The first light of dawn filtered through the large windows of the Water Kingdom, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the room adorned with oceanic motifs. In the center of the room, Agneyastra lay still upon a grand bed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically in slumber.
Outside the room, the sound of crashing waves could be heard, intermingled with the distant calls of seagulls. A woman's voice pierced through the tranquil morning air, echoing with urgency and command. “How come you haven't dressed her for the day?” The tone was sharp, carrying a hint of impatience and authority.
Inside the room, the silence was broken only by the gentle rustling of the curtains as they swayed in the sea breeze. The room was adorned with intricate seashell decorations, shimmering like pearls in the early light. The walls were painted in shades of blue and green, mimicking the depths of the ocean, while the floor was covered in a soft, plush carpet that felt like walking on waves.
Agneyastra stirred in her sleep, her black locks cascading around her. As the sunlight crept further into the room, it illuminated her face, revealing the delicate features.
Agneyastra's eyes flutter open, her heart racing as she sits up in bed, her gaze drawn towards the heavy oak door. The echoes of the Woman's angry voice reverberate through the dimly lit room, sending a shiver down Agneyastra's spine. “That is no excuse,” the Woman's words linger in the air, heavy with accusation and disdain. Agneyastra's breath catches in her throat, her mind racing as she prepares herself for the confrontation that awaits beyond the door.
Queen Yara's advisor spoke softly, “I am sorry, Queen Yara, I will awaken her now.”
Agneyastra calmly rises from the bed, smoothing out the sheets with deliberate care. The door creaks open, revealing Queen Yara's shocked expression as she enters with Evain and her advisor. “What is she doing?” the Queen gasps, her eyes wide with surprise.
Evain chuckled softly as Yara's advisor replied, “My queen, she is tending to the bed.”
Yara strutted over, clapping her hands with a haughty air, moving closer to Agneyastra. “Stop that, girl,” she commanded, her voice dripping with disdain. “No future Water Queen makes beds, that's a maid's job. Turn around, let me look at you.”
Agneyastra's apology was barely a whisper as she turned away. Yara, startled, gently lifted Agneyastra's chin, only to gasp in disbelief as the sunlight illuminated Agneyastra's emerald eyes, making them shine like precious gems.
Yara's words pierced through the air like a sharp blade. “You have the eyes of my husband's dead enemy,” she declared, her voice dripping with bitterness. “Your father chose the bastard of his enemy over a Wetlands Princess. He has gone too far.” With a firm grip on Agneyastra's arm, Yara swiftly guided her out of the room.
Evain trailed behind her mother, watching the tension in her mother's grip on Agneyastra's arm. With a trembling voice, Evain whispered, “Mother, please let her go.”
Marius swiftly intercepts his mother's path as he walks down the hall with Devereaux. Marius swiftly intervened as his mother's nails dug into Agneyastra's arm, causing blood to trickle down. “Stop this, Mother,” Marius exclaimed, concern etched in his voice.
Yara strides past Marius and Devereaux, her gaze fixed on the King's office ahead, a determined fire in her eyes. “All of you go to your educational training,” she commands.
Arroyo rose from his desk, a look of concern etched on his face. Yara threw Agneyastra to the ground at his feet, her arm bleeding from a fresh wound. Yara declared, “I will not allow my son to marry this illegitimate child. He will follow my chosen path for him.”
Marius, Evain, and Devereaux stood frozen as their father, Arroyo, approached their mother with a determined look in his eyes. “He is my heir,” Arroyo declared, pointing a finger at Marius. “One day, he will be with her, and together they will have children with Water and Fire powers. We will be an unstoppable kingdom.”
Marius springs into action as he sees Arroyo and Yara retreating from Agneyastra on the chamber floor. Hastily, Marius rushes to Agneyastra's side, helping her up. As they exited the dimly lit office, Yara's words lingered in the air like an ominous whisper. Her voice carried a weight of foreboding as she uttered, “What if their children are born with the same eyes as her? It will be as if Maccoy haunts you from the grave.”
Arroyo's voice filled with determination and a hint of darkness. “I have one of many plans to take control of the Kingdoms of Elements. I made a promise to her I would.”
Marius guided Agneyastra swiftly through the ornate corridors of the Palace, the sound of their hurried footsteps echoing off the grand stone walls. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows, adding a sense of urgency to their journey. Agneyastra's tears glistened in the dim light, her face a mask of pain and fear as they reached the medical wing.
