In the barren desert, where the sun beat down relentlessly upon the small village of Abiectio town, Rufus arrived in a carriage pulled by two majestic horses. As he approached a humble house, a hooded figure on a black horse, dark as coal, awaited him. Without a word, Rufus leaped from the carriage and went to the back to retrieve Agneyastra, a mysterious child he had taken under his protection.
“Tyson, if you came here to lecture me, save it,” Rufus stated firmly as he entered the house, Tyson following closely behind. Inside, Rufus gently laid Agneyastra on the couch, covering her with a warm blanket.
Tyson, a figure of authority and power, placed a hand on the child's forehead and spoke softly, “Raising a child on your own can be tough.”
Rufus's voice trembled as he spoke, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and awe. “It was an accident,” he began, his words barely above a whisper. “These demons nowadays are changing, evolving, gaining new abilities. She saved my life, that's how her powers were exposed. How did you find out?”
Tyson perched on the couch arm, gaze fixed on Agneyastra. “King Aeolus,” he began, “May the Water Kingdom not discover what happened, they have surplus of spies. The Fire Kingdom owes you a debt.”
Rufus spoke with a solemn tone, “I swore to her mother that I would safeguard the child.”
Tyson spoke softly, his words heavy with concern. “I understand your hesitation, but it may be safer for both you and Agneyastra to let her go stay with the Dwellers.”
Rufus scowled, his voice dripping with disdain, “It’s bad enough you send Marudeva and his rude son to check on us all the time.”
Tyson's words echoed through house, his voice filled with authority and determination. “It's good she knows Ramil,” he stated firmly, his eyes glinting with a sense of purpose. “After I ascend to the throne, she will be titled and named my heir, and he is her betrothed.”
Rufus expressed a quiet desire, “I hope she finds happiness in the life you've crafted for her.”
Tyson's voice echoed, filled with determination and resolve. “Who else is there?” he demanded, his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity. “Wind kingdom children are betrothed at birth, I will not have my brother’s child marry into the Water Kingdom, that would be an insult to his legacy. She must remain unaware of who she is for now, until I am king and can apply my three laws. Only then will she be safe. She is my kingdom's only hope.”
As Tyson embraced Rufus, they onto the hug for a moment longer, his eyes reflecting a mix of pride and sorrow. With a gentle pat on Tyson's back, Rufus released him, watching as his friend turned and walked away into the shadows of the forest.
Alone now, Rufus gazed at the glowing Agneyastra, a powerful artifact that had guided and protected him on his journey thus far. The pulsating light cast eerie shadows across Rufus's face, emphasizing the determination etched into his features. With a deep breath, Rufus whispered to himself, “I know you will make your own path.”
Hours go by, Agneyastra's eyes fluttered open, the soft light filtering through the windows of their cozy cottage illuminated the room. The scent of a delicious meal being prepared by Rufus drifted through the air, beckoning her to the kitchen. She followed the tantalizing aroma, her footsteps silent on the wooden floorboards.
Approaching Rufus, who was focused on stirring vegetables in a pan, Agneyastra's presence brought a smile to his face. “How was your nap?” he inquired, his voice warm and familiar.
Agneyastra's eyes held a glint of curiosity as she responded, “I guess fighting those demons took it out of me, father. I had the weirdest dream.” Her words hung in the air, carrying a sense of mystery and otherworldly intrigue.
Rufus continued his culinary task, his movements fluid and practiced. “It's not wise to dwell on dreams,” he advised, his tone gentle yet firm, hinting at a deeper wisdom borne of experience.
Observing the abundance of food spread out before her, Agneyastra questioned Rufus, “Why are you cooking so much food?” Her brow furrowed slightly, betraying a hint of concern or confusion.
Rufus paused his cooking, turning to meet her gaze. “I rented a space in the market. I thought we could take a break from demon hunting and earn money by selling baked goods,” he explained, his eyes reflecting a spark of entrepreneurial ambition.
Agneyastra's expression shifted, a sense of realization dawning upon her. “I knew I did something on our last job,” she murmured, her words tinged with a mix of introspection and uncertainty.
