As the early morning sun cast a soft golden glow over the town of Abiectio, Agneyastra stood next to Rufus, loading boxes of goods into the back of their carriage. The air was filled with the sweet scent of freshly baked muffins, a product they had worked tirelessly to prepare for their first day at the marketplace.
Agneyastra paused, her hands resting on the edge of a wooden crate and turned to her father with a look of uncertainty. “So, what will it be like having a booth at the market?” she inquired, her voice tinged with a hint of nervous excitement.
Rufus, a seasoned hunter of demons turned merchant, placed a box of muffins in the carriage and turned to face his daughter. “I don't know, my dear,” he replied with a warm smile. “But I am sure we will find out together.”
As they loaded the last of the boxes, Agneyastra's expression darkened. “I think we should go back to hunting demons,” she said, her eyes reflecting a desire for adventure and danger.
Ignoring her suggestion, Rufus moved to the driver's seat of the carriage and gestured for Agneyastra to join him. “I will let you drive us to the marketplace,” he said, handing her the reins.
Agneyastra's face lit up with a radiant smile as she took the reins in her hands. “Great,” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Guided by Rufus, Agneyastra skillfully drove the carriage through the bustling town until they arrived at the marketplace. The air was filled with the sounds of vendors hawking their wares and the chatter of shoppers as they perused the various stalls.
For hours, Rufus and Agneyastra stood side by side at their booth, engaging with customers and selling their goods. But as the day wore on, Agneyastra noticed whispers and curious glances directed at her father.
“Why do they keep looking at you, father?” she inquired, a note of concern in her voice.
Rufus glanced around the marketplace, a solemn expression on his face. “I think we have sold enough for today,” he said quietly. “Let's pack up and go home.”
Confused by her father's sudden decision, Agneyastra pressed for an explanation. “Why?” she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Rufus began to pack up their booth with a sense of urgency, his movements swift and purposeful. “Agney, please do as I say,” he urged, his tone serious and final.
Reluctantly, Agneyastra helped her father pack up their remaining items, her mind filled with questions and uncertainty. Once everything was loaded onto the carriage, they set off for home, leaving the marketplace.
Rufus and Agneyastra, on their way home, encounter a mysterious army of soldiers from the Fire kingdom with no kingdom emblem. Two extravagant carriages, one glistening in gold and silver and the other draped in shades of red, are pulled by zombified rhinos. The eerie scene unfolds as a cloaked figure in crimson leads the procession towards a dark cave where other figures in red cloaks await. Agneyastra, bewildered, turns to Rufus and asks, “Father, what is happening?”
As Rufus and Agneyastra dismount the carriage, the soldier's eyes narrow on the red cloaked figures. “Let me speak with them in private first,” he declares, clutching the parchment tightly.
Agneyastra's grip on Rufus's arm tightens as she whispers, “Father?”
Rufus gestured towards the looming entrance, his voice barely above a whisper, “Let's speak inside.”
Rufus, Agneyastra, and the soldier entered the dimly lit home. With a heavy heart, the soldier passed a letter to Rufus, delivering the devastating news. “Your brother, his husband, and children have been wiped out by King Arroyo,” the soldier grimly revealed. “You have been named the new ruler of the Red Hell and are released from your service to Prince Tyson.”
Agneyastra's fiery gaze pierced the Soldier and Rufus, her ebony hair ablaze with flames of wrath. “No,” she declared with fierce determination, “don't take my father away from me.”
The Soldier stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with disbelief as they fixated on Agneyastra's fiery mane. “That's impossible,” he muttered, fear creeping into his voice. “I must report this to King Aiden.”
Rufus's voice was firm, “No, only tell Prince Tyson.” Stepping closer to Agneyastra, he urged, “Just breathe and calm down.”
Agneyastra's fiery hair calms as she takes a deep breath. Rufus lowers himself to embrace her, his voice warm and reassuring, “It’s just a temporary, you can visit me one day in the Red Hell. Pack your belongings.”
Agneyastra stood with furrowed brows and arms crossed, she faced a formidable soldier. “Where am I going?” she questioned, her voice echoing through the ethereal landscape.
The soldier's voice echoed through the house, tinged with a sense of urgency and anticipation. “You are being sent to live among the Dwellers,” he announced, his words carrying a weight of both mystery and foreboding. “Marudeva will be meeting us at the drop-off point, his men should be arriving here to aid us on our journey.”
Rufus carefully folded Agneyastra's clothes and placed them in the worn leather bag. Agneyastra's eyes sparkled with determination as she turned to him and said, “I want to go with you, father.”