The doctor, clad in flowing robes adorned with mystical symbols, examined Agneyastra's wound with a focused intensity. The room was filled with the scent of healing herbs and the soft murmurs of incantations whispered by the doctor. Agneyastra's hand trembled as she clutched Marius' sleeve, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke, “I want to go home with my father.”
Marius reassured, “Yes, it will improve. My mother may be overwhelming, but perhaps she'll come to accept you in time.”
Agneyastra's voice trembled as she uttered the words, her eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and determination. “I can't live this life, please let me go,” she pleaded.
The doctor's eyes dart around the dimly lit room, as he stepped away. Marius stands tall beside her, a glint of determination in his eyes as he speaks, “Do you know anyone else that can help you?”
Agneyastra's voice echoed through of the walls, “Yes, Ramil and his father Marudeva.”
Marius reveals, “They are Dwellers, inhabitants of the underground realm beneath the desert. My kingdom is currently engaged in a fierce war with them. Come, I will not subject you to the same fate as me and my siblings, by being mere pawns in my father's game.”
Agneyastra takes Marius's hand, he leads her through a side door that opens up to the stables. Marius swiftly helps her onto a horse, taking the reins to guide them through the bustling streets. They ride with a speed that leaves the Water Kingdom soldiers behind, finally coming to a halt just outside the Palm tree forest. Marius dismounts
Marius hands over the reins to Agneyastra, gesturing towards the outskirts of the battlefield. “Dweller hunters are nearby,” he says, “Just ask for sanctuary with Marudeva.”
Agneyastra's piercing gaze bore into Marius she demanded, “Why are you doing this?”
Marius's voice was firm yet laced with a hint of hope as he uttered, “I can feel your significance in someone's life. When I claim the throne, perhaps our realms can forge a path to peaceful coexistence. Now, depart and steer clear of the ongoing battleground.”
Agneyastra rides off on the horse Agneyastra whispered a soft “thank you,” her voice barely audible, over the howling wind from the desert sands.
***
The afternoon light filtered through the stained-glass windows of Marudeva's grand home, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished wooden floors. Ramil descended the staircase with a swift and agile grace, his footsteps silent as he scanned the living room. Pyla, sat nestled on the plush couch, her voice soft and melodious as she read to Sinai. Ramil's eyes darted around the room, searching for his father.
“Where is father?” Ramil's voice echoed through the room, breaking the tranquil atmosphere.
Pyla, without looking up from the book she held in her hands, replied, “He is in his office.”
Ramil vaults over the ornate railing, his landing in the opulent living room is swift and graceful. He sprints down the hallway leading to the front door, the echo of Pyla's scolding voice reverberating behind him. “I told you not to do that,” her words carry a hint of exasperation and concern.
He swiftly made his way down the hall towards his father's office. The door was slightly ajar, and as Ramil peeked inside, he saw his father, Marudeva, engaged in a conversation with a mysterious figure cloaked in a hood that concealed their face. Marudeva sat behind his ornate desk, exuding an air of authority, while the hooded man slouched in a chair before him.
“He can't do that, she is already betrothed to Ramil,” Marudeva's voice carried a note of firmness.
The hooded man's voice, muffled by the depths of the cloak, responded, “I am lucky; he made her a lady in waiting. I just can't allow that last piece of Maccoy to be married to Arroyo's son.”
Marudeva's brow furrowed in contemplation before he spoke again, “Don't worry, cousin. We have time to get her back. Do you have anyone inside the Water Kingdom that you trust?”
The hooded man's voice held a hint of caution as he replied, “Yes, but Princess Evain already suspects her.”
Marudeva's frustration was evident as he struck his hand on the desk before sitting back in his chair. “They say that child is vile, just like her father. Which Prince is she a lady in waiting for?”
“Marius,” the hooded man's voice revealed a sense of mystery. “He is quiet, keeps to himself, unlike the other two.”
Ramil silently ascends the staircase, his footsteps barely making a sound against the ancient wood. He reaches his brother's door and raises his hand, pausing for a moment before rapping gently. Emathion opens the door, surprise flickering across his features as he meets Ramil's gaze. “Yes, did mother send for me?”
