WARNING: Depiction of violence is evident in the following scenes that may be upsetting for other viewers. Reader discretion is advised.

2412, Diori 26, Reshpe

The sound of hinges whining speared through Xanthy's head, making her vision spin and her ears ring. She had no strength left to lift her head up from the floor. Tears mixed with blood. Salt and iron introduced a new strain of filth to her senses.

Footsteps shuffled and clothes ruffled. A woman grunted as her knees slammed against the floor in a crack.

"Xanthy?" Rutoria gasped.

Xanthy raised her head at the last oracle's voice. Would Rutoria be able to save her? Hope blossomed in her chest. She did her best to smile even though her jaw hurt. "Did you foresee this as well?" she whispered through the pain pounding in her ears.

Rutoria opened her mouth then closed it again. "What have they done to you? Your form..." she breathed.

"Open the Gates, witch," the Heiress stalked towards Rutoria and forced the fairy to look her in the eye.

"Or what?" Rutoria turned to the Heiress without urgency. "You'll kill me?"

The Heiress balled her fists. "Don't test me."

"I can't die," Rutoria turned back to Xanthy with obvious pain painting her gaze. "Until I've shown the Virtakios the way."

The Heiress turned to Xanthy then back to the oracle. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What way?"

Rutoria smiled at Xanthy. It was a kind smile that Xanthy didn't expect she would see again in this dark, dark place. Tears crowded her eyes again. "The way to who she was meant to be," the oracle answered just like how the old women at the Disfavoreds did when they're recalling the olden days. "The way to what she has to do to end this war, this...tyranny."

The Heiress scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

Faster than anyone could blink, Rutoria drew a thin blade from the folds of her sleeves and slashed her neck.

"No!" the Heiress and the Sovereign screamed in unison. Xanthy's stomach tightened as she watched Rutoria's body slam to the ground with a light thump. It dissolved into wisps of gray smoke. Just as their words often fade into the ears of people so as their bodies would too.

Another sacrifice made for her sake. Another death.

That's it. She understood what the oracle was trying to show her. Yes, she would succeed with her plan. But she would fail in a lot of things, too. Xanthy hung her head and let the sobs rack her form more than she did the pain. Her mouth muttered the blessing that would usher Rutoria into a peaceful afterlife. The oracle deserved every ounce of comfort in her eternal rest.

"What is that witch talking about?" the Heiress demanded out of no one. Her face was red and her eyes were wide. Her nostrils might have oozed smoke if it could. Xanthy didn't raise her head as the Heiress stalked closer to her. "Xyris, I'll take it from here," the Heiress said to the Sovereign.

"You!" The Heiress turned to the soldier wearing a faceless mask standing in a corner closest to the door. He flinched at the Heiress' tone. "Find me another oracle. Announce it to every fairy, if you want to live through the end of the day."

The soldier nodded and dashed out of the room faster than a hungry krou. "Rutoria is the last oracle," Xanthy said through her tears and pain. "You won't find another."

The Heiress cracked a smile. "I don't know about that," she unclipped her whip from her belt again. "What I do know is that you and I are going to have a lot of fun tonight."

The whip cracked like lightning in a stormy night. Xanthy didn't stop the whimper that escaped from her lips as she curled into a ball. Then, it was renewed once more.

As the Heiress flogged her over and over, her soul shed tears for her allies. She cried for her parents who had lost not only their friends but also both their daughters in this war. Guilt gnawed her stomach when she realized she wouldn't get to tell her friends why she did what she did. She could only weep at the pain hidden behind their anger and at the rage concealed behind their confusion.

She wept for the world she had come to love. As her form was ripped to shreds and her soul was tainted with memories of pain and suffering, she wept for June. She wept for the life they could have shared had they met at the right time and at the right circumstances.

Finally, as the Heiress pushed Xanthy's marred body against the pole, Xanthy cried for herself. Rutoria showed her the way and there was no going back. She, too, must make her sacrifice.

Xanthy chose to not dwell on the guilt bearing down her thoughts. She tapped the Arbotro's presence in her mind. You know what to do.

Xanthy opened her eyes to watch the whip strike her flesh. Blood splattered as her skin split open upon impact. Her scream pierced the quiet night. She used the last of her strength to lift her eyes towards the Heiress. "You can have it."

They could have it all.

Before Xanthy could breathe her last free breath, foreign magic surged into her mind. It seared a path that wouldn't be erased for a thousand years. She lost her grip over her consciousness and her world drowned in an eternal darkness that ate away all that she was.

Reeca turned to Cirasa when the shard fairy gasped awake. Who could even sleep in a time and place like this? She had been thrown into this stinking cell days ago and she has been here since. In the absence of windows, it's impossible to tell the passage of time.

Cirasa had been thrown into this cell a few hours after Reeca with all the heirs. They had been staring at each other long enough for Reeca to memorize each and every one of their faces, even that of April Sylkrana.

