2412, Diori 20, Reshpe

Xanthy trudged across the dark earth. Earlier, she got back to the fortress to realize the enemy had taken over the outer quadrant and declared victory for the day despite having half of their men razed to the ground as soon as Xanthy was able to tear her attention away from the flying island.

Tomorrow, perhaps she could bring down that airborne monstrosity. But today, she's too late.

Her chest tightened. Was it from the exhaustion cramping her muscles, the dread she had been feeling since setting foot on the fortress, or because the air they breathe was being siphoned off its source to power the people she had been fighting against? It's hard to know these days.

Still, she walked in an attempt to find some vestige of butterbread. She needed something to distract her from thoughts of impending doom running around in her mind. June wasn't with her at this moment as Geradine had pulled him away over dinner. Whatever that was about was none of Xanthy's concern. Let him receive his orders. Xanthy needed her butterbread.

She tramped towards the gate to the center quadrant when she noticed Reeca sitting beside the sacks of cloth by the infirmary with a vacant look in her face. What happened? She still has to listen to the daily report happening in about an hour. She had never seen the varichria dejected.

Something bad must have happened.

Xanthy debated going or not. Through the months of knowing Reeca, Xanthy had come to understand Reeca has a tendency to snob people when she's in a bad mood. Seemingly in a sour disposition herself, Xanthy knew better than to add oil into her own flame.

She paused her walk and stared at her friend for a while. People flitted on about, carrying on with their usual tasks. Past the sea of faces and bodies, Xanthy caught a glimpse of Reeca through small gaps but even those temporary gaps revealed something Xanthy thought she'd never see again.

Grief and a person's attempt to understand it.

Xanthy was no stranger to that emotion. She'd had her fair share. Reeca was in its place now and Xanthy hesitated.

Reeca had betrayed her, lied to her. Then, the varichria had acted like a douche throughout the time they had been together in this fortress. She never showed regret nor the willingness to apologize. Would Xanthy still help a person like that?

Her answer leaped to the surface of her mind, enough to drive her to start walking again. This time, Xanthy aimed for her friend.

Reeca received the news of her brother's death the moment they retreated to the inner quadrant. Geradine sealed the gates and ordered the earth sprites to raise the walls higher and the ice sprites to fortify it. The commander found Reeca looking for her brother in the throng of people who made it inside the inner quadrant and with one look from Geradine, Reeca knew.

Reeca knew this day would eventually come. She thought she was prepared for it. This was war. All of them would be considered fortunate if they make it out alive. Rhys was...

Well, he's not as lucky as he bragged to be.

Why did it still hurt? She expected it, so why did it still tear her heart to pieces and shred all she was into thin strips? Something snapped inside Reeca and...she was lost. Yet again.

A shadow fell over Reeca and she raised her head to find Xanthy in front of her. What was she doing here? Xanthy had no business with her. There had been a time when Reeca tried. She thought retrieving the thrones would fix her relationship with Xanthy but since the Virtakios ended up disappearing and Reeca ended up causing Narfalk to be destroyed, she gave up trying to fix whatever was between them entirely.

It seemed Xanthy had stopped trying too.

So what was Xanthy doing here? Reeca wanted to be alone.

Xanthy studied her face. It's a habit of hers Reeca disliked. Reeca averted her gaze and her face from further scrutiny. Xanthy opened her mouth to ask but she knew enough at this point. Reeca's face said it all.

Honestly, Xanthy has no words left to say. She barely knew Rhys and the time they spent together trekking the sprite territory for the heirs had been nothing but running for their lives and sneaking through borders. Still, Xanthy knew Rhys was a responsible brother and he loved Reeca dearly. Most of the time, more than Reeca loved herself.

To think that Rhys had made the sacrifice to buy the ice sprites enough time to seal the inner quadrant after the foot soldiers stormed the gates to the outer quadrant. To think that Reeca never had that talk with him as he promised.

See you later. Those were Rhys's last words to Reeca. How pretentious. How false...

Reeca recoiled when a hand laid atop hers. Xanthy didn't say anything, looking everywhere but at her. Reeca wanted to slap that hand away from her skin but she couldn't. In fact, she found the warmth slightly...comforting. The Virtakios's entire presence was soothing. It made Reeca feel like she wasn't entirely alone without her brother here.

A single tear slipped from her eye. What a rebellious one.

Reeca blinked fast to dry out her eyes. She gulped to dissolve the lump developing in her throat. She mustn't cry. Not in front of people. Never. She would not be weak.

Xanthy sensed Reeca's inner turmoil even without having her mother's thyminka abilities. She squeezed her friend's hand and something snapped inside Reeca.

Suddenly, Reeca's shoulders shook. Xanthy still didn't say anything. Soon, the varichria was gulping lungfuls of air while tears poured from her eyes. Xanthy bit her lip and didn't fight the tears that came.

