FIRST BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘈𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘦-𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘺. 𝘈 𝘵𝘺𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯. 𝘈 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳.
Xanthiene Vivenca's life drones on in a cycle of finding her next meal, ensuring...
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The courtyard was a clearing in the forest flanking the Magic Road. Bird songs sounded so wrong in Xanthy's ears as she eyed a throng of people gathering around a pile of shrouded bodies laid in neat rows over the grass. Cold wind blew around them in quick blasts.
Xanthy hugged herself. She huddled closer to Nyxis who stood close to her. His mouth was pressed in a thin line but he slung his arm over Xanthy's shoulder. She swallowed the bitter taste blooming at the back of her throat.
Vikara stepped through the crowd, hefting a lit torch. She raised it in the air and the people present ducked their heads in respect. From the corner of Xanthy's eyes, familiar blond hair swayed with the breeze. Her stomach twisted tighter.
The Draswists were present.
"May the soul of the fallen find rest in the Land of Wonders," Vikara started. Xanthy glanced at Marin's face to find the girl staring back at her with blazing eyes.
Vikara strode towards the shrouded bodies. Xanthy clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking. Which of those was Jarvik's? "May their legacies be remembered to be honorable and may their trails forever blaze a spark. With the lasting blessing of Pidmena, I declare their souls free. We, in this assembly, usher you to glory until our last breaths."
"Aschui," the rest of the crowd answered in unison. The word stuck at the back of Xanthy's head. In her lifetime, she had attended hundreds of ceremonies for the dead. Never before did she choke upon saying "I concur".
Fear wrapped around her throat. If she said the word, then Jarvik's death would be true. Final.
Vikara crouched by the first shroud and dipped the torch's dark fire. Silence ate away at the rustle of leaves and the animals' calls. Xanthy's chest constricted while watching the fire lick the first body and travelled down the whole array.
So many lives lost. Wasted.
And for what?
That's another thing Xanthy didn't know. She doubted she'd ever know in her lifetime. If there's anything she learned from this, it's that people would fight for what they believe in without explanation. Most of the time, even without compulsion.
The midday sun bore down through the spaces between leaves. Fire feasted on the shrouds, crackling and cracking. Xanthy raised her eyes to the sky and closed her eyes. Tears dropped from her eyes.
Jarvik, wherever you are, I hope you are happy, too.
The wind ruffled the trees' canopies in response.
Then, from the corner of her eyes, Marin's blond head ducked. She slipped away from the crowd with a quiet grace. People bearing faces similar in Xanthy's eyes faded as she tore out of Nyxis's hold and followed where Marin went.
Marin's frail back trudged back to the Temple's stairs. Xanthy jogged, reached out, and grabbed the girl's arm.
"Let go!" Marin yanked her arm. "Stop following me!"
