Chapter 30

-EDITED-

As the days passed, Ember fell into a deep depression. She set out a routine, wake up early, get breakfast, go to the tree, watch people interact, train, wash, and sleep. It was a personality draining routine, but one she found comforting. She had avoided the General, and she would use it every day. Ember by choice had begun to push people close to her away. She visited the Birgion nightly and updated him on the things. As the date to set out for war drew closer, she could feel the weight of the situation fall on her.

She had 100s of thousands of lives in her hand. It was up to her if these people died or if they perished. Despite not being a battle strategist, she felt responsible for the lives she would lead to battle. The blood spilled on the battlefield would be a large mix, but she hoped that it would mostly be Suglion. Sure, they might view things differently over in Suglion, that Fufthlion was the bad guy in this.

While Ember fully agreed that Fufthlion was a bad country, it was her home. It was the only place she had ever known and was the place they had raised her. So she'd defend her country, even if it was regret-filled. She would love to see a world where all three countries got along. Esgion, Suglion, and Fufthlion all working together to form a functioning society. She was told every day as a child from their political leaders that they killed anyone of different species. That they would hang you by the toes if you spoke out against anything you didn't like. That at least here we got the freedom of speech. Sometimes Ember doubted what they said, the other countries were doing better than Fufthlion by all respects. The military, economy, and happiness of the people were higher than Fufthlions by a long shot. Even Esgion, who is known for their dead land, is doing better in farming than the rest of Fufthlion by a long shot.

The long days of training were coming to a halt as they were packing up for the journey to the coast and the four-week journey to Suglion. Ember cringed at being out in the ocean for four weeks, after the near-death experience in the lake, she had developed a hatred for water and all of its residents. It was a surprise that didn't happen sooner because of her mother's death. Though she supposed that wasn't anyone's fault, just what happens when the river crashes against the edge of the bridge. But she didn't want to swim, to begin with. She had wanted to stay on land, to run around camp like she had so many times before instead of having her thighs rub together so much that it left scabs on her inner thighs. It was uncomfortable to walk or sit with the healing scabs.

Ember never liked war, it made her feel sick to her stomach. It held no meaning other than to bring quote-unquote "glory" to the soldiers, who now suffered great trauma. She didn't want that life for her or anyone, forever jumping at loud sounds or dealing with nightmares of holding their war buddies in their arms. The glory of war was never a thing, it had been sucked out of it after the first war between the three countries. Her grandfather, who had died when she was just six, had told her haunting tales of war stories. She thought then that war was something great. However, after listening to her grandfather's stories, seeing the horror and sadness in his eyes, it changed for her. She saw it as a waste of life upon this earth. It was never a thing she promoted, and when little boys talked about joining the military and protecting their country, she pitied them. What if the next war came, she hoped they wouldn't have to hold their dying friends in their arms. That they came back, knowing the truth of war. That it is and was hell, that it was a mockery to call it some great thing.

To ask war-hardened veterans about their experiences, it must be hell for them to relive such horrific memories. Ember shuddered at the idea of Damian dying, he was so pure. He was one of the few people that saw other species as equal to humans. It was a beautiful feeling, to be held as equal to humans, after years of being told you were worthless. It was a gift that so many people did not understand, the gift of being equal.

Ember sighed softly as she loaded another 5-pound bag onto the back of the cart, it was things like this that reminded her of home. The picket fence, colorful door and the field behind the house. It was sad familiar, something she didn't want to think about, knowing the house was empty, unused. She didn't understand why the world was this cruel, to rip her father from her without mercy. It was a soul-destroying thing, to lose her family long before they got to see her start her own. But with the way she was going to live, she doubted she would even get to love someone on her own terms before she died.

Ember thought to Astarte, the girl that had made her cheeks heat up, made her think of happier times and smelled oddly of nutmeg and cut grass. It might sound disgusting, but it was a calming scent, the smell of wise women as well as strong ones. It was something she couldn't get enough of, something she missed more than everything. This entire month without her was the closest thing to hell. She felt like if she had never left that palace, that she would be better, at least she would be with Astarte.

As the cart began to move, she looked up at the fluffy white clouds in the light blue sky. She let out a soft sigh as she held herself, she didn't how to feel at the moment. Life seemed to be moving so fast, even for herself. Her birthday came and went but somehow, it felt so empty. She should be excited, being 16 was an important thing in a girl's life. But she didn't feel special, and maybe that's what she wanted. To just feel normal, but she felt like even more of an outcast than ever.

"Astarte, what am I going to do?" She asked out loud, the rocking of the cart becoming a lullaby to the exhausted girl.