"You killed Nadia," Viktir stared at the body that once had been his comrade lying in broken tatters at their feet. His hands shook by his sides.
Elred regarded the man. "You would've done the same thing to me," she dropped back into a stance, keeping an eye on Diran and Pikard who stalked towards her. "What makes you hesitate? Are you the cowards I think you are?"
"We shouldn't have come here," Pikard said. Elred lashed just as the half-blood lunged to tackle her. Elred's dagger found its home on Pikard's neck as well.
"Elred! Enough!" Diran stepped in Elred's way with a slash of his sword. Elred flexed her fingers and made glass creep into his sword. She clenched her fingers. The metal shattered.
Diran threw his broken sword away and raised his arms. "We surrender! We will face the Sovereign's judgement."
A bitter laugh flew out of Elred's lips. It grew until she threw her head back and guffawed. "What makes you think the Sovereign will have mercy on you when you've seen her send an army against me?" she clapped her hands, reveling at her amusement at a time like this. Then, she dropped to a stance. "If you believe she will spare you, then you might as well die by my hand. I promise to be at least merciful."
From the corner of her eye, she watched Viktir run towards his twin. His sobs could be heard for miles. Elred scoffed. "Nadia was wise enough to die," Diran's gaze, when it flicked towards her, was filled with trepidation and ire. Elred shrugged. "Isn't it tribulation enough?"
"You're crazy," Diran hissed, stepping forward. His fists were clenched at his sides.
Elred hefted her glass sword. "I've always been," she inclined her head and bared her teeth. "Haven't I taught you that?"
Diran yelled and charged. What meager spells he knew flew out of him in a series of wild shrieks. Elred met his attacks, predicting each and every strike and defense he did. At this point, she has already won. Emotions. They make a mess out of a soldier on the battlefield.
He backed her into a ledge and Elred saw the carnage below. Dagrine legs stuck into the air, buried under tons of soil. Smoke curled from the ground with no traces of the army. Good. Looked like the Glass Mountain took care of the intruders.
Something flashed in the corner of Elred's eyes as Diran charged with his fist extended. Elred retreated and summoned her wings when her feet edged off the plateau. Diran gave one last swipe before he realized his mistake. His boot stepped into empty air. Then, the earth took hold.
Elred reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked at her gratefully, a hopeful smile painted on his bloody face as he clawed at her arm. His legs dangled against the long drop below them. Elred smiled back before drawing her dagger. Diran paled. This was farewell.
Elred plunged the dagger into the man's arm and drew it back out. Blood sprayed at her face and at her skirts. Then, she let him go. His scream cursing Elred's name was the last thing out of his lips as he slammed into the newly fallen soil. Red had never been a good paint against a brown surface.
A fitting end to a man who didn't know his limits.
When Elred set her feet back at the plateau, she dodged Viktir's swinging arm. She summoned her glass sword and stabbed it into his gut. Her dagger's dwarven metal tip drew a thin line of blood down the half-blood's neck.
"Monster," Viktir's chest heaved, whether from fear or aggression, Elred didn't bother find out. "You're a monster."
Elred snorted before pressing the dagger deeper into his chin. "Learn your place, soldier," she snarled into his ear. Viktir froze, recognizing that line she used to them during the time they spent in training.
Elred tightened her grip on both blades. "You can heal the wound from the sword," she rasped into his ear. "Go back to the Sovereign with this message: I am no longer yours. You're dismissed."
Elred dissolved the sword and shoved Viktir away. "Don't let me see your face again," she raised the dagger, still dripping with the other generals' blood. "Because when I do, I'll kill you."
Viktir clutched his stomach as blood slowly stopped pouring from it. He regarded her one last time before muttering a spell and vanishing. Elred was left alone with the bodies of the people she had once treated as her friends.
Her knees knocked together refused to carry her weight any longer. She plopped to the ground that she couldn't see due to her vision already blurring. That's what she always taught her generals. Fight without emotion and deal with them later.