Rufus's gaze softened as he reassured her, “No, you didn't. I did.” His confession carried a weight of responsibility and protection, a reminder of the bond between father and daughter.
As Agneyastra pondered their sudden return from the Wind Kingdom, her thoughts swirled with questions and memories. “How did we end up back home?” she asked, her voice tinged with a touch of wonder and disbelief.
Rufus offered a plausible explanation, “You fainted. I think it was because of the altitude. You have never been that high on the mountains.” His words held a reassuring tone, grounding her in the reality of their shared experiences.
Glancing at her reflection in the window, Agneyastra's gaze lingered on her black hair, a visual reminder of her heritage and lineage. “Father, can you tell me about my mother?” she inquired, her voice soft yet filled with a longing for connection and understanding.
Handing her a stack of plates, Rufus met her gaze with a look of tenderness. “Sure, we will talk about it over dinner. Go set the table,” he replied, his words carrying a promise of shared stories and cherished memories to come.
As the scent of their meal filled the air and the light of the setting sunbathed the cottage in a warm glow, Agneyastra and Rufus stood together in the kitchen, their bond as strong as the magical forces that surrounded them, ready to embark on a new chapter of their fantastical journey.
***
In the Dweller City below the desert, a place of wonder and mystery, the towering buildings loomed overhead like ancient giants reaching for the sun above. The glasslike ceiling allowed the golden sunlight to filter through, casting shimmering patterns on the ground below. The streets bustled with Dwellers, their skin adorned with intricate snakeskin patterns that glistened in the fading light of the day.
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the city came alive with activity. Marketplaces filled with the chatter of vendors and the laughter of children, the scent of exotic spices and colorful fabrics hanging in the air. Dwellers of all ages moved through the streets, their movements graceful and fluid, their eyes alight with the magic of the city.
Away from the bustling main streets, down winding alleyways, and narrow passages, stood the grand houses of the city. These imposing structures towered over the smaller dwellings, their walls adorned with intricate carvings and colorful mosaics. In the largest house on the street, a 13-year-old Dweller lay in his room, the same snakeskin pattern adorning his skin as the others in the city. The boy, with his tan skin and dark eyes, lay on his bed tossing a smooth rock up and down, his mind lost in thought.
Ramil sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of twilight filtering through the window and casting a warm hue across his room. In his hands, he held a small, intricately carved rock that had been a gift from Angneyastra. At first, Ramil had been unimpressed by the simple stone, but as he ran his fingers over its smooth surface, he felt a strange sense of connection to it.
Lost in thought, Ramil didn't hear the creak of his bedroom door opening until it was too late. With a start, he looked up just in time to see the rock slip from his grasp and tumble through the air, coming to an abrupt stop against his face. Rubbing his cheek, he winced at the sudden pain and glanced towards the doorway. Standing there was Sinai, his youngest brother at just five years old. With skin the color of gray stones and hair to match, he bore the unmistakable markings of the dweller's snakeskin pattern that ran in their family. Sinai's eyes widened in surprise, his usual chatter silenced by the sight of his older brother nursing his injury.
Before Ramil could scold him for entering without permission, another figure appeared in the doorway. Emathion, eleven years old and bearing the same snakeskin pattern as his brothers, stood protectively in front of Sinai. His silver-gray hair fell in loose waves around his face, a stark contrast to Ramil's own dark locks.
“Mother sent him up here to get you,” Emathion explained, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of concern. “It's your turn to help her with dinner.”
Ramil's voice rang out with determination as he ordered, “Tell her I am coming.” With a swift motion, he pushed Emathion and Sinai out of his room and closed the door behind them. Making his way to the bed, he carefully placed the rock that he had been holding into the nightstand drawer.
Ramil descended the creaking staircase, his brothers, always quick to sense his presence, scattered from the couch in the living room like leaves in a gust of wind. Ignoring their curious gazes, Ramil made his way into the dining room and hesitated at the door, a murmur of voices from beyond catching his attention.
His father's voice, deep and resonant, drifted through the crack in the door, mingling with his mother's softer tones. “Pyla, by him taking her into the Wind Kingdom like that, he exposed her to everyone in the Kingdoms of Elements,” Marudeva's words carried a hint of concern.
