Prince Maccoy near the mountains at the far end of the Fire Kingdom. Suddenly, a contingent of fifty Fire Kingdom soldiers materialized before him, their weapons drawn, and their eyes filled with determination. Prince Maccoy's grip tightened around his trembling sword, torn between the desire to protect those around him and the fear of succumbing to the Demon's sinister influence.
“Please,” he pleaded, his voice quivering with both desperation and resolve. “Let me pass. I don't want him to hurt you.”
Confusion and concern flickered across the faces of the soldiers, their loyalty to their prince warring with their duty to their king. One soldier, his gaze filled with both disbelief and compassion, stepped forward to speak.
“Prince Maccoy, what are you talking about? There is no one here but us.”
But the Demon's voice, like a venomous serpent, slithered through the prince's mind, tempting him with its promises of power and control.
“Allow me to handle this,” it hissed, its words laced with malice.
Prince Maccoy's eyes widened in defiance, his voice rising with determination. “I will not allow you to hurt anyone else!”
As the prince clutched his head in agony, the soldiers cautiously approached, their concern for their prince overpowering their fear. But in an instant, the Demon's influence took hold, turning Prince Maccoy into an instrument of destruction. With a swift and deadly strike, he ended the life of the soldier who had reached out to him, his eyes flashing with a golden fire that mirrored the flames that engulfed the kingdom.
The remaining soldiers, shocked and horrified, drew their weapons, torn between their allegiance to their prince and their duty to protect the realm. Their leader stepped forward, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and reverence.
“The Prince must be taken back alive,” he declared, his voice trembling with the weight of his words. “He is the only hope for the Fire Kingdom's bloodline.”
With renewed determination, Prince Maccoy clashed swords with the soldiers, his movements a dance of desperation and despair. Each strike was a testament to the struggle within him, the battle between his true self and the insidious influence of the Demon. The clash of steel echoed through the fiery landscape, a symphony of chaos and conflict.
As the battle raged on, Prince Maccoy's heart burned with a flicker of hope. Though the Demon's voice continued to whisper in his ear, he fought with every ounce of his being to resist its control. For deep within him, he knew that the fate of the Fire Kingdom, and his own soul, hung in the balance.
Prince Tyson, Victor, and a group of Fire Kingdom soldiers hurriedly approached the scene, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and concern. In the distance, they could see Prince Maccoy engaged in a brutal battle, mercilessly taking down the Fire Kingdom soldiers who were trying to bring him back home. Victor paused for a moment, his eyes widening as he noticed Prince Maccoy's eyes flashing gold, a sight that sent shivers down his spine. He quickly pulled Prince Tyson by the arm, seeking answers.
“What is wrong with him?” Victor asked, his voice filled with worry.
Prince Tyson, his face etched with a mixture of sadness and determination, replied, “I can't tell you everything, but that is why I required the Earth Kingdom's medical records. There is something plaguing him, something that has changed him.”
Victor's brows furrowed in confusion, but he knew they had to focus on the immediate task at hand. “How do we get him back to the palace?” he asked, his voice filled with urgency.
Prince Tyson pondered for a moment, his eyes fixed on his brother's relentless assault. “Perhaps,” he suggested, “we should let him go for now. Once he calms down, he might find his way back home.”
But Victor shook his head, his determination unwavering. “No,” he said firmly, “we cannot leave him like this. We must bring him back to the palace, where we can help him.”
Prince Tyson sighed, realizing the truth in Victor's words. “Very well,” he conceded, “but we need a plan. You go in front of him and distract him, while I try to approach from behind.”
Victor nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He rushed over to the Fire Kingdom soldiers fighting Prince Maccoy, shouting, “Pull back, men! Retreat!”
As if in a trance, the soldiers stopped their fight and backed away from Prince Maccoy, giving him a momentary respite. Prince Maccoy stood there, his grip on his sword tight, his eyes still glowing with an otherworldly intensity. Prince Tyson cautiously approached him from behind, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Maccoy,” Prince Tyson called out, his voice filled with a mix of concern and desperation. “This isn't you.”
Prince Maccoy slowly turned around to face his brother, his expression a mix of confusion and anguish. Prince Tyson tossed down his own sword and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Brother,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion, “you fight these men as if they are to blame for keeping you away from your beloved. But if you want someone to blame, here I am. Take your sword and strike me down.”
Prince Maccoy took a step closer, his eyes filled with torment, but suddenly, he let out a piercing scream of pain and collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Prince Tyson hurriedly knelt beside him, worry etched on his face, as Victor approached cautiously.
“Men,” Victor commanded, his voice filled with determination, “let's get Prince Maccoy back home.”
The Fire Kingdom soldiers quickly and gently carried Prince Maccoy back to the Fire Kingdom Palace, placing him on his bed in his room. Prince Tyson looked at the soldiers and Victor, gratitude evident in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I will stay here and wait for him to wake up.”
Victor nodded understandingly. “Before you return home for the day, come see me,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of concern and support.
Prince Tyson nodded in acknowledgment as Victor and the other soldiers left the room. He settled himself beside his brother's bed, prepared to wait for however long it would take. Hours passed, and finally, Prince Maccoy's eyes fluttered open, sadness evident in his gaze as he looked at his brother realizing what he had done.
