"Do you think the camp will be all right while we're gone?"

Chamomile surveyed her home for what seemed like the last time. Silver moonlight fell on the clearing, illuminating several makeshift huts woven from branches and leaves. Trees stood at the edge and embraced the cloudless sky. Thousands, maybe millions of lights speckled the dark above her head. It was quiet—no one in the huts stirred.

"Have some faith in our people," Dandelion said. Our people. It had become her favorite phrase recently, as if the organization she and Chamomile had started was their family. Although in a way, it was.

"Are you ready?" Dandelion slipped her hand into Chamomile's and offered her a small smile, her curly golden hair framing her face. They stood there for a moment, their hands intertwined as if they had been carved specifically for each other.

Chamomile hesitated. "I don't know. But, then again, I don't suppose this is something we could ever be ready for."

A little puff of laughter escaped from Dandelion's lips—but not a humorous one. It was one full of sorrow, but acceptant of their fate. Her hand dropped from Chamomile's and brushed the dagger strapped to her belt. "Guess it's a good thing we decided to learn how to use these things, huh? Imagine if we hadn't all those years ago. Everyone in the Order would call us crazy, practicing with daggers when we have magic!"

The reason for the daggers was the Queen's Guard. Formed by the most skilled magic-users in Leoral, they protected the queen day and night and even went on missions to destroy villages. They had a special ability to detect and disable magic, so Chamomile and Dandelion were forced to use other strategies.

A trace of a smile pulled on Chamomile's lips. Dandelion had this way of working on her; on everyone, really. It was easy to loosen up around her.

"Vallant will take care of the Order until we get back," Dandelion continued. The unspoken if we get back hung in the air. "He took it well when you told him what we're doing, right?"

The silence that followed was answer enough.

Dandelion nodded grimly. "I suspected that might be the case. Hopefully he'll realize this is the only choice. Leoral has lived under the shadow of the Queen for too long! We can't let her keep abusing the villages like she's been doing."

As she spoke the words, Dandelion stood a little taller, her eyes hardened with determination. She was looking not at the camp but at a sea of people, her people, all watching her as she gave a rousing speech. She had a tendency to do this; it was one of the things that had drawn Chamomile to her all those years ago. She was powerful and commanding. It was why she was leading the Order and not Chamomile or Vallant, even though they had founded it together.

Chamomile brushed a strand of hair behind Dandelion's ear. "You'll be great as leader of Leoral," she murmured. "Perfect, even."

Dandelion snapped out of her state and glanced at her wife. "Oh... Chamomile, you know I'm not going to just take over like that. The kingdom will be in enough shock already if we manage to overthrow the queen, and they wouldn't like someone just forcing themself onto them. We'll hold a vote, just like they do in Icekeep."

Chamomile frowned at the mention of the distant country, and Dandelion sighed. "You can't keep doing that, you know. We'll have to form connections with them. We need them. I don't care that they're different."

"Of course." Chamomile tightened her grip on her dagger. "Are you ready to go, my love?"

Dandelion took one last look at the camp before nodding and stepping into the forest.

They had barely been walking five minutes when they heard a crashing through the undergrowth behind them.

"Chamomile! Dandelion! Wait!" Vallant's voice rang out.

Not now. Please. Chamomile's hand clenched into a fist and then relaxed, clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed. She didn't realize she was doing it until Dandelion grabbed her hand.

"Go home to your daughter, Vallant." Dandelion turned to face their friend. Chamomile forced herself to do the same.

Vallant's black cape brushed the forest floor, and his sea-green eyes seemed to plead to them. "I can't let you do this."

"There's nothing else to do. Haven't you noticed? All we've been doing means nothing with the queen on the throne!"

"So take her down peacefully." Vallant's voice wavered slightly. "Anything but this. Please. They'll lock you up at best, but... that's wishful thinking. You know what happened to the other uprisings."

Chamomile looked away. They had seen the aftermath in villages. Decapitated heads, bloody bodies put up as a message—defy me and you die. Each victim had a purple mark seared into their bodies—a circle with two curved lines struck through it like an x. The mark of the Queen's Guard.

Dandelion lifted her chin high. "We have to try. We've been planning this for weeks, Vallant. It's going to work."

"It won't. Please, don't do this. We need you. I—I can't lead the Order. We'll break apart and there'll be nothing left to save the kingdom. And killing won't help anyone; you'll be no better than the Queen."

Chamomile stiffened. "If we could do this any other way, we would! Killing one person, a person that has already done so much harm and cares nothing for her people, does not make us horrible." She had told herself that so many times she had the words memorized, but hearing them said out loud sounded strange to her ears.

"Murder is wrong, no matter what. You know it is." Vallant clenched his fist, which glowed from the magic he was generating.

Dandelion gave him one more sad look before turning away. "You can't stop us, Vallant. We're doing this."

"No," Vallant muttered, barely audible. "You aren't." And then he extended his arm, opened his fist, and unleashed the magic he had been holding back.

Chamomile had just enough time to conjure a protective wall of magic. Vallant's spell, black as midnight from his fear, surged forward.

"Dandelion...!" Chamomile called out, hoping she would have time to defend herself. But it was too late. The energy hit her, invaded her body, and she fell to the ground.

"NO!" Chamomile dissipated the barrier and ran to her wife. Her body was still. "Dandelion... please. Get up. Please!"

There was no answer. Dandelion was limp and lifeless.

Vallant stumbled backward. All color was drained from his face. "I... I didn't..."

Chamomile's body shook, tears sliding down her cheek. She lifted her head to meet Vallant's eyes. Her own burned with rage.

The rage grew within her, searing her insides. She could feel the magic grow inside her. It only took a moment to release it; it tore at her, exploding in a burst of light that expanded with such force she knew nothing could survive. Without looking, she could hear Vallant drop to the ground.

Tears still ran from her eyes as Chamomile fell to her knees, but she barely noticed. Had that really happened? The love of her life and her dearest friend... gone. And yet they were so close, their bodies lying on the soft earth. It was almost as if they could get up and start walking around. But Chamomile knew better. Their spirits were gone, off in another realm.

It took an effort to wipe her eyes and look around the forest. Don't look at them. Anywhere but at them. The air was still and silent, but the fireflies had started to blink back to life. Fireflies. They had been Vallant's favorite creatures... he believed they held the spirits of the deceased.

Don't think about Vallant. He killed Dandelion.

And then you killed him.

Only one thing was certain... nothing would be the same, ever again. 

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Thanks for reading the revised version of the prologue! I just went through, edited a few grammar mistakes, and added some more descriptions. Thanks for all the feedback, it really helped in making the revisions.

Don't forget to vote if you enjoyed the chapter! And I'd love to hear feedback if you have any :)