That night, as the soldiers of Penleth hurried past them in their determined paths, two friends sat in a pile of sacks, their hands the only things providing each other comfort.

That's just how death was. It melted any divide, healed any crack, and brought people who lost someone closer. That night, Xanthy held Reeca's hand and Reeca cried for her brother for as long as it took.

Perhaps, forever was a short time to do so.

June made it back to the tent before collapsing to his knees, shaking. Xanthy was immediately awake, taking in the sight of her lover drenched in blood from head to toe. Seconds later, she was holding June by the shoulders as she checked him for any signs of injury.

He has none. Thank the gods.

"Xanthy..." June rasped. His voice quivered. He didn't sound like himself. "Please don't look at me."

Xanthy sighed and stood up to retrieve the lamp. She struck a flint at its oil-filled base. A fire sparked to life, lighting up their entire tent a bright shade of yellow-orange. She clearly saw the blood dripping from June's clothes and straining the dark soil darker.

She crouched in front of June and took his hands, wrinkling her nose at the hot, sticky liquid coating them. "Why wouldn't I want to look at you?" she asked as softly as she could. His hands shook in her grip. "You're June."

"No," he took his hands away from Xanthy. "No, I..."

He trailed off, not wanting to continue with that thought. Xanthy pursed her lips and moved to untangle June's cloak from his neck. "How did you get all this blood on you?" she asked. "Is this because of where Geradine assigned you?"

June blew a shaky breath, never bringing up his gaze to Xanthy. She folded his cloak and made a mental note to bring it to the cloth masters tomorrow. For now, she had to calm him down.

"I...wiped out the outer quadrant," June whispered. Xanthy paused.

"Wiped out, meaning?" Xanthy grabbed a spare piece of cloth from the assortment of garments dangling on the wires tied by the poles of the tent. She added a skin of water and a basin in her grip as she trudged back towards where June was kneeling.

"Geradine instructed me to clear the outer quadrant of the enemy soldiers that made it in while they rested," he winced, his voice no louder than a squeak. Xanthy poured the water into the basin and dipped the cloth into it. She began wiping June's face with it, erasing the caking blood from his skin. She never thought it would be this satisfying.

"Did you do it?" Xanthy said.

June's eyes widened as he flinched. "I-I didn't mean to kill them—"

Xanthy stopped him with a firm grasp of his jaw. She peered deep into his eyes, into those dark pools now filled with fear and regret. "Did they attack you first?" she asked. "Is your intention from the start to kill?"

June's mouth parted. "No. Geradine wanted me to draw blood but I refused. I only agreed to go tonight as long as I wouldn't have to...kill anyone. But..."

He trailed off again and Xanthy shoved the cloth into his white hair and wiggled it to remove the blood from his scalp. "But?" she prodded.

June wasn't looking at Xanthy. He wasn't speaking either. Xanthy quietly wiped the blood by his neck. He sucked in a deep breath. "But?" she prodded again.

"But one fairy came out of nowhere and almost ran Canelis through," June's lips quivered at the memory clawing at the back of his head. "I-I had to..."

He expected Xanthy to recoil in shock, to look at him as if he's the lowest creature on this island. Instead, Xanthy kissed his cheek. His heart pounded in his ears. What was going on? Shouldn't she be disgusted by him now?

Xanthy must have sensed the chaos brewing in his mind as she set the cloth down and leveled her gaze at him no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. "You did what you have to do," she said softly, almost whispering. It carried enough comfort that brought tears to June's eyes. "I won't suddenly hate you because of that."

June didn't speak. He sniffled. There's no point in being ashamed especially if they're at this point in their relationship. "Although, I almost feel sorry for whoever it is. Nobody will hold it against you," Xanthy cleared his hair off his face with a gentle shove. "Right or wrong, I have no right to tell you what you did was either of them."

Perhaps, no one really had the right to tell them if their actions were right or wrong.

"So don't worry too much about it, June," Xanthy washed her hands in the basin's water, watching it turn a murky shade of rust. "Those people out there won't hesitate to do to us what we are holding back to do to them."

Jun's voice died in his throat. Xanthy smiled at him as she dried her hands with her trousers. "Besides, whatever you do, I think I'll find a way to forgive it," she slapped her thigh as she fanned her hands. "That's just how we live. Relationships are just an endless row of forgiveness and reconciliation."

That made sense. It's what he badly needed. Living life to be what he wanted to be rather than being what other people told him to be proved harder than he thought.

His past, the blood in his hands—it's all a part of him. That didn't mean they could dictate how he lived his life from now on. He shouldn't let that define him anymore. He tried smiling and was spooked he could somehow do it again tonight.

Xanthy saw that small effort and returned the gesture. Small steps. Everything they needed to do to be better was to take small steps. She drew closer to June and touched his cheek. "I'm proud of you, June," Xanthy whispered. "Don't ever forget that."

June might have cried a bit harder that night than he ever did his entire life.