As the soft, golden light of the early morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, Agneyastra gracefully sat in front of her vanity mirror, a brush gliding smoothly through her long, ebony locks. Just as Agneyastra lost herself in her thoughts, the bedroom door swung open, and Moriko, her dear friend, burst into the room, brimming with excitement. With a wide smile, Moriko enveloped Agneyastra in a warm and affectionate embrace.
“Happy 18th birthday, my dear Agneyastra!” Moriko exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine joy. “Lee and Jeremy have gone through great efforts to set up a marvelous pool party in your honor.”
Agneyastra's face revealed a flicker of nervousness. “I must admit, I feel a bit anxious about Jeremy,” she confessed softly. “I fear he may perceive something is amiss with me.”
Moriko's eyes sparkled with mischief as she replied, “Jeremy has always been quick to judge, my dear, but don't worry. Once he gets to know you more, he will see the depth of your spirit and the brilliance of your heart.”
Without wasting another moment, Yeongi entered the room, his presence radiating a quiet sense of determination. “Time is of the essence,” he said, his voice steady and encouraging. “Tyson is waiting for us in the verdant embrace of the green forest.”
Moriko's inquisitive gaze landed on Agneyastra. With a playful tone, she asked, “Will Emathion be joining us?”
Agneyastra's eyes softened with fondness as she replied, “Emathion departed yesterday to lend a helping hand in the preparations.”
The sun set over the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the Green Forest. Moriko and Agneyastra, their arms tightly interlocked, followed Yeongi's confident stride as he led them out of the imposing castle.
Through the dense foliage, they reached a clearing where Tyson awaited them beside a majestic tree. Moriko gently placed her hand upon the tree, a surge of magic coursing through her fingertips. With a shimmering burst of emerald light, a portal materialized before them.
Stepping out into a new realm, Emathion stood patiently, guiding them towards the waiting van. Jeremy, sat behind the wheel, ready to transport them to their next destination.
Moriko, with a touch of mischief, opens the passenger side door and playfully nudges Agneyastra into the seat, almost causing her to fall onto Jeremy. A mischievous grin danced upon Moriko's lips as she swiftly closed the door and joined Emathion, Tyson, and Yeongi in the back of the van.
Settling herself behind Agneyastra, Moriko lightly nudged her companion's arm, drawing her attention. A soft inquiry escaped Moriko's lips, her voice carrying curiosity and a touch of humor as she asked, “Agneyastra, did you tell Jeremy thank you for your party?”
As the van began its journey down the highway, the gentle hum of the engine mixing with the whisper of the wind, Agneyastra's voice, filled with gratitude, floated through the air. “Thank you,” she replied, her words delicate, yet sincere.
As the van rumbles along the winding road, Jeremy's hands grip the steering wheel with a sense of purpose. A smile plays upon his lips as he steals a glance at Agneyastra, his co-passenger. “Well, you only turn 18 once,” he says with a lighthearted tone. “I am surprised you didn't bring your partner.”
Agneyastra's eyes flicker with a hint of sadness as she turns to face Jeremy. “I don't have one,” she replies quietly. “Why didn't you bring yours?”
Jeremy's gaze returns to the road ahead, his grip on the wheel momentarily tightening. “I don't have one either,” he admits, a shade of longing in his voice.
Curiosity overtakes Agneyastra, her inquisitive nature eager for answers. “Why?” she asks, genuine confusion lacing her words. “The way Moriko speaks of you, I thought you would have many like Ramil and Emathion.”
The sudden question catches Jeremy off guard, his attention momentarily slipping from the road. In that moment of distraction, the van swerves perilously close to the oncoming traffic. A voice from the back seat, Tyson, breaks the tense silence. “Focus on making sure we get where we're going safely,” he warns, concern etched on his face.
Emathion joins in, an attempt to diffuse the tense atmosphere. “Agney, that is not polite,” he chides gently.
Regret swiftly washes over Agneyastra's features, her remorse apparent. “I'm sorry, Jeremy,” she murmurs softly. “I have been told that my inquisitive curiosity can be too much at times.”
Tyson, Moriko, Emathion, and Yeongi, the remaining passengers in the van, silently concur with Agneyastra's self-assessment. They understand her eagerness to learn, but also acknowledge the importance of maintaining a certain level of tact.