A sob escaped her lips and before she knew it, her shoulders were shaking. A thousand tiny shards had found their way to her chest, wounding it over and and over. With a cry, she slammed her fist into the ground until her knuckles were raw and blood dripped into the freshly upturned dirt.
None of this would have happened if she hadn't allied with Synketros. The shard fairies wouldn't have to be stuffed in emergency catacombs, Helinfirth wouldn't have to be in ruins, and nobody would have died needlessly.
It's all her fault.
Elred stood up and dragged herself to where Nadia lay. The half-blood had grown a little bit of hair over the course of the months that passed. Nadia once had auburn locks. Elred wiped her tears and knelt before the mage. "I'm so sorry, Nadia," Elred whispered, passing a hand over the corpse's face, closing her eyes. Half-bloods weren't reduced to anything when they died. They just...stay there, forever. Elred touched Nadia's cold forehead. "With Pidmena's blessing, I usher you to the glories of the Afterlife. Aschui."
She sent her magic into Nadia's body, dissolving her form into thousands of shards, glinting red against the setting sun. Next, she did the same to Pikard whose shards were green, like grass against the blackness of dirt.
Elred flew down the plateau and did the same to Diran's body. His shards were of a thousand colors. Elred smiled. Even in death, all he thought about was the beauty of the world in pigments.
"You'll always be someone I'll look up to," Nadia had said to her back then. She was young, with her hair cropped close to her neck, her crimson cloak draped around her shoulders like a warm hug. Nadia had sidled up to Elred, her dark eyes holding a sparkle of admiration. "There will be no one who could replace you."
Diran had thrown his arm around Nadia, his black hair cropped short back then. "You'll forget about her once you meet your future bond," He had joked.
Viktir and Pikard, the ever silent twins, sat in the corner of the room, reading different books with one resting against the back of the other. Elred had plucked the book out of their hands despite their protests. She called them into attention and they piled in front of her, ready and stiff. Still, the shine of youth and that of idealistic hope sparkled in their eyes.
Elred would give anything to go back to that time again, where their days were spent cavorting around Synketros's grounds, sparring with each other. She missed the days when the four of them didn't see the need to grow up.
Time goes on, so does youth. Soon, Elred caught the Sovereign's attention and began involving her into the inner circle. She had been too happy to comply. She felt important, needed.
Then, the mission to Cardina came and Elred picked Nadia, Diran, and the twins to accompany her. There, they were forced to leave their idealism behind. They were looking for the Virtakios so that the Sovereign could use its power for her whims.
Unlike her life in the heights of Helinfirth, where she spent her days arranging glamours on her face and pleasing her mother, with her friends, it's easier to let those glamours fall away and be herself. When she's with them, she forgot that she had a family, that she had a home elsewhere. She forgot her duties, her place in the society.
How many times had she wished that those nights by the River of Wishes would stretch on forever? She still remembered Diran sketching his heart on parchment, Nadia telling Elred of stories the half-blood's fairy mother tells her when she was young, and the twins trying to push each other into the water.
Cold wind blew across the plateau, stirring Elred's pale locks and her sense of reality. Death floated in the atmosphere as if the souls that departed didn't enter Pidmena's bosom but rather clogged up the visible sky.
Reeca. Elred had to find Reeca. She had a promise to keep.
She found the varichria at the place that used to be Rabante, sitting cross-legged on an uneven mound, eyes closed and hands propped atop her knees. The wind ruffled her short, yellow hair.
It was quiet. No animals called. No merchants chattered. Not even the noise from the mines rang from a distance. A deep emptiness clawed at Elred's heart. She shook her head just as Reeca sensed her presence and cracked her eyes open.
How much more time did they have before the Helinfirth Queen found them and took action?
Reeca inclined her head at Elred. Elred clenched her jaw. "Come with me," she extended a hand towards the varichria. "Let's get you the thrones."