MARIN DRASWIST IS CLOSE. Her goal has never been within her reach. The island is already divided into two warring sides, and Cardovia, the organization she serves, grows more powerful by the second with her help. But when a war against an extinct bu...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
2412, Diori 31, Daleth
Marin hunched down on the table, yanking the edge of her hood to hide her face deeper into the shadows. Her drink sat on the table, half-drunk. She had wanted to try it since forever, and when she did, she found out it wasn't up to her taste. Wine was meant to be treated with respect, and with how the tenders did it, it put their entire tavern to shame.
Nevertheless, Marin was more than happy to be here to still taste nasty things. Just a week ago, she wasn't sure if she was going to live to the next year.
War changed a lot of things, not just her.
For one, she was now mentally old enough to hang out in pubs and order her drink of choice. With the rest of her wage from working under the Heiress for so long, she could buy an establishment in Nanvera. What she'd do with it, she wasn't really sure, but with Lanteglos being a war-torn zone more than any other territory, the property values there have dropped. Perhaps, with a bit more time, she'd be a rich lady with tons of businesses in town.
That'd be a dream.
And it's thanks to Xanthy Marin was able to still have that hope within her system. Despite their differences, in the end, Marin understood where the Virtakios was coming from. Xanthy blamed herself for everyone who was hurt because of her, so much so that she shot her friend in the back and surrendered the fortress. The Heiress and the Sovereign wanted only her and the thrones, and when she gave herself in, the fighting stopped. No one died, and the war was forgotten in a blink.
When Xanthy appeared on that hill with the rest of the heirs dead as a fallen log, Marin couldn't fight the despair that rocked her. So many tears were shed that day, not just her own. But even so, Marin saw what Xanthy truly was. She's just a fairy like the rest of them, and the weight of being the island's savior bore down on her until it crushed her.
Was that fate? Marin couldn't be sure. It's still a journey she had to traverse for her to truly understand. Were their choices a product of fate or were their fates a product of their choices? It's a delicate balance one must find to understand the delicateness of life. And Marthiaq was right. Marin had to make enough mistakes and have enough victories to realize that.
Let her hope Marthiaq's choices towards the end of the war showed him his answer.
A chorus of gasps and alarmed screams rose in the tavern. Marin's hand flew to the dagger sheathed to her side, ready to take on whatever it was if it decided to target her. Wings fluttered, and a distinct coo greeted everyone. A white haldone flitted towards Marin's table before tucking its wings and settling on the splintering surface.
Uh...
The bird tilted its head at Marin, its beady eyes betraying impatience. Okay. What was she supposed to do? Its talons clicked against the wood, hopping in incessant and random rhythm. It's when Marin noticed the sheet of parchment tied around its leg, secured by a worn twine. The way it's tied, with its neat but complicated knots, betrayed who sent it.
Marin freed the bird from its burden and waited until it zipped out of the tavern and into the open air before looking down at the message. It was written in Xanthy's semi-legible handwriting, as if she still had to learn how to use a quill the proper way, but Marin understood it well.
Come to the Imperial Palace. Xanthy wrote. I have a gift for you.
A small smile itched on Marin's lips. Her magic rushed to the surface and wrapped around the parchment on her palm. Within seconds, a pile of ashes sat on her skin, which she dusted off. The tender behind the counter glared at her, but she ducked out of the tavern before she could be asked to leave.
She was just going, anyway. Because, why not?
Her half-consumed drink sat untouched as she made it out of the dingy room. The forest's damp but fresh air hit her nose as soon as she stepped out, reminding her of the times it would rain and her father would tell stories about different gods and goddesses just to calm her down. Those were the good times, and she wouldn't trade that life for anything.
But, she stuck her hands into her pockets, craning her neck to the sky. "Hey, Dad," she said to the wind hoping it'd deliver her words to eternity's end. "Looks like I have to move forward now."
And while nature did nothing to deliver her father's answer, she knew. Jarvik Draswist was proud of his daughter. Forever and always.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
