2412, Diori 22, Velpa

Night had fallen on her, and this time, April lost count of how many she had lived through and all hope for how many more she had to. A solemn cloud descended over the camp and hasn't dissipated since. Something must have happened.

"Can you believe it?" a voice lacing around rhythmic clinks of metal boots edged from the corner. By estimation, two people. "The Virtakios lost it today."

April scooted deeper into the darkness of her cell, hiding any trace of her white feathers to remind these soldiers of her presence. Let them talk. She needed this information if she was to stay sane.

Shadows clipped the edge of her view of the camp, proving her estimate. Two soldiers sauntered past her cell, wearing the armor native to their territory and race, one a light blue of the ice sprites and the other fiery red of the fire sprites.

"You think so?" the ice sprite asked, scratching the side of his head. "I wouldn't call that 'losing it'. She's saddened by what happened today."

"For that spy, I know," the fire sprite answered, no ounce of empathy lacing around his tone. If anything, he seemed convinced he's being sensitive about loss by talking about someone else's. "He shouldn't have tried to assassinate the Sovereign. It's not a surprise."

The soldiers zipped past April's cell before she decided to charge out of her cell and pound the living torches out of these two. It's too late to chase them down now.

"The battlefield is unpredictable—that's what you should be saying," the ice sprite whacked his comrade upside the head. "There's a chance the spy would have succeeded. The Sovereign isn't infallible nor is she invincible."

The fire sprite snorted. "Is she now?"

The rest of their conversation vanished through the howl of a chance breeze blowing through the inner quadrant, leaving April to stew in her new discovery. This was why the Sovereign and the Heiress drugged their subordinates. They couldn't handle being talked about behind their backs, especially if the remarks were something they wouldn't like. Coups and mutiny often began this way, too. Too much freedom, and the common folk would start to think they have power and authority to take control of things.

And sometimes, the illusion of control goes into people's heads, and that would be a massive problem later.

"Something on your mind?" a new voice popped into April's senses.

April whirled to the rails to find Rutoria camping behind it again. A frown twisted April's features as she slunk closer to her visitor. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. Deep inside, relief swam in her gut. At least her saliva wouldn't go stale with Rutoria dropping by every now and then.

The fairy—April still didn't know what kind; it's not like she had peeked at Rutoria's trail—chuckled and set her lantern down. Her skirts dampened most of its green glow when she sank into the ground without reservation. "Are you going to answer my question with another question?"

"Are you, as well?" April fired back.

Rutoria hummed. Her aquamarine eyes betrayed no annoyance. "It's fun that way, yeah?" she asked. "Kidding. I came here to talk. That's it."

"And talk is what you will get," April said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her armor, the one the Sovereign put her in upon attacking Penleth, was gone, leaving her with only a dusty and torn tunic, a pair of trousers, and worn boots. She didn't miss that bulky crap, anyway.

Silence, again. Rutoria's expression was passive yet connected, as if she was expecting April to divulge her secrets but wasn't pressuring her into it. A sigh ripped off April's lips. "Fine," she said. "I'm thinking about the Virtakios."

"Xanthy," she added when a sliver of a frown crept into Rutoria's face. Of course, nobody appreciated being relegated to their special task or their titles. April should have known that.

"What about her?" prompted Rutoria.

April pursed her lips, noting how dry they were. The skin chapped, reminding her of the scabs that often appeared over her wounds. If she pulled the bits off, would it hurt? She rolled her shoulders and plunged that thought out of her mind. "Overheard some soldiers talking," she said. "Who was the spy who she lost today?"

Rutoria didn't glance around her to try and see which direction said soldiers came from and where they had gone. No one was out this late in the evening, except maybe for insane fairies who would rather talk to prisoners under the light from the moons and torches.

"Marthiaq Lebayou," Rutoria answered, for once divulging information as if she's a bountiful river. What has she eaten today to be this disagreeable? "He stood as Xanthy's guardian during her stay in the Disfavored region."

April was aware of how the humans divided their land, which was according to social and economic class. How stupid. "Why is she there? Isn't she a fairy?"

Rutoria's eyes flashed against the torchlight. "It is not my place to tell her story," she said. "Perhaps, she will tell you on her own someday, when she is ready."

April shouldn't care about it, but her own loss nipped at the back of her mind. Hera's death was something she never stopped thinking about even in her sleep. Losing people, especially one after the other, couldn't be any easier.

Her gaze landed on the scarlet-haired fairy sitting outside her cell for the second time. Rutoria was keen on getting April to make good on her promise—to kill her brother—and it's not a stone's throw to guess she's here today for the same thing. The last time they talked, Rutoria mentioned sacrifice. What would April have to give to this war?

Most importantly...what would Xanthy?

"You..." April breathed, raising a finger towards Rutoria's direction. "You're priming Xanthy for something, aren't you?"

A smile tore Rutoria's lips open. It's not malicious, though. "What made you think so?"

"This war...made most of us lose things and people we wouldn't have," April said. "Xanthy, being at the center of it, would have lost the most."

And with April's contribution, the girl had come close to losing those whom she considered her friends and family. But in Penleth, it's one death after another. Wouldn't that mean something, especially when Rutoria made it a point to convince April to harm the next person she treasured?