Rufus carefully the bags onto the bed, his voice filled with sincerity as he tells her, “You are far too special for hell.”
Rufus opened the bedroom door to find a mysterious red-hooded being standing before him. With urgency in his voice, the being declared, “You must come now, Red Hell can't be left unruled for too long.”
Rufus embraces Agneyastra tightly, whispering, “I will see you again. There are sandwiches in the refrigerator; take them for your journey.” With a final nod, Rufus departs alongside the mysterious red hooded being, leaving Agneyastra behind, tears glistening in the dimly lit room as she packs her belongings.
In a dark carriage illuminated by a lantern held by Lucy, Rufus is escorted out of the house and shoved inside. He confronts Lucy, stating, “Lucy, you should've been executed for your crimes.”
Lucy's voice echoed with a chilling certainty as she declared, “King Arroyo is alive because I always get what I want. Together, we shall reign over the fiery depths of Red Hell.”
Rufus's voice dripped with venom as he uttered the chilling words, “You will pay for this.”
Lucy's laughter echoed through the carriage, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she whispered, “Don't worry about Hanina's child, for Arroyo has grand designs for her.”
***
Ramil emerged from his bedroom, a worn leather bag slung over his shoulder, its weight heavy with the knowledge contained within its pages. As he stepped into the hallway, he noticed the bustling activity around him. His mother, Pyla, and two maids were carrying various items into the bedroom next to his, their movements purposeful and precise.
Pyla's voice floated towards him, filled with a hint of excitement, “Make sure everything is perfect for her.”
Ramil arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Please, tell me you're not going to have another baby, Mother.”
Pyla chuckled, turning to face him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “We are preparing for a special guest, my dear.”
Ramil's interest was piqued. “Who is it?”
Marudeva, his father, appeared behind him, his presence commanding attention. “Don't worry about that now, Ramil. You're going to be late for training. Shandra is waiting for you downstairs.”
Looking around, Marudeva inquired, “Where's your brother?”
Ramil sighed, his frustration evident. “Sleeping. He was up all night talking to himself. I think he's gone mad.”
Marudeva gestured towards Emathion's bedroom. “Go wake him, and if you perform well in training, you can accompany me to the desert to welcome our guest.”
Reluctantly, Ramil agreed, stomping his feet in annoyance before heading towards Emathion's room. Knocking on the door before entering, he found his brother surrounded by stacks of medical and healing books, lost in a world of his own making.
“Get up, you lunatic,” Ramil demanded.
Emathion, still half-asleep, mumbled, “Tell me more, Princess Moriko.”
Growing increasingly exasperated, Ramil kicked the side of the bed, prompting Emathion to startle awake and fall out of bed in a tangle of limbs. “You have ten minutes to get dressed, or you'll have to make your own way to training.”
As he exited the room, Ramil couldn't help but mutter, “Can you not be weird for just one day?”
Descending the stairs, Ramil found Sandra, a Dweller girl around his age, waiting with a stack of books in her lap. “Sorry, Sandra, we'll have to wait a little longer for my brother,” he apologized.
Sandra offered a warm smile, “It's no trouble at all.”
Emathion eventually descended the stairs, still groggy from his interrupted sleep. Sandra couldn't help but laugh, “We had to wait for this?”
With the group finally assembled, they made their way to the training building. Ramil and Sandra walked side by side, engaging in conversation, while Emathion trailed behind lost in his own thoughts.
Ramil and Sandra trained relentlessly each day, their determination unmatched by any other student. As they strode through the corridors, a hush fell over the other trainees, their gazes filled with a mixture of awe and fear at the power radiating from Ramil and Sandra. With each step, they carved a path of respect and intimidation.
Midday in the bustling cafeteria, Emathion sat engrossed in his healing book from the Wind Kingdom. Ramil and Sandra strode in, their presence drawing attention. Sandra didn't hesitate; she snatched the book from Emathion's hands and flung it into the trash, her laughter echoing through the room. Ramil observed silently, his expression unreadable amidst the chaos.
Emathion rises, retrieving the book from the trash, his words laced with weariness, “Can you just leave me alone?”
Sandra's finger stabbed the air, aimed at Emathion's pile of books, her voice dismissive as she declared, “It's just a dumb book.”
Emathion, clutching his books and tray, exits the cafeteria amid a chorus of mocking laughter. Sandra joins Ramil in line and whispers, “He's such a loser, it's hard to believe he comes from such a great family line.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Ramil leans in close to Sandra, a mischievous glint in his eye. “At home,” he jokes, “he's the golden child, my mother's little do boy. She spoils him too much.”
