NELNIFA CORLEDIA IS SUPPOSED TO BE WEAK. During a brazen attack against her people, she is left with no choice but to take the lead. With knowledge coming from dubious places, a territory in shambles, and a people too scattered to fight back, she ha...
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Long after she stopped bawling her eyes out, order settled on the shore. Marshal Vessa directed where to dump the Cardovians they bound, and a neat array slowly formed with their backs to the sea. Nelnifa stood with her father as he watched the sun start to rise, dousing the waterline, the fluffy clouds, and the upturned sand with its fiery amber rays. The wind had stilled into a dull whisper, rustling the fronds of the surviving salvia trees.
Her hair had dried off, going back to its wispy curtain draped over her back. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Ilphas stalk off the hazy circle made by the Marshals, both from the covert and the offense faction, aiming for her. She turned her attention to the calm sea, pretending she didn't see him. Something must have happened because he never made it. Instead, her father shifted from his stance to accommodate Marshal Vessa's approach.
"We are unable to track those who have gone to the mountains," the Marshal reported, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I suggest raising the alert to the other camps to keep an eye out."
The Potentate's hands, which were tucked behind him, tightened around each other. It might fly over most people's heads, but Nelnifa noticed. He's not pleased about these developments. He simply maintained a placid air about him.
"Send word, but do not encourage them to persecute the escapees," he answered. "In fact, tell them to help anyone they encounter in the forest regardless of where they align themselves to."
Marshal Vessa seemed to disagree with it with how passive her facade became, but it was the order of the Potentate. She couldn't refuse without suffering the consequences.
But after this whole ordeal, Nelnifa became aware of how easy it was to topple a kingdom, but not a people. And that's what the water sprites were. They were a race, united not only by their synnavaim, but by something greater—kinship.
It's easier to denounce the autocracy following the fall of Orayta, but these people stayed by her father, and by extension, Nelnifa. Even though she had led them to their deaths and got blood on their hands, they never left. She couldn't fully understand that decision, but maybe they were like her—willing to throw everything they were for the sake of her people, her family. While it's not always good, the best thing she could do was to honor that and be there for them.
So, Marshal Vessa gave her father a quick salute before trudging off, ready to carry out her new order. The other Marshals took over keeping the Cardovians in order. A soldier sauntered towards the Potentate, passing a bag as big as his palm.
Nelnifa studied it, noting how the bottom melded with the shape of her father's hand. Powder, then. What's that for? What's he going to do with it?
As if sensing her attention, the Potentate turned to her with a smirk. "See, poison isn't the only thing I brought back," he said with a wink.
Before she could ask what it meant, he threw the bag to the ground and held a hand out. A rysteme spell burst from his fingertips, a column of fire shooting towards the bag. Nelnifa never thought she'd see this sight—a water sprite summoning flames—but with magic, all things were possible.
