The door swung wide open by Laetitia's callous hand. She was never truly partial to knocking. Yet, upon seeing one another, black eyes meeting silver, neither Tifalla nor Laetitia made a move to clear the distance. The space between them felt immeasurable. It was daunting trying to cross it. Tifalla simply couldn't.

  She stood in place, stunned, wrought with disbelief over the woman standing before her.

  Laeti was there. Really, really there.

  But she made no moves to greet her. Not a smile, not an embrace.

  All she wondered was why now? Why did she feel so reluctant? She had spent hours, no, days trying to reach her. Was she getting cold feet? Whatever for?

  Tifalla's hands began to play with the fabric of her dress. She didn't dare meet her friend's eye. At least, not until she was ready, if such a thing were to come to pass. She knew not of what face Laetitia made in response to her visible reluctance, but it prompted her to step closer. Her cane clacked against the stone floors, each tap further lowering Tifalla's gaze.

  She knew well that needed to pull herself together. This would be the last time they could speak on normal terms.

  But that was precisely it.

  Tifalla didn't want to believe it. That this meeting was final. Both of them were well aware of it, unspoken as it was. Past this point, in just a few hours time, they would stand as opposing forces set to kill one another. Tifalla had accepted that fact. She thought she accepted. But when faced with Laetitia drawing closer, she felt something horrible well up inside her.

  Words began to spill.

  “You know… I wanted to show you to my village,” she began.

  Laetitia stopped in her tracks. She was listening, but Tifalla wished she didn't. What was she even saying? She wanted— needed to stop. But she couldn't. Her emotions took the lead and all she could do was follow in obedience.

  “I thought– when I get home, I'd bring Laeti along. You could meet my grandma, and I could show you my favorite napping tree, and…”

  It felt so hard to breathe. Tifalla's shoulders trembled.

  “... you could meet my family. Because… because–!”

  Tifalla's hands went to her face. Her skin felt flushed with heated shame and embarrassment. Why did she have to cry? She was supposed to say goodbye with a smile! She had done so well so far. She thought she could continue onward like normal.

  “Laeti is my sister. She has always been. When you told me you didn't have a home, I thought I could share mine! You've been nothing but kind to me. You've humored me, you've tolerated my antics, and when I needed help you were always there first. I wanted to give back. I wanted to repay you for everything...”

  Tifalla dreamed of a life after Cantabile. She dreamt of wheat fields, sugar apples, and the warm comforts of her bed. She dreamed of sharing these with Laetitia; her kin.

  She thought, once, that they would find each other in every life lived. That, maybe, their souls were intertwined; that fate brought them close. It was a thought she cherished, a fantasy that motivated her each day. But it was just that— a fantasy. Reality was colder and cruel.

  Tifalla cried into her hands. She tried wiping tears with them, but more replaced the ones clinging to her knuckles. It was endless and constant. Every sob seemed to make more tears bubble to the surface.

  “I'm sorry, Laeti. I'm so sorry.”

  Tifalla, over the ringing in her ear, could not hear Laetitia's cane tap the ground. It was only when she looked up that she saw the woman right from front of her. Through blurry eyes, she tried to piece her image together, but the moment a spot of clarity formed, new tears formed. She couldn't bear to see her. Not the distraught expression nor the trembling hands. It's all become too much.

  Laetitia said nothing at the moment. Tifalla didn't know if that was what she hoped for or not. Instead, she was pulled into Laetitia's arms. Her cane fell to the ground, and, unable to hold Tifalla's weight, the two fell together. Tifalla buried her head into Laetitia's shoulder while she cradled her form with gentle hands.

  “You don't need to thank me. You've done enough,” she said. “You have and will always be my sister. I don't care what anyone says. You will always be with me.”

  Her hold on Tifalla's tightened.

  “I cannot repay you. I can't even hope to try. I just hope you'll forgive me.”

  Tifalla shook her head. “You're always forgiven.”

  “I shouldn't be. A street rat shouldn't be pampered like this.”

  “You're so much more than where you come from! No more of that.”

  “Sorry… I won't. Thank you, Tifalla. For everything,” she said softly. “When everyone else gave up on me, you didn't.”

  Tifalla had to laugh. “Everyone thought you were so scary.”

  “You were the only one to look at me and smile then. You looked like an overly attached pup.”

  “I thought– ‘maybe if I smile more, Laeti will be in a better mood.’”

