Marin sighed as she steeled her nerves. She raised her fist to the wooden door and knocked. A garbled voice answered from the inside for her to come in. She twisted the knob and swung the door to a woman dressed in a loose tunic and a skirt which covered most of her legs. Grayish white hair flowed long, limp strands up to her waist. Pale skin bore all types of scars and bruises. The woman was poring over a map laid on a lamp-lit table.

Marin cleared her throat and the woman looked up. Their eyes met and Marin found her green eyes staring back at her. No way...

Suddenly, it all clicked. Marin knew this woman. She was at the Ice Capital siege and had even saved Marin. The battlefield isn't a place for children. Marin remembered the cold voice that emanated from a face that looked so much like a marquine doll.

"You...called for me?" Marin said against a lump in her throat.

The woman blinked before something dawned on her. " Ah, yes," the woman stalked closer to Marin. "He will be here soon, too."

Before Marin could ask who, the door opened again and Malin stepped through, accompanied by none other than the Temple of Magic's High Priestess, Ymbril.

"Malin!" she cried as she ran to her brother's side. She was embracing him before she even registered his face. "I've missed you!"

"Marin," her brother pushed her away. "You are speaking gibberish."

She raised her eyebrows. "You still haven't learned Keijula?"

Her brother merely frowned.

The woman cleared her throat, garnering Marin's attention again. She nodded at the High Priestess. "Thank you, Ymbril."

"My pleasure, Commander," the High Priestess bowed and exited the room, leaving Marin and her brother alone with the stern woman.

The woman sighed. "I do not know how to say this," her tone carried so much uncertainty. "But I wanted to apologize for how things turned out for all of us."

Marin knitted her eyebrows. She shielded Malin with her body. "Who are you?"

"My name is Geradine," the woman put a hand to her chest. "Geradine Draswist."

Marin's heart sank. The mother her father kept on telling them. The one that supposedly died on a purge. Geradine...

Beside her, Malin was quiet.

"You're lying," Marin hissed in Keijula. "You can't possibly be our mother. She's dead."

Geradine blew a breath. "Jarvik's favorite tea was chamomine. I know because I used to make that for him."

Chamomine tea...

"Y-you..." Marin stepped back, wagging an accusing finger in Geradine's direction. "How did you do it? Father said he saw you get executed."

"Illusion magic," Geradine looked back at the table. "A shard fairy helped me."

"Why?" Marin's question seemed to have struck something inside the commander.

Geradine didn't answer. Marin stomped her foot against the carpeted floor. "Why?" she screamed. Tears blurred her vision. "My father mourned for you. He pined for you. He was so miserable!" Geradine remained looking at the maps on the table. Anger bubbled at Marin's chest. "He died knowing he'll see you in the afterlife!" she wiped aggressively at the tears clouding her vision. "And yet, here you are, gallivanting around. Alive. Alive!"

"You have every right to be angry," Geradine said quietly. It was almost lost to Marin's sobs. "I was too cowardly to choose what's best for you two. For that, I'm sorry."

"Your sorry wouldn't bring back my dad, would it?" Marin spat.

Geradine tucked her hands to herself. "I know. But it will bring you something you never had in the first place. Me."

Marin paused. Malin peeked out from behind her. That's...true. She hated how true it was. She hated how this woman claiming to be her long-dead mother was right. Everything was just...complicated.

"You fought in that war against Penleth," Geradine continued. "I could have killed you like I have killed countless of your comrades. You could have killed me like you did to most of my men."

Marin hung her head. "I'm...sorry."

"Your sorry wouldn't bring back the dead, would it?" Geradine said softly.

Damn.

"And your names," Geradine clicked her tongue. "Marin and Malin? What in Crintine's name was Jarvik thinking? Ugh. You deserve new names. Both of you."

Marin narrowed her eyes. "You will not take back something Dad gave us."

Geradine withdrew her hand and pursed her lips. "Who knew I had such a wild daughter?" she chuckled lightly as if still shy. She exhaled. "Fine. We'll stick with your names. Can we please start over? This war has taken so much from me. I'm not ready to lose another."