Pyla's response, though gentle, held a firmness that spoke of inner strength. “Marudeva, Rufus had no choice but to take her. He couldn’t risk leaving her alone. You need to stop talking about this before the boys hear you.”
Ramil hesitated for a moment, absorbing the weight of his parents' conversation before silently closing the door. Stepping back, he met his father's gaze as Marudeva emerged from the room, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good, help your mother with dinner,” his father's voice held a warmth that Ramil longed to reciprocate.
But the shadows of recent events lingered in his eyes, masking the light that once shone within him. “Make Emathion, the golden child, do it,” Ramil's words were tinged with a bitterness he couldn't shake.
Marudeva led him into the kitchen where Pyla, with her tan skin and the delicate pattern of a dweller's snakeskin, awaited them. “I found him, my love,” Marudeva's voice carried a note of relief as he left them alone.
Pyla approached Ramil, her hand finding solace on his shoulder. “When will I see you smile again?” Her words, filled with a mother's love, echoed through the room, seeking to dispel the shadows that clung to her son.
Ramil's gaze drifted downward, his voice barely a whisper. “What am I helping you with?” he asked, the weight of his burdens evident in his tone.
Pyla's response was simple yet comforting. “Go peel the potatoes, they're in the sink.” And so, Ramil set to work, his hands moving mechanically as he aided his mother in the preparation of the evening meal.
As Ramil stood by the hearth, the aroma of spices and herbs swirling around him, he felt the familiar warmth of his mother's presence beside him. Pyla, with her gentle yet determined demeanor, was busy stirring a bubbling cauldron of stew, her eyes focused on the task at hand. The flickering firelight cast a soft glow over the kitchen, illuminating the ancient tapestries that adorned the walls, depicting tales of heroes and mythical creatures.
“Mother, what happened in the wind kingdom?” Ramil inquired, his voice filled with curiosity and concern.
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Pyla turned to face him, her expression guarded yet tender. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you apologize to Sandra for being so mean the other day?” she asked, her tone gentle yet firm.
Ramil shifted uneasily, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don't see the point. She has known me since I was five, she of all dwellers should be used to me,” he muttered, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
Pyla's eyes softened as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “In the future, many will look up to you, for example,” she said, her words carrying a weight of wisdom and responsibility.
“I am not going to be a leader like father. I want to be a warrior,” Ramil declared, his eyes alight with determination.
Pyla sighed softly, her hand moving back to stir the stew thoughtfully. “Ramil, wars don't last forever,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
As they continued to work side by side, the rhythmic clinking of pots and pans filling the air, Ramil spoke again. “There is always some kind of war, mother,” he said, his voice quiet yet resolute.
Pyla paused, turning to face her son with a gaze filled with understanding. “Yes, but sometimes they are fought with words, not weapons,” she said, her words carrying the weight of experience and compassion.
***
In the water kingdom palace, the grand halls shimmered with the soft glow of coral-embedded crystals, casting a magical hue over the scene. Evain, skipped down the opulent corridors. Her carefree movements caused priceless trinkets and ornaments to wobble on tables and shelves, much to the chagrin of the diligent maid following in her wake, who scrambled to restore order. As Evain rounded a corner, she caught sight of her father, King Arroyo, standing tall and regal amidst a group of soldiers. His skin bore intricate patterns reminiscent of the haddock fish that dwelled in the kingdom's waters. With a joyful lilt in her voice, Evain called out, “Father.”
King Arroyo turned towards his daughter, his expression a blend of amusement and fondness. After exchanging greetings with his soldiers, he approached Evain and enveloped her in a warm hug. With a twinkle in his eye, Arroyo teased, “Are you terrorizing the house staff again?”
Evain flashed a mischievous smile and replied, “Just a little.”
Walking side by side, father and daughter shared a tender moment. Arroyo inquired, “What did you need, my dear?”
Evain's expression turned more serious as she relayed her mother's concern, “Mother mentioned that you are leaving for the Underworld without having dinner.”
