The sea has a way of hiding its secrets. Beneath the waves, where the light can’t reach, there are stories lost to time—stories of power, betrayal, and curses that never fade. For centuries, the people of the land have whispered about the Cheinzs family. Tales of their power, of their bloodline intertwined with the deepest forces of the earth and sea, have never quite been proven, yet never truly forgotten. Some say the family’s wealth and status were a gift from the gods. Others claim the price was much darker than anyone ever imagined. Lunaria Sletcheinzs, one of the last of the cheinzs bloodline, never thought she’d be a part of that story. She was just another noble daughter, with a life laid out before her like the tapestry her family had woven for generations. But something about the night felt different. The winds that whispered through the trees spoke of something... unseen. Something was shifting beneath the surface, and it wasn’t just the pull of the moonlit waters that called to her—it was the truth. Something was coming.

Kingdom of Water

Whispers in the Halls of Servants Beneath the grand halls of the Cheinzs estate, where chandeliers cast golden light upon marble floors, another world thrived in the shadows. A world of hushed voices, quick glances, and secrets passed like smuggled goods. In the dimly lit servant quarters, a small group gathered near the kitchens. The air smelled of fresh bread and roasted meats, but the true feast tonight was the gossip spilling from loose tongues.

“You won’t believe what I overheard in the west wing today,” a young maid whispered, her eyes gleaming with excitement. An older, plump servant scoffed. “If this is about Duke Randoldf’s riches, we’ve all heard it a thousand times. The man could buy the entire kingdom twice over.” “No, not about the riches,” the maid leaned in, voice lowering. “About… his daughters.” A sudden hush fell over the group. One of the kitchen boys, who had been plucking a pheasant, looked up sharply. “Daughters? The Cheinzs dukes only have sons.” “That’s what we’re meant to believe.” The maid smirked, enjoying the attention. “But tell me, why does the west wing remain locked at all times? Why are there guards stationed at corridors that lead to nowhere?” The older servant waved a hand dismissively. “Bah! Wealthy lords are always paranoid.” “Then explain why I saw the lady of the house carrying gowns—gowns too small for noblewomen, too fine for commoners.” A younger scullery maid gasped. “You mean to say…?” “I mean to say,” the first maid continued, voice barely above a whisper, “that we may not know everything about our masters.” The kitchen boy wiped his hands on his apron, brows furrowed. “If they exist, why keep them hidden?” “Maybe they’re illegitimate,” the plump servant muttered. “Maybe they’re cursed,” another suggested randomly, eyes wide with superstition. Silence followed. Then, as if sensing the weight of their words, the group quickly shook off the eerie feeling settling over them. “Anyway,” the older servant said, resuming her task, “even if it were true, it’s not our place to speak of such things.” But it was too late. The whisper had taken root, slithering through the grand estate like a shadow, slipping past walls and doors, carried from servant to servant, and eventually beyond—into the streets, into the ears of merchants, travelers, and nobles alike. A wildfire of rumors had begun. --- In the Halls of Knowledge The grand library of the capital city was a sanctuary of wisdom, where nobles, scholars, and the learned gathered to discuss history, philosophy, and politics. Here, truths and half-truths coexisted, debated in hushed voices over ancient tomes and candlelit scrolls. Tonight, the air buzzed with something different. A group of nobles, dressed in fine silks and adorned with rings of wealth, had gathered in one of the library’s private chambers. Among them sat Elder Gevaris, his aged hands folded atop a heavy book, his expression unreadable. A nobleman swirled his goblet of wine, breaking the silence. “The Cheinzs stepbrothers… four of the most powerful men in the land.” “Four kings without crowns,” another mused. “Their victories are legend, their wealth unmatched.” “And their sons,” a scholar added, “are shaping up to be just as formidable.” “But there are rumors,” a noblewoman spoke, her eyes sharp with curiosity. “Whispers spreading like wildfire.” Gevaris lifted a brow. “Rumors?” “Of daughters.” A pause. Gevaris let out a soft chuckle. “And what, dear lady, do these rumors claim?” “That the Cheinzs dukes hide something from the world,” she pressed. “That beyond their sons, there are daughters unseen, their existence erased.” A younger scholar smirked. “Ah, but rumors are often nothing more than the fantasies of idle minds.”