2412, Diori 21, Kindreth

Reeca sat astride a paulsare, the lump on her throat since yesterday reminding her of the fact she wasn't ready for the battle. Rhys's death hovered over her like a doom cloud, telling her that she would only lose people from here on out.

She didn't sleep even though today was an important day in terms of offense and defense. She barely listened to Geradine and Elred's briefings early in the morning. She barely listened to anyone at all.

For the first time, Reeca acknowledged the growing emotion at the pit of her stomach to be something she dreaded feeling all her life—fear.

What an ugly emotion it was. It made her stomach clench harder than she was used to. Sweat beaded at her temples and matted her scalp. Her throat constricted; her saliva seemingly dried up magically overnight. Her heart quaked in her chest, fighting to get out and escape. She wanted to run, to follow every instinct telling her to get out of the battlefield while she still could.

It's taking everything in her to stay seated on her paulsare. For the first time, Reeca realized that this must be what the soldiers were feeling ever since the war started. They already lost someone in this war and Reeca had been too blind to acknowledge that. It had taken her her brother's death to make her understand that leadership required empathy. Empathy, itself, required being vulnerable.

Weak.

Reeca used to scoff at that word her father used to describe her. She was an heir who couldn't weave through intangible trails as skillfully as her mother. She was tagged as the weaker heir and would always be compared to her brother. For a long time, she resented him for that. But now...

It's funny how death could change one's entire perspective of the people around oneself.

Reeca sighed and eyed the looming horizon. Soldiers dressed in black formed a straight line, divided into six platoons, all armed to the teeth with flintlocks, bombs, swords, daggers, and their own failing magic. She looked back at the people behind her and saw only blank stares and shaking hands. Compared to the incoming horde to invade the fortress, there were a few soldiers with her.

Too few, in fact.

She pulled the reins of her paulsare and turned her steed to face the soldiers from Penleth. "Soldiers," she began. Her voice came out squeaky. Heat rushed to her face before she cleared her throat. "Soldiers," she tried again but louder and fuller. "We are gathered here to fight, to give our lives in the upcoming conflict about to head our way. Before, I was asked about what I was fighting for all this time. I wasn't able to give an answer back then because I, myself, don't know."

Reeca glanced at Geradine and Elred, both astride their own paulsaris. Both looked at her like she had gone insane. Maybe she did at some point last night. She turned to the soldiers again. A war horn sounded somewhere behind her.

"But now, I know the answer," Reeca continued. "I would like my answer to be your own as we head into another day filled with countless possibilities. Some of you here will not be with us at the end of the day. Some of you will lose a piece of your souls forever. Some of you will feel like giving up."

The entire crowd bristled but Reeca forged ahead. "I know how it feels to be afraid now," she said. "I say that whenever we feel afraid, whenever we feel like giving up, we must remember what we came here for. We must remember what we are fighting for."

"And my answer," Reeca drew her sword from its sheath by her side. "Is that right now, we must fight for those who are not with us right now. We must fight for those who sacrificed everything to get us to where we are."

Reeca raised her sword and didn't stop the tears that came. "Today, we fight for what we have lost," a single tear slid down her cheek as her voice cracked. "Today, we fight for ourselves."

She lowered her sword, pointing it towards the sea of black gathering beyond them. Screams of defiance filled her ears as thunderous hoof beats, steps, and crunching metal all surged forward, renewed and refilled. This was another day but this was a day different than the rest.

Today, Reeca fought with a renewed heart, a better purpose, and a noble goal. All of this was for you, Rhys. She knew that now, watching armies clash and the battle begin. It was all for him from the start.

Xanthy rolled to one side as the Heiress fired a spell at her direction. Something exploded behind her, the sound of rocks crumbling a permanent reminder in her ears of what might have happened to her. Where were Airese and Airene? Why weren't they still here?

"There's no use in dodging, Xanthy," the Heiress cooed, striding towards Xanthy. An easy smile was plastered on her face as if this whole thing didn't bother her at least one bit. "We both know that."

Xanthy braced the ground with her fingers, summoned her magic to the surface, and launched forward. The air crackled with energy. Was it because of her or the Heiress? Who knew? Something flashed at the side of her vision and she twisted to cast a sudden barrier between her and the arcing spell. It exploded in a shower of sparkling magic and embers.

Xanthy neared the Heiress. She grunted as she whirled to sweep her leg under the Heiress. Her shin connected and they went down. Xanthy wrinkled her nose as her face slammed into the grass. Everything was fake. The soil, the nature, even the rocks—they were all fake. Mere illusions conjured up by the Heiress with her magic.

Stolen magic.

Another unforgivable deed.

Xanthy kicked the Heiress in the stomach before the latter could regain her bearings. She disentangled herself from the Heiress. Xanthy leaped away as the Heiress growled and fired another spell which uprooted a few grass shoots to Xanthy's left. How long could she keep this up?