As Jeremy finally parks the van in the safety of the garage, a gentle smile graces his face. He looks at Agneyastra, warmth and encouragement radiating from his eyes. “That is how one learns,” he says tenderly. “By asking questions, challenging the norm. Just remember to do so at the right time and in the right manner.”
The sun glistened on the rippling surface of the pool as Agneyastra, Jeremy, Tyson, Moriko, Emathion, and Yeongi stepped out of the van and made their way towards the building's poolside. Laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft splashes of water and the distant sounds of children playing.
Agneyastra found herself drawn to Jeremy's company, and they spent most of the day engrossed in conversation. As they sat at a table, their words drifting and merging with the light breeze, Tyson sat nearby, his eyes fixed on his wife Yeongi. A smile graced his lips as he whispered, “She looks at him the way her father looked at her mother.”
Lee, Jeremy's enthusiastic nephew, approached them and eagerly declared, “This is the one Moriko was talking about.”
An involuntary self-doubt crept into Agneyastra's response, “Whatever Moriko says, I'm sure I am not that great.”
Yet, as Lee's attention wavered and he moved towards another child, Jeremy turned his gaze towards Agneyastra, his eyes brimming with genuine curiosity. “So, you're about to finish your educational training,” he ventured, recalling their previous conversations.
Agneyastra sighed, her emerald-green eyes fixed on Jeremy, lost in their depths. “If you're going to ask what I want to do with my future, I don't have a clear answer. For now, I'll focus on becoming a Warrior.”
Jeremy's expression softened, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. “You don't seem very excited about it. Maybe you should take your time before deciding on anything else,” he suggested, his words tinged with gentle wisdom.
Agneyastra couldn't tear her gaze away from Jeremy's captivating presence. A flicker of vulnerability passed through her features as she confessed, “I like talking with you.”
***
As the sun's golden rays filtered through the small window of Ramil's bedroom, a soft glow illuminated the room. Clad in his Dweller Warrior armor, crafted from the rare and formidable Dweller glass, Ramil stood tall and proud. The armor glistened in the morning light, its translucent sheen casting an ethereal aura around him.
Ramil's helmet rested atop the elegant dresser near the bedroom door, gleaming with an otherworldly energy. Its intricate engravings and intricate design spoke volumes of the craftsmanship and expertise that went into its creation. Every piece of this sacred armor was said to be stronger than steel, offering unparalleled protection to those who wore it.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Agneyastra found herself momentarily taken aback by Ramil's striking appearance. Regaining her composure, Agneyastra managed to utter a few words, “Sorry, you look nice.”
Ramil turned around slowly, his eyes meeting Agneyastra's. A mix of confidence and vulnerability flickered in his gaze. He approached her, step by deliberate step, his armor echoing a faint, melodic chime as he moved. The weight of his presence filled the room, commanding attention.
With a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Ramil replied, “I know. Excuse me.” His voice was calm and composed. As he reached out, his fingers brushed against Agneyastra's arm, a brief connection that stirred both longing and uncertainty within him. The softness of her touch lingered in his mind as he turned his attention to the helmet resting on the dresser behind her.
A fleeting glimpse caught the watchful eye of Marudeva, Ramil's father, who happened to pass by his son's room. The proximity between Ramil and Agneyastra did not escape his notice. Marudeva's voice, laced with concern and admonishment, sliced through the silence of the room, “Ramil!”
Agneyastra, ever composed, swiftly interjected, her voice carrying a sense of normalcy. “Breakfast is ready,” she murmured, her retreat from the room as swift and graceful as a fleeting breeze.
Ramil, consumed by the urgency that tugged at his soul, secured his helmet upon his head, it’s cool touch sending a shiver down his spine. “Father, I must go,” he voiced with determination.
Marudeva's eyes bore into Ramil's, filled with a mix of pride and protectiveness. “If you do anything to dishonor her, I will never forgive you. She is the only part left of my best friend,” he warned, his voice heavy with unspoken grief.
Ramil's chest tightened, a knot of emotions constricting his heart. “I have to go. It's not my fault many are attracted to me,” he pleaded, a hint of frustration slipping into his voice.
