The soldier's steed galloped fiercely across the endless expanse of desert, its hooves kicking up clouds of sand in its wake. The soldier himself slumped in the saddle, his armor battered and scorched from battle. His breath came in ragged gasps, a testament to the trials he had endured. As they approached the edge of the desert, the soldier's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight before him. Towering trees, their branches ablaze with flickering flames, stood defiantly against the parched landscape.
The soldier rode swiftly through the winding paths, his horse kicking up clouds of dust as they passed the smaller kingdoms and villages that dotted the landscape. The sun beat down fiercely, casting harsh shadows across the land as they approached the imposing gates of the main Fire Kingdom Palace.
The soldier approached, his armor glinting in the sunlight as he approached the guards stationed at the gates. With a determined look in his eyes, he stated firmly, “I need to speak with Tyson.”
The soldier at the Fire Kingdom palace's gate peers through the iron bars, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he questions his comrade, “What is this about?”
The beaten soldier's breath came in ragged gasps as he clutched the metal insignia in his trembling hand. The emblem, adorned with sparking sticks that seemed to crackle with an otherworldly energy, gleamed in the dim light of the castle gate. His voice, hoarse and laced with a threat, cut through the tension in the air. “Ask me another question,” he growled, his eyes narrowed in defiance, “and I will report it to Tyson as treason. Now, open the gate!”
The soldiers strained against the weight of the gate, the heavy metal groaning as it slowly swung open. Before the gate could fully reveal the grandeur of the Fire kingdom palace, a lone figure on horseback burst through, his cloak billowing behind him as he urged his steed forward with urgency. The soldier's armor was battered and his face grim with determination, his eyes fixed on the palace steps. With a final push, the soldier brought his horse to a skidding halt at the foot of the steps. He dismounted swiftly, his worn boots hitting the marble with a hollow echo. As he patted his faithful horse, the animal's heaving sides showed the extent of their exertion. Passing the reins to a waiting soldier, the weary rider straightened and strode purposefully towards the palace entrance.
Approaching the guards, the beaten soldier displayed a gleaming metal insignia adorned with sparking sticks. The guards' eyes widened in recognition, and they swiftly stepped aside, allowing the soldier to pass unhindered into the Fire kingdom palace.
As the soldier stumbled down the dimly lit hallway, his weary eyes caught sight of Tyson and Yeongi stood locked in a passionate embrace. The soldier's gaze shifted away, granting them a moment of privacy amidst the chaos that surrounded them.
Tyson reluctantly pulled away from Yeongi, his expression a mix of longing and determination. Locking eyes with her, he spoke in a voice filled with both love and urgency, “My love, I must go message Marudeva.”
The soldier, unseen and unheard, lingered for a fleeting moment before continuing his journey down the corridor. As Yeongi pressed one more tender kiss upon Tyson's lips, his eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and concern. “I will see you later, my love,” he whispered softly, his words carrying both a promise and a sense of foreboding.
With a heavy heart, Yeongi's gaze shifted to the badly beaten soldier just a few feet away from them. His once proud armor was now tarnished and dented, a grim reflection of the fierce battle that had taken place. Yeongi's finger pointed towards him, her voice tinged with urgency as she spoke. “Tyson, I fear you may be too late.”
Tyson whirled around as the soldier staggered towards him, blood seeping from his wounds. Collapsing at Tyson's feet, the soldier struggled to speak, his words barely audible. Tyson knelt beside him, his heart pounding with worry. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice laced with urgency.
As the soldier whispered into Tyson's ear, his words sent a chill down Tyson's spine. “The Waves have taken the Spark,” the soldier's voice barely audible before his body slumped, lifeless.
As Tyson clutches the soldier's lifeless body, his voice echoes through the battlefield, “We need a doctor!”
Yeongi declares, “I will seek it out.”
Tyson rose slowly to his feet as two soldiers hurried over to assist him. With a determined look in his eyes, he commanded, “No! I need you here with me. Men, take him to the medial wing.” The soldiers bow to Tyson and carry their injured comrade away.