Arroyo's gaze grew distant, a shadow crossing his features as he admitted, “Something has come to my attention. I suspect that someone in the Underworld has deceived me.”
Eager to prove herself and accompany her father on his mission, Evain pleaded, “Can I come with you, father? I promise to listen to your every word.”
The scene shifted as Arroyo and Evain entered the grand dining hall, where the Queen, as elegant as a mermaid, awaited their arrival alongside their two sons, Marius and Devereaux.
The Queen, regal and graceful, inclined her head slightly as she addressed Arroyo, her words laced with a hint of disapproval. “My king was not informed of your presence at tonight's dinner.”
Arroyo's eyes twinkled as he glanced at Evain, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I was persuaded to join,” he replied, his voice warm and inviting.
The Queen's gaze turned cool as she admonished him softly, “I had advised against disturbing him.”
Taking his seat beside Evain, Arroyo spoke up with pride, his words filled with unwavering devotion. “Do not speak to my daughter in such a manner. She is the guiding light of our realm, the very essence of our Kingdom.”
As the Queen resumed her meal, she broached the topic they had discussed earlier. “Have you considered our previous conversation?”
Arroyo paused in slicing his meat, his eyes meeting hers with determination. “I agree that the boys should be betrothed, but I believe Evain should have the freedom to choose her own path. I have found Marius a suitable match.”
Confusion flickered in the Queen's eyes as she questioned, “Marius?”
Arroyo's demeanor shifted slightly as he placed his knife on the table, his tone edged with a hint of authority. “You know I do not appreciate being interrogated,” he stated firmly, beckoning a servant with a snap of his fingers. “Prepare our meals to go. Evain and I will dine on the road.”
A veil of silence fell over the table as the Queen lowered her gaze, Marius rising to confront his father with a steely resolve. “Leave, we have no need for you here.”
Arroyo advanced towards Marius, his presence towering over the young prince as he warned, “Mind your tone.”
Marius, undaunted, stood his ground. “Only after you show my mother the respect she deserves.”
With a thunderous declaration, Arroyo announced, “We are departing immediately.” With that, he swept out of the hall, Evain following in his wake, leaving behind a trail of tension and unspoken conflicts in their wake.
Evain mounted the horse beside her father, Arroyo. The two of them rode swiftly, flanked by a contingent of soldiers, towards a mysterious cave hidden beneath the waters near the palace. Arroyo's voice cut through the sound of hooves against the ground, his words laden with warning.
“Whatever happens in the Underworld, never tell your mother or brothers,” he instructed, his gaze steady ahead.
Evain tightened her grip on the reins, nodding in solemn understanding. The weight of his words settled uneasily in her chest as they journeyed deeper into the underwater cave. After what felt like an eternity, they emerged into a vast cavern illuminated by a lone figure holding a lantern. As they drew closer, they recognized the figure as a woman – Lucy.
Arroyo's voice was low, carrying a hint of tension as he addressed Lucy. “It seems your assumptions about the Keener being raised by your lover were correct.”
Lucy's response was firm, her eyes unwavering. “I don’t care for your opinions, Arroyo. But I swear, no harm shall befall Rufus.”
Arroyo's expression softened momentarily before he cast a glance at his assembled army from the Water Kingdom. Determination flared in his eyes as they approached the gate of the Red Hell, where the gatekeeper stood as an unwavering barrier.
“You do not have an appointment with Rowan. He is not accepting visitors at this time,” the gatekeeper declared, his voice firm.
Arroyo's jaw tightened, a steely resolve settling over him. Without hesitation, he issued his command to the waiting army. “Wipe out anyone who dares to obstruct our path to Rowan.”
In the midst of chaos and destruction, Arroyo and his daughter Evain ventured into the heart of the Red Hell, a realm shrouded in a crimson mist, as they rode deeper into the cave's eerie depths, passing through a series of ominous doors, they finally arrived at a grand set of double doors bearing the inscription “Red Devil.”
Before they could enter, the soldiers under Arroyo's command stormed into Rowan's home, a formidable red devil with horns that matched the fiery hue of his realm. Rowan stood tall and defiant, his voice echoing with a mixture of anger and confusion as he faced the invading army.