Marin clenched her jaw. It's true, though. The war had taken more than what any of them could offer willingly. She extended her hand to Geradine. "Sure. Let's start over," she said. "Hi, I'm Marin. I'm your daughter."

Geradine smiled and took Marin's hand. Thick calluses greeted Marin's palm. "Hi, I'm Geradine. I'm your mother."

Marin went out of that room sniffling. She wiped at her snot when she noticed Xanthy leaning against a wall just a few steps to the room. Was she waiting for Marin? "What are you doing here?" Marin snapped. Gods, both of them looked like a mess.

Xanthy pushed off the wall and approached her. Her cane thumped against the marble floor. "I'm sorry, Marin."

"Gods, stop apologizing!" Marin cursed. "Why do people love to apologize to me today?"

Xanthy inclined her head to the side. "I'm assuming the meeting with Geradine went well?"

Marin looked anywhere but at the Virtakios. She spent so much time trying to track this woman and now she was standing within Marin's reach. How cruel had the world played its tricks? "What do you care?" Marin sniffled. Why was she even being this way? It's unfair for Xanthy. She couldn't just drop the act and go soft. She's...

"I told Geradine about you," Xanthy said in a quiet voice.

Marin whipped to her faster than a slash of a sword. "You..."

Xanthy smiled. "I thought it's the best thing I could do since..." she didn't finish and she didn't need to. They both knew what Xanthy was talking about.

Marin blinked and there were tears in her eyes once again. "Just..." she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "Thank you for not killing me on so many occasions we crossed paths."

Xanthy's eyes softened. "I could never kill you. I'd never be able to live the guilt down."

"Why?" Marin asked. "Why do you care about us so much?"

"Why else? You're family."

A ball of emotions dropped in Marin's gut. "I..."

"I already failed Jarvik," Xanthy said. Tears spilled from her eyes almost on cue. "I'm not about to fail you and Malin, too."

Marin wanted to punch something. She didn't deserve this kindness. She was the worst type of person to exist and yet these things were happening to her. She killed people. She took away the dreams they might have had. And now....she was being forgiven.

She shouldn't be forgiven.

"I'm sorry, Xanthy," Marin hung her head. "For everything."

"It's alright, Marin," Xanthy whispered. "Seeking justice is the right thing to do. I won't hold it against you."

Marin's head snapped up. "But I killed people! How can you forgive me so easily? I tried to kill you. I tried to kill June. Wh—how can you do it?"

Xanthy stalked towards Marin and tucked a strand of hair behind her rounded ear. It took almost all of her to not recoil in shock. When had she grown to see Xanthy eye to eye?

"I'll let you in on a secret," Xanthy laid a hand to her lips. Her voice dropped notches lower. "I don't think too much of the effects of people's choices. That's all we have to make in this world. Each choice will have its consequences—good or bad. To hold it against a person is like holding a knife to your existence," Xanthy drew back. "So I don't dwell on it too much. If there is one thing this war taught me is that we all have our choices and sometimes, they hurt others. Sometimes, they save others. The only thing that matters is who you are. Who is making those choices? Why?"

"Then you realize," Xanthy continued. "That is the essence of living. Choosing and the drive to make you choose whatever path. I understand you, Marin. So I can forgive you. Easily."

Marin threw her arms around Xanthy. It had never felt so good when Xanthy wrapped her arm around Marin's waist to hug back.

Xanthy's footsteps echoed on the empty corridors as she made her way back to her room on her own. She had been practicing hobbling about with no aid. Her cane thumped against the carpeted floor every step she took. June was probably hiding around in his room, avoiding people. Xanthy just has to figure out which room.

The Imperial Palace was a large building with three floors with nothing but rooms. Xanthy learned that the rooms were often used for dignitaries whenever the High Queen called them from the other territories. This resulted in a jumble of furnished corridors that took too much to maintain.

If she's going to be the High Queen soon, she would have to propose a better usage of this huge structure. Ideas flitted around in her head but she shook them off. Later. First, she has to find June's room. It's a miracle she even found Geradine's to facilitate her reunion with her children. However, now...