. The noblewoman did not waver. “And yet, you sit here, listening.” Another noble leaned forward. “What do you think, Elder Gevaris? Is there any truth to these tales?” Gevaris took a slow sip of his tea, choosing his words carefully. “The Cheinzs family is built on strength. And strength… comes in many forms.” A vague answer. A carefully veiled truth. But in a room of scholars and nobles, vagueness only invited more curiosity. A younger nobleman leaned in. “So, you do not deny it.” Gevaris merely smiled, his gaze settling on the flickering candlelight before him. “The world loves its stories. Some are true. Some are not.” The discussion continues, voices low yet brimming with intrigue. But even as they spoke, none realized that outside these halls, the wildfire of rumors had already spread far beyond their reach. And somewhere, in the vast dominion of the Cheinzs family, the sons of the dukes stood in the shadows—watching, listening. And the urge of protecting. For they alone knew the full truth. And they alone would ensure it remained hidden. The large, oak-paneled room of Archduke Eridrius Cheinzs' main estate was dimly lit by the soft glow of candlelight. Shadows clung to the corners, adding an air of secrecy to the conversation that was about to unfold. The walls, draped with tapestries depicting the family's glorious victories, seemed to loom over the gathering, their silent presence reflecting the weight of centuries of legacy. Archduke Eridrius sat at the head of the long table, his figure cloaked in the soft flicker of light, his countenance both imposing and regal. His sons—Randoldf, Vadim, Vaycheslav, and Dyimitry—stood before him, expressions hard to read, yet each bearing a quiet tension that had become familiar to them over the years. "Now," Archduke Eridrius began, his voice low and controlled, "the time is drawing near. My granddaughters will come of age soon, and we must be ready. The ceremony is approaching." A murmur passed between the sons, their gazes flicking to one another as they processed their father’s words. "You know what this means," Archduke Eridrius continued, his tone darkening, "the year is almost upon us. Our... responsibilities grow with each passing day. We must be prepared. When the truth emerges, there will be no turning back." Randoldf, ever the steady presence, was the first to respond, his voice unwavering. "Father, have we prepared them well enough? The ones who will inherit... what is owed them?" Archduke Eridrius’ brow furrowed slightly. "They have lived in ignorance long enough, Randoldf. The truth... the curse, is a burden none of us would wish for them. But it will come to them in time, and when it does, we must ensure they have the strength to bear it." Vaycheslav, the most reserved of the brothers, spoke next, his voice quiet but sharp. "And when they discover what they truly are? What will become of them then? How do we prepare them for this... inheritance?" Archduke Eridrius glanced at him with a look of understanding. "They will learn soon enough. But we must not rush them. The curse is part of them, just as their power is. We must guide them—help them understand when the time is right. We cannot afford to act rashly." Vadim, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, his voice laced with concern. "And what of the others? The ones who remain unaware? Should we prepare for their reaction as well?" Archduke Eridrius allowed himself a small, knowing smile. "We must trust in them, Vadim. When the storm comes, it will test them as much as it tests us. They will not be helpless. But we must stand ready, for it is not just their fates at stake. The world will be watching." Dyimitry, who had remained unusually quiet, spoke up, his voice tinged with frustration. "You speak of a storm, Father, but none of us understand its full force. How can we prepare for something we cannot even see?" Archduke Eridrius’ gaze softened as he met Dyimitry's eyes. "That is the nature of this curse, Dyimitry. We know only what we have been given. Our duty is to guide them, to shelter them until they are strong enough to face the truth. Only then will they understand their place in the world." Randoldf, his face solemn, spoke again. "So, we wait. And when the time comes, we face it head-on, no matter the cost." Eridrius nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yes, we will wait. And when the truth is revealed, we will be there. We will help them, guide them—each of you will play a role. Perhaps not now, but in time, their fates will entwine with ours. Their blood runs through our veins. Our legacy will carry on, no matter the storm." With a final look, the meeting came to a close, and the sons began to file out of the room. The weight of the conversation lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken. Yet for all their understanding, none of them could shake the feeling that something far darker lay hidden beneath the surface, something that would soon come to light.

