WARNING: Depiction of violence is evident in the following scenes that may be upsetting for other viewers. Reader discretion is advised.
2412, Diori 25, Daleth
Xanthy held June's hand, staring at his sleeping face with enough dread to power the whole of Depandes. It was reminiscent of all the times she took care of him when he needed her. Only this time, the circumstances were different. This time, she's the one with a secret to hide.
"I don't know if you can hear me," Xanthy drew up and planted a kiss atop his scalp. This was probably the last time she'd get to do this. "Know that everything I do is for you. For all of you."
The battle raged outside and no one was brave enough to go to Xanthy's tent to summon her to this morning's briefing. As it should be. Xanthy has a plan of her own which she spent the whole night revising. It's time.
She drew away from June and gazed at his face, trying to memorize it so she would have something pleasant to remember when she passed. She heaved off a sigh and met Nyxis's questioning gaze from across the infirmary. Despite the tears murking her vision, she smiled at him.
She looked away before Nyxis could read more from her face. She swallowed her tears and gripped the shaft of the bow now slung across her torso. The inner quadrant blurred in her periphery. The sounds of soldiers clamoring and rushing around were lost to the droll of pending doom in her ears. Some soldiers stepped aside as she made for the stairs leading to the battlements.
If they knew what she was about to do, they wouldn't. They shouldn't have.
The wind whipped her hair clear of her face as she looked down at the battle unfolding below. Gods, how pathetic Penleth was. Just a small circle in the sea of black slowly overwhelming them. It's not going to end well for everyone. Xanthy's hands balled at her sides. Dread only increased by a manifold and started squeezing her gut. If she succeeded with her plan, she would have to face the consequences. Betrayal never had sweet fruits.
Her eyes stung but not because of the wind. If she succeeded with this plan, she would have to see the end of this war...on her own.
She looked back at the inner quadrant and thought of June. Would he hate her after he learned of what she had done? Ah, maybe that's why June hid his past from her all those months ago. When one has something to hide, relationships rarely work to one's favor. This war...it took more than it gave.
Xanthy blew a breath and unslung her bow from her shoulder. She drew an arrow from the quiver wrapped around her waist, nocked it, and aimed. Find Reeca. She whispered into the arrow. It seemed to understand.
She let it fly.
Events unfolded in a quick montage after that. The arrow found its target, burying on the varichria's back like a treacherous nimba. Silence gripped the whole battlefield in the few seconds that it took for Reeca to fall off from her paulsare and towards the ground.
Xanthy closed her eyes. Tears slid down her cheeks as she raised her arm and fired a white flare. A trail of stark white smoke blazed from her head and colored the blue sky. Up and up. It only meant one thing. We surrender.
Fool. The voices in Xanthy's mind hissed before ruin descended upon them all.
Defeat swept upon them like an unforgiving hand.
As soon as Xanthy fired that flare, she saw a few soldiers try to fight. All of them were dealt with as quickly as drawing a sword. Xanthy stood at the battlements, watching her friends, her parents, and her allies get restrained. Black-clad soldiers broke down the doors to the quadrants, the soldiers inside too surprised to surrender properly.
Xanthy turned, aiming to go to the infirmary, when someone pushed her to the ground. She called her magic but none came, as if the universe was telling her that she had done enough. Her head was shoved into a black sack. Xanthy lashed out with her foot and connected with something fleshy. A grunt followed by a curse.
Through the dim veil of the sack, Xanthy used the filtered sunlight to determine where her targets were. She growled as she attempted to push herself up. Her neck flared in pain and her vision blackened. She felt her consciousness go out. What would happen next? Gods, let her wish that Rutoria was as tight-lipped as she was.
Xanthy awoke to the lightness curling by her forehead. Slowly, her bearings pieced themselves together. She wiggled her toes inside her boots. Her stomach felt weird being pitted against a stiff shoulder. Was she moving? Who's carrying her?
