Sapphire Sachi Secrofantazia's mind focused on the relentless drone of the car wheels against the desolate road. The vehicle rolled smoothly along the paved path, roaming through the bleak expanse of the savannah's withered grasses. Her eyes drifted aimlessly through Altima's starry sky. The stars felt distant, cold, and unattainable. She wondered if the world could begin again under another sun, in some far-off, forgotten corner of the universe—would her fate still be shackled to the same torment? If she could vanish into a distant galaxy, would her burdens still chase her there? Most hauntingly, would she ever find someone to share her fleeting moments of joy and endless days of sorrow?
As she looked down, her reflection in the car's window stared back with an empty, bitter truth. She always had been, and always would be, alone. She let her eyelids grow heavy, wishing for the numbness of sleep to take her away, if only for a moment. But a stern voice ripped her back into her cruel reality.
"Sister, let's rehearse your words once more; we can't have you squander this chance for our nation," he said. Sapphire's body jolted at his words. She slowly looked away from the window and onto the car's floor, avoiding eye contact.
"Of course, Brother," she murmured. Her shallow breaths futilely tried to bring any sense of calm into her lungs. She readied herself to say all of the faked emotions, false hopes, and hollow compliments again.
"This is no time for absentmindedness," her father said in the driver's seat. He glared at her through the rearview mirror, his raven-purple markings glowing brighter. Sapphire's halo dimmed, and she quickly averted her gaze, the immense weight of the nation's expectations crushing down on her slim shoulders.
"Yes, Father," she replied.
Sapphire swallowed the lump forming in her throat as her brother spoke again. "Remember, you must emphasize unity between our people and the Dirvahs. Mention the shared history, but do not linger on the conflicts. Focus on the future—on the peace we're here to secure."
She nodded mechanically, the words forming in her mind like a script she had memorized long ago. "Our nations have walked parallel paths for centuries; now, it's time to converge. Together, we can build a future where our children will know peace, not war," she recited, her voice devoid of the warmth and conviction the speech demanded.
Her brother's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. "You sound like you're reading from a script. You need to believe what you're saying, or at least make them believe you do. Your tone should be sincere, filled with hope."
"Hope…" she mumbled.
Sapphire clenched her hands in her lap, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to continue. "Together, we can build a future where our children will know peace, not war," she repeated, this time with a slight tremor in her voice, trying to inject the right amount of emotion into the empty words.
Her brother nodded, seeming somewhat satisfied. "Better, but you'll need to be perfect before the Dirvahs. They'll see through any hesitation, and you could ruin everything."
Sapphire's heart sank further as she stared at the car's floor. "I understand, Brother," she replied, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I'll do what's necessary for our nation."
Her brother's eyes slightly softened as he said, "Good. Just remember, this isn't about you. It never has been." Sapphire nodded once more.
The road stretched out before them. No sign of life stirred along the isolated path, save for their car and the sleek, black vehicles trailing behind—other Secronfantazia clan members making the same solemn journey. The visible isolation only widened the void in Sapphire's heart, as if the world had emptied itself of everything but duty and expectation.
The silence of the road was finally broken when their father spoke. "We're stopping at the Altiman station ahead," he announced. "This will be the last chance to refuel before we reach Xa'nia. Argentum, make sure to fill up the portable gas tanks for every car; I don't want your sister to ruin another simple task." Argentum nodded curtly as Sapphire tried to ignore the pain of their father's words.
Sapphire glanced out the window, spotting the dim glow of the gas station in the distance—a small, lonely outpost in the middle of nowhere. As they pulled into the station, the other cars in their convoy followed, lining up behind them in order.
The Altiman station, with its cold, industrial design, seemed oddly in place with the natural emptiness surrounding it. The flickering neon lights and the hum of the fuel pumps were the only signs of life in the otherwise barren landscape.
Her father parked the car and stepped out, his halo glowing faintly in the dim light. He didn't bother looking back at Sapphire or Argentum as he issued his final instructions. "We'll need every tank full. No mistakes."