“You can't do this; we have done nothing to the Water Kingdom,” Rowan protested, his words laced with defiance.
Arroyo swiftly commanded his soldiers to force Rowan to his knees with a snap of his fingers. He bellowed, “You lied, find the doctor.”
As Arroyo's soldiers dragged the Doctor into Rowan's front door in the Red Hell realm, Arroyo snapped his fingers, commanding the soldier to bring the Doctor to his knees. With a piercing gaze, Arroyo questioned, “My friend Lucy mentioned you delivered a baby nearly a decade ago. Is this true?”
The Doctor's eyes flicker between Rowan and the floor before he speaks, his voice heavy with solemnity. “Yes, it was a baby girl from a dying Keener woman.”
Arroyo demanded the doctor's release. As the doctor fled, Arroyo turned to face Rowan, sword drawn and pointed at him. With a steely gaze, Arroyo spoke, “I thought Lucy was a liar, but it was confirmed yesterday. A child with the Fire power bravely vanquished a horde of demons to protect your brother.”
Rowan's voice quivered as he uttered the words, “I banished Rufus years ago.”
Arroyo's eyes blazed with a fierce intensity as he pushed Rawan against the damp stone wall. His voice cut through the tense silence, demanding answers, “Where is Rufus keeping the girl?”
Rowan's gaze pierces Arroyo's, determination etched in every line of their face. “I will never betray my brother,” Rowan declares, their voice steady and unwavering.
Arroyo's voice echoed through the forest, a whisper that carried with it a dark promise. “We will just make your brother come to us, Evain my sweet child.”
Evain's gaze met her father's, unwavering and determined. “Yes, father,” she spoke, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.
Arroyo's eyes blazed with a fierce light as he passed his gleaming sword to Evain. With a commanding gesture, he pointed towards Rowan, his voice filled with ominous authority, “Show Mr. Rowan what the Water Kingdom does with traders.”
Evain's sword glinted in the dim light as she raised it high and struck with a swift, decisive blow. Rowan's head tumbled to the ground, blood spraying across her in a gruesome arc. Turning to face her father, Arroyo, she awaited his judgement, her eyes reflecting a mix of pride and uncertainty. “Did I do well, father?” she asked, her voice tinged with a blend of determination and apprehension.
Arroyo gently wipes the crimson blood off Evain's pale face before uttering softly, “Yes, child.”
***
In a small cabin nestled deep within the vast expanse of the emerald forest, the first rays of dawn gently filtered through a small window, illuminating the figure of Princess Moriko as she lay asleep in her bed. The princess tossed and turned restlessly, lost in the depths of her dreams. Her murmurs filled the quiet room, her voice tinged with confusion and determination.
“This is my dream, you go away. Who are you?” Moriko whispered in her sleep, her hand twitching in a subconscious gesture. Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open, revealing a glimpse of the world beyond her dreams. With a soft gasp, she uttered a single word, “Emathion,” before rolling out of bed in a flurry of movement and determination.
The sound of breakfast being prepared drifted into the room, stirring Moriko into action. With a sense of urgency, she swiftly readied herself for the day ahead, stepping out of her chamber, she was met with the sight of Yeongi engaged in conversation with Sir Brucie. Moriko bounded over to the duo, her presence filling the room with warmth and vitality. “Good Morning,” she greeted them with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and affection.
Yeongi returned her smile. “I have to cut my visit short this time,” Yeongi explained, his voice tinged with regret.
Moriko's brows furrowed in surprise, disbelief coloring her features. “So soon, but you just got here yesterday,” she protested, her voice filled with a hint of disappointment.
Yeongi's expression softened as he enveloped Moriko in a comforting hug. “Something has happened, and Prince Tyson summoned me back to the Fire Kingdom,” he revealed.
Moriko's demeanor shifted, her head bowing slightly in acceptance. “Okay,” she murmured, a thread of sadness weaving through her voice..
With a renewed sense of purpose, Moriko joined Yeongi and Sir Brucie at the table, their breakfast spread before them like a feast fit for royalty. As they finished their breakfast, Moriko and Yeongi helped Sir Brucie clean up before venturing into the forest for a stroll. Moriko asks, “Who is Emathion?”
