Silently in the middle of the night, Prince Maccoy crept along the dimly lit hallway, taking a deep breath, Prince Maccoy summoned all his courage and stealthily approached the unsuspecting guards. In one swift motion, he reached out and seized the sword of one soldier, his grip firm and determined. Startled, the soldiers turned to face him, their eyes filled with confusion.
“Go back to your room, Prince Maccoy, by King Aiden's orders,” one soldier commanded, his voice laced with authority.
But Prince Maccoy's mind was not his own, the voice of a demon, urging him to embrace the darkness within.
“Kill them both,” the demon's voice hissed, its words dripping with malice.
Prince Maccoy shook his head, trying to push the sinister voice aside. “Killing them will not help us,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction.
The soldiers exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion growing. They had never seen Prince Maccoy engage in such a bizarre conversation with an unseen entity.
“Prince Maccoy, return to your room and give me the sword,” one soldier demanded, his tone tinged with concern.
But the demon's voice persisted, its whispers growing more insistent. “You know they must die, so you can go be with Hanina,” it taunted, appealing to Prince Maccoy's deepest desires.
Suddenly, Prince Maccoy felt a surge of power coursing through his veins. His eyes began to flicker with a golden light as he succumbed to the darkness within him. Without a second thought, he swung the stolen sword, cutting down both soldiers with deadly precision.
As the lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground, Prince Maccoy's heart sank. He had succumbed to the demon's influence, and now the palace was stained with the blood of those who had sworn to protect it. Determined to find answers and seek redemption, he made his way towards the palace's back exit, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.
Prince Maccoy stumbled out of the grand entrance of Fire Kingdom Palace, his mind consumed by a darkness he could not escape. The demon that had taken residence within him whispered cruel commands, its insidious influence turning him into a vessel of destruction.
As he stepped into the courtyard, a wave of agony washed over Prince Maccoy, causing him to clutch his head in anguish. The Fire Kingdom soldiers, once loyal and dedicated to protecting their prince, now cowered in fear. They had witnessed his transformation, the darkness that had consumed their beloved leader. With heavy hearts, they turned and fled, their duty to the prince overridden by their instinct for self-preservation.
Prince Maccoy, now a puppet to the demon's whims, moved with unnatural speed and precision. His sword sliced through the air, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake as he cut down anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. The once pristine courtyard was now littered with the fallen, their lifeless bodies a testament to the prince's descent into darkness.
But even amidst the chaos and destruction, a glimmer of Prince Maccoy's true self remained. Deep within the recesses of his tormented mind, he fought against the demon's control, desperately seeking a way to regain his autonomy. With every life he took, a part of him cried out in anguish, longing to be freed from this unholy prison.
Finally, Prince Maccoy stood outside the towering walls of the Fire Kingdom palace. The moon cast an ethereal glow upon the landscape, illuminating his path as he turned his gaze towards the distant mountains. There, hidden amidst their peaks, lay his only chance at freedom.
With a determined stride, Maccoy began to move swiftly away from the palace, his mind racing with thoughts of Hanina. The memory of her soft laughter, her gentle touch, and the way her eyes sparkled with mischief filled his thoughts, fueling his desire to be reunited with her.
As he ventured deeper into the night, the air grew colder, the chill seeping into his bones. But the thought of Hanina's warm embrace kept him going, pushing him to endure the hardships that lay ahead. He could almost hear her voice, whispering words of encouragement in his ear, reminding him of the love they shared.
The terrain became treacherous, the path winding through dense forests and steep cliffs. Maccoy stumbled and fell, his body bruised and battered, but he refused to give up. Every scrape and every ache were a small price to pay for the chance to be with Hanina once more.
***
As Prince Tyson approached his father, King Aiden, who sat regally on his ornate throne, he couldn't help but notice the frenzied activity around them. The air was thick with anticipation, and the scent of flowers and fresh paint filled the room. But amidst the chaos, Prince Tyson had a pressing matter that required his father's attention.
“Good morning, my son,” King Aiden greeted him with a warm smile.
Prince Tyson nodded respectfully. “Father, I need to speak with you privately,” he said, his voice filled with urgency.