Sapphire remained seated, watching as the other clan members began the tedious task of refueling. The stillness of the night was suffocating inside the car, and she could no longer bear the confinement. She quietly opened the door and stepped into the cool air, hoping it might clear her mind. The scent of fuel mixed with the dry earth filled her nostrils. She stretched her limbs, trying to shake off the stiffness from the long drive. Nearby, Argentum was busy filling the tanks; his expression focused and devoid of emotion.
Sapphire hesitated before speaking, her voice submissive. "Brother, may I ask you a question?"
Argentum glanced at her, his purple eyes briefly flickering with acknowledgment before returning to the task. "You may."
She took a deep breath, her nerves tightening. "What will become of me after the peace treaty?"
Argentum paused, the gas pump still in his hand as he considered her question. "You won't be ruling Caspecorgia. Even as the Ascendant. You know why."
Her heart sank at the confirmation, but she forced herself to ask the next question. "Then… what will happen to me?"
Argentum's gaze turned sharp as he continued filling the tank. "The most logical outcome is that you'll be married off to a Dirvah. It would solidify the peace treaty."
Sapphire felt a cold shiver run down her spine. The stories she had heard about the Dirvahs—barbaric, rough, and perverse—played through her mind. She had imagined many possibilities for her future, but this was one she had never truly prepared for. "But Dirvahs… they're so different. They're…"
"Barbaric?" Argentum finished her thought, his tone indifferent. "I've heard the same. But our father hasn't told me who the Ascendant is, so he likely doesn't know either. Knowing the Dirvahs, it's probably a woman."
Sapphire's thoughts spun, trying to process what he was saying. A woman? That might be a relief… or not.
Argentum continued. "Marrying you off to a family member of the Ascendant would be a strategic move, but that's where the problem lies. Dirvahs aren't related by genetics. They are all unique, no matter the parents."
Sapphire stared at the ground with heavy thoughts. "I remember my time studying the Dirvahs," she began. "I can't imagine growing up without a family or parents. To raise yourself without anyone's guidance… it must be horrible."
Argentum finished filling the first tank and looked at her with a rare hint of empathy in his tone. "You're right. It's a harsh way to live. They don't have the stability we're used to. But I heard they 'pick' their own families."
Sapphire frowned, trying to comprehend the idea. "Pick their families?"
Argentum nodded, grabbing the next tank. "Yes, they form bonds with others and call them Soulsis, Soulkin, and other ridiculous things. It's their way of creating connections in a world where they have no true family ties."
Sapphire shuddered at the thought. The idea of choosing people to replace the bond of blood felt so alien to her. "It sounds… lonely," she murmured. "To rely on people who aren't family… how can they trust that?"
"It's all they know, Sister. It's their way of surviving. But you're right—it's a poor substitute for what we have."
Sapphire nodded. The more she learned about the Dirvahs, the more distant and terrifying the prospect of marrying into their world became.
As Argentum moved to fill the next tank, his hand slipped, and the nozzle jerked out of place. Gasoline splashed onto the ground, the pungent smell immediately filling the air. Argentum's face went even paler as his eyes widened. His usually composed expression crumbled as he fumbled to regain control, but the spill only worsened.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his movements growing more frantic as he tried to stop the flow.
Sapphire quickly stepped forward, shoved him aside, and said firmly, "Move." She grabbed the nozzle, righted it, and promptly stopped the spill.
As she knelt to clean up the mess, she heard footsteps approaching. Their father's stern presence loomed closer, and before she could think of an excuse, he stood over them.
"Sapphire," his voice was sharp with disappointment and irritation. "What did I tell you about staying away from things you don't understand?"
Sapphire didn't hesitate. She kept her head down, her hands moving efficiently to clean up the spill. "I lost control of the pump, Father. I'm sorry. I'm cleaning it now," she replied, keeping her tone as calm as possible.
Argentum, still shaken, remained silent, his eyes darting between Sapphire and their father. Sapphire could feel his gaze on her, but she didn't look up.