Ramil's nails scraped against the rough wood of the door frame as he looked up at his brother with a hesitant expression. “May I ask you something?”
Emathion's bedroom door creaked open, revealing a space engulfed in towering stacks of books. Ramil stepped inside, his eyes scanning the chaotic room before settling on Emathion. The air was heavy with the musky scent of old parchment, and the dim light filtering through the dusty windows cast long shadows across the cluttered floor. Emathion's voice was laced with weariness as he simply asked, “What?”
Ramil's steps echoed off the stone walls, the flickering torches casting shadows that danced around the room. Emathion's eyes followed his every move, the intensity in them matching the crackling fire in the hearth. Ramil's voice cut through the tense silence. “Remember what you said about the Fire Kingdom's tradition.”
Emathion's fingers traced the edges of the book with a white cover, his eyes fixated on the intricate patterns etched into the binding. “This is a similar book, but it's on the Wind Kingdom,” he remarked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and longing. “Why do you ask?”
Ramil slams the book onto a pile, his voice heavy with realization, “You were right about the betrothal at birth.”
Emathion stared at Ramil, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How do you know this?” he demanded, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism.
“I overheard father say just now in his office that I was betrothed,” Ramil whispered. “But she is now a lady in waiting for Prince Marius,” Ramil continued, his voice barely above a breath.
Emathion's eyes widened in realization as he spoke aloud, questioningly, “That doesn't align with tradition. Water Kingdom Royalty must only marry royalty from other realms. Father would never have arranged a match with someone from the Water Kingdom for you. The Wind Kingdom heirs were promised to each other long before their births. Could it be that I am already betrothed?”
Ramil's gaze swept across the room, lingering on the array of books before him. His brow furrowed in contemplation as he muttered, “I don't know. Do any of these books delve deeper into the subject?”
Emathion handed Ramil a stack of old, weathered books, their leather covers cracked and faded from years of use. With a knowing look, Emathion said, “Start with this.”
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Upon hearing a knock on Emathion's bedroom door, Ramil stands inside with a stack of books in his hands. As the door swings open, Sandra's voice calls out, “Ramil, are you in here?”
Sandra's eyes widened as she took in the sight of Ramil surrounded by towering stacks of ancient tomes, his expression a mixture of fascination and determination. With a shake of her head, she pointed a finger at the books before turning to face him. “Ramil, please tell me you're not getting involved in this,” she implored, her voice tinged with concern.
Ramil handed the stack of dusty books to Emathion, his voice filled with a hint of reprimand. “Emathion, mother told you not to leave your books around the house.” With a quick glance, Ramil whisked Sandra away, leaving Emathion alone in the room.
Ramil followed Sandra down the staircase, her steps confident and purposeful. “Sorry I was late,” she said over her shoulder, her voice echoing softly in the dimly lit stone corridor. “I need to finish making a sword for a customer in my family's shop. I can't wait to take over the shop when I get older.”
Ramil trailed after Sandra into the dimly lit living room. “What if you found out,” Ramil's voice rang out, low and hypnotic, “no matter what plans you have for your future, it has already been decided for you?” His words lingered for a moment.
They sit side by side on the worn, velvet couch, Sandra's blue eyes shimmered with determination as she spoke to Ramil, her voice soft yet resolute. Ramil's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his gaze unwavering as he listened to Sandra's words. “I am a Dweller,” Sandra began, her words carrying a weight of ancient wisdom and fierce independence. “I will always forge my own path in the sand, and so will you.”
Her slender fingers traced patterns in the air, as if weaving a tapestry of destinies intertwined. “You be the best Dweller Warrior,” she continued, her voice tinged with unwavering loyalty, “and I will make your weapons sharp. Like we talked about since we were five.”
***
As the first light of dawn filtered through the dense canopy above, Moriko's footsteps echoed softly against the moss-covered forest floor. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the earthy scent of damp leaves and the distant murmur of a hidden stream. Her eyes caught a glimmer of light as she approached a patch of ancient stones, their surfaces weathered and worn by time. Curiosity tugged at her heart, urging her to follow the meandering path that wound its way through the undergrowth. But as she pressed on, the path abruptly came to an end, blocked by a tangle of bushes and brambles.
