2412, Diori 20, Reshpe

The fortress was busy, which pained April to the point of boredom. Since she found herself tied to a tree, she had accepted all kinds of fate that might befall her inside Penleth, but she had never counted on the humdrum to do her in. They only threw her in this flimsy cell because she had once hunted one of their friends and they're scared she'd start doing it again.

Well, she wasn't. What her brother did was nothing to her. She even gave up on trying to save him, because she had to face it—what was she saving him from? Their mother? She's long gone, hopefully serving her punishment sentence in Pidmena's embrace. The system he grew up in, perhaps? But she's trapped in it as much as he was, and she couldn't save anyone if she couldn't even save herself first. Or was it perhaps from the fate set out for him? But why? She didn't even know what destiny had in store for her.

It wasn't from himself either. He had enough friends and allies to do that for him. With the Virtakios always by his side, seemingly enamored by him, there's literally nothing he could do. He didn't need April—a sister he never knew, a sister from another father—and with her using the High Queen as the only justification for their connection was unfair to June. He probably had done his best to get out of his own situation—he's got a good head on his shoulders for that. April was an ornament in June's hallway—there, but unnoticed on a daily basis unless it's broken, stolen, or laying rampage on the estate.

Either way, April had a life of her own, and June, his. They didn't need to be in each other's lives just because they're related. Yeah. She had hurt him, his friends, and everything he stood for in her will to save him. But that boy was right. Saving people was something that takes a lifetime to learn, and for April, who had done nothing but hurt people, it would take longer.

Don't let guilt tie you down. Live your life free to choose, because you are. Those words from so long ago echoed in her head. It's amazing the potion didn't erase that vague part of her life, or that she still remembered Hera's face as she lay dying in April's arms. It's the woman's last wish, one that April had been desecrating since she went down from Falkirta. At the taste of the real world, promises held no permanence. The dead couldn't grieve, anyway.

This time, April did something very, very wrong, and she should live the rest of her life in guilt. She wasn't free to choose. This war was enough proof of that.

The Penleth soldiers zipped by her cell, which was a cubical slab of rock hollowed out in the middle. She remembered they had to get an Earth Sprite, which was oddly familiar to April, to make the cell. Then, they tried to stop her escape by weaving flimsy sticks together in a semblance of railings.

It's not like April would try to escape. Her magic was as distant as ever, leashed by a different force, but a force nonetheless. Instead of the oppressive strain of the Sovereign's spell, this one was a gentler and excusable leash. Yet, it annoyed April greatly, especially when she vowed to Daexis she wouldn't ever see her brother's face or any of his friends' as soon as she got out of this accursed fortress. Forget about being High Queen. The island's mess would take four Imperial monarchs to fix. There's no way April could do it on her own, especially when the Seelie Court did their best to block her from the throne.

Over the course of her imprisonment, she learned to sit back and watch. Observe. The entire camp fell asleep and woke up at consistent hours of the day, and she learned to calculate the date through the presence of the moons shining beyond the battlements. She had been here for quite some time, and she was familiar with the routines, the same faces, and the damage they incurred every day.

Since her arrival, she felt the attention wane with every passing hour. Most people ignored her, absorbed in their tasks, like today. After the barrage of morning attacks, people scrambled in a hurry, bringing stretcher after stretcher featuring either wounded forms or dead ones. The key players, which April marked with the air of command they shared, dashed with their comrades, shouting orders and throwing themselves into the work.

April's gut churned. It must be nice—to be part of something great and to have one's purpose handed to one by fate itself. She wasn't the Air Sprite heir. She wasn't even the next High Queen. What was she supposed to be, then?

Then, a pair of soldiers whizzed by her cell, and a specific insignia caught her attention. It was worn on the sleeve of a man lying on the stretcher between the soldiers. A Synketrian warrior. What were they thinking, bringing the enemy inside their stronghold? Were they fools, all along?

On the other side of the quadrant she's stuck in, a group of fairies, humans, and half-bloods huddled in a corner, wiping tears with dusty cloth and embracing each other. Another day of grieving for things they lost in this pointless havoc. Tomorrow, who would be there with them and who wouldn't?

Then, like all the days that went before this one, the sky burned bright with the advent of the midday sun only to plunge into the darkness at its departure. When the moons appeared, she edged closer to the wooden rails to crane her neck up at them. Crozal, the Crimson Mother, was absent, and April didn't know what to feel about that. Even without the misfortune the biggest moon in the Umazuran sky brought with its presence, April still wasn't having the best day.

Perhaps, people's lives really had nothing to do with which bodies were in the night sky. The sun would devour all of them the next morning, anyway.

Along with Noglea, Kamara, and Murco decorated the heavens with their meager light. Well, they tried—Noglea, especially—but under the bright orange glow of the Amber Dame, they could very well not be there. Somewhere behind the clouds, Xydaprioris would be twinkling, forever pointing nonexistent sailors towards home. Along with the constellation of Cirasa, they were the beacon in the dark and unforgiving night, and April could only pray to the gods she didn't believe in for the myths to be true to her tonight.

"Nice time for starsighting," a voice rang in the dark, wisely avoiding the beams of the flickering torches in the distance. "Thankfully, I have grown tired of them a long time ago."