Their father's markings flared briefly, glowing with anger, but he didn't raise his voice. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Be more attentive next time," he said, his tone heavy with disapproval. "We don't have time for these idiotic mistakes."
"Yes, Father," Sapphire replied. She continued working, not daring to meet his eyes, hoping he would leave it.
After a tense moment, their father finally turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Argentum stood frozen, guilt and relief battling in his expression. "Sister, I—"
"It's alright. This is what family is for," she softly interrupted. "Please, go fill the other tanks; we need to finish this."
As some tension lingered, a figure approached their father with purposeful strides.
"Rhodium, Sir," he called out. His presence was immediately recognized, and Rhodium's attention snapped to him. The man leaned in, whispering something urgent into his ear.
Rhodium's markings flickered—a signal of his frustration barely held in check. "Sapphire," he said.
Sapphire briefly looked up from her task, meeting her father's gaze before lowering her eyes. "Yes, Father?"
"Go inside the station and pick up supplies for the rest of the trip," Rhodium instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll be here for a while longer. Make sure you're quick."
"Yes, Father," Sapphire replied without hesitation. She wiped her hands on a cloth and stood, glancing at Argentum, who nodded in gratitude.
Sapphire pushed open the door to the gas station, and the bell above it jingled. The inside was dim, with rows of shelves stocked with essentials, but something felt off. She glanced around, expecting to see the cashier at the counter, but it was empty.
Her brow furrowed as she stepped further inside, her eyes scanning the area. There wasn't a soul in sight.
Behind the counter, she noticed a slightly ajar hatch on the floor. Her curiosity piqued. Sapphire hesitated, glancing back through the glass door at her father. Rhodium was conversing with the man who had approached him earlier, his attention fully occupied.
She bit her lip, considering her options. She knew better than to interrupt her father, especially when he was focused on something important. Without the cashier, she wouldn't have been able to purchase what they needed. Making a quick decision, she quietly slipped behind the counter and pulled open the hatch.
A narrow staircase led down into darkness. Cool and damp air wafted up from below. Sapphire hesitated momentarily before descending. As she reached the bottom, the faint sound of sobbing echoed through the small, dim basement.
She followed the sound until she reached a small room. Inside were two Gaians—a young girl knelt beside an older woman lying on the floor, her breaths labored and shallow. The girl's sobs filled the room, raw and desperate.
Sapphire's breath caught as she took in the scene. The mother's face was pale, her skin clammy with sweat. The girl, no older than ten, clutched her mother's hand, tears streaming down her face as she whispered words of comfort.
As soon as the girl's eyes locked onto Sapphire, her breath hitched, and her eyes bulged wide, unable to blink. The girl's body trembled violently, her lips quivering as she clutched her mother's arm with desperate strength.
"You… you're the Raven of Death," the girl stammered, her voice breaking into incoherent whimpers. Her chin trembled uncontrollably, and she shrank back against the wall, pressing herself as far away from Sapphire as possible. Her entire body trembled, her tiny fists clenching and unclenching as if trying to find something solid to hold onto in the face of her overwhelming fear.
"Please don't hurt her. We didn't do anything wrong," she begged, high-pitched and frantic. The girl's wide eyes darted around the room, seeking an escape that didn't exist.
She clapped quivering hands over her ears, shaking her head in denial as if she could somehow shut out the reality. But the sight of Sapphire standing in her dark clothing was too much as she tried to protect her mother with her tiny frame.
"Please," she whimpered again. "Please, don't take her away."
Sapphire's heart twisted at the sight, but she remained frozen, the weight of her reputation as the Raven of Death crashing down on her like a suffocating shroud. The words she wanted to speak, to reassure the girl, seemed trapped in her throat, leaving her standing there—an embodiment of the girl's worst fears.
Before Sapphire could find the strength to speak, Argentum's presence filled the doorway. He stepped forward, his gaze falling on the sick woman and the terrified girl. His eyes softened with a pity that Sapphire rarely saw in him.