Undeterred, Moriko pushed aside the thick foliage, her gaze drawn to a small gap between the leaves. Peering through, she saw the yawning entrance of an old stone tunnel, its mouth beckoning her with a silent promise of adventure and mystery. Beyond the tunnel lay an empty, crumbling city of ancient stone, its structures looming like silent sentinels against the backdrop of the forest.
Moriko stepped back, her gaze fixed on the dense thicket ahead. With a commanding tone, she uttered, “Open, a path.” Without hesitation, the bushes obediently parted to reveal a mysterious trail.
Moriko's footsteps echoed softly as she made her way through the dimly lit tunnel, the flickering torches casting dancing shadows on the walls. Emerging onto the empty streets, she approached the row of statues that stood like silent sentinels, frozen in time.
The statues, resembling armored soldiers with solemn expressions, seemed to watch over the deserted city with a haunting stillness. Their stone faces bore the weight of untold stories, their outstretched arms reaching for a past long forgotten. As Moriko gazed up at the statues, a shiver ran down her spine. The air was heavy with a sense of loss and the echoes of a once bustling civilization. She could almost hear the whispers of the past, carried on the gentle breeze that rustled through the empty streets.
“What happened here?” Moriko's voice was barely a whisper, but it hung in the air like a question mark, demanding an answer from the silent guardians of the city. The statues remained stoic, their secrets locked away in the depths of time, leaving Moriko to puzzle over the mystery of the deserted city.
As Moriko stood in the ancient ruins, the imposing soldier statue before her came to life with a graceful, almost eerie movement. Its stone feet shifted soundlessly on the moss-covered ground as it made its way towards her. With deliberate slowness, the statue knelt before Moriko, its stone hand outstretched towards her in a seemingly gentle gesture.
In a voice that echoed with a mysterious power, the soldier spoke, its words carrying a weight of centuries past. “You use your powers to reveal the past,” it intoned, the words hanging in the air like a veil of magic. Moriko felt a shiver run down her spine, a tingling sensation that spoke of ancient secrets waiting to be uncovered.
As Moriko gingerly intertwined her fingers with the soldier's, a rush of memories flooded her senses. Through his eyes, she witnessed a haunting scene from the past. A figure of breathtaking beauty, with dark green features mirroring her own, adorned with a crown of shimmering diamonds, stood before a city teeming with life.
With a mere gesture, the woman commanded the stone soldiers to turn against the unsuspecting citizens. Their once serene expressions twisted into masks of violence as they carried out the queen's chilling decree. The air filled with the anguished cries of the innocent, the clash of metal, and the sickening thud of bodies falling to the ground. Moriko's heart constricted with a mix of horror and sorrow as she bore witness to the senseless slaughter unfolding before her. The once vibrant city now lay in ruins, its streets painted red with the blood of the fallen. And amidst the chaos.
Moriko's vision abruptly shifts, revealing the ethereal figure of the green Lady as she reaches out to Tyson, her grip firm on his wrist. Her red flashing eyes gleam with a mysterious allure as she utters in a voice as soft as the whisper of the wind, “Come on, you will be my personal pet, Tyson.”
Moriko stood amidst the ruins of the once flourishing Earth Kingdom, a silent witness to the devastation that surrounded her. The earth trembled beneath her feet, aching with the weight of loss and destruction. In the distance, dark clouds swirled ominously, casting shadows over the broken landscape.
As she gazed out at the destruction, a voice cut through the chaos, calling her name with urgency. “Moriko!” The voice was familiar, filled with a mixture of concern and determination. It was Emathion, his presence a comforting beacon in the midst of the chaos.
Turning towards the sound, Moriko's eyes met Emathion's, his gaze unwavering and filled with a silent plea. With a deep breath, Moriko steeled herself against the despair that threatened to consume her. She reached out towards Emathion, their hands meeting.
Moriko's eyes snap open as she retracts her hand from the stone soldier, causing it to crumble into a heap of shattered fragments. Overwhelmed with emotion, she collapses to the ground, tears streaming down her face. Through the haze of her distress, she hears Emathion's concerned voice asking, “Are you okay?”
Moriko's voice trembled as she whispered, “I am fine, just living amidst the remnants of a lost Kingdom, haunted by a mysterious voice that lingers in my mind.”
Emathion's voice in her mind. “What kingdom?” he asked, his words vibrating with the weight of his underworld origins. “I am a Dweller, I live below the desert.”