King Aiden stood up, his commanding presence silencing the room. “Clear the room!” he commanded, and in an instant, the crowd dispersed, leaving only the king and his son in the vast throne room.
“What do you want, Tyson?” King Aiden asked, his tone serious.
Prince Tyson took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his father. “Victor informed me that you canceled my request for him to retrieve the Earth Kingdom's medical records,” he began, his voice tinged with frustration.
King Aiden sighed heavily. “Yes, I did,” he admitted. “Victor had more important matters to attend to while he was in the Earth Kingdom. Besides, Tyson, you don't even know if those records hold any information that could help your brother.”
Prince Tyson's brows furrowed in concern. “But, father, Maccoy is not well,” he pleaded. “His body is slowly being taken over by some sort of golden rash. We must find a way to help him.”
King Aiden’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on his son's shoulder. “I understand your concern, Tyson,” he said gently. “But we have expedited Maccoy's wedding for a reason. Once he is married and produces an heir, the stability of our kingdom will be secured.”
Prince Tyson stood before his father, King Aiden, in the vast and empty throne room of the Fire Kingdom. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows on the marble walls, adding an air of tension to the already charged atmosphere.
“Father,” Prince Tyson began, his voice filled with desperation and concern. “Maccoy is your heir, I understand that. But he needs help, and the court physicians are failing him.”
King Aiden, his regal figure seated upon the grand throne, looked down at his son with a stern gaze. “You may see me as your father first, but I am your King first and foremost,” he replied, his voice tinged with authority. “My duty, my sole purpose, is to ensure the continuation of the Fire Kingdom bloodline. Maccoy is still capable of producing an heir.”
Prince Tyson's heart sank at his father's words. He knew the weight that rested on Maccoy's shoulders, the burden of carrying on the legacy of their kingdom. But he also knew the toll it was taking on his brother's health. Maccoy's frailty was evident, his once vibrant spirit dampened by the weight of expectations.
Determined to sway his father's decision, Prince Tyson dropped to his knees before the throne, a gesture of both humility and desperation. “Please, Father,” he pleaded, his voice filled with emotion. “Allow me to seek help from the Earth Kingdom’s medical records. They possess knowledge that could save Maccoy.”
King Aiden's eyes narrowed, his face contorted with anger. “No!” he thundered, his voice echoing through the vast chamber. “I will not entertain such notions.”
Prince Tyson's heart pounded in his chest, torn between loyalty to his father and his love for his brother. Rising slowly to his feet, he met his father's gaze with determination. “Father, I implore you to reconsider. Maccoy's life is at stake. The Earth Kingdom may hold the key to his salvation.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
King Aiden's face softened momentarily, a flicker of doubt crossing his eyes. But then, with a resolute shake of his head, he regained his composure. “You forget your place, Tyson,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “You are a Prince of the Fire Kingdom, not a commoner begging on the floor. Stand tall and remember your duty.”
King Aiden, his face contorted with anger, forcefully pulls Prince Tyson to his feet in the grand throne room of the Fire Kingdom. The prince, undeterred by his father's rage, stands tall and unwavering.
“Father, you must see reason,” Prince Tyson pleads, his voice filled with determination.
But King Aiden, blinded by his own pride, scoffs at his son's words. “Never embarrass our kingdom again by kneeling and begging,” he retorts, his voice dripping with disdain.
As the heavy doors of the throne room swing open, the head of the Fire Kingdom soldiers, Victor, enters with a grave expression on his face. His urgent presence adds to the tension in the room.
***
Hanina made her way down to the first floor, where the maid's supply closet was conveniently located near the dining room. As she approached the closet, she noticed a group of maids gathering, their buckets filled with cleaning supplies. Hanina's gaze fell upon a familiar face, and she couldn't help but inquire about Lucy's whereabouts.
“Have you seen Lucy? She left her bucket in Rowan's game room and didn't clean the room,” Hanina asked, her voice filled with concern.
The maid, seemingly annoyed by the question, responded curtly, “Isn’t that your job, Hanina, to make sure we are doing our jobs.”
