Agneyastra's black hair shimmered in the sunlight as she walked beside Pyla through the bustling market. The colorful stalls overflowed with exotic fruits, fragrant spices, and shimmering fabrics. Agneyastra's eyes lingered on a group of children laughing and playing nearby. Their laughter echoed through the narrow streets, intertwining with the melodic sounds of vendors hawking their wares.
Pyla with kind eyes and a knowing smile, saw the wistful expression on Agneyastra's face. She placed a comforting hand on Agneyastra's shoulder and asked softly, “Agney, is everything okay?” Agneyastra turned to look at Pyla, her eyes betraying a mix of longing and curiosity.
As they meandered through the throngs of people, Agneyastra cast a sideways glance at Pyla, her lips curling into a forced smile that failed to reach her eyes. “I am fine,” she uttered, the words hollow and devoid of sincerity.
Pyla, ever perceptive, noticed the tension and gently pointed towards a colorful booth adorned with an array of delectable pastries. With a knowing look in her eyes, she suggested, “Let's get a snack and talk about it.”
Pyla guided Agneyastra towards a booth adorned with an array of delectable pastries, urging her companion to choose whatever caught her eye. Agneyastra's gaze danced over the assortment of pastries, each more tempting than the last. After a moment of contemplation, she carefully selected a pastry and settled down at a nearby table with Pyla. The pastry was a work of art, its golden crust glistening under the sunlight filtering through the market canopy.
As Agneyastra savored each delicate bite, Pyla observed her with a curious expression. With a furrowed brow, Pyla pondered the pastry in front of Agneyastra and finally broke the silence, asking, “What is it?”
Agneyastra's eyes were fixed on her pastry, a delicate creation with golden layers that crumbled at the slightest touch. With a soft smile, she broke the silence, her voice carrying a weight of gratitude. “I am truly grateful for the time we spend together,” Agneyastra said, her words echoing in the lively marketplace.
Pyla, sitting across from her, returned the smile and reached out to give Agneyastra a light hug. The warmth of their embrace was a testament to the bond between them. “Me too,” Pyla replied, her voice filled with affection. “But what is it now? We are not letting you go live on your own.”
“No, it is not that,” Agneyastra spoke softly, her voice carrying a weight of unspoken desires and unfulfilled dreams, “but I would like to go to training like the other children my age.”
Pyla clung to Agneyastra. “I thought you would never ask,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the bustling sounds of the market. “That means you gave the idea of leaving.”
Agneyastra's lips curved into a gentle smile, her gaze softening as he looked down at Pyla. “For now, can I go to training?” she asked.
Pyla's voice echoed through the bustling market square as she announced, “We will go speak with Marudeva. He is just the next street over at the Dweller Warrior's building.”
Pyla and Agneyastra finished their pastries, the warm, flaky layers melting in their mouths like a sweet symphony. Pyla and Agneyastra strolled down the sandy streets. As they entered the tall building, Pyla pushed open the heavy door, revealing a long hallway that led them further inside.
The sound of clashing swords and the shouts of warriors echoed through the corridor, drawing their attention towards a massive glass wall that offered a view into a training field. Through the transparent barrier, they could see Dweller warriors in the midst of their rigorous training regimen, their movements fluid and precise as they honed their skills with various weapons.
Agneyastra's eyes sparkled with admiration as she watched the warriors in action, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. Memories of her father, Rufus, flooded her mind – a skilled demon hunter who had taught her the art of combat from a young age. She recalled the countless hours spent sparring with him, learning the intricate techniques and strategies needed to overcome any opponent.
She stood there, mesmerized by the sight before her, as Aurgelmir and Marudeva emerged from the dimly lit office, their presence casting a faint glow against the ancient glass sandy walls. Pyla enveloped Marudeva in a warm embrace, a silent gesture of relief and camaraderie. Aurgelmir's sharp eyes fixed upon Agneyastra, the enigmatic figure standing at the edge of the training grounds, her silken robes billowing in the gentle breeze.
The rhythmic clash of swords and the sound of grunts filled the air as the Dweller warriors honed their skills under the watchful gaze of their leader. Aurgelmir approached Agneyastra, his tall figure casting a shadow over the training grounds. With a voice as deep as the ocean depths, he spoke, “I am afraid they are not as skilled as Demon hunters, but they get the job done.”