  “And I was. I was always in a better mood.”

  “Surely not. You scowled so much, I could never tell if you were angry or not.”

  “Hm. I didn't think you needed to know all of my moods.”

  “Laeti sure is a private person. I know better now, though.”

  “It's good that you've learned your lesson.”

  Tifalla chuckled before more sobs took hold. She didn't realize how much she missed talking to Laetitia. It felt easy, natural.

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  To think this was the end.

  “I want you, and only you, to know something. I have a plan. A plan to end all of this,” Laetitia soon said.

  Tifalla raised her head, and wet eyes stared in surprise.

  “What do you mean?”

  “‘The Fall.’ I won't let it continue past us. I'm going to end it myself. If I can take power, I'm sure I can find a way.”

  She sounded determined. With the same seriousness she always wore on her face, Laetitia spoke with conviction. It almost made her absurd goal seem plausible. Laetitia was always a strong speaker.

  “I've been looking into the records. Of all the ways that Virtuosas have changed history. With the powers they're granted after their inauguration, I know I can do this. If no one else will, I know I must.”

  Though a basis existed for her plan, Laetitia's goals still seemed especially grandiose. To change millennia of history when everyone else who could have tried died wasn't something she could believe in so easily.

  “Laeti…” she began.

  “Listen,” Laetitia said. “This plan won't be an easy one. I know it won't. But the Lords must be challenged. I can use Lord Ophirius’ power to do so. All I need from you is…”

  Laetitia stopped. She looked at Tifalla, tear stained cheeks and all. After all that had been said amongst them, it seemed that she wasn't as convicted as she thought she was. She looked away, and her fists bundled up tight.

  Tifalla grasped her hands, relieving them of their tension. She didn't need words to understand what Laetitia was trying to say. If she wanted to challenge the Lords, she needed the other Virtuosas out of her way. Becoming the victor meant great power. Every obstacle, thus, needed to be erased to get there. Tifalla could hear the words Laetitia was too afraid to say. She smiled at her, though somewhat sheepishly.

  “Oh, Laeti, of course. I– I just want to go home. I don't intend on getting in your way.”

  It was amusing, really. Laetitia always had plans and goals. She was active and practical. She was the reality to Tifalla's love drunk fantasy. Yet, now, it felt the opposite. Laetitia wanted to bring forth grand change, and Tifalla just wanted to spend her remaining days in peace.

  But Tifalla wanted to support Laetitia. No matter how little she believed, Tifalla wanted to encourage her.

  “I'm on your side,” she said.

  The relief in the air was palpable. Laetitia's hands, now twitching erratically, held hers in return. What was once apprehension shifted back into confidence.

  Tifalla thought at that moment that Laetitia was someone else.

  She had good chances in the race. She was Lord Ophirius's chosen. She was not only smart, but a quick, adaptive thinker. Though her physicality brought her plan challenges, Lord Ophirius’ blessings could aid some of it. She had the support of all of Fantasia. As mighty as her plans were, if anyone could, Laetitia would. It was noble, admirable, rather.

  It seemed so beyond Tifalla's own hopes. As Lord Eiwar's chosen, she would be lucky if she even made it home. But if it meant no one else had to be chosen, Tifalla saw no reason not to back up Laetitia.

  “I'm going to make sure no further blood is spilled. We will be the final participants of The Fall,” she declared.

  “Then that means we all must…”

  “Yes...”

  Still so reluctant to say it. Tifalla giggled. She laughed to cover up the approaching wave of anxiety and nausea.

  It seemed as if Laetitia was slowly growing more committed to this idea by the minute. It shouldn't have concerned Tifalla. After all, it wasn't like she planned to survive herself.

  Yet, something gnawed away at her mind. A cold, biting feeling that left her full of unease.

  Everything should have been perfect. On paper, the plan was reasonable.

  So why did Tifalla feel like there was something Laetitia wasn't telling her?

  She was hugged yet again. ‘Thank you’ poured from Laetitia's lips like a prayer. It sounded so different to how she normally spoke. Her shaking hands, the frenzied words, it was as if she was consumed by desperation. Tifalla knew better than any that she wanted this to work. Her plan had to succeed. There was no other option before her.

