FOURTH BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭. 𝘈 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘈 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵. 𝘈 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦.
Xanthiene Vivenca, a fairy with a bounty for her soul, is caught between...
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In the end, Nyxis lied to her.
Xanthy watched him run up to the Heiress and interrupt her spell, watched him haul himself into the cliff and disappear to the edge with the Heiress in tow.
She might have ran, might have stopped him, but she was too far away. Tears sprang from her eyes and clouded her vision. Her heart wrenched until it throbbed in her chest. This wasn't how it's supposed to be. She shouldn't have let Nyxis run on his own. She knew. Gods, she knew that none of them was ready to face the Heiress.
But he promised, didn't he? He promised that he would follow shortly.
Like the idiot she was, she believed him. Nyxis had never once lied to her and this was how he spent his first time. She couldn't even stop him. She's too far away. She...
What was Nyxis thinking? How could he do that? She even...
Sobs racked Xanthy's shoulders as strength left her limbs. Xanthy didn't even drive the sword into April. The future Cirasa's sickness showed her, she changed it. The people who were fighting at the edge of the cliff. Those were Nyxis and the Heiress. That's another fate that she couldn't change.
Nyxis was dead.
He couldn't be alive after that. He interrupted an unfinished spell. She saw it backfiring on him and the Heiress. She heard his pained screams as it hit him. He fell into the water from this high up. The Heiress, along with pointed rocks and churning waves, accompanied him on the way down. There's no way he could have survived it all. His magic...
His magic left him the moment he leaped off the cliff. Xanthy had tried leashing it, tried stopping him, but it only gave her a glimpse of how bad it would end for Nyxis.
He's dead. Because of her.
He died because he had to choose between saving her and saving himself. He died because he thought saving her was the best thing he could do. It's not. Never in a million years would it be.
Xanthy slapped the dirt. Her tears turned it into mud. This shouldn't have happened if she didn't meet any of them. This was all her fault. The Virtakios shouldn't have existed. If all it did was bring division, greed, and war, then what use was it? In this rotten world, what use did she have if she couldn't even stop it from birthing such vile circumstances?
What was she except a tool to declare wars and kill innocents?
Xanthy dug the chalice from her satchel, wiped her tears, and closed her eyes. Ravalee. The other half of her soul was the only one who could help Xanthy right now. The one whom she trusted enough for this job. Ravalee. Answer.
Her consciousness speared through vacant space, trying to find its way to the other part of her soul. Focus. Find Ravalee.
Hello?
Xanthy gave a small chuckle. Ravalee.
You found me. Where are you?
Xanthy opened her eyes to find June slumped on the ground. He wasn't breathing. There's no time, Xanthy thought to Ravalee. Listen to me. This is important. From there, she told Ravalee everything. Across the space between them, across magic and territories, she told her soul everything.