The sunlight glared through the sack, searing Xanthy's eyeballs. She breathed once, twice. Just wait. See where they're taking her.
A man carried her, laughing at something his companion said about heathens entering a tavern. Judging from the distance from the ground, this man was tall for an average fairy. Strong, too, if Xanthy's weight could be factored in.
Xanthy caught sight of the soldier's black, buckled boots as the man took step after step. Where were they taking her? To the Heiress? To the Sovereign? What about her friends?
The last question was answered first as the man carrying her grunted and swung his arms. Xanthy resisted yelping as he not-so-gently set her down on a hard, flat surface. Metal gears squeaked. A foot slammed into her stomach, sending her form skittering backwards before slamming into a series of grating that felt all too familiar to her.
A shadow fell over her as she wheezed. Her lungs worked double time with the muffling effect of the sack and the pain curling at the pit of her stomach from having been kicked. She tried lifting one leg to attack her captors but something resisted.
Her confusion was later answered when the soldier yanked the sack from her head and her hair spilled in a tangled mess. Sunlight blinded Xanthy any more than it did when the sack was in place. She winced as the soldiers laughed.
"Don't ya go runnin' around causing trouble, eh?" Xanthy raised her eyes to find the tall soldier bent over, his face unwittingly close to Xanthy's nose. She caught a waft of a mixture of fish paste and sweat into her system. A gag gurgled at the base of her throat.
The soldier straightened and wagged his gloved fingers at her. His lanky companion snickered behind him. Then before Xanthy could crawl to her freedom, the tall soldier slammed the door to the cage to her face. The lock clicked; the chains shuffled.
Xanthy opened her mouth to scream but no words came out. She became aware of the strip of cloth tied between her lips and around her head. The soldiers clapped hands with each other, smiles of victory plastered on their faces. A sickening feeling churned in Xanthy's stomach.
Xanthy stared at her form. So far, no limbs were stolen. Her legs were tied together, her arms bound to her body with straps made of some luxury cloth. Early morning light shone through the bars, casting a shadow upon the cold surface of the cage. She wiggled her fingers and counted ten. Good.
Xanthy closed her eyes and called on her magic. No warmth came. Oh. Was it because of this cage?
Her eyes landed on what's beyond the grails. Green grass much like the ones she spied on the flying island grew in sparse bunches in the ground. The smell of dark earth was thick in her nose. The sounds of chatter, clanging metal, struggling voices, and braying animals filled her ears. Where was this?
"Xanthy?" a familiar voice whispered. Xanthy squinted against the sun to spy a cage opposite hers containing a figure with pointy ears and white hair. June?
"It's me, Cirasa," the figure said, squashing whatever hope that sprouted from Xanthy's chest.
Cirasa looked around quickly before crawling to the doors of his cage. "The heirs are being kept in a separate cage. Those in the infirmary are alright as Nyxis threatened to kill off all the heirs if the soldiers go as much as to touch the patients. June is fine but I don't know for how much longer," he chuckled without humor. "I guess it applies to all of us, right?"
Xanthy swung her torso and did her best to flop into the front of her cage just to gaze at the last shred of familiarity she found in this place. She tried getting a word out but all she managed were drops of saliva and mmph-mmph sounds.
Cirasa looked left and right again, no doubt looking for any sign of danger. "The others don't get why you did it. I'm aware of that strife you had with Reeca but to sabotage your own allies?"
Are you angry? Xanthy wanted to ask. With the gag on her mouth she could just stare at Cirasa's scarlet eyes and hope that her eyes would communicate what she was trying to say.
Cirasa's eyes softened. He wasn't. The look he was giving her was closer to pity. "I'm sorry it has come down to this," he said. "We shouldn't have denied you."
No, that's not it. Xanthy wasn't after that. All she wanted was to stop losing more lives. She wanted to stop them from sacrificing everything for this war. Xanthy should be the one saving them, not the other way around.
