2412, Iclis 15, Kindreth

Xanthy spent the night leaving Dwanzeig as quietly as she could using one of the riding animals that resembled a dagrine but more colorful which Eldan called for her. In each step the animal took, Xanthy bounced against its flank. She gripped the reins and pushed forward.

Nyxis's words to her last night still pounded in her head. He told her he liked her all this time. What...what was she supposed to feel after that?

The road sloped downward. Xanthy flicked the reins and the dagrine surged downward. The wind whipped Xanthy's hair away from her forehead. If only she wasn't preoccupied at the moment, she would have ridden this animal up to whatever end waited for her at the island's edge.

Could she love someone at this point in her life? Probably not. She has a throne to look for and a hard choice to make. She just ended a relationship. Lastly, she wouldn't even be with any of her friends after she...

Xanthy's hold tightened on the reins. She urged her dagrine faster as they tore through the multi-colored undergrowth that comprised forests of Komery. This wasn't the time to think about any of those. Focus on one thing at a time.

For instance, Desara. She's going to Desara where this "beacon" was supposed to be.

Sunlight seeped through the canopies and turned the forest floor into a dappled landscape as Xanthy approached the border between Komery and Ansevir. She squinted in the distance and noted the line of trees that cleared into an expanse of white and blue. If what Eldan showed her on the map was to be trusted, that would be Aresving, or at least, the edge of it.

Xanthy later disembarked at the edge of Dwanzeig. That's about how far the dagrine could take her. She stroked its muzzle and dug an ajilte from her satchel. The animal neighed once before biting into the fruit. Then, it turned, the fruit still clasped between its teeth, and disappeared back from where they came from. Within a few moments, its multicolored coat had already blended with the mass of colors the flowers in the forest had.

A sigh escaped Xanthy's lips. She turned to the expanse of sand beyond her. She'd find a merchant cart to hitch a ride with at the center of this city. For now, though, she'd have to walk.

That had been Xanthy's life for the next few hours of the morning. She drew her cloak fuller into her shoulders. It was a cloak Eldan fished from his room and lent to her. Despite Eldan's height and broad shoulders, the cloak fit Xanthy exactly at the right width and height. Weird.

Hot wind blew from the ocean, taking along with it the faint roar of the ocean waves. The coast was a far venture from Aresving but Xanthy could already feel the salt mixing with the air and the sand stinging her eyes.

Her boots sank against the sand with every step she took. Thoughts roiled in her head, reminding her that every minute she spent in this city was another minute that June had to walk the line between Pidmena's realm and theirs.

Xanthy took in a deep breath, inhaling the scratchy Aresving air. Focus on the job. Worry about the other things later. She looked behind her and noted how Dwanzeig climbed up an incline from the flat expanse of Desara.

When she narrowed her eyes just enough, she could glimpse how the rest of Komery's mountains just cut abruptly, forming a cliff that led straight into the ocean. If she referred to the map Eldan showed her, the cliffs' heights only elevated as the edge of the island curved towards Ok-sa. That's...scary.

Xanthy tucked her hands inside her cloak, the bow slung across her torso shifting. Her quiver bounced against her thigh with every slog she made against the sand gripping her feet. Her fingers brushed the satchel Marthiaq gave her before she left. It was supposed to be like Nyxis's bottomless ingredient haul. Satchels like these were enchanted to be capable of storing anything without adding to the weight—something most merchants would kill for.

Where Marthiaq or Nyxis got their hands on something like this was something Xanthy wasn't too interested in knowing. Hey, let people have their own adventures or whatever.

She has her own unfolding in front of her right now.

After a few more hours of walking, her legs burned from all the clumps of sand she slogged through. Xanthy reached a line of giant rocks that lined the border between cities stuck in the gray-white sand carpeting the whole coast. What's beyond these rocks would probably be Orayta, Desara's fishing capital.

Xanthy blew a breath. Her limbs were growing heavy as she had been travelling the whole of the second sphere and up until the second quadrant of the first sphere. She would have to find somewhere else to crash and rest.

A hand stuck inside her satchel and she rummaged around for the remnants of her bread wrapped in a square cloth. She had eaten half of it when she left Dwanzeig and would eat the rest for lunch later in the third quadrant. The rest of the items in her satchel were a spare set of clothing and a pouch of versallis Eldan shoved into her hands. Combining that amount with what Airene had given Xanthy in Alkara, Xanthy would have enough to buy herself a month's worth of meals with two or three tomes to spare.

Trellises, made of thin branches, were erected along the perimeter of the trading ground, marking the expanse of sand of where one city ended and where another started, connecting one rock marker to another. Xanthy stuck close to it and squinted her eyes. They seemed to stretch across the expanse of the trading city. Creaks ensued from the branches as the wind from the ocean slapped at them but they didn't give way. Cool.

Xanthy squinted in the distance, past the line of boats and the birds cawing and diving at the ocean, and just saw an empty line where the other continents should have been. Not even a shadow or a faint silhouette hidden by clouds was present. Was this because of the barriers?

