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2412, Xavem 27, Jyda
They let June rest for a whole day which he spent sleeping and eating just to regain his energy and strength. Every once in a while, he would check on Xanthy who was laid on a moth-eaten couch by the living room. She looked the same with her eyes closed. She was at peace even if the world around her was already falling apart.
Now, as June dressed, his thoughts flew to the fact that he discovered two days ago. The Ice Sprites. Contrary to legend, they still existed. They were hiding underneath everything all this time—alive and thriving now that they had been able to build their own underground Capital. The downside of all that was he was bringing a war to their door by seeking asylum there.
June heaved all the weight he had been silently carrying in a huge breath. He tugged on a ragged tunic that Airene had pilfered from the house's multiple closets. It fit him exactly, although a bit loose on the sides. His warsei bumped against his skin like a heavy reminder of what else he carried.
The Falkirtan throne.
Now that he thought about it, this was probably why April had been so adamant on killing him. Not only did he end up being the heir to the Floating City's right to rule, he was also on her way to take what was rightfully hers. Why were people so driven to rule, anyway?
People think that ruling a territory, a city, or even a small town would be all fun and games. They think that being a monarch was just sitting on thrones and ordering people's heads on a platter. People think that having power would make everything better.
Power makes people worse. The desire to attain it was what would destroy a soul in the long run.
June's hands shook as he slipped the warsei off his neck. It's one of the curses he's been brought up with. Before, he had the High Queen's bane as his assassination weapon. Now, he had no choice but to lug the Breathkeeper around because it apparently was an important piece in this war.
He stared at the musical instrument as big as his palm. He lost count of how many times he contemplated throwing it against the wall and how many times his guilt showed him a scenario where the whole Air Sprite population vanished in a spray of white feathers. Perhaps, he could get rid of April this way.
Oh, dear gods. He shook his head and sighed once more. Just like what he's been doing every day, he slung the warsei back to his neck. It appeared like it would stay that way for a day longer. Perhaps, he would gain the guts to let go of this burden one day. Perhaps.
He pursed his lips as he slipped on his boots. He retrieved his satchel that contained nothing but the chalice and an almost depleted bag of versallis. He shoved his fingers into his hair and gave it a light shake—just the right amount of tousling.
June gripped the door handle with his non-dominant arm now that he wasn't forgetting the wound by his shoulder. Marin. That girl really knew how to strike. In retrospect, he was glad that it was Marin who inflicted him with this injury and that he was protecting Xanthy and the chalice when the attack happened. If she got to him when he's alone, he would've slit her throat already. He had been doing that since he was ten.