Moriko stands, her golden eyes reflecting the shadows of the towering trees surrounding her. With a graceful step, she retreats into the enigmatic depths of the forest. “We agreed,” she whispers, her voice barely a rustle in the wind, “not to share our locations.”
Emathion's voice echoed through her mind. “Do you feel that they are keeping us in the dark?”
Moriko's eyes glinted with a hint of worry as she weaved her magic, causing the tunnel to disappear beneath a lush cover of bushes. “It might be for a good reason,” she murmured, her voice filled with ancient wisdom and a touch of uncertainty.
“I have been here and feeling you since the day I was born. Where are you from? I am no longer keeping anything from you. Ask me anything, I will tell you.”
Moriko's voice echoed through the enchanted forest, she declared, “I reside within the depths of the Green Forest, nestled in the heart of the Earth Kingdom.”
Emathion's words cut through like a sharp blade, his eyes reflecting a mix of disbelief and anger. “Stop joking,” he commanded, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “My father told me that no one was left in the Earth Kingdom.”
Moriko's voice echoed through the forest, her words heavy with determination and regal authority. “I am not joking,” she declared, her gaze unwavering as she stood tall, embodying the essence of a true princess. “I am Princess Moriko, future Queen of the Earth Kingdom once I have my presenting.”
Emathion's voice trembled with concern as he asked, “What happened to your family?”
“I have asked Yeongi and Tyson many times,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the crackling trees dancing in the wind, “but it's hard for Tyson to speak of the path.”
Emathion spoke, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Do you mean Prince Tyson from the Fire Kingdom?”
Moriko's voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke. “Yes, him and Princess Yeongi are my guardians.”
Emathion asked, “Oh, did they tell you about me?”
In a hushed tone, Moriko confirmed, “Yes, Yeongi believes that you are my life partner.”
Emathion's voice trembled as he spoke, his eyes reflecting the weight of his revelation. “So it's true,” he whispered, his words heavy with resignation. “Me and my brothers were betrothed at birth. I just shouldn't try to plan my future.”
Moriko's words hung in the air like a fragile spell, her voice soft yet resolute. “I want you to be happy,” she whispered, her eyes searching for a glimmer of understanding. “Please plan your future.” Her words lingered like a gentle breeze, carrying the weight of unspoken truths. “At least we can be friends,” she finally said, her voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. “That's all I will require from you.”
Emathion inquired, “What about your future?”
“I haven't discussed it with Tyson and Yeongi,” she murmured, her voice soft yet brimming with determination. “We decide everything together. But I want to travel, some day.”
***
In the ethereal afternoon light that filtered through the grand windows of the Water Kingdom, Marius sat hunched in his opulent bedroom, his heart heavy like the weight of the ocean depths. The distant calls of seagulls echoed in the room, a haunting melody that matched the ache in his soul.
As if sensing his turmoil, Evain swept into the room, his presence commanding attention as he crossed the polished marble floor to stand beside his brooding brother. With a tender voice that carried the whispers of the river's currents, Evain inquired, “Brother, where is Agneyastra? I wanted to show her the river lands.”
Marius lifted his gaze from the dancing ripples on the surface of the water beyond his window, meeting Evain's concerned eyes with a flicker of sadness. Marius rose to his feet, meeting Evain's gaze. “I let her go.”
Evain's laughter rang through room as she approached, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Stop messing around before I tell father,” she chided, his voice filled with a playful warning.
Marius meticulously tidied his room, his movements purposeful and steady. “Evain, I gave her my horse and released her in the desert,” he murmured, the weight of his decision evident in his somber tone.
Evain's hand collided with Marius' chest, a forceful push that conveyed more than just physical impact. In her eyes burned a fierce intensity, a question unspoken yet deafening in its silence. “Why?” she demanded, her voice a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion.
Marius's grip on Evain's wrists was firm yet gentle, halting her furious strike mid-air. His eyes, filled with a fierce determination, met hers as he spoke with unwavering resolve, “She asked me to let her go. I am not going to let Father use her for his plans.”
Evain jerks away from Marius, her eyes wide with fear as she whispers, “What if father...”
Marius abruptly interrupts her and declares, “I don't care. Let him do whatever he wants to me. I am glad she is far away from here.”
Evain grabbed Marius's arm forcefully and demanded, “You are telling him now.”