Hanina nodded, understanding the maid's frustration. “Yes, I was just asking,” she replied softly.
With a dismissive wave of her hand, the maid turned away from Hanina. “Well, no, I haven't seen Lucy. Now, I am going to clean Rowan's library,” she declared, her tone laced with a hint of attitude.
As the maid walked away, Hanina couldn't shake the feeling that the hostility was directed at her because of Lucy. There had always been an underlying tension between them, a rivalry fueled by their shared position and the desire to please Rowan. Placing Lucy's abandoned bucket on a shelf in the supply closet, Hanina couldn't help but wonder what kind of trouble, was Lucy getting into this time.
As she closed the closet door behind her, Hanina's mind raced with possibilities. Lucy was known for her mischievous nature and penchant for bending the rules. Perhaps she had stumbled upon something she shouldn't have, or maybe she was simply trying to avoid the task at hand. Whatever the case may be, Hanina knew that it was only a matter of time before Lucy's actions would come to light.
With a determined glint in her eyes, Hanina resolved to uncover the truth. She would discreetly investigate Lucy's whereabouts and ensure that her jobs were properly done. After all, the reputation of Rowan's mansion was at stake, and Hanina would stop at nothing to protect it.
Hanina had been searching for Lucy throughout Rowan's grand mansion for what felt like hours. Exhausted and frustrated, she finally decided to retreat to her bedroom for a moment of respite. As she turned down the hallway towards her room, she noticed her bedroom door ajar. A sense of unease washed over her, and she quickened her pace, fearing what she might find inside.
Stepping into her room, Hanina's eyes widened in shock. There, in her closet, was Lucy, pulling out artwork depicting Hanina in intimate moments with Prince Maccoy. Hanina's heart raced with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
“Lucy, what are you doing in my room? Get out!” Hanina's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and desperation.
Lucy, unfazed by Hanina's outburst, continued to examine the paintings and drawings of Prince Maccoy. A sly smile played upon her lips as she spoke.
“So, the perfect Hanina has a crush, or were these inspired by actual events?” Lucy's tone dripped with a mix of curiosity and mockery.
Hanina clenched her fists, her face flushing with embarrassment. “It's none of your business, Lucy. Give me back those artworks and leave.”
Lucy's fingers trailed across a sketch of Prince Maccoy, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “This one makes me believe you've touched the untouchable. How did you know the way he looked without his clothes, Hanina?”
Hanina snatched the sketch out of Lucy's hands, her voice faltering as she responded. “It's art, Lucy. You're supposed to use your imagination.”
Lucy's eyes narrowed, her voice laced with suspicion. “Does Rowan know about your little hobby?”
Hanina's heart skipped a beat. She knew she couldn't lie to Lucy, but she couldn't bear the thought of Rowan finding out either. With a heavy sigh, she replied, “Yes, he bought me the art supplies.”
A mischievous grin spread across Lucy's face. “But does Rowan know the subject matter of your artwork?”
Hanina's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. “Go ahead, tell him when he returns. It's just art. Until then, get out of my room and stay out of here.”
Lucy finally relented, leaving Hanina alone in her room. As the door closed behind her, Hanina sank onto her bed, her mind racing with worry. She looked down at the artwork of her lover, Prince Maccoy, scattered across her room. The images that once brought her joy now filled her with a sense of guilt and uncertainty. Hanina knew she had to confront her feelings and the consequences that awaited her, but for now, she could only hope that her secret remained hidden within the confines of her bedroom walls.
***
As Marudeva stepped through the threshold, his tired eyes fell upon his wife, Pyla, who was seven months pregnant with their second child. She sat on the couch, her gentle voice weaving a tale for their young toddler son, Ramil. The air was filled with the sweet sound of her voice, mingling with the soft rustle of pages turning. Marudeva sank into the couch beside them, his weariness palpable.
“My love, what is wrong?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.
Marudeva sighed heavily, his gaze fixed on Ramil, who now sat on the floor, engrossed in the colorful pictures of his book. “The Water King is making offers to the Dwellers, to know your location,” he confessed, his voice tinged with a mix of sadness and frustration.