Agneyastra looked up at Aurgelmir, a smile playing on her lips. “They are trained well by their General,” she said confidently.
Aurgelmir chuckled, “Of course they are.”
Marudeva observed Aurgelmir's perplexed expression. With a gentle shake of his head, he redirected his attention to Pyla and Agneyastra, his lips curving into a warm smile that illuminated his rugged features. “I was just about to join you in the market for lunch,” Marudeva began, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. “What is going on?”
Pyla turned to Agneyastra with a curious smile on her face. “Agney, what to ask you something?”
Agneyastra, with a determined look upon her face, spoke up. “Can I go to training with the other children?”
“We will have to prepare you for the entry exam,” Marudeva declared, Marudeva’s tone firm yet filled with a sense of reassurance. “Come, ladies, we will discuss this further at lunch.”
Agneyastra walked in the company of Marudeva and Pyla. The sun cast a warm glow upon them. Marudeva's laughter rang through the air, and Pyla's eyes sparkled with joy as she leaned in to return Marudeva's affectionate gesture with a gentle kiss on the cheek. Agneyastra observed the bond between the two with a sense of wonder and admiration. Their love seemed to radiate like a protective aura, enveloping them in a cocoon of warmth and affection.
As they approached a quaint eatery with a sign adorned with mystical symbols, the smells of exotic spices and savory dishes wafted towards them, enticing their senses. Seated at a table adorned with intricate carvings and flickering candles, Agneyastra felt a sense of peace wash over them. The clink of silverware and the soft murmur of other patrons created a soothing backdrop to their conversation. Marudeva and Pyla's laughter mingled with the ambient sounds, creating a symphony of joy and companionship that resonated in the air.
***
As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the training grounds, Ramil strode purposefully towards the looming silhouette of the training building's exit. Emathion, younger and more carefree, struggled to match his brother's brisk pace. “Emathion,” Ramil's voice was firm, tinged with a hint of urgency. “I want to get home quickly.
Emathion finally caught up to Ramil and asked, his voice tinged with curiosity, “Why do you want to get home so quickly, brother?” Ramil turned to face Emathion, his eyes alight with a fierce.
As Ramil reached for the door handle, a figure suddenly materialized in front of him and Emathion, blocking their path. It was a Dweller girl, her emerald eyes bright and determined, her long-braided hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of midnight.
“Ramil,” she spoke, her voice soft yet carrying a hint of urgency, “do you need help studying for the math test?” Her words hung in the air, a question filled with unspoken meanings and hidden intentions.
Ramil's gaze met hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still in the hushed hallway. Before Ramil could respond, Sandra arrived. With her long, flowing hair framing her determined expression, Sandra pushed the Dweller girl to the ground. Standing over her, Sandra pointed a finger in the girl's face and declared, “Leave him alone; he is mine. I mean, my friend.”
Ramil briskly guides Emathion out of the training building's cool shadows and into the warmth of the setting sun, a tense silence hangs between them. The air crackles with unspoken words, swirling with unspoken tension. Ramil's grip on Emathion's arm is tight, his eyes focused straight ahead as if he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.
But Sandra eyes meet Ramil's, soft but unwavering, a silent plea for understanding. She steps forward, her movements deliberate and purposeful, closing the distance between them. “I will walk with you,” Sandra offers, her voice gentle yet firm, a beacon of light in the gathering darkness.
Ramil pauses, his gaze flickering between Emathion and Sandra, “There is no need, bye,” Ramil finally replies, his tone clipped.
Ramil hurried Emathion away from the bustling training grounds, they continued onward, The vibrant colors of the buildings blurred as they passed, their focus solely on reaching the safety of their home.
Finally, they arrived at their humble abode, Ramil wasted no time in locking the door behind them, the sound of the latch clicking into place, as he turned to face Emathion.
Agneyastra descended the grand staircase, As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Agneyastra's eyes fell upon Ramil, standing near the front door with his chest heaving, his face contorted in a mix of fear and exhaustion. Emathion, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, sauntered away from Ramil with a smirk playing on his lips.