Ramil handed Sandra a lunch tray as she inquired, “My father mentioned that you're expecting company at your house this afternoon. Who are they?”
Ramil carefully chose his lunch, excitement gleaming in his eyes as he spoke, “My parents are keeping it a secret, but if I perform exceptionally today, I might get to accompany him to retrieve them from the desert this afternoon. One thing's for sure.”
Sandra's eyes widened as she looked at Ramil. “What is that?” she whispered.
Ramil's eyes met Sandra's as he carefully placed a selection of food onto his tray. “It's a girl,” he revealed, a hint of pride in his voice. “My mother is truly overjoyed.”
Sandra's voice cut through the bustling cafeteria as she walked with Ramil, her words filled with a hint of mystery and intrigue, “A girl.”
Ramil, with a tray in hand, gently nudges her with his arm. “Don't worry,” he says, “I'm sure she's the princess my brother dreams of.”
Sandra's eyes widened as she sat at the table with Ramil, her voice barely a whisper as she uttered, “What?”
Ramil paused mid-bite, his expression turning thoughtful. “My brother hears a voice in his head,” he revealed softly, setting down his fork. “A few days ago, she told him her name was Princess Marco or something like that.”
Sandra's eyes widened as she asked, “Do you mean Princess Moriko?”
Ramil, with a mouthful of food, gestures with his fork and asks, “Do you know her?”
Sandra slammed her hand onto the table, her eyes flashing with intensity. “She is the Earth Kingdom Princess,” she declared, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and respect. “She possesses many powers. She is very dangerous.”
Ramil chuckles, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Maybe it's not her,” he muses, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Wonder who it will be?”
Sandra's voice trembled as she spoke, “Rufus's daughter, the Wind King just killed his brother's family.”
Ramil “That will never happen,” he declared, his gaze fixed on his tray of food. “Rufus never leaves his daughter's side.”
Sandra's words sliced through the tense air, her gaze sharp and unwavering. “You speak as if you know her,” she stated, her voice tinged with suspicion.
As Ramil took a bite of his food, he mentioned, “That's because my father often visits Rufus and Agneyastra in Abiectio town.”
Sandra's arms tighten across her chest as her gaze pierces through Ramil. “You never disclosed this to me,” she accuses.
Ramil's words hung heavy in the air like a mysterious fog. “The topic never came up before today,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a sense of foreboding. Sandra, with her eyes ablaze with determination, suddenly pushed her tray towards Ramil, the clatter of cutlery echoing through the room like an ominous drumbeat. Without a second glance, she bolted from the room, the whirlwind of her departure leaving a trail of whispers and curious gazes in her wake.
***
Moriko's eyes narrowed as she observed the Brucies hauling wooden boxes filled with provisions past her cabin in the Green Forest. She approached them with purpose, her voice laced with curiosity. “How did you acquire all these items?”
Brucie declared firmly, “Sometimes, we must venture into unknown realms to seek the supplies we require.”
Moriko watches them walk away, asking, “Where?” She touches a logo on the side of a wooden box as the Brucies rush by without answering.
As Moriko sat on the log, she observed the Brucies bustling around near the cabin, unloading boxes. Suddenly, a scuffle broke out among two Brucies, drawing her attention. One of them pointed at the boxes before abruptly walking towards a cluster of trees. Intrigued, Moriko rose from her seat and stealthily trailed behind the Brucie. However, when she reached the trees, the Brucie had vanished into thin air, leaving Moriko bewildered and searching for any sign of their presence. But to her dismay, there was no trace to be found.
Moriko demands, 'Where did he go?”
As Moriko sat on the forest floor, a sense of tranquility surrounded her, broken only by the distant cry of a boy echoing in her mind. She crossed her arms in a gesture of defiance, her feet stomping lightly against the earth. “Emathion, why the tears?” she inquired softly, the words weaving through the rustling leaves.
The ethereal voice of Emathion responded, filled with a mix of sorrow and indignation, “Just leave me alone.” Moriko's brows furrowed in concern, her golden eyes scanning the woodland around her as if seeking answers from the ancient trees.
“I am sorry, I didn't mean to come off harshly,” Emathion's voice continued, a subtle shift in tone revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. “I will try to control my emotions, so I do not disturb you again.”
Gently, Moriko reassured, “It's not a bother. I spend most of my days with the trees and the Brucies. It's actually nice talking with you. Please, what happened to upset you?”