Pyla's face contorted with a mixture of sorrow and anger. “It's so disheartening to think that our fellow Dwellers can't be trusted,” she murmured, her hand instinctively resting on her round belly. “We live in a world where even the strongest bonds can be broken by the lure of power and wealth.”
Marudeva nodded, his eyes filled with a deep understanding. “Indeed, anyone can be tempted with the right offer,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “That's why we have chosen to limit who knows our whereabouts. We must protect ourselves and our family from the dangers that lie beyond these walls.”
Pyla's voice trembled with longing as she spoke, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I would like to see my mother and father before the baby is born,” she confessed, her heartache evident.
Marudeva's gaze softened, his love for her shining through. “I understand your longing, my love,” he said gently, reaching out to caress her cheek. “But we cannot risk anyone knowing our location. I haven't even told my closest friends. We must live out here, isolated from everyone, for the sake of our safety.”
Pyla nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of acceptance and sadness. “I understand,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. “We must do it to protect our family.”
As Marudeva sat on the worn-out couch beside his wife Pyla and their young son Ramil, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at his heart. The weight of the world seemed to settle in his pocket, pulling him towards an unknown destiny. With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a folded tan cloth, a message from Aurgelmir, the general of his Dweller warriors.
Unfolding the cloth, Marudeva's eyes scanned the words etched upon it. “Dear Leader Marudeva, someone broke into your house near the Dweller city. We have the subject at the Dweller Warrior training building. Please come soon.” The urgency in the message sent a shiver down his spine, his mind racing with questions and fears.
Tucking the tan cloth back into his pocket, Marudeva leaned in to kiss Pyla, his love and pillar of strength. “I will try to be back before dinner, my love,” he whispered, his voice filled with determination.
Pyla's eyes filled with concern as she held his gaze. “Stay safe, my love,” she murmured, her voice laced with worry.
Leaving the safety of their farmhouse behind, Marudeva mounted his trusted steed, a horse made of ash, and set off towards the Dweller city. The wind whipped through his hair as he rode, his mind consumed with thoughts of the intruder and the safety of his family.
Without pausing for rest, Marudeva reached the Dweller warrior training building. Aurgelmir, the loyal general, greeted him with a stern expression as Marudeva entered the building. Together, they walked down the dimly lit halls, their footsteps echoing in the silence, until they reached Marudeva's office.
Inside, four Dweller warriors stood guard, surrounding a trembling baker from the city. Marudeva's voice was firm as he demanded answers. “Why did you enter my home?” he questioned, his eyes piercing into the baker's soul.
The baker stammered, his voice filled with fear. “Your wife ordered bread, my Lord,” he replied, his words barely audible.
Marudeva's face hardened, his brows furrowing in disbelief. “You lie, sir,” he declared, his voice laced with authority. “Lock him up with the others.”
The Dweller warriors wasted no time in escorting the baker from the office, their grip firm and unyielding. They took him away to confinement, leaving Marudeva alone with Aurgelmir.
Aurgelmir, ever loyal and fierce, stepped forward, his eyes burning with determination. “Marudeva, my leader, I know you don't want the blood on your hands but allow me to assist in handling this treasonous lowlife. We must make examples of them, so others don't dare betray us,” he urged, his voice filled with conviction.
Marudeva paused, his mind torn between mercy and justice. “I give myself until morning to think about it,” he finally replied, his voice heavy with the weight of his decision.
Aurgelmir nodded, understanding the burden that rested on Marudeva's shoulders. “Yes, sir. What has changed your mind?” he inquired, his eyes searching for a glimpse of the leader's thoughts.
Marudeva sighed, his gaze distant. “We are running out of options, Aurgelmir. Tomorrow, I may grant your request. But for now, let us return to our families. Give me the night to be with mine, and we will discuss this in the early morning,” he declared, his voice tinged with a mix of weariness and determination.
With that, Marudeva exited the Dweller warrior training building, his steps heavy with the weight of his responsibilities. He made his way back to the farmhouse, where his family awaited in hiding, their safety uncertain until they could resolve this treacherous situation.