Prince Tyson took a deep breath, his love for his brother shining through his eyes. “Brother,” he said sympathetically, “after we get you well again, I will go retrieve Hanina for you.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Prince Maccoy's lips, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Why?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and gratitude.
Prince Tyson's voice was filled with unwavering determination. “Because, brother, I just want you to be happy. But we need to be strong and fight the illness that is plaguing you.”
Prince Maccoy nodded, his eyes filled with a newfound determination. “I will try,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of hope and resolve.
Leaving Prince Maccoy's bedroom, Prince Tyson made his way towards Victor's office and knocked on the open door, his voice filled with curiosity. “Why did you want to speak with me?”
Victor's voice carried a hint of excitement as he spoke, “I have found a way for you to get to the Earth Kingdom, to retrieve the medical records.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Prince Tyson nodded resolutely, his determination unwavering. “Thank you, I know they hold the key to helping Maccoy.”
Victor motioned towards the armor on the rack. “You will wear this armor and keep your helmet on at all times until you return. Gather what you need, and then come back home.”
The weight of the impending journey settled upon Prince Tyson's shoulders, his mind racing with thoughts. “When do I leave?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of anxiety.
“In about ten minutes,” Victor replied, his tone filled with urgency.
Prince Tyson's thoughts turned to his wife, and he felt the need to inform her. “I need to tell my wife,” he stated firmly.
Victor reassured him, “I will inform Princess Yeongi. I have already spoken to your father, informing him that you will accompany me to the Smoke Kingdom to retrieve Princess Uahi.”
Prince Tyson began donning the armor, his movements deliberate and focused. “Is there anything else?” he inquired, his voice steady despite the mounting pressure.
Victor's gaze held a mixture of concern and determination. “If at any time you are discovered, you are on your own. Be swift in your preparations, my men will be waiting outside in ten minutes.”
With a nod, Prince Tyson's resolve solidified. He would do whatever it took to uncover the truth and save his brother. As he fastened the helmet securely in place, he couldn't help but feel a surge of determination coursing through his veins. The journey ahead would test him, but he was ready to face the challenges that awaited him in the Earth Kingdom.
***
Hanina walked through the grand halls of Rowan's mansion, her footsteps echoing against the marble floors. As she passed by the house staff, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Did Lucy betray her? Did she reveal the truth about Hanina's artwork on Prince Maccoy? The maids and other staff members nodded politely as Hanina hurried by, engrossed in their own tasks. But behind their serene expressions, Hanina wondered if they knew.
Her heart raced, and her breath came in short, anxious gasps. The weight of her secret threatened to suffocate her. What would Rowan do if he found out? Would he still trust her to be his faithful assistant? The uncertainty gnawed at her, twisting her insides into knots. She needed to find solace, a moment of respite from the whirlwind of her thoughts.
With determination, Hanina made her way downstairs and entered Rowan's library. The vast room enveloped her, shelves upon shelves filled with books of all shapes and sizes. She leaned against a bookcase, desperately seeking a sense of calm. But her refuge was short-lived, as Lucy entered the room, her laughter echoing through the space.
“Hanina, are you that worried?” Lucy's voice carried a hint of amusement. “Hanina, I didn't tell anyone about your artwork on Prince Maccoy.”
Hanina's eyes widened, she hadn't expected Lucy to address her concerns so directly. A mix of relief and suspicion washed over her. “I don't care,” Hanina responded, her voice tinged with defiance. “I got rid of it, last night.”
Lucy's laughter subsided, replaced by a look of concern. “Why are you so stressed, Hanina? You can trust me, you know.”
Hanina's guard remained up, her walls firmly in place. “None of your business,” she snapped, her voice laced with frustration. “Just go back to work and leave me alone.”
Without waiting for a response, Hanina hastily left the library, her footsteps echoing in her wake. She needed space to gather her thoughts, to find a way to navigate the treacherous path she found herself on. As she hurried away from Lucy, a storm of emotions raged within her. Would Rowan ever discover the truth? Could she keep her secret hidden, or would it unravel, exposing her vulnerability? Hanina's mind raced with possibilities, her heart heavy with the weight of the unknown. She knew she had to tread carefully, for her future and the life growing within her depended on it.
Hanina finished her last task for the day, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. The grandeur of Rowan's mansion had always been overwhelming, and she couldn't wait to retreat to her own bedroom. As she made her way upstairs, her footsteps echoing through the opulent halls, she was abruptly stopped by Lucy.
“Leave me alone, Lucy,” Hanina pleaded, her voice laced with exhaustion and frustration.
Lucy, with a hint of curiosity in her eyes, asked, “Are you going to work on more of your artwork?”
Hanina's patience wore thin, and she snapped, “Lucy, go away! I need some peace and quiet.”
Lucy's voice softened, and she reached out, “Hanina, we could be friends, you know. We're both here in this mansion, living similar lives.”
Hanina turned to face Lucy, her expression filled with disdain. “I would rather befriend a demon than you, Lucy. Goodnight, I will see you in the morning.”