Tyson stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the castle walls. Beside him stood Yeongi, her presence a comforting warmth in the chilly room. “I knew this day would come,” Tyson murmured, his voice heavy with regret.
Yeongi placed a gentle hand on his arm, her eyes filled with understanding. “Do not blame yourself, my love,” she said softly, her words like a soothing balm to his troubled heart.
Tyson let out a frustrated sigh and leaned his head against the cold stone of the window panel. “I have failed Maccoy,” he admitted, his voice laced with sorrow. “I should have protected Hanina, should have kept her safe. Instead, I allowed her to be killed, now their daughter is in the hands of Maccoy’s enemy.”
Yeongi shook her head, her eyes filled with unwavering faith. “She carries the bloodline of the Fire Kingdom,” she reminded him. “She is strong and resourceful, capable of facing any challenge that King Arroyo may throw at her. We must trust in her abilities.”
Just then, a palace servant hurried over to them, holding out a sealed letter with a respectful bow. “Prince Tyson, King Arroyo has sent word,” the servant announced.
Tyson took the letter, his hands trembling slightly as he broke the seal and read its contents. His face darkened with anger, and he crumpled the letter in his fist. Yeongi moved closer, offering him silent support as he spoke with determination. “Draft a response,” Tyson commanded. “Make it clear to King Arroyo that our traditions cannot be compromised. The Fire Kingdom will never accept his son as a royal consort, no matter the terms of a peace treaty. It was Arroyo's treachery that shattered the last peace between the Kingdoms of Elements, with his attack on the green forest.”
Turning to the servant, Tyson's eyes blazed with resolve. “Issue a royal decree,” he declared. “If the Spark is not released from the Water Kingdom within three days, I will lead our forces to bring the might of fire army to boil there Kingdom to the ground.”
***
As Ramil and Sandra linger outside the training building, the air is filled with a mix of anticipation and impatience. Sandra's voice breaks the silence, cutting through the tension, “Why must we wait for your brother all the time?”
Ramil, his eyes following the movements of his classmates, replies in a calm yet firm tone, “You don't have to wait. Go on home if you'd like. I must stay.”
The scene is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Emathion, stumbling out of the building, his face flushed with embarrassment as his classmates erupt into laughter. Ramil, a hint of disappointment in his eyes, stands up and shakes his head as Emathion approaches. “You are such an embarrassment, brother,” Ramil remarks, his tone a mix of exasperation and affection.
With Emathion trailing behind them, Ramil and Sandra begin their journey homeward. Ramil turns to Sandra, his expression thoughtful yet resolute, “You can't come over this afternoon.”
Sandra, a touch of defiance in her voice, suggests, “I could help you with your new guest.” Ramil meets her gaze, his eyes conveying a sense of understanding, “There is no need. I will see you in the morning.”
Sandra, frustrated yet determined, stomps her feet before declaring, “Fine, Ramil! I will see you tomorrow!” With that, she walks away, her figure disappearing down another street, leaving behind a lingering sense of unresolved emotions in the cool evening air.
Ramil and Emathion trudge across the desert sands, the scorching sun beating down on them relentlessly. Emathion breaks the heavy silence between them, his voice filled with uncertainty, “Brother, do you find it difficult to accept the path that has already been chosen for us?”
Ramil jostles him playfully, a wry smile on his face, “Mother always said you didn't have to be a Dweller warrior.”
Struggling to match Ramil's brisk pace, Emathion replies, “Today, I came across a passage that spoke of royals from the Fire Kingdom being betrothed at birth.”
Ramil chuckles, the sound echoing across the barren landscape, “We are Dwellers, Emathion, not bound by such customs.”
“But our father's mother was the last Queen of the Ash Kingdom,” Emathion points out, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Ramil halts abruptly, his gaze intense as he meets Emathion's eyes. Ramil's voice quivered as he questioned, “But, mother and father fell in love, then got married. Right?”