Emathion's voice trembled with pain as he revealed, “My brother's friend tossed my book in the trash, and everyone laughed at me.” Moriko's heart ached for him, her voice laced with empathy as she probed further, “Did your brother defend you in any way?”
A bitter laugh escaped Emathion's lips, “No, he just watched her do it, like always. He says nothing.”
Moriko's gaze softened with understanding, “That's a shame. One would think brothers would protect one another.”
Emathion's laughter carried a tinge of resignation, “Ramil would never do that.”
Moriko's eyes met the swaying branches above, lost in thought. “Still, at least you have siblings. There are some who have no one and spend their days alone.”
“You speak as if you have no family,” Emathion's voice noted, a hint of curiosity coloring the words.
Moriko's voice turned wistful, “All I have is Princess Yeongi, Prince Tyson, and the Brucies.” Emathion's voice softened, “You also have me.”
A chuckle escaped Moriko's lips, a melody of warmth and acceptance, “Great, I am friends with a voice in my head.”
Emathion's voice rang out through the forest, light and teasing. “I am really glad you're not a demon.”
Moriko, her gaze fixed on the canopy of leaves above, shifted on the soft moss beneath her and replied, “What kind of book were you reading?”
Emathion hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “I don't know if I should say. Most people around here aspire to be hunters and warriors.”
Moriko's fingers traced the rough bark of a nearby tree as she propped herself up on one elbow. “I'm sure it's fine. What was the subject?”
Emathion he confessed, “A health book. I like to read them in my spare time.”
Moriko's curiosity piqued, she turned to face him fully. “That's amazing. So, you want to be a healer of some kind?”
“A doctor,” he murmured. “But I don't think my father would be happy with me if I did.” The shadows of the forest deepened around Moriko, casting dappled light her.
Moriko's hand rose into the air, casting shadows from the surrounding trees onto her skin. Her voice was soft and understanding. “Follow your heart, Emathion. The path to healing may not be easy, but it is a noble one.”
Emathion expressed gratitude with a simple “Thanks.”
Moriko's voice was soft, yet filled with understanding as she spoke, “Anytime, I am sure you have a full day, I will let you get back to it.”
Emathion's voice was a melodic blend of curiosity and longing as he asked, “Can I talk with you again?”
As Moriko stood in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy of ancient trees, she watched the Brucie disappear into the small cabin ahead. The air was filled with the sweet scent of ripe apples, carried on a gentle breeze that whispered through the leaves. Moriko's curiosity stirred as she followed the Brucie, her steps silent on the forest floor carpeted with moss and fallen leaves.
Inside the cozy cabin, the Brucie placed the wooden crate of apples on a rough-hewn table, the flickering firelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. Moriko's eyes were drawn to the crate, the apples gleaming like drops of sunlight against the dark wood. She approached the Brucie, her voice soft with wonder, “Where did these come from?”
The Brucie turned to face Moriko, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the fire as he replied in a deep, melodic voice, “Sunrise.” His words held a hint of mystery, a reminder of the magic that pulsed through the veins of this enchanted forest.
“Where is Sunrise?” Moriko asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Sir Brucie approached the crate of apples with a sense of purpose. As he nodded at the other Brucies standing guard, a silent understanding passed between them, and they all turned towards the exit. Moriko's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she approached him, her voice soft yet filled with wonder. “What is Sunrise?” she asked, a hint of mystery in her tone. “Is it like the sun rising for the day, or is it a place?”
Sir Brucie's booming voice echoed through cabin and outside in the forest, commanding all to heed his words. “Go wash up for dinner,” he bellowed, his tone firm yet filled with a hint of warmth.
Moriko's voice dripped with resignation as she muttered, “Fine.” With a heavy sigh, she turned on her heel and headed towards her bedroom.
***
As Princess Evain rode swiftly through the vast desert, her hair whipped behind her like a banner of defiance. The golden sands shimmered under the scorching sun, mirroring the fierce determination in Evain's violet eyes. She had a purpose, a mission that brooked no delay. The Palm Tree forest loomed ahead, a sanctuary of lush greenery amidst the arid landscape. Without a second thought, Evain urged her horse forward, deftly navigating through a group of Water Kingdom soldiers who stood in her path. With a mischievous grin, she watched them stumble and scramble to regain their composure, a testament to her unrivaled equestrian skills.