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A Day in Their Lives The sun filtered through the tall, ornate windows of the modest mansion estate, casting soft rays across the stone floors. The estate, modest and ancient, was filled with the scent of blooming flowers from the expansive gardens. In the hallways, the daughters of the Cheinzs family wandered, blissfully unaware of the shadow hanging over their lives. To them, the world was nothing more than a tapestry of lessons, companionship, and the simple joys of being young. Their fathers' secret council had done little to disturb the ease of their days. In a modest mansion far from the Water Kingdom, The Swords Kingdom, the four daughters of the Cheinzs family, believed to be nonexistent by citizens and nobles, live a simple life despite being a wealthy Dukes daughter dedicating themselves to learning martial arts, archery, swordmanship, and spear combat, while also mastering the art dance. Relaying on their individual skills as they magic abilities seems not too high, they are known among the local community, though their true identity as descendants of the Cheinzs family remains a secret. Lunaria Sletcheinzs stood at the balcony of her chambers, her gaze lost in the endless stretch of the horizon. The soft winds tugged at her flowing silver hair, causing the strands to flutter like silvery feathers. She was the curious one, as they would soon come to know her. She had always been drawn to the mysteries of the world, asking questions no one else thought to ask. Her days were spent reading books on magic and travel, her favorite pastime being the study of maps and the mysteries of distant lands. She dreamed of exploring faraway places, where no one could tell her what to do, where no family secrets could reach. "Perhaps today will be the day I learn something new," she whispered to herself, a smile tugging at her lips beneath her halfmasked. Her curiosity burned brighter than any doubt or fear, oblivious to the weight of the curse that would soon make itself known. Meanwhile, Asterlayna Sheencheinzs, was in the courtyard, her sword clashing against the air in fluid motions. She was fierce, determined, and filled with an unmatched energy. Her body moved with purposed, each strike a testament to her training, her halfmasked stirred whenever she moved her body to trained. The servants who watched from the sidelines whispered of her prowess and the fire in her spirit. Asterlayna didn't believe in idle days or waiting for things to happen. To her, the world was a battlefield—one that could be conquered with strength and willpower. There was no time for looking back, no room for weakness. She had always thought that if she could face anything with enough courage and skill, nothing could harm her. The idea of a curse? Ridiculous. A mere myth. She believed only in the power of her own hands and the skill in her heart. In a quieter corner of the estate, Aelita Sancheinzs, sat at the edge of the fountain, her fingers tracing the ripples in the water. Aelita had always been a dreamer, a lover of beauty and the arcane. She had a natural grace that seemed to make her float through life, moving like a melody in the wind. She often spent hours playing her harp by the water, the music creating an atmosphere of calm and serenity. Her world was one of art and elegance, and nothing ever seemed to disturb her perfect little bubble of peace. But if you listened closely, you'd hear the whispers she had been hearing—half-formed visions and strange dreams—whispers that she couldn't place. She thought them to be nothing more than the product of her vivid imagination, yet a quiet unease settled deep within her heart when she thought about the future. Aelita couldn’t help but feel something was coming, but she was too wrapped in her artistic world to acknowledge it. And far from them, in the depths of the modest mansion, Meridia Shaincheinzs, was submerged in her own thoughts. She was often found by the lake or near the stream, where the water called to her in a way that nothing else did. It was as if she could feel the pulse of the oceans deep within her veins, her connection to the water undeniable. Yet, she was no different than the three girls—she simply saw the water as a place of comfort this moment, where she could be herself. The world above the surface was full of noise, and the water was the only place that offered solace. Meridia was quiet, but her presence was commanding. While she didn’t speak much, she had an aura of mystery about her that others couldn’t quite place. She could often be found gazing at the water for hours, wondering why she felt so different from everyone else. But like the three girls too, she brushed it off, thinking it was nothing more than a passing fancy. Despite their lack of awareness, there was an undeniable sense of harmony between the four girls, each one blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited them. They were free to live their lives, each lost in their own worlds, unaware of the moment when their lives would change forever. They laughed, they trained, they learned, and they lived as though nothing could touch them. Meanwhile, in the shadows, Archduke Eridrius and his sons continued their clandestine meetings, the weight of their legacy pressing heavily on their shoulders. They saw the approaching storm, but Archduke Eridrius granddaughters, grandsons and his sons heirs? They were only beginning to live their lives.