Emathion gazed up at his elder brother Ramil, uncertainty etched across his youthful features as he murmured, “I don't know.”
“What prompted you to delve into this matter?” Ramil inquires, his interest piqued.
Emathion reaches into his backpack and pulls out a book, its pages filled with knowledge from the Fire Kingdom. “I stumbled upon the Dweller archives workers removing any mention of the Fire Kingdom from our texts. I managed to salvage a few books, including this one on their customs and traditions.”
Emathion reveals the book to Ramil, before Ramil could take the book from Emathion’s hand, a carriage pulled in front of them. A Dweller archives worker jumped out and demanded, “Emathion, give us the books back.”
Ramil's voice boomed with defiance as he faced Emathion, his eyes blazing with fury. “How dare you think that my brother and I would ever take orders from librarians,” he declared, his words laced with contempt.
General Saichi dismounted his horse with a grace that belied the urgency of his mission. With purpose in his eyes, he approached Ramil, Emathion, and the Dweller archives worker, his presence commanding attention. Saichi's words rang out with authority, “Emathion, by orders of your father and the Dweller leader Marudeva, I am in charge of removing certain reading material from your possession.”
Emathion stood silently behind Ramil, their eyes fixed on Sandra in the distance. With a thoughtful expression, Emathion remarked, “I can see why Sandra is so intense. She must get it from her father.”
Ramil chuckles as Saichi advances, fixing him with a menacing glare. “Something amusing, boy?”
Ramil's gaze pierced through Saichi as he confronted him. “Why are the Archives workers erasing information about the Fire Kingdom?”
Saichi's tone was cold as ice as he uttered, “My sweet Sandra always speaks highly of you, I don't see why.”
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Emathion's laughter echoed through Dweller city, a sound as sharp and cold as the sword at his side. “Sandra,” he sneered, “is far from sweet.”
Ramil's wide eyes meet Saichi's glare as they both turn to face Emathion. Ramil's voice is sharp and urgent as he utters, “Not helping.”
Saichi commands his Dweller warriors to separate Ramil from Emathion with a snap of his fingers. “First, search his backpack, then his room. Emathion will accompany me,” Saichi declares. With a stern gaze at the Dweller warriors detaining Ramil, Saichi orders, “Take Ramil safely back home.”
Saichi mounts his steed with Emathion and gallops off. Emathion's anguished cry pierced the eerie silence, echoing through the air. “Ramil, help me!”
As Ramil approached his home, the imposing Dweller Warriors flanked him like silent sentinels. With each step closer to his destination to his home. Pushing the door open, Ramil stepped into the dimly lit interior of his home. Shadows danced across the walls as the fire flickered, casting a warm glow over the room. And there, in the center of it all, stood Emathion, his expression a mask of disbelief and defiance.
“That is merely a book, nothing more,” Emathion's voice rang out, breaking the heavy silence that hung between them like a veil.
Ramil finds his father, Marudeva, engaged in a heated conversation. Ramil's voice breaks through the tension as he approaches them, the air heavy with anticipation. “Father, are we still journeying to desert top to welcome our guest?”
Marudeva's eyes blazed with authority as she gazed down at Emathion. “Emathion, I will not tolerate this behavior. Go to your room now!” Emathion rushes upstairs as Saichi exits the house, carrying a tower of ancient tomes. Marudeva turns to Ramil, furrowing his brow in concern. “Our guest isn't coming?”
Ramil's voice trembled with anticipation as he whispered, “When are they coming?”
Marudeva's voice echoed through the dimly lit house, filled with a sense of urgency and concern. “I don't know, son,” he said, his eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. “Please, help your mother with dinner tonight. Your brother is not well.”