  Was Laetitia, then, scared? Did fear shackle her just as much as it shackled Tifalla? When she caught a glimpse of her face, it was distorted and incomprehensible. There was no joy to be found, just distress and gratitude. Telling one's sister that they must die for the greater good would, by Tifalla's estimate, result in such emotions. But Tifalla still felt that something was deeply amiss.

  There was something she just wasn't grasping, a facet or feature that remained hidden from view.

  She thought, for a moment, to ask.

  But it didn't matter. It just couldn't take precedence.

  The Fall was approaching. Tifalla had so little time left.

  She focused on Laetitia's warmth instead. The sounds of her breathing, the faint spiced scent of her hair and the way her brow twitched when she thought too deeply all weighed on her mind. They, much like her prescripts, were memories. They were pieces of herself that would be taken with her to her grave. She wanted Laetitia's impression to stay.

  Even if her dreams would never come to fruition, Tifalla wanted to bring a small piece of Laetitia back to her home. A story, a memory, something to show that her sister always had a place within Calix.

  “Just head straight home. Be with your people. I will do my best to protect you until you get there, okay?” she finally said.

  Tifalla's tears had long since dried. Even so, the two embraced just one more time.

  “I will. And… when you fix things? When everything is better? You can have my room. My bed, my clothes– I'm sure they fit, everything. Just please…” she said. “Live.”

  Tifalla slowly shut her eyes. Laetitia gave little in response besides a curt nod. That was all Tifalla needed.

  There were no further regrets.

  When Laetitia pulled away, Tifalla gave her the brightest smile she could. Maybe if Laetitia saw her smile, she would be in a better mood.

  Laetitia smiled in return. Her eyes were red and threatening to spill tears. Tifalla quickly wiped them with her thumbs.

  “No, no, don't cry!” she said. “You've got this!”

  “That isn't fair,” Laetitia scoffed. “You got to cry, didn't you?”

  “Oh. Well, yes, but– you've got greater things to fret over! No need to be sad over little ol’ me. Just remain focused, yes? Don't deviate, and keep steady.”

  Laetitia's tears dried faster than hers. That was just like her, really. Laetitia was a fighter. She stood for the vulnerable. Her tears disappeared quickly. Left in her hands was Laetitia's stern face. Rigid as always, she met Tifalla's eye with burning light. She had to wonder, if they ever met again, would they recognize one another? Their names would stay the same, but would the person holding it remain? Would Laetitia carry the same stare?

  A silly question, no doubt. Laetitia was her kin. She would always recognize her. Tifalla would always smile when she appeared.

  “I won't let you down. So wait for me. I'll find a way. Something, anything to be with you again. Then it can be just us, together.”

  Tifalla thought that would be nice. Perhaps her fantasies, those childish little thoughts, had merit.

  Maybe in this lifetime, they could stand side by side. Not as priestesses, Virtuosas, or enemies, but as family.

  “I will look forward to it,” she said.

  When Laetitia left Tifalla, she had a distinctly troubled feeling in her heart. She was unable to shake her uneasiness. If anything, it felt more grave. Tifalla's hands settled over her heart, her fingers lightly disrupting the fabric sat beneath. Gentle thumps signaled that her life continued— for now.

  The door was shut and Tifalla stood with her back to it for a spell. She tried to place what was going through her mind, but nothing concrete managed to form. She was just uncertain and confused. Maybe this was normal, something to expect. Her situation was a tumultuous one, complicated emotions were understandable.

  She had done what she set out to do. Ever since she was chosen, Tifalla wanted to make her peace with what used to be her whole world. She managed to do just that.

  All she had standing before her was The Fall. It stood as an imposing door inside her heart. One cracked open just daring her to come closer. Tifalla had no choice but to walk to the other side.

  Her day ended the same way it began. Servants rushed to her side to prepare her for rest. She ate, she bathed, and she rested. It was a quiet and lonesome afternoon. Yet, Tifalla couldn't have found a better way to spend her last night at Cantabile.

  The Fall would commence by the dawn of the next day.

  Some spent their hours weeping beneath blankets.

  Some worked with meticulous preparation.

  Some danced under the buzz of wine.

  Some remained surrounded by the comfort of others.

  Some stewed in fury and rage.

  Some stood outside to watch the snow fall.

  Some slept soundly without a care.

  Some stayed wide awake.

  Tifalla eventually slept, but not without thinking about her destination; home.

  A dead woman walking, too, had dreams, after all.

  That night, she safely closed her eyes for the very last time.