Marudeva relented, his expression softening with a mix of understanding and resignation. “Just go, my son. Have a good fight on the battlefield.”
With a determined stride, Ramil swiftly exited his room, making his way downstairs toward the front door. Outside, he was greeted by a haunting sight—a swath of ashes scattered near the porch. He couldn't help but pause, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch the charred residue. To his amazement, the ashes stirred beneath his touch, coalescing into the form of a majestic horse.
Without hesitation, Ramil vaulted onto the steed's back, his grip firm on the reins. The horse, emanating an otherworldly glow, carried him down the dirt road, a silent guardian guiding him towards the Dweller city. There, amidst the waiting Dweller warriors atop their horses and camels, Ramil prepared himself for the fight that lay ahead.
Ramil sat atop his magnificent steed, his heart pounding in anticipation. His eyes scanned the vast expanse of desert that stretched before him, the wind whispering through the endless dunes. Aurgelmir and Saichi rode proudly at the forefront of the army, their presence commanding the attention of all who beheld them.
Aurgelmir's voice boomed across the desolate landscape, reaching the ears of every warrior. “The first day on the battlefield can be overwhelming,” he declared, his voice unwavering. “Just pace yourselves, for today, we do not take prisoners.”
Saichi directed his gaze towards a nearby warrior, standing near a mysterious wall made of sand. With a determined look in his eyes, Saichi declared, “We are ready.”
The Dweller Warrior, clad in a sand glass bracelet, extended his arm towards the wall of sand. As if by magic, a colossal opening appeared, revealing a hidden path leading to the zenith of the desert. Ramil and the Dweller Warrior army followed closely behind Aurgelmir, their steps strong and resolute as they ascended to the summit.
From the pinnacle of the desert, Ramil and his comrades could witness the colossal battle unfolding in the distance. The clash of steel and the cries of warriors permeated the air, creating an atmosphere of chaos and intensity. Yet, Ramil's resolve remained unyielding.
Aurgelmir's voice cut through the tumultuous clamor of war, his command firm. “Let's go!” he shouted, igniting a fire within the hearts of his warriors.
The chaos of the battle roared around Ramil, Aurgelmir, and the Dweller Warrior Army as they rode into the midst of the ongoing conflict. Their arrival provided a much-needed assistance to their fellow warriors, combining forces with the Fire Kingdom Soldiers and Brucie's soldiers to fend off the relentless onslaught of the Water Kingdom soldiers.
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Ramil's grip tightened around his sword as he galloped towards the enemy lines, his every movement fueled by a fierce determination. With each swing of his blade, he cleaved through the ranks of the Water Kingdom soldiers ruthlessly, his skill and precision evident in every strike. But as Ramil fought to assist his comrades, he witnessed the unfortunate demise of some of his fellow warriors, their own skills leading them astray in the chaos of battle.
Realizing the danger of their group splitting apart, Ramil's voice rang out above the clamor of clashing weapons. “We must stay together as one!” he shouted, his command laced with urgency.
In a bold move, Ramil leaped from his horse, his sword finding its mark as it plunged into the heart of a Water Kingdom soldier, saving a fellow warrior from certain peril. With a quick motion, Ramil extended a hand to help the warrior to his feet, his dark eyes filled with a combination of determination and compassion. “Put your back against mine,” Ramil instructed, his voice steady and resolute. “Together, we protect each other.”
The warrior followed Ramil's lead, their bodies pressed together as they formed an impenetrable wall against the enemy. Side by side, they fought with unwavering bravery and unwavering trust, their weapons flashing in the sunlight as they pushed back wave after wave of adversaries. Hours flew by, but Ramil and his fellow warrior stood strong, their unwavering resolve and synchronized movements becoming a symbol of unity and strength.
Observing the success of their united front, Ramil's voice carried above the din of battle, reaching his fellow warriors. “Do it like we are,” he roared, his words permeating the air.
***
Morning dawned in the Green Forest, casting a warm golden glow on the lush foliage and painting the treetops with vibrant hues. As the gentle breeze whispered through the branches, Moriko's steps echoed softly along the forest floor, leading her on a path of dappled sunlight and shadow. And there, amidst this natural symphony, she spotted Emathion, leaning against a tree, engrossed in his book.