***
In the heart of the Green forest, where ancient trees whispered secrets and sunlight danced through the canopy, a small cabin stood nestled among the emerald foliage. Inside the cozy cabin, the air was filled with the scent of pine and earth, and the sound of rustling leaves serenaded the occupants. Moriko in a wooden chair before a crackling fire. Sir Brucie, stood behind her, his hands deftly snipping away at her flowing tresses. The green strands fell like liquid grass to the floor, where Sir Brucie carefully gathered them and tucked them into his pocket.
Moriko's gaze flickered to the window, her keen eyes catching a glimpse of movement amidst the greenery outside. A flicker of concern crossed her delicate features as she turned back to Sir Brucie, her voice soft but tinged with worry. “Sir Brucie, why do you save my hair clippings?” she inquired, her tone a mixture of curiosity and unease.
Sir Brucie's hands paused for a moment, the scissors hovering in the air as he met Moriko's gaze. His voice was low and resonant, carrying a weight of hidden knowledge and ancient secrets. “Your hair is too precious and valuable to toss out,” he replied cryptically, his words laden with meaning that Moriko could not decipher.
As the gentle rhythm of the forest enveloped them once more, Moriko's eyes drifted back to the window, a furrow forming on her brow.
“How much more supplies do we need?” she asked, her voice betraying a hint of concern.
Sir Brucie continued his task, the scissors whispering through Moriko's hair as he spoke without looking up. “Stopped hours ago, getting supplies. The others are resting in the trees,” he murmured, his words enigmatic and leaving more questions in their wake. A flicker of movement outside caught Moriko's attention once more, and she turned to Sir Brucie with a furrowed brow, a shadow of doubt crossing her features.
“Maybe it was an animal I just saw,” she pondered aloud, her voice trailing off into the whispering embrace of the forest around them.
When a sea glass arrow whistled past Moriko's ear, it embedded itself with a sharp thud into the wooden wall, Moriko stumbles to the floor, seeking cover from the onslaught of arrows raining down upon them. In the chaos, Sir Brucie positions himself protectively in front of Moriko, shielding her from harm. As the arrows continue to pierce the air, Brucies made of towering trees emerge from the earth, retaliating against the aggressors with swift and fierce determination.
Moriko dashes out of the cabin's back door, the soldiers of the Water Kingdom hot on her heels. The dense forest surrounds her, offering brief moments of concealment within its shadowed foliage. Panting and desperate, she watches in horror as one of the soldiers takes aim at Sir Brucie.
“Please don't harm him!” Moriko's voice rings out in a plea, her eyes wide with desperation.
The soldier's laughter cuts through the tense air like a blade. “Just create another one,” he taunts, raising his sword in a menacing arc aimed at Sir Brucie.
Driven by a surge of power and emotion, Moriko channels her Earth Kingdom abilities. With a determined gesture, she commands the trees to come alive, sending vines with thorns shooting out to ensnare the soldier. The vines tighten their grip mercilessly, the soldier's taunts silenced as he is met with a fatal end at the hands of nature's wrath. Shock courses through Moriko as she witnesses the soldier's demise, the reality of her powers sinking in.
But her moment of disbelief is short-lived. As the other soldiers advance, driven by vengeance and fury, Moriko finds herself overwhelmed by a swell of emotions. Tears blur her vision as she falls to the forest floor, the weight of the world crashing down upon her. In a desperate attempt to protect herself, the Earth Kingdom responds to her distress, the trees acting as her guardians. Vines lash out, wrapping around each soldier with deadly precision, tearing them apart in a gruesome display of power.
As the echoes of battle fade into the stillness of the forest, Moriko lifts her tear-streaked face, her gaze falling upon the aftermath of her actions. Blood stains the ground and trees, a haunting reminder of the violence that has transpired. Among the wreckage, only the soldiers' armor remains.
Sir Brucie approached Moriko, her eyes glistening with tears, and whispered, “Message Prince Tyson, tell him of my crime.”
Sir Brucie's voice echoed through the ancient forest, carrying a weight of wisdom and authority. “This wasn't a crime,” he stated firmly, his eyes shining with conviction.