“Are you afraid the hoard followed you home?” Emathion's jest hung in the air.
Agneyastra halted in her tracks, her eyes widening as she observed Ramil's heaving chest and sweat-drenched brow. Without a moment's hesitation, she approached him with a gentle grace, gliding closer until she stood directly in front of him. With a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment, she reached out and clasped a damp cloth, delicately wiping the moisture from his furrowed brow.
Her voice, soft and laced with concern, broke the heavy silence that enveloped them. “Ramil,” she murmured, her gaze searching his troubled features, “are you okay?”
Ramil, ever stoic and reserved, shifted away from her touch, his expression tight and unreadable. “I would fare better,” he began, his voice low and cool, “if you females refrained from such familiarity.” His words hung in the air, as Agneyastra's emerald eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and defiance, her hand dropping back to her side.
Agneyastra's eyes flashed with a mix of hurt and anger as she flung the cloth in Ramil's direction, the fabric landing with a soft thud against his chest. “Get over yourself,” she retorted sharply, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. With a swirl of her robes, she turned on her heel and made her exit, the sound of her footsteps echoing up the staircase, each step a resounding proclamation of her frustration.
As Agneyastra disappeared from view, Pyla and Marudeva emerged from the shadows of a side hall, their presence a stark contrast to the tension that lingered in the room. Their expressions were a mix of concern and curiosity as they paused in front of Ramil, their eyes silently questioning the rift that had formed between him and Agneyastra.
Pyla observed Agneyastra's furious expression upon entering the room. Locking eyes with Ramil, Pyla's voice quivered as she whispered, “What did you say this time?”
As Ramil and Pyla enter the living room, Emathion, sitting on the couch, states, “He is just afraid of girls now.”
Ramil's icy stare bore into Emathion as he closed the distance between them, his voice cutting through the tense air, “Shut up!”
Pyla's protective stance between Ramil and Emathion spoke volumes. With a disapproving shake of her head, she uttered a firm command to her son, “Emathion, don't provoke your brother. Go to your room, now!”
Emathion's heavy footsteps echoed through the room as he stormed upstairs, leaving behind a tense atmosphere. Pyla sank onto the couch next to Ramil, while Marudeva settled into a nearby chair. Pyla's voice trembled as she asked, “What is going on?”
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Ramil's hands trembled as he spoke, his voice riddled with frustration. “Ever since we started this year of training, the girls have been acting strange around me. I can't seem to escape their presence. I despise the fact that we have one of them living under our roof.”
Marudeva's laughter echoed through the living room. “Of course, they are,” he said with a knowing smile. “It will get worse before it gets better.”
Pyla playfully pats Marudeva's legs and guides Ramil to a mirror, where his reflection shines back at him. “You are very handsome,” she says, “and I'm sorry to say, but you and your brothers will only grow more handsome as the years pass.”
Ramil's eyes rolled with weariness as he muttered, “I'm tired of everything constantly changing.”
Pyla's smile radiated warmth and wisdom as she spoke to Ramil, her voice gentle yet firm, “That is a part of life, my son. Now go wash up.”
Ramil embraced Pyla, finding comfort in her warm embrace. “Thanks, mom,” he whispered before making his way upstairs.
Marudeva stepped up behind Pyla, a mischievous glint in their eyes as they watched their son walk upstairs. “This is your fault,” Marudeva said with a playful smirk.
Pyla turned to Marudeva with a smile and asked, “How?”
In a moment of affection, Marudeva remarks to Pyla, “You are so stunning that our sons are cursed with the same eternal beauty.” Pyla chuckles softly before drawing Marudeva into a tender kiss.
***
As the sun filtered through the dense canopy of emerald leaves, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor, Moriko stood at the edge of the Green forest. She clutched her worn backpack, the weight of it a familiar comfort against her back. The air was alive with the chirping of birds and the rustling of unseen creatures, creating a symphony of nature's own making.
Just as Moriko was about to take a step closer to a towering tree, a voice cut through the tranquil sounds of the forest. “Moriko, good morning,” Yeongi's voice rang out, breaking through the stillness.
Startled, Moriko turned around swiftly, Yeongi stood before her, a smile lighting up her face like a beam of sunlight. Without a moment's hesitation, Moriko rushed over to her, her movements quick and eager. She embraced Yeongi in a tight hug.
