Isabelle could not entertain her denial any longer.

"Chandler," she whispered, staring straight into the gleaming blue eyes that she had looked into so many times before. Those blue eyes had once met with hers glowing with mischief and joy, as they laughed together after some prank on an unsuspecting freshman, probably involving water balloons. Those blue eyes had looked at her with lust and determination, during that short time when their close friendship had turned into romance. Those blue eyes had once gazed down at her with sympathy and worse, pity, knowing that her heart was broken, and it was his fault, as she cried openly, refusing to accept that it was over between them. Those blue eyes had cried with her, when they lost little Dylan. No one could forget those eyes. Well, maybe they could, but a best friend could not.

With their eyes locked and her emotions high, Isabelle's retrocognition activated, and the memories that were locked away in Liam's mind flooded into Isabelle's: memories of Ashford, memories of Bridget, memories of her. There could be no doubt.

"Chandler," she repeated, whimpering this time, almost crying. She took several fearful steps back, as if retreating from a dangerous ghost.

[Liam Dalton]

It was a strange feeling - the vague sense of familiarly that nipped at the boy's subconscious. From the colorful cave walls, to the petite girl walking a few steps ahead of him - all of it rung like a small golden bell within Liam's head. Isabelle especially gave the ringer a good shake. And each second he spent next to her. The louder and faster it sounded. As if she had an iron grip around the handle, and was just flailing her arm up and down quickly as possible. 

But why? Liam had literally just met her a few minutes ago.

Hell, he still haven't even gotten a proper introduction yet.

That was when Liam should have dropped it. The girl was clearly connected to who he use to be, and the World Government had barred him against looking into his past. They had told him who he was - Liam Dalton. The only child of two Government Officials. However, the realization hadn't quite struck the white haired young man yet. Maybe it a side-effect of his fall, but the Commander was struggling to connect the dots. Not his shaking attention span would have allowed it. Every time the girl even muttered Liam found himself quickly looking up to her, and listening to whatever she had to say. 

Even if it was two-to-three simple words. 

"No problemo, broski,"

Not those three though.

The White-and-black-haired Commander was still preoccupied with removing his contacts by then. Although, he did give a small questioning... "Oh?" Whenever she stated he reminded her of someone. Instantly promoting little golden bell to giant bronze church bell. The thunder-like ringing forcing the realization unto him. This girl... She didn't know Liam. She knew his previous self. The owner of the 'the voice'.  

He needed to get out. He needed to get away from her as soon as humanly possible. There was just one problem - They had already walked fairly deep into the cave. And Liam didn't know the way out. So, the Prefect Trainer was forced to stay next to her. "Oh really? Ha, I was afraid you were gonna say something scary. Like an angry librarian. Um, how far is the exit?" He asked with a nervous chuckle. Desperately trying to carry the conversation past the current topic. However, it didn't work...

Hearing his torturer's name felt like a blow to the gut - he wanted nothing to do with his former incarnation! All of the sleepless nights, panic attacks and taunting... All of it caused by the voice, and now he knew it's name... His hands, and knees started to shake. He wanted to run, to hide, to never be seen again. But he couldn't.

His legs felt like they weighed a ton, and no matter how much the young man pleaded with them to move, they wouldn't. Or rather, something within him wouldn't let them. The only he could do was stare back into the girl's eyes. 

That was when everything came surging forward all at once. Being recruited into the Battlefront, losing an arm, being captured by the government, everything came back. The truth had been revealed to him - the very thing he had been running away from. The moment Isabelle broke the connection. Liam's eyes became wide as he vision went blurry. His breathing shaky, along with everything else, and his hand went to the side of his head. Gripping locks of his hair. "W-what?" He said breathlessly as he stumbled a bit. His freehand moving up to the wall to support him. "Is-Isabelle?"

[Isabelle Amherst]

“Not far. About a stone’s throw after the next bend,” Isabelle casually answered in response to Liam’s question about the exit. The wild child tried to keep it cool as she lifted one leg off the ground and playfully tilted her body and head to point in the direction of the exit, rather than using her hands, which were clasped together in front of her. She hoped the slightly spastic body motions would distract from her disappointment in Liam’s seemingly urgent desire to get the hell away from her. There she was, thinking of how he reminded her of her best friend and that she wished she’d run into him sooner, and there he was, asking how soon he’d be free. Rude.

But once she was reacquainted with Chandler’s blue eyes, and the memories returned, and there could be no doubt about who was in front of her, a thousand emotions rocked Isabelle’s emaciated body, all at once. All at once, she was hit with a million different thoughts, a million different ways to react to the revelation that her best friend was alive. Again.

The expression on Isabelle’s face as a flurry of emotions sped through her like a bullet train was anything but casual or cool.

Part of Isabelle screamed for her to punch Chandler Fernandez in the balls.

After all, he had broken her heart, choosing the pink-haired bombshell over her. He did demand to have her taken off life support when her body was fighting to take its own breaths. He, after all, had the audacity to get himself into another situation where she was forced to falsely grieve him; forced to feel like she would never see her best friend again, and she had squandered her last days with him on bitterness and grudging silences; forced, again, to know that she had spent weeks in mourning, expelled her own body weight twice over in tears, and endured countless headaches that were self-induced through screaming and sobbing, all in vain. He deserved a swift punch to the nads, and she was short enough to give it.

Part of Isabelle begged her to grab Chandler Fernandez and kiss him on his perfect mouth.

Indeed, he was one of her first loves and the most wonderful best friend she could ask for, when he wasn’t pushing back on her unrequited love. As evidenced by their many brushes with death, they’d survived enough adventures beside each other to make any comic book duo proud. He was her Robin. She was his Batgirl. Nothing could change that.

Every ounce of Isabelle’s darkened soul demanded for her to have any kind of dramatic, reckless reaction. It begged her to hurt him, or kiss him, or throw herself on the ground in a theatrical tantrum, or maybe even run away from the ghost of her best friend, screaming, refusing to deal with it at all.

But none of those things happened, even though her desire to indulge in them did flash across her face in a few expressions of fear, panic, and distress.

No, as Chandler uttered her name, which she had not given, and stumbled backwards into a cave wall, grasping it for support, Isabelle realized it was not her turn for theatrics. This was too much for him. She did not know what had happened to Chandler, but her gut told her it was not his choice. Chandler would never, ever hide his identity and hide from Bridget. If he were in full control, he’d rather have a thousand government firearms pointed in his direction than put on a mask and keep away from his soulmate. Whatever Chandler had gone through to reforge him into “Liam” must have been horrible, Isabelle inferred, and it was not her right to force him into realizing his horror story all at once. She rushed over to him and steadied him by the arms.

“Hey, Liam, it’s all right. Easy. Everything's okay. Let it go. I’m no one,” she reassured him in the most soothing voice she could muster as she gently smoothed a lock of hair that had been pushed out of place when he started to slide against the wall for support. After those small comforts, she pulled her hands away and restrained herself from showing anymore affection, telling herself he didn’t need any more triggers. She backed away just enough so that her face and figure would be shrouded by the lack of light in the cave. “Let’s go,” she beckoned as she quickly walked toward the cave exit, making her voice kind but far from cheerful, since cheeriness was far too Isabelle, and she needed to let him forget.