"I don't think you don't have some power or influence in this fortress," April jerked her chin at Rutoria. "You could have stopped that spy from going forth with his foolish plan. But you didn't. Is that because you know it'd devastate Xanthy? What are you planning?"

And the more important yet terrifying question followed. "Just what are you?"

Rutoria chuckled—her only reaction to being caught red-handed. "You're the first soul to understand my involvement in the matters of this war, before it happened, and the events after," she said. "For that, I commend you."

Instead of feeling a sort of validation from the sort of praise she craved all her life, April knitted her eyebrows. "Can't you just...stop?" she said. "Let us choose our own fates?"

"If I did, you all won't be here anymore," Rutoria answered just as quickly. "The future is a fickle thing to understand, to predict, and to observe. Oracle fairies such as myself were slotted with the heavy burden of that task, to make sure we avoid the impending doom hanging over Umazure, and later on, Fantasilia."

Oracle fairy? How come April never heard of those? Where were the rest of them? And that lamp...was it their throne?

"Are you acting for whose sake?" April ventured, daring the oracle to say what mattered to her the most.

Rutoria leveled her gaze at April. "The world."

April scoffed, throwing her hands up in the air. "What are we to you, then?" she said. "What is Xanthy to you?"

"If you're giving me a row about the good of one soul over many others, I have given my answer long ago," Rutoria said. "The world always needs our sacrifice for the greater good, and we need it for our survival. Without it, there can be no life."

April swallowed her counterargument. What good would it be if she's dead tomorrow? And why in Rudik's ass was she defending Xanthy—the girl who made her a coward? "Why me?" she asked, lowering her voice to that of a mere whisper. "Why do I have to risk the Virtakios' ire and my brother's life for the sake of the world? What do I have to do with this war? Am I being punished? Is that it?"

Rutoria shook her head. "To find meaning in fate's machinations is a pastime I wish to adopt someday," she said. "I exist only to guide the course of time to the most favorable outcome. I do not muddle it with reason or with emotions."

The oracle started talking in ciphers, and April couldn't do anything about it now. "If you're an oracle," she said. "Can't you at least tell me my brother will make it? That Xanthy only needs to see him get hurt to push her to do as you intended?"

As answer, Rutoria stood up, dusted her skirt, and picked up the lamp. The only confirmation April had was the lantern's green light flickering a bit stronger before the oracle swung it away from April's view.

2412, Diori 23, Jyda

The terror hasn't left April's limbs even as she streaked past the empty forest as far as Mora. She punched through the canopy before slowing the beat of her wings to settle on the highest branch. The wind currents told her everything just by kissing her skin and shuffling the loose strands of her hair. If anyone pursued her from Penleth, she would know.

She would always know.

Her breaths haven't calmed, and as she settled on the highest branch in the forest and rested her head against the rough trunk, she forced herself to. Whenever she closed her eyes, the image of her brother catching her sword with his gut was the first and last thing she saw. It took everything in her to drive that blade into him, going as far as reciting to herself a litany of things she had to do if she got him out of the way.

But she wouldn't be doing any of that. A murderer would never sit on the Imperial throne, and April was one.

It had been a full day since she escaped the fortress, and she had no idea how the war progressed. They had been locked in a futile battle—Xanthy's allies and the vile organizations—and April could only guess why Rutoria wanted something drastic to happen inside the camp. Unless they're going to make a choice, the battle would drag on longer. More people would have to suffer and greet Pidmena before their time.

The world before one's sake—it's what the oracle believed. And April, forever the selfish brat she was, couldn't understand that. Was her life only meant to serve the bigger atmosphere and not herself? What of her free will, her choices? Would it have amounted to nothing?

Footsteps crunched on the forest floor. April's heart seized when she looked down and spotted soldiers she saw in Penleth. They were passing features, but those memories clawed from the back of her head to remind her of who they came to Mora for.

They came for her. Would they deliver justice, though?

A curse flitted off April's lips as she spread her wings. She clambered off the branch and swung with as much stealth as she could to the connecting branch. The next place after Mora would be Oaksham. Then, Cardina. Carleon, particularly Asopus. Maybe Gulstead would provide her some respite with it a hub for criminals. And then what? She'd forever be on the road, running for her life and from the guilt of the past. That's not a good life to lead.

"That damned air sprite trashing the camp after everything we've done for her," a voice carried by the breeze reached her ears. She paused mid-hop, flapping her wings to keep her form to a hover. "The Virtakios was beside herself to even focus on the war. I won't be surprised if she surrenders to the enemy tomorrow. We're hit plenty strong."

Broken Keijula? That one must be a half-blood. His companion chortled in reply, and their conversation halted. Partly because April's feathers knocked against a bundle of leaves, making them rustle. April trained her eyes on the two men lost in the quiet forest. It's only the wind. It's only the wind. Come on, say it, damned fools.

"Only wind," one said, backhanding his companion on the arm. "Nothing to worry about."

And off they went, failing at their jobs because April didn't want to be found. But they brought information, even though it's something she didn't want to acknowledge. Xanthy, surrender Penleth? All because of June?

Where was Rutoria going with this? How would the world become better if the people fighting for it got subdued by those who wished to destroy it?

April was not an oracle fairy, and she was glad. Let the world worry about itself. It's time for them to choose their own path.

And for April, she chose the one where it'd be easier to run.