Evain led Marius through the ornate palace halls, their footsteps echoing in the silence. They reached their father's office, where Arroyo and Devereaux were engrossed in conversation, their laughter filling the room. Marius whispered, “He looks too busy to schedule my execution.”
Evain's knuckles rapped against the frosted glass of the office door, a sense of urgency in the echo. “Just come on,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
Arroyo's smile swiftly transformed into a menacing glare as he commanded, “Enter!”
Evain and Marius entered the office, their faces etched with concern, as Arroyo pointed accusingly at Devereaux. “Your brother just informed me that you and Marius released Agneyastra this morning,” he declared with a mix of disbelief and anger.
Evain's eyes blazed with fury as she accused, “Lies!” Her hands trembled before she pushed Devereaux forcefully to the ground.
Devereaux slowly rises to his feet, his voice trembling with accusation. “Father, see? I told you they are both plotting. Ask them where Marius's horse is.”
Marius was about to respond, but Evain interjected, “Miss Gills is the one. She is also a spy for Fire Kingdom. Go search her room, under the desk drawer you will find your proof.”
Devereaux's voice cut through the tension like a blade, commanding attention as he declared, “Stop! Miss Gills would never do that.”
Evain gestured towards Devereaux, emphasizing, “Father Devereaux's reluctance to let her go stems from his deep affection for her, which is why he's shifting blame onto us. Miss. Gills entrusted Marius's horse, Agneyastra, to her, prompting him to pursue her, albeit fruitlessly.”
A man with red glowing eyes, dressed in a flowing black cloak, enters the office and bows before Arroyo, addressing him as “My king.”
Arroyo's voice firm, his eyes gleaming with determination. “I think it's time,” he declared, his words hanging heavy in the air. “How many do you have available?”
Arroyo met the man's gaze as a smile crept onto his face. “Enough for a small mission,” the man said.
Arroyo's word frustration evident in his tone. “We had a guest escape this morning.”
With a commanding voice, the man orders, “Send your soldiers to retrieve the girl.”
Arroyo leaned against his desk, arms crossed, his voice low and commanding. “No, I want you to rip her to shreds.”
Marius, with fear pulsing through his veins, darted in front of Arroyo, desperation etched on his face as he pleaded, “Father, please don't do this.”
Arroyo's gaze pierces Marius as he declares, “She is Rufus's daughter.”
Evain swiftly intervened, separating Marius from Arroyo with a firm grip. “He didn't mean it,” he stated firmly.
The man's smile held a hint of mystery as he remarked confidently, “It shouldn't be too hard.” With a final bow to Arroyo, he turned and left the office.
Devereaux's eyes sparkled with relief as he gazed at Evain and Marius. “I am glad you believed me, father,” he said with a smile.
Arroyo whirls around, his voice echoing through the open office door, “Captain!”
The Water Kingdom soldier's armor glistened with droplets of water as he entered the king's office, his voice resounding with unwavering loyalty, “Yes, My king.”
Arroyo's voice echoed through the stone walls of the castle. “I want you to search Miss. Gills room,” he commanded, his eyes flickering with concern. “She might be a spy for the Fire Kingdom.”
Devereaux glared at Evain, his lip caught between his teeth. Evain's smile remained unwavering as she spoke, “Make sure to check her desk.”
Arroyo stood tall, his eyes flashing with warning as he faced Devereaux, Evain, and Marius. “Do not provoke me, children,” he declared with a voice as sharp as a blade, “or the consequences will be severe. Now, enjoy the rest of your weekend.” With a final steely gaze, he turned and walked away, leaving the trio speechless in his wake.
Marius moved towards Arroyo, but Evain swiftly intervened, pulling him out of the office. Deveraux followed closely behind, stating firmly, “Mill Gills isn't a spy.”
Evain and Marius stroll down the hall, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Evain's voice cuts through the silence, filled with a mischievous tone, “Well, the papers I stuck under her desk make her one.”
Devereaux's words cut through the tense silence, his voice cold and determined. “I will tell father about this,” he declared, his eyes flashing with a blend of defiance and resolve.
Evain's laughter echoed through the dimly lit room, sending shivers down Marius's spine. “You can tell him at Miss Gills's Execution tomorrow,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. With a firm grip, she pulled Marius into her bedroom, the anticipation of the impending events hanging heavy in the air.