Filled with an overwhelming sense of joy, Moriko rushed over to Emathion, her heart fluttering with excitement. Without hesitation, she embraced him, seeking solace and connection in his warm embrace. For a brief moment, their worlds merged, and time stood still, their souls entwined in an unspoken bond.
Regaining her composure, Moriko pulled back slightly, her gaze fixated on Emathion's face. “Why do you take so long to return?” she asked, her voice filled with a mix of concern and longing.
A tender smile curved Emathion's lips, his eyes shimmering with affection. “I apologize for my absence, my dear Moriko,” he responded, his voice imbued with gentle warmth. “I have been immersed in my Dweller Healer training, preparing for a series of demanding exams. My instructor believes I possess a unique aptitude, enabling me to complete my doctorate and become a skilled healer at an accelerated pace.”
Hand in hand, Moriko and Emathion began their leisurely stroll through the verdant forest, their footsteps blending harmoniously with the rustling leaves. The murmuring brook nearby provided a melodic backdrop as they traversed the winding path, their connection growing stronger with each shared moment.
Moriko's curiosity piqued as she looked at Emathion, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Why do you choose to pursue further healing and medical training?” she inquired, her voice filled with a mixture of admiration and curiosity.
“There's just so much out there,” Emathion said, his words carrying a weight of responsibility. “I want to be ready for whatever may happen. We must not tell anyone about our journey to the Underworld.”
Moriko, her gaze fixed on the ground, voiced her concern. “I understand, but I do not like keeping secrets from Tyson and Yeongi.”
Emathion raised his arm, pointing to the green bracelet adorned on his wrist. “Yet, you did not tell them about this,” he said quietly, the gleam in his eyes hinting at a hidden purpose.
Moriko looked up, her features a mix of guilt and conviction. “I know,” she admitted, her voice tinged with reluctance.
“But, Moriko,” Emathion implored, his voice laced with earnestness, “I just want to gather a few books, knowledge on the art of demon removal. It is a field that few have dared to master. I believe we can find a way, a way to liberate others from the clutches of these malevolent creatures.”
In an act of both affection and surrender, Moriko slipped her hand into Emathion's hand, finding solace in his touch. She spoke softly, her words carried on a whisper. “Fine, I have only used this tree once before, hidden deep within the forest.”
Emathion's face broke into a gentle smile, pride evident in his eyes. “That's my girl,” he whispered, a mixture of admiration and gratitude flowing through his voice.
Moriko pulled out her weathered notebook from her trusty backpack, its pages filled with the tales of her fantastical adventures. Emathion stood close, his gaze fixated on her as she delicately flipped through the well-worn pages. Her finger glided down the written log of her travels, tracing the inked memories she had penned. With a sudden certainty, she lifted her head and pointed at a towering tree that stood proudly amidst the surrounding foliage.
“That should be the one,” Moriko declared confidently, her voice carrying a note of excitement. Carefully, she tucked the notebook back into her backpack, the sounds of rustling pages fading into the background. Her grip tightened on Emathion's hand, her other hand adorned with a vibrant greens bracelet, as they approached the towering tree.
Pressing the bracelet against the rough bark, Moriko felt a surge of energy coursing through her veins. A brilliant green portal materialized before their eyes, beckoning them to step through into a new realm of possibilities. Without hesitation, Moriko and Emathion crossed the threshold, leaving behind the decaying woods and venturing into unknown territory.
Emerging from the portal, they found themselves in a small patch of woods, the air heavy with the scent of rotting trees. The village that lay beyond was shrouded in an eerie, dim light, as if the sun had forsaken this place ages ago. Undeterred by the foreboding atmosphere, Moriko and Emathion strolled through the village's winding streets, their footsteps resonating with a sense of purpose and curiosity.
Storefronts lined the path, each one seemingly frozen in time, their faded signs barely legible. Moriko's eyes darted from one shop to another, her gaze finally landing on a humble establishment adorned with an array of books displayed proudly in front. Emathion noticed her interest and pointed towards it with a knowing smile.
“This seems to be the only one,” he remarked, a hint of anticipation in his voice. “Let's try here.”
