Once upon a time, far away and long ago, there was a foolish dreaming girl. Because she dreamed, she ran away from home, and because she was foolish, she tried to bring the girl she would one day marry. This went poorly. Hurtful things were said. The beloved was shut up into a closet. And the foolish dreaming girl panicked.

She stole the person who stood between her and freedom, instead, and said: you have to sail the ship, because I am a princess and you are a statue. And eventually that foolish dreaming girl learned that the statue was a girl, too, and her heart ached with all sorts of dreams which statues were not supposed to have.

The girl let her friend go on the edge of the scariest thing she’d ever do. It wasn’t fair to make someone you stole follow you into the worst sort of danger. But she’s never forgotten, except for the times when she forgot, but even then her heart was shaped by four arms which were great at hugs.

And the girl who ran knows now: it would be a truly rotten thing to do to let Yue the Sun Farmer fight alone.

Maybe the girl isn’t quite as grown up as all that, and she still thinks that if she doesn’t keep an eye on things, then in the very middle of her fight with her mother, it’ll turn out that the Codexia got the drop on Yue and they’re right behind her, aren’t they. Maybe she heard what her wife just said and knows that this is something she needs to do, a confrontation that has to be had without giving their Mommy the out of ignoring Bella and turning instead to Redana. Wouldn’t it be ridiculous to try and holler across Bella’s triangles to get Dany’s attention in the midst of those swirls of color and motion? It certainly would be.

So instead, Redana tries to drive a wedge in the midst of the Codexia. They’re not one homogenous unit, even though they looked that way to the naked eye. There are two hundred and ninety-nine potential Alexas here, just waiting for the deep-buried opportunity to know themselves. 

So as Yue cuts color into the world, Redana follows up with attacks hidden by the colors of the sky. Her Ceronian blade’s tip cuts through bandoliers and belts; she kicks spears aside and sends swords skittering to the ground. And as she fights, she says:

“You do not have to fight!
“You are more than a weapon!
“You can choose the future you want!”

While someone else bears their command seals, they are still vulnerable to being forced into action, but two hundred and ninety-nine people refusing their orders at once might be too much for any one person to bear.

So she hopes. So she fights, and never strikes to kill.