Lucy's eyes widened with hurt, and she muttered under her breath, “Hanina, you don't have to be so pathetic.”
Hanina continued down the dimly lit hallway, the weight of her words lingering in the air. She finally reached her bedroom, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the mansion. With a sigh of relief, she closed the door behind her and locked it, shutting out the world outside.
Inside her room, Hanina found solace in the familiar surroundings. The walls were adorned with her artwork, a reflection of her deepest emotions and desires. The canvas became her confidant, capturing her thoughts and dreams in vibrant strokes. As she stood in the center of the room, she felt a sense of freedom, a refuge from the judgment and expectations that haunted her every step.
Hanina's mind wandered back to her encounter with Lucy. The constant presence of the mansion's inhabitants had always been a source of discomfort for her. Their idle chatter and shallow acquaintances felt suffocating, like a gilded cage she couldn't escape. Hanina yearned for something deeper, something genuine that transcended the superficiality of her surroundings.
***
Escorted by a Dweller warrior, Marudeva made his way through the labyrinthine halls of the building until they reached a spacious room bathed in bright light. In the center stood an empty chair, its presence a stark reminder of the imminent interrogations. Beside it lay an assortment of weapons, their gleaming edges reflecting Marudeva's somber gaze.
Just as Marudeva began to contemplate the weight of his decision, the door swung open, and Aurgelmir entered with a small contingent of Dweller warriors.
“Did you make your decision?” Aurgelmir inquired, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.
Marudeva, his eyes filled with a flicker of doubt, responded, “Yes, but first, Aurgelmir, are you absolutely certain that there is no other way? Have we exhausted all possibilities?”
Aurgelmir sighed heavily, his gaze reflecting the weariness of countless days spent interrogating the unyielding prisoners. “We have tried everything, Marudeva. They remain steadfast in their silence,” he explained, his voice tinged with resignation.
With a heavy heart, Marudeva acquiesced, “Very well then. You may commence with the interrogations.” He turned his attention to a nearby warrior and requested a chair, his determination unwavering despite the foreboding atmosphere.
Concern etched on his face, Aurgelmir cautioned, “Sir, it may become messy.”
Marudeva's resolve remained unshaken as he declared, “I shall stay. Bring me a chair.”
Marudeva sat in the corner of the room, his eyes fixed on Aurgelmir as he commanded the two Dweller warriors. The air was heavy with tension, and Marudeva could feel the weight of the impending interrogation.
Aurgelmir's voice cut through the silence, sharp and authoritative. “Go get the first prisoner,” he ordered, his gaze unwavering. The Dweller warriors swiftly obeyed, disappearing into the shadows only to return moments later, dragging the first Dweller betrayer with them. They forced him into a chair, positioning him in the center of the room, surrounded by a cart overflowing with weapons.
The Dweller in the chair, defiant and unyielding, spoke with a hint of defiance. “I told you, before, I am not saying nothing.”
Aurgelmir's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and determination as he ran his hands over the assortment of weapons on the cart. His voice was low, laced with a dangerous edge. “All I want to know is where to meet the Water Kingdom soldier. Are you sure you don't want to speak?”
The Dweller in the chair maintained his stoic facade. “I am not afraid of you,” he replied, his voice steady.
In a swift motion, Aurgelmir plucked a small dagger from the cart and held it menacingly close to the Dweller's face. The cold glint of the blade reflected the bright light, sending shivers down Marudeva's spine. Aurgelmir's voice dripped with a chilling promise. “You will be after the pain.”
Marudeva could barely bring himself to watch as Aurgelmir proceeded to interrogate each Dweller prisoner, one by one. The room echoed with the sound of desperate pleas and agonized screams, but not a single word of information was extracted. Aurgelmir wiped the blood off his dagger, his expression unreadable, before making his way towards Marudeva.
“Sir, that was the last of them,” Aurgelmir reported, his voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. “And we are catching more betrayers every day.”
Marudeva's mind raced, contemplating their next move. He knew that this was just the beginning, that there were still battles to be fought and secrets to be uncovered. “I am thinking about our next step,” he murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of responsibility.
Aurgelmir's gaze shifted towards the Dweller warriors, their eyes filled with a hardened determination. “Send someone to clean this room,” he said, his voice firm. It was a simple command, but it held an unspoken understanding - they were ready to move forward, to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Lost in his thoughts, Marudeva absentmindedly reached out touching the bloody weapons that were used on the prisoners. Breaking the silence, Marudeva voiced his doubts to Aurgelmir.
“Maybe I should step down as the leader,” Marudeva said, his voice filled with uncertainty. “Perhaps someone else would be better suited for this role.”
Aurgelmir turned his gaze towards Marudeva, “Marudeva, you are a good leader,” Aurgelmir spoke, his voice firm yet gentle. “You have always fought to keep your family and fellow Dwellers safe. The actions of a few should not make you doubt yourself or your abilities. Rise to the occasion, be strong for them, for all of us.”
Marudeva's eyes met Aurgelmir's, searching for reassurance amidst his doubts. He could see the unwavering belief in his friend's eyes, a belief that Marudeva had lost sight of in his moments of uncertainty.