Moriko's trembling hand points towards the gruesome scene before her. Tears cascade down her face as she whispers, “Look what I've done, something is wrong with me.” With a heavy heart, she begins to ascend the towering trees, each step a painful reminder of the darkness that now resides within her. In a shaky voice, she implores, “Please, carry out my request and inform Tyson.”
Moriko ascended to the forest peak, gazing out at the Earth Kingdom merging with the neighboring Desert. In the distance, Water Kingdom soldiers clashed with Desert Dwellers. As tears fell, she heard Emathion's voice, as if he was beside her, softly asking, “Are you okay?”
Moriko's words pierced the air, her voice firm and resolute as she uttered, “I think it's best if you don't talk to me anymore.”
Emathion's voice cracked with emotion as he cried out, “No! I can't lose you, you are my only friend.”
Moriko's voice wavered as she uttered the words, “It's like you said before, I must be evil.”
Emathion's voice wavered as he spoke, his words tinged with a mixture of fear and realization. “I am sorry, I was scared before. You are not evil, I can feel your kindness when we talk. Please tell me what happened.”
Moriko's voice trembled as she recounted the harrowing encounter in the Green Forest. “Water Kingdom soldiers breached the Green Forest their eyes filled with malice. In a blaze of power, I unleashed a force that surged through me, overwhelming them one by one were destroyed.”
Emathion's voice was filled with conviction as he spoke. “It sounds like you were defending your land from invaders, Water Kingdom soldiers attack Dweller hunters all the time. I am sure the Water Kingdom Soldiers deserved it.”
***
Evain rode swiftly through the sandy streets of Abiectio town, the wind whipping through her hair. The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on her as she approached the small house where her father, King Arroyo, and the Water Kingdom Soldiers awaited her. As Evain and Marius dismounted the horse, the tension in the air was palpable. The colorful demons - Red, Blue, Green, and Gold - stood in a solemn line, their eyes reflecting a mix of fear and determination. Evain's gaze met her father's, searching for answers in his troubled expression.
“What is wrong, father?” she inquired, her voice steady despite the danger that lurked within the small house. Arroyo's eyes revealed the gravity of the situation as he spoke, his words heavy with concern.
“We sent in a few demons,” he began, his voice low and grave, “but she killed them. Now they are afraid to go in and get her.” Evain's heart sank at the news, knowing that the danger they faced was greater than they had anticipated.
“Of course she didn't, father,” she declared, his words tinged with a hint of frustration. “She was raised by Rufus to kill demons. Let me go in with Marius.”
“We are not demons,” Marius asserted, his eyes darting nervously towards the looming figure in the shadows. “She could easily kill us.”
Evain stood just a few feet away from the small house, her voice firm as she uttered, “Send away your demons and we will get her to come with us.”
Arroyo's steely gaze locked with Evain's as he commanded, “Fine, go ahead.” Turning to the looming Demon, Arroyo vowed, “I will summon you again, but go.”
The Demons depart, leaving Arroyo, Evain, and Marius from the Water Kingdom army. Arroyo points to a small house and declares, “I want to be there before dinner.”
Evain and Marius approach the small house. Agneyastra's voice warns from inside, “Go away demons or I will cut your heads off.”
Marius hesitated, “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
As Evain stood before the door, reverberating with a power that seemed to command attention.
“I am Princess Evain,” she declared, her voice steady and unwavering. “And I am here with my brother, Prince Marius. We come not as mere visitors, but as allies in a time of need. Our swords are at your service, ready to aid in any way possible.”
Agneyastra's voice from behind the door cautioned, “My father warned me not to trust anyone with a title.”
Evain revealed, “Rufus was not your father. Rumors swirl that he stole you from your mother as a child because of your fire abilities.”
Agneyastra slowly pushes open the creaking door, her eyes gleaming with determination as she grips the sword in her hand. She casts a sharp glance at Evain, who stands frozen in place, before turning her gaze to Marius, the weight of her question hanging in the air like a shroud of mystery.