A bitter taste coated Xanthy's tongue as her thoughts wandered to the brownies and Alkara. Cyrdel had been working on breaking the barriers...but what for? Xanthy shook her head. It's not her place to think about that. Besides, Cyrdel warned her to not say anything about it.

So...she wouldn't.

Clanks and other bustling noises rang in the air to Xanthy's left. She turned towards the first cluster of fairies she encountered since she entered the city, forming some sort of a trading ground just by the border. As she went forward, the mass of fairies engaging in trade became thicker..and noisier.

It's like Nanvera but hotter and hazier with the sand in place of Lanteglos' cobbled roads. Different accents, words, and dialects blurred in her ears as Xanthy rode the current of the crowd. Traders, customers, and even locals dressed in loose robes , mingled and mixed with each other. Fairies dressed in various types of garbs passed Xanthy by, their spoken dialects nothing but garbled sounds in her ears.

The smell wafting from the products the merchants were selling coalesced in the air before invading her nose. She caught hints of spices like midseg, porgon, and felmisa as she passed by merchants who either stayed in their carts, spread a rug over the sand, or pitched tents for their wares.

There was no order. Merchants and locals set up tents, mats, tables, and carts anywhere they chose. Some even took it farther by following certain buyers around while advertising their products.

A curse reached Xanthy's ears and she turned just in time for one buyer to toss a silver versallis towards a merchant dressed in a colorful vest without buying anything. The merchant bent down to pick up the fallen currency before hefting the versallis in the air and pocketing it with a smile on his face.

Xanthy pursed her lips and went forward, keeping her eyes on the merchants with either a set of dagrine, kephras, or something that looked like manwaris. Those were the carts she could later hitch a ride with.

Knives glinted in the sunlight as butchers spun them in the air before pronouncing judgement over fishes with colorful scales atop makeshift tables. Blood stained the sand red as the butchers worked on cutting off the heads. Xanthy held her breath as she passed just to avoid inhaling the rusty smell that came with it.

The deeper she got into the trading city, the more merchants noticed her and began haggling her into buying their goods. One sold jewels and claimed they're from the mines of Avalora, itself. He waved a collection of sparkling necklaces and other ornaments in Xanthy's face. Another shoved parchment in Xanthy's personal space, claiming it's made from the finest corcoleon excrement. Xanthy slapped his arm away before she could get another whiff of that poop paper.

Someone bumped into her with enough force to drive her back a step. She was able to right herself before she fell down. A frown deepened in her face as she looked behind her. What in Umazure was that?

Eh. She turned north and continued walking. She knitted her eyebrows as she took a step. Wait. Something's missing...

She stepped forward again. Nothing bounced against her leg. Blood drained from her face despite the Desaran heat. Oh, Queen's stockings. The quiver. Her quiver...

"Thief!" she yelled at no one. She scanned the mass of people crowding her view. Gods, why must there be a thief here?

The people who heard her and cared looked around with her. Some asked her what was stolen while some just looked ahead. She waved her hands in exasperation. Where could have they gone?

Her eyes widened. There. Running towards the trellises. A boy not older than Xanthy, wearing a sleeveless tunic and loose trousers. He clutched Xanthy's quiver tightly, like he was used to snatching these things from people, like he was doing this all his life. He's trying to make it to another city.

Xanthy clenched her fists. Not so fast.

Xanthy pushed people out of her way, jumped over tables and stepped over mats. Merchants and customers screamed all sorts of things in their own dialects that didn't mean anything to Xanthy. Quiver. She needed that quiver back.

Of course, she could just snap her fingers to call the arrows to her, but she'd had no way of storing them without the quiver. She couldn't put those arrows in her satchel without their tips piercing through the cloth. During a fight, she wouldn't have the time to rummage around the satchel's endless space for an arrow.

That's why she needed to run.

The boy almost made it to the barricade of wood when another figure slammed into him. Xanthy froze, watching two people roll on the sand. The thief, who still had his fist around the quiver, had dark hair. The other person who was now trying to pin the thief on the ground, had pale yellow hair and was dressed in a pristine white cloak with an equally white tunic and trousers showing underneath.

Xanthy knitted her eyebrows. That's strange. Who was that yellow-haired person and why was he beating up the dark-haired boy who stole her quiver?

Ah, frip it.

Xanthy launched herself forward again. The wind stung her eyes as grains of sand coated the sweat beading at the top of her lips. She swiped at her mouth. Ugh. Gross. She lunged just in time to stop the yellow-haired boy from landing a punch on the thief. He looked up at her as she tightened her grip around his wrist. There's no use in violence.

Something rustled. Xanthy looked down to find the thief had wiggled his way out. The trellises creaked as he swung his leg through. A toothy grin was bright across his face. Oh, that's not going to be there for long.

Xanthy snapped her fingers, willing one arrow to fly to her. She had her bow at the ready as she caught the arrow. She nocked it, aimed, and shot, her gaze heavy on the flaps of the boy's loose trousers as he boarded the trellis like a dagrine.