The Heiress summoned a lance of pure magic. The air dropped a few notches colder and the clouds burned notches brighter. "Dodge this, Xanthy," the Heiress hefted the lance backward and let it fly.

It speared towards Xanthy with dizzying speed. Xanthy extended her hand and sidestepped the lance. She lashed out as it sped past her. She clamped her jaw shut, containing the scream building in her throat as her fingers closed around the lance. It rebelled against everything inside her, searing her skin, her flesh, and ultimately, her soul. Voices shrieked in her head, claiming back what she stole. No. She didn't—

What was this—

She gritted her teeth until she dislocated her jaw, inflicting more pain into her head. Her vision blurred and danced. Not yet. She wrapped the Virtakios around the lance like a cocoon, muffling the voices.

Xanthy screamed even though it hurt to open her mouth and threw the lance back at the Heiress who merely extended her hands. The lance vanished into her palm, absorbed and no more.

The Heiress closed her eyes and gave a satisfied sigh. "Ah..." she opened her eyes to regard Xanthy. "I had always dreamed of tasting the Virtakios. I never imagined it would be this...delicious."

The Heiress' eyes suddenly turned dark, swallowing the whites like ink being spilled on parchment. She rose a few inches from the ground, her magic gathering in one ominous second. The wind howled and the sky cried. More and more, the forces which brought this world to be tore apart from their places and flew towards the single figure who seemed to have the only control over them.

"You..." the Heiress spat in a voice which wasn't quite hers anymore. It's deeper, grittier, and viler. "You're a pest."

Airene suddenly burst out of the rock walls. On her hand was a dwarven dagger. Xanthy stepped back, avoiding to look at her aunt slowly creeping behind the Heiress. If they pull this off, the war could be over today...

The Heiress chuckled. "Do you know why I find fairy eyes endearing?"

Huh?

"Because they tell me things the mouth cannot."

The Heiress turned and caught Airene's neck with her fingers. Xanthy's muscles grated as she contemplated going after Airene. The Heiress cackled, the sound grating in Xanthy's mind. "A paltry attempt. I'm disappointed," she sighed dramatically. "And when I'm disappointed, a price must be paid."

Xanthy's scream died in her throat as the Heiress slammed her fingers into Airene's gut. Her aunt shrieked. "Yes," the Heiress snickered. "Brownie synnavaimis are one of my favorites."

Queen's breeches. Xanthy lunged forward. The Heiress laughed and ran her hand upward. Airene burst into a shower of clay before Xanthy's eyes. No...

A shrill scream rang through the flying island. Orange tendrils of magic speared from out of nowhere and sped towards the Heiress. The woman tried dodging but the magic wrapped around her head like a fancy turban. Airese materialized a few distance from the Heiress. Her mother's tear-stricken face was a sight Xanthy would never want to see again.

"You...witch," Airese spat, her blood burning and burning, eating away everything in her. "You witch!"

Magic sprayed in all directions as the Heiress shrieked in pain, for real. Airese stumbled, losing hold of her spell. Xanthy was there to wrestle her mother back. The brownie sputtered and flailed but Xanthy held fast. She won't lose another. "Let's go," Xanthy's jaw clicked as pain tore through her temples. June's going to kill her for this...

"No!" Airese clawed at Xanthy's arms, some of her nails finding their purchase to leave thin scratches by Xanthy's skin. "Let go of me."

Xanthy gripped her mother tighter. Now she knew where she got her emotional streak. "Let's go!"

Airese's hands glowed orange. "No!" her mother screamed and slammed her palms on Xanthy's temples. The spell was so raw it slammed a metaphorical hammer into Xanthy's gut. The anguish, the anger, and the emotional pain all speared through her already jumbled mind.

Xanthy doubled over and her breakfast flew out of her throat. Nausea gripped her stomach and clouded her vision. She braced herself with her arms. Her arms...

Gods of Calaris.

Xanthy shook her head to clear it. Her vision doubled and blurred but she could faintly make out two figures battling. Her mother. She couldn't lose another.

Cursing, Xanthy lunged forward. Her legs were dead-weight. She gritted her teeth as she twisted and pulled herself up. A spell screamed for blood, whistling in the air in search of its target. Xanthy slammed her foot into the ground and made for her mother. She halted in front of Airese, supported her arm with her other hand, and screamed, "Cover!" with the last of her unreliable magic.

The spell slammed into her shield and exploded on impact, driving Xanthy against her mother's sprawled, frozen form. Xanthy rolled and grasped her mother's waist. She began dragging her mother towards the edge of the flying island. This was a battle lost today.

Before the Heiress could lunge and reach them, Xanthy leaped into the open air and surrendered her weight to the ground's pull and into the unending war below.

Airene. They'd need to bury her properly if she was to make it to the Land of Wonders. Tears stung Xanthy's eyes as she and her mother hurtled down. They're both too tired to try and cushion their fall.

Xanthy muttered the only sacred blessing she knew. Her words flew in the wind as it tore through her skin.

Then, the world darkened followed by an eternal cold.