Yeongi's eyes darted back and forth, uncertainty clouding her expression as she gazed at Moriko standing beside her. “I don't know if I should tell you,” she whispered, her voice barely audibles above the rustling of the leaves in the ancient forest.
Moriko's eyes pleaded with Yeongi as she softly tugged on his arm, her heart heavy with curiosity and anticipation. “Please, tell,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, but her words carried the weight of a thousand unanswered questions.
Yeongi reluctantly agrees to Moriko's pleas, exhaling a weary sigh. “Fine,” she concedes, “he was the one you chose to awaken you.”
Moriko's words echoed through the forest, her voice tinged with a hint of mystery as she revealed, “No, I was born 11 years ago.”
Yeongi's anger flared as she stomped her feet, her voice sharp and filled with frustration. “Damn you, Tyson! I thought he told you years ago. Sweet, you were born 50 years before me. You were actually the aunt of the last King of the Earth Kingdom, but people just called you his daughter.”
Moriko's voice echoed through the shadowy forest, the single word “Why?”
Yeongi's words echoed through the forest, her solemn voice carrying the weight of centuries past. “Princesses are rare in the Kingdoms of Elements, and Earth Princesses are among the rarest. You, my dear, are even more so. Your slumber spanned over half a century.”
Moriko's heart raced as she whispered, “What does this have to do with the voice of Emathion that I hear in my head?”
Yeongi, her voice soft, continued her walk, her words hanging in the air like a mist. “The day Emathion was born, you were awakened, and you grew with him.”
Moriko's thoughts were interrupted by a deep, commanding voice that echoed through the forest. “There are my ladies,” the man declared, his presence shrouded in mystery and intrigue.
Moriko and Yeongi's eyes widened as Tyson dismounted from his fiery steed, the flames licking at the air around him. He shed his cloak, revealing his dark amber skin and the swirling red and black fire that danced across his form. Moriko's heart raced as she rushed forward to embrace him, feeling the warmth of his otherworldly presence enveloping her.
Moriko's voice was soft yet held a hint of vulnerability as she walked beside Tyson. Her words hung in the air, a delicate thread connecting them. “I thought you forgot about me.”
Tyson knelt before Moriko, blocking her path. With a determined gaze, he spoke softly, “I will always cherish you as my own, my daughter. You will never be forgotten.”
Moriko embraced Tyson tightly, a sense of warmth and comfort enveloping them both. Yeongi's smile illuminated the room as she spoke softly, “She was just asking about Emathion.”
Tyson rose to his feet and joined them, his voice carrying a hint of regret, “Forgive my silence, but it was you who chose him to be your awakening.”
Moriko's gaze shifted between Tyson and Yeongi, confusion clouding her eyes. “Yeongi told me that part but, how?”
Tyson spoke with a grave intensity. His words hung heavy in the air. “The Earth Kingdom's lineage is a tapestry woven with threads of destiny and power,” he began, his voice resonating with authority.
As he continued, his eyes bore into the young Princess Moriko, who listening with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. “Princes are born into their roles, their powers awake from the moment of their birth. But Princesses...” Tyson paused, his gaze shifting to her beside him. “Princesses remain dormant, their true potential locked away until they choose their life partner.”
The weight of his words settled like a cloak of shadows around them. “Once a Princess awakens her powers with her chosen one, the bond is unbreakable. Their souls entwined, their fates intertwined. If harm befalls one, the other will feel it as keenly as if it were their own flesh.” Tyson's voice grew softer, a note of sorrow creeping in. “For now, it is safest to keep you apart, Moriko. You are the last of our lineage, the final hope for the Earth Kingdom.”
Moriko spoke out, “What if something happens to me? What will happen to Emathion?”
Tyson's words filled with a dangerous intensity. “He is well protected by his family,” he said, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination. “If anything happens to you, my sweet child, I will burn that person and their lineage until they are nothing more than ashes.” His threat hung in the air, heavy and chilling, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind of the lengths he would go to protect his own.