The arrow tore through the flap in one clean strike. The thief yelped as he tumbled backwards, the sand cushioning his fall. Thief down. Xanthy snapped her fingers again, calling the arrow she shot him with back to her.

Her boots slammed against the sand as she closed her fingers around the arrow once more. Splinters bit into her palm as she swung over the trellis in a smooth leap. The bow string snapped back as she nocked the arrow and trained the head at the thief. "Hands off the quiver," she growled.

The thief whimpered and splayed his palms in the air.

"Get up," Xanthy said. The poor boy looked like he's about to wet his trousers but he picked himself up, palms still in the air and faced away from her. Xanthy kept her bow pointed at his head but didn't shoot.

"Forget you came across me," Xanthy kept her tone stern. "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Fine," the thief's voice was a bit muffled by the howling wind but he nodded. He didn't look any older than Malin but then again, it's hard to tell with fairies. "We need pointed things to fish and resources are getting low. I had to steal."

Or at least that's what Xanthy understood he said. His accent was thick with what sounded like a slow droll as if he was eating his words instead of spitting them out. "Not my concern," Xanthy tightened her grip on the bow. "Run along and find someone less fortunate to mob."

The thief faced her now. His green eyes looked so much like Nyxis Xanthy had to blink twice just to make sure it wasn't the friend she left in Dwanzeig. The only difference they had were the total lack of self-importance and hygiene. Xanthy wrinkled her nose on the rusty smell wafting from the thief. Definitely the hygiene.

Xanthy kept her eyes on the distance to avoid confusing the thief with Nyxis. Everything else was a mismatch of features anyway, from the large forehead, the freckled cheeks, and the stubbed nose.

"It's definitely your concern if you're from Edgerift," the thief jerked his chin towards Xanthy's direction. He still hadn't brought his arms down. "We sent our request for aid a thousand times and no one even bothered to say anything back."

Xanthy knitted her eyebrows. Edgerift...

Xanthy drew the arrow back tighter, hearing the bowstring strain. She'd have to hurt this boy if he turned out to be a real threat. She would make him regret every crossing paths with her. "How do you know that?" Xanthy hissed.

"The badge in your cloak," the thief pointed one finger from his splayed palms. "You're an adviser to the High Queen."

Xanthy blinked. What...? She looked down at her borrowed cloak and there it was—a red rose crest glinting by her chest. Oh, Eldan forgot to remove it. She frowned. Great. How was she going to explain that?

She loosed a breath now. Play along. "I left years ago," Xanthy said. "There's nothing I could do for you now."

The thief's expression was flat. "I see," he nodded. "I'll get going then."

With that, he turned and headed towards the trellis, leaving Xanthy's quiver at her feet. Xanthy kept the arrow trained at his head as he walked away and continued doing so until he had vanished behind the large rock marker. Xanthy sighed and dropped her stance. Her shoulder throbbed from holding it too long.

"That was some smooth moves," the yellow-haired boy said as he approached, dusting sand off his white clothes. Xanthy clicked her tongue as she bent down to pick up the quiver. Who wears white in the middle of a beach, anyway?

"Who are you?" Xanthy snapped as she dusted the quiver off. "I certainly don't like it that you're talking to me like you know me."

The boy laid a hand to his chest like he's hurt. "I just helped you take down that thief," he rolled his shoulders. "You're welcome."

"I don't remember asking for your help," Xanthy frowned, buckling the quiver to her waist. How did the thief unbuckle it so fast just by bumping into her? Unbelievable.

"Let's start over then," the boy extended a hand towards Xanthy. "My name's Cirasa. Rutoria sent me."

Xanthy crossed her arms. "So you're the guy she recommended," she gave him a quick look. He didn't look dangerous. His pointy ears suggested that he was a fairy. "Fine, I'm Xanthy."

"Oh, I know," Cirasa smirked as Xanthy shook his hand. "Rutoria made sure I knew who I'm looking for. She told me to look for a girl walking around with a humongous bow and a stolen quiver."

Xanthy's eyes widened then she frowned. Of course, that sneaky oracle knew. Why not, right? "Well," she dusted her cloak and her trousers. "Now that we've met, what now?"

"The thing is," Cirasa scratched his head, craning his neck at the sky. "I don't know either. She said you'll explain everything."

Xanthy blew a breath, driving stray locks from her face. Leaving the hard parts for Xanthy, really? Nice play, Rutoria. Nice play. "Alright," she braced her hips with both hands. "I'm looking for Desara's throne."

Cirasa blinked. "Desara's throne?"

"Shout it a little louder, will you? I'm sure the Water Sprites will be happy," Xanthy rolled her eyes.

"But why that throne?" Cirasa inclined his head at her.

Xanthy eyed the merchants losing interest in the both of them. "None of your business," she shook her head and jerked her chin. "Let's get moving. We need to find some sort of beacon on the edge of a cliff. As far as I know, Aresving is a fripping beach."