She needed to get closer to the Sovereign and the Heiress and she couldn't do that if she's always thinking of the battle happening the next day. Xanthy shook her head as an answer to Cirasa's statement. The shard fairy wiped at the blood that appeared from the side of his forehead. Was he alright? What happened?
Cirasa opened his mouth to say something when a soldier dressed in plain clothes ambled towards his cage. The shard fairy pursed his lips, wide eyes trained towards the soldier with real fear. Xanthy wiggled her body until she was the farthest from the door.
"No talking, witches," the soldier clicked his tongue and drove his foot against the cage. Cirasa flinched as the metal twanged, the sound leaping across the field. Then, the soldier turned to Xanthy's cage.
He approached the cage and crouched. Crooked teeth came into view as he smiled at Xanthy. His blue-black hair reminded Xanthy of the mass of feathers stuck to Kymalin's shoulder pads when she first saw the banshee all those months ago. "This one, the Mistresses ordered," the soldier smacked his lips, making Xanthy's stomach churn. Nausea pounded in her head as fear curled at her gut.
"Take 'er," the soldier told no one. Xanthy inhaled sharply as her cage rocked. Then, she was moving forward, past the remnants of the soldiers in Penleth being stuck in cages similar to hers. Just how many cages had the Sovereign and the Heiress had? Were they prepared? What did that say about how far those two were ahead of any of them?
Her eyes scanned the cages one by one, desperate to find June or any one of her friends. Where were Airese and Eldan? Geradine? Instead, she saw Penleth soldiers seated inside their cages, equally wretched. Some were raging and demanding to be let out. The black-clad soldiers were too eager to stab them with spears, daggers, or the blades found at the tip of some flintlocks. The screams of pain and the slosh of bloodied flesh were loud in Xanthy's ears.
A whimper filtered out her lips. She shut her eyes. Was this what she brought upon her allies? These people trusted her and she let them all down by doing this plan. If anything, she brought more ruin than good.
Whoever pushed her cage steered left and right, past soldiers doing menial work or more cages containing the warriors from Penleth. Still no sign of her friends. A few minutes later, concrete, one-story buildings popped up on the vast plain. Whoever built these, they planned on staying.
Xanthy came to a building that looked like everything else. The cage paused and footsteps crunched against the grass. The soldier was coming around. She clenched her jaw. Black boots appeared by the door and the soldier crouched.
To reveal Trix, the brownie mechanic in Penleth. Xanthy's stomach soured. A mole. She...
"Out you come, my lady," Trix unlocked the cage and opened the gate. The brownie reached inside and hauled Xanthy out. Xanthy has to warn her friends about Trix.
Clamping her teeth hard on the gag, Xanthy growled as she threw herself at Trix. Both of them tumbled to the ground with the mechanic giving a muffled "Hey!".
Xanthy called her magic and this time, it came albeit weak. This would do. She geared to cast a spell when suddenly, pain blossomed at the back of her knees. Her thoughts scattered in frayed lines, her magic scattering from her grasp.
Trix picked herself up from the ground and dusted her coveralls. She grinned at someone from behind Xanthy. "Thanks," she rasped.
Before Xanthy could turn towards the other soldier, she was grabbed by her bounds and tossed inside the building. Her shoulder slammed into the wooden floor as she rolled. Her head smacked against what felt like a chair leg. Black spots danced at her vision, obscuring whoever stalked after her inside the building.
Xanthy tried to scream, to flail, but pain speared through her system every time she tried moving her legs. What did they do?
A shadow fell over Xanthy. A swift kick to the stomach followed after, driving all the air from Xanthy's chest. She fell limp against the floor, wheezing. The soldier grasped her hair and hauled her up using that. Pain exploded in her scalp and sped down her neck. Stop...
Chains clinked. Xanthy felt something cold and metallic close around her throat. No. She squirmed, succeeding only in swiping at empty air with her arms. It was the next to go as the soldier firmly clasped cuffs around her wrists.