“Is this true?” Agneyastra's voice is soft yet filled with an undeniable intensity, causing the room to fall silent as the echoes of her words linger. The sword in her hand glints in the dim light, a symbol of both protection and danger, a tangible reminder of the world of magic and danger they inhabit.
Evain nudges Marius gently, causing him to stumble a step. “I don't know,” Marius admits, “but those with Elemental powers are typically connected to royal families. Can we come in?”
Agneyastra opened the door completely, revealing her purple skin to Evain and Marius. Marius's eyes widened in surprise as Agneyastra calmly stated, “I am Agneyastra, I must look odd to you.”
Marius approached Agneyastra, “Not odd at all. You are beautiful. Have you inherited the Keener singing voice?”
Agneyastra gazed at Marius her voice barely above a whisper as she confided in her companion, “Father told me never to sing.”
Evain's voice dripped with caution as she uttered, “Well, you should keep it that way or Angels might come down from Loftyworld to claim you.”
Agneyastra's voice echoed softly, a whisper carried by the wind. “I was told someone I know would come and collect me.”
Evain's piercing gaze swept over the humble confines of the small house as he questioned, “Why do you choose to continue living in such meager surroundings?”
Marius's voice cut through the tension, commanding attention in the dimly lit chamber. “Be polite, Evain,” he murmured, his tone laced with a hint of authority. “We are here to make you an offer.”
Agneyastra's eyes narrowed as she asked, “What kind of offer?”
Evain's declaration, her voice steady yet brimming with determination as she proclaimed, “I will marry my brother Marius.”
Agneyastra shook her head, her young voice filled with determination. “I can't. I am ten.”
Marius spoke confidently, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and hope. “Well, not now, but you will become my lady in waiting, which will give you protection and comfort. When you turn 18, we can get married,” he said with a gentle smile.
Evain's urgent voice cut through the tense silence. “We have to go, before the Fire Prince finds out about you.”
Marius's gaze lingered on Evain, puzzled by the sudden display of affection from Agneyastra. She gracefully bowed to him before enveloping him in a gentle hug. “Okay, let me go get my bags,” she said with a warm smile before turning to gather her belongings.
Agneyastra stormed into her room, her fiery aura flickering with anger. Marius shot a concerned glance at Evain and cautiously asked, “Is that true about the Fire Kingdom Prince?”
Evain's words cut through the tense air like a blade, her voice tinged with a mix of authority and disdain. “Maybe, shut up,” she snapped, her gaze piercing. “Your lady-in-waiting possesses Fire power, a rare gift for females from the Fire Kingdom's bloodline to have. And with her Keener heritage, you need not worry about her or your child succumbing to a demon's influence.”
Agneyastra emerged from her chamber, burdened with bags, as Evain forcefully nudged Marius, commanding, “Aid your future brother.”
Marius's hand closes around Agneyastra's bag as he steps closer. With a confident smile, he remarks, “I assume you've ridden a horse before.”
Evain followed closely behind Marius and Agneyastra as they exited the house. “Brother,” he spoke softly, “Agneyastra will ride with you, and I will ride with father.”
Agneyastra declares, “I have a vague idea of how to ride a horse.”
Evain's gesture commanded the attention of the Water Kingdom soldiers, who swiftly took Angneyastra's bags from Marius. As they approached Arroyo, a wide smile graced his face. “Evain, you rarely disappoint me,” he remarked, nodding graciously to Agneyastra. “Welcome to the family.”
Evain uttered the words, “Agneyastra is her name.”
Arroyo's gaze lingers on Marius as he confidently mounts the horse, extending a hand to assist Agneyastra onto the back with him. A soft smile plays on Arroyo's lips as he utters, “You too will be my future.”
Marius nodded at Arroyo, his expression steely. “Yes, Father,” he replied before riding off with Agneyastra clinging onto him.