April scrambled back into her cell. How ironic—her finding some sort of solace in the thing caging her. "Who are you?" she asked, fear tingeing her voice. "What do you want?"

Something rustled beyond the rails and a woman hobbled into view, her dark red hair hanging out of the huge hood she wore over her head. A glass-paned lamp hung from her fingers, lighting her way with an eerie green light. What...in Rudik's name was that?

"Just a little talk to pass the night," the woman said, setting the lamp at her feet where her skirts effectively hid most of it from April's view. "I hear learning about one another helps with boredom."

April scoffed. "We both know that's a lie," she said. "Come on, spit it out. I hate wasting time."

The woman took down her hood, revealing a normal head with normal, pointed ears, two aquamarine eyes, and lips betraying normal rows of teeth in a gentle smile. "And yet, here you are, languishing inside a cell that isn't locked," she said. "What are you really doing here, April Sylkrana?"

At this point, April shouldn't be surprised people knew her name like their own. Instead, she blew a breath and scooted closer to the woman. "That's a question even I do not know the answer to," April replied. "Who are you? If you are here to learn about me, I should learn about you too."

A clear shaft of moonslight hit the woman's eyes at the perfect angle, making the aquamarine pupils glow like crystals. "Rutoria Cotteler," she answered. "And I came here to talk you into doing the next phase of this war."

April crossed her eyes and rested her back against the rough and uneven stone walls of her cell. "Count me out," she said. "I'm done with all this...damned foolishness."

"But you're still going to kill June, your brother," Rutoria inclined her head to one side in such an innocent gesture it boiled April's blood just seeing it from her periphery. "Isn't that why you're here?"

"No," April snapped. "I came here because the Sovereign poisoned my mind and took control of my form. I'm not paying for my crimes against keiju-kind. Leave me alone."

Rutoria dusted her skirt before laying her hands on her knees. "Even if you'll be contributing to a greater cause by doing what you originally set out to do?" she asked. "Why have a change of heart?"

Great question. April wondered about that herself. What made her want to let her brother live and find his freedom after everything he did to and for their mother? "Who knew?" she rolled her shoulders, her tunic scratching against the rock. "Maybe you can tell me, since you believe yourself to be above all souls in this fortress with that smug look."

She wasn't even lying or speaking out of spite. The fairy did have that air of superiority.

"You're not wrong in that regard," Rutoria said. "I can tell you, and I am far beyond than any soul in this fortress."

A moment of silence passed between them.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" came Rutoria's quiet question.

April snorted, disguising the chuckle launching itself up her throat. "Really? Did you come here to toy with me?"

"I came here to abet murder," Rutoria answered. "Isn't that obvious?"

"You're crazy," April rolled her eyes. Outside, the torches made spitting noises as the flames devoured the shafts supporting them. Greedy little creatures. "Has anybody told you that?"

Rutoria hummed. "Far too many," she said. "So, what would it be?"

April threw her hands up in the air. "Why are you so obsessed about me killing my brother?" she said. "I don't want to do it, so I won't! I have resigned my right to the Imperial throne, and after this war, the Seelie Court will probably absolve him of all his crimes because of his efforts in preserving the island, and with the Virtakios to help him, he'd be more than unstoppable. Why would I need to ruin all that, when all I want for what family I have left is for them to live?"

"Besides," April clicked her tongue at her outburst. Still, she couldn't stop herself from rambling to a complete stranger no matter how weird they were about everything she's been keeping to herself for the last few days, weeks, and well...years. Decades, even. She sighed. "I'll get a drawback if I hurt my blood-kin. Isn't that the case?"

Rutoria was silent. Again. She seemed to be thinking of her next answer, something that'd lead to her getting what she wanted, and April wasn't going to have any of that. She might think of herself convincing, but April has spent her life with a conniving witch to know every corner of the discourse like her name. Said witch might be April, herself, but that shouldn't mean anything. Right?

"That remains to be seen," Rutoria said, amusement thick in her tone. Up to this point in the conversation, when they're talking about spilling someone's blood, she still found things amusing. Unbelievable.

"I'm not going to do it," April said again, cementing it into this witch's mind. "Find somebody else to stab him."

Rutoria ducked her head in understanding, straightening up to pick up her lamp from the ground. The green light slapped April's eyeballs. By instinct, she averted her eyes.

"Everyone had sacrificed something in this war," Rutoria's voice laced around the bustle, the clatter, and the rustles in the fortress. It was silent, yet loud at the same time. "What will yours be?"

Before April could say anything, Rutoria hefted her hood over her head once more, hiding her shock of scarlet hair beneath the shadows. Within seconds, the fairy had blended into the darkness, leaving April alone as she wanted. But wasn't it cheating? Rutoria left April, alright, but not without planting a question in her head which would haunt her until the end of time.

Sacrifice. It's a terrifying word—one April didn't really know what truly entailed. This war took more than it gave, and she couldn't stop it from doing so. And now, it's asking her the same thing it asked everyone in this fortress and those beyond it.

What would she sacrifice? What more could she lose when she lost nearly everything she thought she had? Could she give something she didn't have, what she could only hope to have?

"I have nothing," April said to the wind. Rutoria wasn't there to hear it anymore, and only the moons bore the memory to April's words. "What more could I lose?"

She hoped it was a question that'd haunt the heavens until it found an answer.