"The mother must have kept this station running to buy medical supplies," Argentum said quietly. "But after the Concordance, no one needs gas anymore."
Sapphire's heart clenched as she listened, her eyes slowly darkening to a deep raven purple. She focused on the sick mother, her gaze piercing through the layers of reality until she could see the threads of fate that tied the woman to this world. The time of death was close—unbearably close.
The agony that awaited the woman was something Sapphire could hardly bear to witness—she would die within the week, and it would be nothing short of excruciating.
Then, Sapphire turned her gaze to the girl. The same darkness clouded her vision, revealing the girl's future. The truth became clear: the girl was infected as well. She would only last a few more months before the virus claimed her too.
Sapphire knew what she had to do. The weight of it bore down on her, making it hard to breathe. Her hands trembled.
Argentum sighed, turning away from the heartbreaking scene. "We'll send the money to the state governor, but it won't matter…" he said, his voice devoid of hope. "They are Gaians. Weak, short-lived, and ordinary." He began to walk away, pausing only to glance back at Sapphire. "I'll be waiting outside. Give their death meaning."
As Argentum left, the girl's terror reached a fever pitch. She began sobbing uncontrollably as she clung to her mother's form. Snot ran down her nose, mixing with her tears as she pleaded in broken, desperate words. "Please—don't… don't hurt us, please. I'm begging you!"
Sapphire's heart broke with every sob that escaped the girl's lips. With a deep breath, she invoked her scythe. The ethereal weapon emerged from the shadows, shrouded in a haunting black mist.
The lost souls within it surfaced, their ghostly forms swirling around the blade. From within the fog, haunting voices emerged, echoing the pain and memories of souls trapped within her scythe.
"Run!" one wailed in a voice filled with anguish.
"The pain, it's too much!" another screamed, its voice echoing eerily.
"She's coming back! Hide!" a woman's panicked scream filled with horror.
"They promised they wouldn't hurt us," a resigned voice spoke with betrayal.
"Save me… I don't want to go!" another soul cried, its voice fading as if dragged away.
"Close your eyes," Sapphire whispered, her voice trembling. "This will be swift… and painless… I promise."
But the girl couldn't stop pleading, her voice rising in pitch as she shook her head, refusing to believe what would happen. "No… no, please don't. I'm scared! I don't want to die!"
Before she could say more, her mother's hand squeezed hers gently. The girl looked back at her mother, and despite her pale, sickly face, the woman managed a weak, comforting smile.
In that instant, the Scythe swung through the air with precision, making no sound as it severed the fragile threads of life that bound them to this world. Every sound, whisper, and wail was instantly muted, replaced by sacred silence. Their bodies collapsed, lifeless, yet peaceful—no blood nor gore, just the quiet of death.
Sapphire stood there, her heart heavy with the burden of what she had just done. The room was silent, but the echoes of those screams would haunt her forever.
This was supposed to be mercy, an act of compassion to spare them from the agonizing deaths that awaited them. But as she looked down at their corpses, doubts ravaged her heart. Was this really what their religion preached? Was this truly giving their deaths meaning, or was it just another way to justify the blood on her hands?
She swallowed hard, trying to force herself back into the role she was expected to play. The Raven of Death, the merciful reaper—was this really what she was meant to be?
There was no time for reflection. She couldn't afford to linger here, drowning in her doubts. Sapphire took a deep breath and turned away from the scene, leaving the basement behind. She emerged from the gas station, her expression now carefully composed, her emotions buried deep within.
She didn't look at Argentum as she passed him. She didn't want to see the pity in his eyes or, worse, the approval. Instead, she kept her gaze forward, her heart numb as she climbed back into the car.
The door closed softly, and the car started again, rolling back onto the lonely road. The stars above seemed even farther away now, indifferent to the despair within her. As they continued their journey to Xa'nia, Sapphire stared out the window, her reflection staring back at her with the same empty, bitter truth.