It's safe to admit she's lost.

The corridors all looked similar up to the minute decorations. The embroidered designs were swirly enough to make Xanthy's vision spin if she stared too long.

"Xanthy?" Reeca's voice broke through her thoughts.

Xanthy raised her head to rest her gaze on the varichria. The memory of her arrow piercing her friend on the back was still fresh in her mind. She doubted Reeca had forgotten it or would be forgetting about it any time soon.

"Yeah, it's me," Xanthy put her cane forward and took a step. "What are you doing here?"

Reeca shrugged and looked at the furnishings. "Just...getting some air."

Silence thickened between them.

When it became unbearable, Xanthy sucked in a breath and mustered what's left of her courage. "I'm sorry, Reeca," she blurted. "For everything."

Reeca raised an eyebrow then she pursed her lips. "Yeah," she breathed. "I'm sorry, too. For everything. I shouldn't have used you nor doubted you."

Xanthy coughed into her fist. "Can we start over?"

"You're the Virtakios," Reeca looked her straight in the eye. "You're supposed to be bringing the room for starting over."

Xanthy snorted. "I suppose. Are you up for it, though?"

"Eh, sure," Reeca rolled her shoulders as she stepped back and leaned against a wall. "I mean, if we are destined to work on this island together, we might as well start now."

"What if I pick your father?"

Reeca's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I might," Xanthy bobbed her head as if she's considering the option.

"Then I would have to reclaim my right to the throne," Reeca said.

Xanthy hummed. "I wouldn't like it if I was forced to kill you."

"For the record, you already did."

Xanthy's stomach twisted. "Yeah. It sucked."

Reeca's mismatched eyes were hard as they searched Xanthy's for an answer. "Why did you do it?"

"I don't want any of you to get hurt," Xanthy stared at her boots and noted the growing mould of mud caking the tips. "You are hurt enough. Figured it's my turn."

Reeca glanced at the cane supporting Xanthy. "I'll say," she fell silent for a while before saying, "You alright?"

Xanthy scoffed. "What's with that question?"

"Nothing," Reeca shuffled from foot to foot. "Just...concerned."

"We've come a long way, haven't we, Reeca?" Xanthy said. Reeca's cheeks colored red. Xanthy chuckled and tapped her can against her leg. "I'm fine. I guess there's really no running for me this time."

Reeca cracked a smile. They have indeed come a long way.

"Do you miss him?" Xanthy angled her body away from Reeca.

Reeca scratched her palm before crossing her arms. "I...am still trying to make sense of his absence," she closed her eyes. "He was always this immovable rock behind my back and now, he's...gone."

"Do you blame anyone?" Xanthy leaned on the opposite wall from Reeca with a little shuffling back. "Me?"

Reeca shook her head. Xanthy had never noticed that the varichria's hair had grown since the last time Xanthy saw her. It reached her chin now. "No. I don't blame anyone," Reeca said. "It is what it is. Rhys made his choice. I...will be making mine."

Xanthy raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"To move forward," Reeca locked gazes with Xanthy without breaking it for once. "To work from the peace that he died to bring upon us."

Xanthy clenched her jaw as her hold on her cane tightened. "He's so proud of you, Reeca. He used to talk about you like you were his daughter or something."

Tears dropped from Reeca's eyes and she hastily wiped it away. "Damn," Reeca's voice cracked. She sniffled. "I promised not to cry in front of you."

"Come on, I'm no one," Xanthy spread her arms and swayed a little. "You can cry."

"Rhys was my family," Reeca wiped her hand on her trousers.

"I know."

Silence coated the air around them again. However, this time, it was with ease. After a while, Xanthy pushed herself off the wall and staggered before regaining her balance. She wrestled control over her cane and braced the wall to steady herself. "So," Xanthy turned to Reeca. "Which way to Room 365?"

"You could've just said you're lost," Reeca chuckled before pointing east. "It's down that corridor."

"Got it," Xanthy went her way. Her heart had never been this light since forever.