“I thought you weren't coming until next week,” Moriko breathed out, her smile radiated like a beam of sunlight as she approached Yeongi. The air was crisp and alive with the gentle chorus of birdsong. The leaves rustled in the breeze, whispering secrets of the ancient trees that stood tall around them.
“It has been a week,” Yeongi's voice was soft, carrying a hint of concern. “Sir Brucie is worried about your little adventures into the trees.”
Moriko turned to Yeongi and spoke in a voice filled with enthusiasm and joy, “Yes, but it's so much fun. I learn so much. I have nothing else to do.” Her words carried a sense of freedom and adventure, echoing through the tranquil forest and mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves.
Yeongi's comforting embrace enveloped her. The soft rustle of leaves under their feet provided a soothing backdrop to their intimate moment, Yeongi's voice, like a gentle breeze weaving through the branches, reached Moriko's ears with a comforting assurance. “I know you are lonely,” She whispered, her words carrying a weight of understanding and empathy, “but we all want you to be safe.”
“Are you here for the day?” Moriko's voice was like the soft whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of wonder and anticipation.
Yeongi's brow furrowed with concern as she spoke, her voice a gentle murmur in the tranquil surroundings. “Yes, but Tyson is very stressed right now. So, I can't be away for too long.”
Moriko reached into her weathered backpack and produced two delicate green bracelets. “These bracelets were crafted by the Green Forest itself,” Moriko explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “They will help you and Tyson on your journey, too come here.”
Yeongi's eyes widened in wonder as she held them up. “How do they work?” she whispered, her voice barely above the rustling of the leaves.
Moriko placed a delicate, shimmering bracelet on Yeongi's wrist. Yeongi carefully tucked the matching bracelet into her pocket as Moriko took her hand in a gentle grip, guiding her closer to a tree. Moriko's eyes met Yeongi's, filled with a mysterious intensity, as she softly uttered, “Touch the tree.”
Yeongi's fingers gently grazed the rough bark of the ancient tree as she activated the bracelet on her wrist. A soft, ethereal green light illuminated the clearing, causing the air around them to shimmer and dance. With a rush of energy, a portal materialized before them, its edges glinting with otherworldly magic.
Moriko followed close behind as they stepped through the portal, the world around them swirling with colors and light. As they emerged on the other side, they found themselves in a serene, wooded area unlike any they had seen before. The trees towered above them, their trunks a pale, pearly white that seemed to glow with an inner light. Leaves shimmered in shades of gold and silver, rustling gently in an unseen breeze.
Yeongi's eyes widened in wonder as she took in the beauty of their surroundings. The air was tinged with a sweet, floral scent, and the ground beneath their feet felt soft and yielding, as if they walked upon a carpet of moss and petals. Birds flitted through the canopy above, their songs a melody that seemed to echo through the very air itself. “This is Loftyworld,” Yeongi whispered, her voice filled with awe and reverence.
Yeongi and Moriko stood in awe as they gazed upon the small town that lay before them. The town was bustling with activity, its quaint buildings adorned with intricate carvings and colorful banners fluttering in the gentle breeze.
Amidst the villagers moving about the cobblestone streets, Yeongi and Moriko noticed a group of figures unlike any they had ever seen before. These beings, known as Keeners, possessed an otherworldly elegance, their flowing robes shimmering in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. Each Keener was distinguished by their unique color purple skin tone and striking white or gray hair that cascaded down their backs like waves of silk.
As they watched in fascination, Yeongi leaned into whisper to Moriko, “They are Keeners, the voice that guides souls to their final resting place.”
Moriko's hand felt cool against Yeongi's, a silent beckoning as she led him back through the swirling vortex of the tree portal. The world outside shifted and twisted, colors blending and bending until they emerged once more in the heart of the Green Forest. Moriko's slender fingers danced across the pages of her notebook, the words written there seeming to pulse with hidden magic. With a graceful sweep, she turned the page, revealing a map of interconnected pathways and ancient symbols.
Drawing Yeongi close, Moriko guided him to a towering tree, its bark etched with symbols that seemed to shimmer in the dappled sunlight. Yeongi's eyes widened, curiosity sparking within them as he gazed up at the twisting branches that reached towards the sky.