Emathion hurriedly led Moriko through the ornate entrance of the store, the scent of ancient tomes and enchantments filling the air. Moriko's eyes lit up with excitement as Emathion deftly navigated the shelves, searching for the elusive books he sought. The shelves were lined with volumes adorned with gold filigree, each one holding the secrets of a different world.
After what seemed like an eternity, Emathion emerged triumphantly, clutching a stack of books in his arms. They made their way to the counter, where a wise old shopkeeper waited patiently. The transaction completed, they bid farewell to the store, their journey continuing beyond its doors.
Exiting the store, Once again, Moriko and Emathion ventured back to the woods. As they approached the trees, they opened a portal. Its swirling hues of emerald and jade beckoned them with an undeniable allure. They stepped through, their bodies tingling with the magic that surrounded them. And just like that, they found themselves transported back to the familiar embrace of the green forest.
Emerging from the depths of the Green Forest, they found themselves standing on a rugged stone path that led them towards Stone City. The path wound its way through meadows and alongside sparkling streams, guiding them closer to their destination.
As they approached the Earth Kingdom castle, Emathion's eyes were drawn to a flickering light, showing a shadow coming from Moriko’s bedroom window. With a gentle tug, Moriko glanced up at Emathion, her eyes pleading. “I can send him away,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of longing and desperation. “Just the two of us, alone, for a little while longer.”
Emathion embraced Moriko gently, his voice brimming with sincerity as he whispered, “No need, I cannot selfishly keep you to myself, especially when he traveled this far just to see you.”
***
The sun began its descent, casting a fiery glow upon the battlefield. Amidst the chaos, Evain, adorned with the Water Kingdom's insignia upon her armor, fought valiantly, her sword clashing against the steel of the Dweller's blades. With each strike, she defended her fellow soldiers, unwavering in her determination.
Through the haze of battle, General Frog approached Evain. His eyes, filled with a mix of weariness and determination, met hers. He spoke with authority, his voice carrying above the clamor of war. “The Dwellers are fighting differently than usual,” he proclaimed, his words layered with concern. “We must retreat and regroup for the next battle.”
Evain's gaze shifted, surveying the carnage that stretched before them. Bodies lay strewn across the landscape, casualties of the fierce confrontation. With a commanding voice, Evain raised her sword high, its gleaming blade a beacon of defiance. “Fall back!” she bellowed, her words echoing over the din of battle. The rallying cry resounded through the ranks, reaching the ears of her soldiers.
In the late afternoon, the golden sun cast its warm glow over the lush landscapes of the Water Kingdom. Evain, clad in her armor, mounted her horse with a swift grace, ready to ride alongside her fellow soldiers. They embarked on their journey, the rhythmic hooves of their steeds echoing through the air.
As they reached the entrance of the Water Kingdom, anticipation filled the air. Evain dismounted her horse, her heart racing as a soldier, breathless and disheveled, approached her. He urgently delivered the news, his words hanging in the air like a fragile thread.
“Princess Evain, your brother's wife, Princess Brooke, has gone into labor,” the soldier gasped, barely able to catch his breath.
Evain, her stance unwavering, sighed deeply. She glanced at her saddlebags, filled with her belongings. “I am sure my brother doesn't want me there,” Evain murmured, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
The soldier's expression softened, sympathy shining in his weary eyes. “Prince Marius has requested your presence,” he explained gently, hoping to ease her doubts.
With renewed determination, Evain hastily unloaded her belongings, casting aside any lingering hesitations. She adjusted her armor, her movements imbued with a sense of purpose, and prepared to enter the palace. Striding beside the soldier, they raced across the grand bridge, their footsteps resonating like a symphony of urgency.
Within moments, they stood before the opulent doors of the palace, its intricately carved wood reflecting the regal nature of the Water Kingdom. Evain's heart quickened as she made her way through the ornate corridors, her steps guided by both anticipation and trepidation.
Finally, she found herself confronting Prince Marius. He paced restlessly in front of his bedroom door, his countenance a mixture of worry and anticipation. Evain, her voice filled with a melodic grace, stepped closer to her brother, breaking his restless rhythm. “Brother, you summoned me,” she announced softly, her words carried on the winds of uncertainty.