They did nothing but eat, sleep, and stare. Talking wasn't allowed as the wardens would yell at them to shut up. Reeca hated the screaming so she followed. When Cirasa started screaming and whimpering in his sleep, worry gripped Reeca's gut. Would the wardens take it against them?

The shard fairy's eyes opened, showing Reeca his scarlet irises. Just like Elred's, his eyes reminded her of freshly-pressed ajilte wine. Slowly, he took the world in and dragged himself up, rattling the chains tied around his neck and his arms. "I saw everything," Cirasa tucked his knees in and rested his head on his kneecaps. His hands were shaking. "They...hurt Xanthy."

Reeca's chest tightened at the mention of that name. That witch. The wound where the arrow had pierced her back had long ago closed but the pain still hasn't faded. Xanthy betrayed her. That's going to sit longer in her gut than anything she had felt in the entirety of this war.

Was this Xanthy's idea of repaying Reeca's betrayal? If so, then Reeca hated the brownie even more. Xanthy's goody facade seemed to work on everyone, making them think she was their sweet savior. Reeca wasn't thrilled she was one of the people who got duped. Xanthy was no savior. She was a nuisance.

"Rutoria..." Cirasa's voice was muffled from his knees. "She killed herself to stop the Heiress from finding out the gates to Parkane."

The warden, fitted with a faceless mask, slammed his boot on the cell grates. The old metal rattled. "Shut it!" he yelled in his stringently disgusting voice.

"Reeca, I saw it," Cirasa drew his knees to his chest tighter. Reeca heard sniffling. "I felt Xanthy's pain. I saw what she's trying to do."

Reeca frowned. So that girl still wasn't finished? What would she ruin this time?

"I will surrender myself," Cirasa raised his head. Tears shone at the corner of his eyes. "I have a part in Xanthy's plan."

"You most certainly will not," Reeca lashed out and gripped his arm, forcing him down when he tried to rise. "This is not your fight."

Cirasa looked at her like she had just grown horns. "Rutoria's dead. That means the responsibility rests on me. This is much my fight as it is Xanthy's."

"Cirasa, please," Reeca grabbed both of Cirasa's arms, flinging herself in front of him. "I can't lose you too."

Everyone on the cell gasped. Reeca didn't take her eyes off Cirasa. What was she feeling for this particular fairy? Too bad Rhys wasn't around to explain to her anymore. All she knew was she couldn't let Cirasa get close to the Heiress. Never. Reeca swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. Why was her heart pounding in her ears? "I already lost enough," she flopped beside him and rested her head against the cold, stone wall. "Please."

Cirasa didn't speak for a while. When he did, he laid his hand atop hers. "Everything I saw must happen," he whispered. "It's the only way we could see the end of this war. Xanthy will make her sacrifice. I must make mine. You should make yours, too," he turned to all the heirs chained to the walls with them. "I think we all must."

"We lost Mother. What sacrifice do you want more from me?" Elred grumbled from the northwest corner. For once, his sister had a point. Cirasa had already lost his mother. What more would the world demand from them?

Cirasa's answer was cut short when the door to the cell opened. Another soldier wearing a faceless mask stepped through along with a familiar fairy.

"You!" Reeca's eyes widened as she shot up. The chains clattered to the ground in a dull, metallic thud.

Trix smiled with her crooked teeth. She flashed another at Cyrdel's direction who probably sat in his corner fuming. "Of course," she bowed and curtsied before turning to the new faceless soldier and pointed at Cirasa. "That one. He's the one the Heiress is looking for."

Reeca moved in front of the shard fairy. "What are you going to do?"

Trix winked at Reeca. "Something I should have done days ago," she stepped out of the cell as the warden and the new soldier entered. "Take him. He's the last oracle."

Gasps filled the cell. Elred hasn't moved from her place but her face carried enough anger to tear a grown fairy to shreds. Reeca planted her feet into the ground and turned to the soldiers. "You're not getting him."

"Reeca, stand down," Cirasa laid a hand on Reeca's shoulder as he picked himself up. "This is what I trained to do."

Tears shot to the side of Reeca's eyes. She hated it. She hated all of this. "What, you trained to die, is that it?" she snapped. "Nobody's sacrificing anything on my watch."

Cirasa pushed past her. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"What?"

Then, a fist slammed into her jaw. She stumbled back, hitting her head on the stone wall. As she slid down the wall, losing feeling on her limbs, she watched the soldiers stalk towards Cirasa.

He had his hands up in a form of surrender but a soldier slammed a dagger pommel at his neck. Tears streamed from Reeca's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She gritted her teeth. She forced her muscles to move, her body to stand up, but they wouldn't follow. All she could do was watch as the soldiers dragged Cirasa's limp form out of the cell.

Trix's smile as she shut the cage and replaced the lock was enough of a reminder to Reeca that everything in her life was twisted and nothing would ever go right. Was this the sacrifice Cirasa was talking about?