“Where does this go to?” he asked, his voice a soft echo in the verdant stillness of the forest.
Moriko declared, “To the Fire Kingdom.”
Yeongi met Moriko's gaze, determination gleaming in their eyes. “Let's go see Tyson,” Yeongi asserted.
Moriko's voice trembled as she spoke, “The last time I traveled through that tree, Emathion got burnt.”
Yeongi reached out to Moriko, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I have an idea,” she said with a mischievous smile.
As Yeongi placed her hand on the ancient tree, a portal shimmered open before her. Stepping through, she found herself engulfed in a raging inferno of a forest, flames licking hungrily at the air around her. With determination in her eyes, Yeongi summoned her smoke powers, creating a protective shield that danced and swirled around her and Moriko, shielding them from the scorching heat.
The crackling fire seemed to bend away from them, as if daring not to touch the mysterious power emanating from Yeongi. Together, they navigated through the treacherous landscape, the smoke trailing behind them like a loyal companion. As they emerged from the fiery forest, the air grew cooler, and the horizon opened up to reveal the majestic Fire Kingdom.
In an instant, a grand carriage approached before Moriko and Yeongi, its ornate doors swinging open to reveal the opulent interior. The two were ushered inside and whisked away through the bustling streets of the kingdom, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves echoing against the cobblestones.
As the carriage approached the grand steps of the Fire Kingdom Palace, a line of soldiers stood at attention, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. With a reverence reserved for royalty, they bowed deeply as Moriko and Yeongi passed, acknowledging their presence with silent respect.
At the top of the steps, a magnificent figure awaited them in a lavish office adorned with gilded decorations. Tyson, a formidable presence with an air of authority, sat behind a massive desk strewn with scrolls and quills, his focused gaze fixed upon the paperwork before him.
Yeongi's voice, soft and melodic, filled the room as she uttered the words, “My love.” Startled, Tyson lifted his gaze from his cluttered desk to find Yeongi standing before him, her eyes filled with beside her stood Moriko.
Tyson rushed over to greet them, his eyes wide with disbelief. “How can this be?” he gasped.
Yeongi's gentle smile illuminated Moriko's face as they exchanged a knowing glance. “Let's grab lunch and talk,” Yeongi suggested warmly. Tyson followed closely behind as they left the office.
***
Late afternoon cast a golden hue through the windows of the training room nestled within the depths of the Water Kingdom Palace. The room was alive with the sound of clashing wooden swords and the echoes of determined footsteps as Devereaux tirelessly honed his skills. His movements were fluid, yet lacking the finesse of his companions, who effortlessly danced through their drills.
Beside him stood Speckle, whose presence offered silent encouragement as Devereaux pushed himself beyond his limits. The air hummed with the energy of determination as Devereaux's brow furrowed in fierce concentration, his grip on the training sword tight and unwavering.
The flickering torches cast shifting shadows across the stone walls, illuminating the faces of his fellow trainees, their expressions a mix of admiration and concern for Devereaux's struggle. Among them, Evain, with his effortless grace and precision, seemed to embody the mastery Devereaux sought.
Yet, despite the odds stacked against him, Devereaux refused to yield. With each strike and parry, he channeled his inner strength, determination burning bright in his eyes. The room reverberated with the clash of wood against wood, a symphony of determination and resilience.
Evain's laughter rang out melodiously. Her friends Klaus and Boa sparred with wooden spears, their movements fluid and precise, as they practiced their combat skills under the watchful eye of their instructor. But amidst the camaraderie and spirited training, Devereaux struggled to keep pace. His movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, his wooden sword clutched in a white-knuckled grip as he tried to mimic the graceful strikes of his companions. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he attempted to follow the intricate footwork and swift parries of Klaus and Boa.
Just then, Marius strode past the training room, his keen eyes sweeping over the scene before him. He observed his younger brother's valiant but faltering efforts, the frustration evident on Devereaux's face as he stumbled and then fell to the floor, his wooden sword clattering to the ground.