Her vision cleared just as the soldier closed the last cuffs around her ankles. Xanthy registered the blood that oozed from a wound at the back of her knees. The leg of her trousers had long fallen away. Her boots were gone. Then, her focus came to the soldier who was now turning to leave the building.
"Wait," Xanthy's voice came out hoarse and clipped. Why had they even removed the gag? "What happens now?"
The soldier turned to her and a white, faceless mask met Xanthy's gaze. "The Sovereign and the Heiress will be with you shortly."
Then, he was gone. The door to the room shut with a finality.
Xanthy edged forward to examine her wound and almost choked when the cuff around her neck bit at her throat. She ground her teeth and attempted to summon magic. No luck. The room was small, cramped, and humid. Already, Xanthy could feel sweat gathering at her back and chest. Her breaths came in short, puffy intakes with the heat making the air thick and harder to breathe in.
The air materialized and two figures appeared in front of Xanthy. The Sovereign, dressed in her long, dark robes and the Heiress, dressed like a decorated soldier, stared at Xanthy like she was gold.
"At last," the Heiress breathed, stalking closer.
"The Virtakios," the Sovereign finished.
The two women looked at each other, fire blazing in their eyes until the Heiress looked away and brought her hands together. "Now, to business," she stared Xanthy up and down. "Give me the Virtakios."
"I think we all know the answer to that," Xanthy said through gritted teeth. There's no way she would let these two have what they want.
The Sovereign threw her head back and laughed. "Not when your friends' lives are on the line?"
"You won't kill them because you need their thrones active," Xanthy noted the lack of windows that would tell her the passage of time. That posed a problem. "I'm not giving you something that will complete your plan."
The Heiress snorted. "Plan? Was this about the unification of the thrones?" she cocked her head to the side. "We're way past that, dear Xanthy."
Xanthy's stomach sank. The Sovereign giggled. It didn't sound girly nor nice. More like a vulkraine on oshella. "Great job on gathering them all in one place, by the way. Now, I can enter Parkane's gates using them. One by one."
Xanthy's blood drained from her face and probably went oozing out of her wound. No way...
"I only needed the thrones and not the heirs," the Heiress picked dirt from her long nails. "The heirs are...a bother. I agree with the Sovereign on that part."
"So you guys are a team now?" Xanthy hoped to rile the two women against each other. Considering their pasts, it wasn't a far-off possibility.
Instead, the Sovereign snorted. Her bright red lips curled into a vicious smile. "Far from that, dear," she waved her hand at the empty air and conjured a seat for herself. "We agreed that we have a common enemy so we needed to deal with your paltry army first. Right now, it looks like we're working together at least to make it into Parkane."
Parkane. The word sent a jolt into Xanthy's head and seemingly awakened the Arbotro's presence. She didn't even notice it had gone silent.
"That's correct," the Heiress shot the Sovereign another withering look. It must be taking everything they could to stay cordial with each other without breaking and going for each other's throats.
"You won't have the Virtakios," Xanthy's voice was small.
"Hmm," the Sovereign hummed. She scratched her chin, unimpressed. "What will you even do from here?"
Xanthy smiled. "This," she threw herself forward. The chains bit against her throat. Harder. Her vision blackened as air never made it to her brain. Her hands unconsciously clawed at the cuff but she forced herself to lean against it more.
More.
"No!" the Heiress and the Sovereign said at the same time. Someone slapped Xanthy across the face, snapping her back to the world. She collapsed against the pole she's tied to and felt blood at the corner of her lips. Xanthy leaned forward again but the Heiress caught her shoulders.
"If you want to die so badly," the Sovereign hissed at Xanthy's ear. "We won't hesitate to have you die every day. Little by little."
The Heiress's boots slid into Xanthy's view. "Starting today."
A whip cracked and Xanthy's heart quivered in fear for the first time in her life. Death...
She's going to die here.