Marius paced anxiously in the grand hallway. The weight of impending fatherhood hung heavy on his shoulders. As he caught sight of his sister Evain entering the palace, a wave of relief washed over him. With a tender smile, Marius greeted Evain, pulling her into a heartfelt embrace. His voice resonated with a mix of concern and anticipation as he spoke, his words laced with a touch of urgency. “Brooke has been in labor for hours. Can you go inside and check on her? She is there with the doctor and archivist.”
Evain nodded with a sense of purpose, her steps confident yet gentle as she made her way towards the bedroom. The door creaked open, revealing a scene of equal parts tension and dedication. Brooke lay on the bed, her countenance a mix of pain and determination, as the doctor and his skilled staff diligently attended to her. In the corner, the archivist observed the momentous event unfold, his every sense attuned to the wonder of new life.
Evain approached the bed, bracing herself against the intensity that radiated from Brooke's agonized cries. She stood beside the chief physician, her gaze falling upon Brooke's exhausted face. “How is she doing?” Evain's words danced on her lips, tentative yet filled with a desperate longing for reassurance.
The doctor's eyes met Evain's, an air of steady confidence exuding from him. “Fear not, she is holding up bravely,” he said, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. “The baby should be here soon.”
Evain stood in the chamber, she noticed the Archivist hovering near a cart adorned with an array of intricate tubes and vials on a nearby table. Curiosity piqued, Evain approached with hesitation, her eyes fixating on the strange contraptions. “What is that for?” she inquired.
The Archivist turned towards her, holding a delicate vial filled with a ruby-red liquid. “We will run a test on the child's blood to ascertain if your brother is indeed the father,” they revealed, their tone grave and laced with an air of mystery.
Evain's unease deepened, furrowing her brow. “But this isn't customary practice. Who instructed you to perform such a test?” she pressed, her voice tinged with suspicion.
A momentary pause enveloped the room, the atmosphere heavy with secrecy. The Archivist's gaze met Evain's, their eyes filled with a silent acknowledgment. “No, but the King himself made the request,” they finally admitted.
As if the turmoil inside the chamber mirrored the conflict within Evain's own heart, Brooke began to laboriously bring forth new life. The room was enveloped in an atmosphere of anticipation, as the veil of uncertainty descended upon the moment. In the waning light, a cry broke through the air, soaring with both the fragility of a newborn and the strength of destiny. The child emerged, a crown of curly hair crowning his head, as the midwife whispered the words, “A boy.”
the Archivist delicately drew a sample from her baby's tiny leg, the metallic glint of the syringe reflecting the dim light of the sterile room. With utmost care, the doctor cleansed the child, removing any traces of the procedure, before gently placing the newborn in Brooke's waiting arms.
As Brooke cradled the baby, a sense of serenity washed over her. With a tender smile, Evain approached, her eyes filled with awe and a touch of apprehension. But as she drew nearer to the baby's cherubic face, her breath caught in her throat. The child, so tiny and fragile, bore an uncanny resemblance to Brooke's ex-fiancé.
“What have you done?” Evain's voice thundered, echoing through the room. “My brother, Marius, will be devastated when he finds out.”
Evain's heart raced as she confronted the doctor, her voice laced with a mix of anger and disbelief. Her finger quivered as she pointed at the innocent child lying on the examination table. The archivist busied himself with running tests on the baby's delicate blood, his hands moving swiftly and methodically. The tension in the air was palpable. “You are the Royal physician!” Evain exclaimed, her voice filled with accusation. “It was your duty to ensure the princess was intact before marriage, or at the very least, not pregnant!”
The doctor, now finished with his work, began nonchalantly packing his medical bag. His eyes bore no remorse, only a cold indifference. “The king and queen waived the medical exam on Princess Brooke,” he stated.
Meanwhile, the archivist's focused gaze never wavered as he examined the sample from the baby's blood. Slowly, a grave expression formed on his face, mirroring the gravity of the situation. He spoke, his voice weighted with truth and consequence. “The king's suspicions were correct,” the archivist announced, his words hanging heavy in the room. “This child is not from Prince Marius.”
Realizing the urgency of the matter, the archivist swiftly turned his attention to the prince. With a commanding tone, he ordered, “Escort Prince Marius to his room immediately, we can risk tsunami reaction from his powers. The room must be cleared until the king arrives to make a decision.”