Without a moment's hesitation, Marius dashed into the room, his long strides covering the distance in swift, purposeful bounds. He knelt beside his fallen brother, offering a reassuring hand and a gentle smile to bolster his spirits. Marius, with concern etched on his face, reached out a hand towards his brother Devereaux, who stood with a steely determination in his eyes. “Brother, are you okay?” Marius's voice was soft, filled with genuine worry for his sibling.
Devereaux's response was sharp and cold, his tone cutting through the silence like a blade. “I don't need your help, brother.” With a swift motion, he smacked away Marius's hand and grasped his wooden sword, the familiar weight grounding him as he rose to his feet.
Devereaux's eyes met Marius's. “I was only trying to be helpful,” Marius stated.
Devereaux's gaze fell to the sword in his hand, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. His voice, tinged with frustration and a hint of vulnerability, carried through the room. “Sure, you do. Just leave me alone, Marius. Go practice becoming a King of ruins.”
Marius turned around just in time to see Devereaux raising his wooden sword menacingly. But before Devereaux could strike, Evain sprang into action, her own sword intercepting his blade with a resounding clash. “Are you mad?” Evain's voice echoed through the grand hall, filled with a mix of disbelief and determination. “Never attack when someone's back is turned.”
With a swift and graceful move, Evain pushed Devereaux to the ground, her strength surprising even herself. The room fell into a stunned silence as all eyes turned to the trio of siblings.
Marius slowly turned around to face Devereaux lying on the cold marble floor.. With a heavy heart, Marius spoke softly, his voice echoing in the vast chamber, “I need to return to my studies.” The weight of his words hung in the air as he turned away, his posture reflecting the burden of his duty and the deep conflict within him. And with that, he walked towards the door.
Evain stood with a fierce determination in her eyes, a wooden sword clutched tightly in her hand. Devereaux lay defeated on the floor, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath. With a swift motion, Evain tossed her wooden sword at Devereaux, the weapon clattering to the ground beside him. Without a moment's hesitation, she turned and raced after Marius, his figure disappearing down the hallway as he sought to escape her grasp.
As she caught up to him, her voice echoed off the marble walls, filled with concern and urgency. “Marius, are you okay?”
Marius' figure moved gracefully down the hall. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly against the polished marble floors. Turning his face away from his sister, Evain, Marius raised a hand in a gentle gesture of dismissal. His voice, rich and melodious, carried a hint of weariness as he spoke, “I am fine, I will see you in the morning.”
Evain bid her brother Marius goodnight. A sense of melancholy lingered in the air as she watched him disappear down the hallway, his figure gradually fading into the shadows. Turning to head back into the training room, Evain's gaze shifted to the distance, where she caught sight of her father, King Arroyo, striding purposefully alongside one of his advisors. The intricate designs of the palace walls seemed to whisper as she called out, her voice filled with a mixture of longing and yearning, “Father.”
But Arroyo, lost in conversation with his confidant, remained oblivious to her presence. The corridors echoed with the hurried footsteps of Arroyo and his advisors. Evain, his daughter, moved with silent determination behind them, she navigated the elaborate maze of hallways. Arroyo's figure disappeared around a corner, his imposing presence leaving a lingering sense of authority in the air. Evain quickened her pace.
Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the stillness of the palace. Klaus, a trusted ally, called out to her, his words carrying a sense of urgency and duty. “Evain, General Speckle wants to know if you are coming back.”
Evain stood facing Klaus. “Give me a moment,” Evain's voice quivered, echoing softly in the empty hallway. She turned her gaze down the corridor where her father had vanished, only to be met with solid stone walls that seemed to mock her with their silence.
“Where did he go?” Evain's words hung in the air, heavy with disbelief and a hint of desperation. Klaus stood beside her, his expression mirroring her own bewilderment as they both searched for any sign of the vanished king.
Klaus hurriedly made his way towards Evain. The hallway stretched out before them, empty and silent, save for the distant echo of their footsteps on the polished marble floor.
Concern etched into his features, Klaus reached out to Evain, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.
In response, Evain's lips curved into a serene smile, her eyes sparkling with a quiet determination that belied her young age. “I am 14, I can take care of myself,” she replied, her voice soft yet resolute. With a nod and a shared understanding passing between them, Evain turned and led the way back to the training room.