Moments later, she burst into the throne room, the echo of hoofbeats still ringing in the air. Her mother, the Queen, and the court ladies gasped in astonishment at Evain's audacious entrance. “Evain, you can't ride your horse inside,” her mother admonished, a mixture of concern and exasperation in her voice.
“I have no time for your nonsense,” Evain retorted, her voice tinged with urgency. “Where is Marius?”
Ignoring her mother's attempts to reprimand her, Evain spun on her heel and strode purposefully down the hall. Her steps echoed in the silence, a stark contrast to the whispers that followed in her wake. As she reached Marius' chamber, she knocked decisively before entering without waiting for a response.
Marius, engrossed in a book, looked up in surprise at his sister's abrupt arrival. “Yes, sister?” he inquired, curiosity evident in his expression.
“Father requests your presence on the desert,” Evain stated, her tone brooking no argument.
Marius chuckled, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “No!”
Without hesitation, Evain seized his arm and pulled him to his feet, her eyes ablaze with determination. “You are leaving with me now,” she declared, her voice unwavering.
“Why?” Marius questioned, bewildered by his sister's sudden insistence.
In response, Evain snatched the book from his hands and cast it aside, a symbolic gesture of urgency. With a firm grip on his arm, she propelled him out of the chamber, her resolve unyielding. “Move it,” she commanded.
Evain yanked Marius into the grand throne room, their mother's voice echoing off the walls as she berated the palace staff. “Remove this horse now!” her command cutting through the tension like a sharp blade.
Evain's voice was firm as she stood protectively by her horse, her grip on Marius's arm tightening. “If anyone touches my horse,” she warned, “I will tell my father and he will have you punished.”
Their mother's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension. “Evain, stop all of this right now,” she said firmly, her eyes fixed on her daughter's face.
Their mother pushed Evain away, trying to break his grip on Marius. Evain's voice trembled as he spoke, “Your king commands Marius to join him in capturing his intended bride, just as you wished, mother.”
Their mother's desperate plea filled the air as she clung tightly to Marius, her voice trembling with fear and anguish. “Don't take my beloved Marius,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with the unseen force before her. “Take Devereaux instead.”
Devereaux's voice reverberates off the ornate walls of the throne room as he confronts his mother, a tone of hurt and resentment evident in his words. “Mother, I am worth less to you than Marius. I knew he was your favorite.”
Their mother's eyes blazed with fury as she fixed her gaze upon Evain, her disapproval palpable in the air. “Stupid girl, look what you caused!” she spat, before storming out of the throne room in pursuit of Devereaux.
Evain quickly mounts her horse, holds her had out to her brother Marius, Evain says, “Lets go now, father waits for us.”
“Maybe I should go check on mother,” Marius murmured, his voice tinged with worry.
Evain's piercing gaze remained fixed ahead, her words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. “She will be fine. You need to secure your role as the future heir. Or would you prefer Devereaux to rule over us later?”
Marius squared his shoulders, determination flashing in his eyes. “I would never let that happen.”
With a swift movement, Marius mounted the horse behind Evain, clinging to her as she expertly guided the steed out of the palace grounds. The wind whipped through Marius's hair, carrying with it a sense of urgency as they thundered past the grand gates, leaving the opulent facade of their home behind.
As they rode, Marius's keen eyes caught sight of a lone soldier blocking their path, a bulky figure oblivious to their approach. “Sister, watch out,” Marius warned, his voice urgent.
Evain's grip on the reins tightened, her steely resolve unwavering. With a commanding tone, she urged the horse forward, her voice cutting through the air like a clarion call. “Move!”
The soldier, startled by the sudden intrusion, scrambled to clear the path as the horse surged past, hooves pounding against the coral stones. They raced towards the exit of their kingdom, the familiar sights of palm trees and distant mountains blurred by their speed.
Marius caught his breath, the rush of wind cooling his flushed cheeks as he spoke up, a note of caution in his voice. “Evain, you can slow down.”
But Evain's eyes remained fixed ahead, her determination unwavering. “We can't be late. I don't want to disappoint father.”
Evain's grip on the reins tightens as she urges the horse forward, her eyes fixed on the distant battle between the Water Kingdom Soldiers and the Dwellers. Marius, his gaze following the clash of swords and clash of wills, turns to his sister, and asks, “Sister, are we going that way?”
Evain urged her horse onward, the wind whipping through her hair as she rode towards the edge of the desert. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation as she watched the distant battle unfold. “I can't wait to fight for my kingdom, for father,” she whispered.
Marius spoke to his sister, “I am glad you will be able to choose your path, sissy.”