As the battle raged on, the Brucies, fierce soldiers of the Fire Kingdom, and the valiant Dwellers fought relentlessly to repel the invading Water Kingdom Soldiers. The city of Dweller was ablaze with the intensity of their struggle, the echoes of clashing weapons and cries of war reverberating through the night. Amidst the chaos, a figure cloaked in darkness approached the weary Brucies near the training building, riding upon a black stallion. The hooded man dismounted, his face hidden within the depths of his cloak. His presence commanded attention, and the Brucies gathered around him, awaiting his words.
“Everything is clear,” he announced, his voice low and gruff. “The Water Kingdom Soldiers have been defeated.”
A surge of relief washed over the assembled Brucies, their weary expressions replaced with hope. But the hooded man wasted no time, his determination evident in his piercing gaze. “Take me to them now,” he instructed.
Without question, a Brucie stepped forward and beckoned the hooded man to follow. Together, they entered the school, moving swiftly through its hallways until they arrived at the basement. The air grew heavy and oppressive, as if burdened by the weight of the recent battle. A group of Brucies stood guard over a frame, the door missing, and the wood blackened with scorch marks.
The basement itself bore witness to the aftermath of the struggle, piles of ashes scattered across the room. And there, against the wall, lay Agneyastra, asleep upon the shoulder of Emathion. The hooded man knelt down beside Agneyastra, his fingertips lightly grazing her forehead as she slept with her head nestled on Emathion''s shoulder.
“Brother, I am doing all I can to protect her,” he whispered, his voice a mere thread of sound against the stillness. “But our enemies are growing stronger with each passing day.”
As Agneyastra stirred and her eyes fluttered open, the hooded man withdrew his hand, his touch leaving a lingering warmth on her skin. He turned his gaze towards her and Emathion, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and concern. “The immediate surroundings have been cleared,” he stated softly, his words laced with a sense of urgency. “I will accompany you both back home.”
Emathion awakened, seeming to rise from a dream-induced haze, and he and Agneyastra stood up, their movements mirroring each other with instinctive grace. They followed the hooded man as he led them out of the gloomy cellar, their path illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights lining the narrow corridor. The air felt heavy with foreboding as they stepped out of the building, leaving behind the safety of their refuge.
Together, the trio walked in silence, each step echoing against the deserted training building. As Agneyastra and Emathion trailed behind the Hooded Man, their gazes fixated upon the devastating aftermath strewn across the Dweller city. The once vibrant and bustling streets now lay desolate, scarred by the remnants of a merciless battle. Dwellers, their lifeless forms scattered haphazardly, bore witness to the grim toll exacted by their assailants. The air, heavy with sorrow, echoed with the anguished cries of families mourning their fallen loved ones.
With each step, Agneyastra eyes filled with tears from the sight of destruction and loss. Unable to bear the weight of silence, Her voice trembled slightly as she posed the question that weighed heavily upon her soul. “How many Dwellers have fallen victim to this senseless attack?” she dared to ask.
The Hooded Man, his pace unwavering, continued to guide them towards the Ash family''s residence. As they turned onto their street, the solemn scene unfolded before their eyes, like a morbid tableau frozen in time. A somber procession of Dwellers, adorned in bloodstained robes, diligently tended to the fallen, their faces etched with grief and determination. Bodies lay in shrouds of linen, solemn testimonies to lives unjustly taken.
In response to Agneyastra''s inquisition, the Hooded Man''s voice, laced with a burdened weariness, resonated through the air. His words, softly spoken. “Too many,” he uttered. “Do you still want to remain here with the Ash family?”
Agneyastra''s resolve wavered, a flicker of determination ignited in her eyes, unwavering in the face of despair. “Emathion and Sinai are like my brothers,” she proclaimed, her voice resolute. “Pyla and Marudeva, they have shown me kindness and love. I cannot abandon them now.”
Agneyastra and Emathion arrived at their home, The Hooded man accompanied them, they approached the open door, their footsteps echoed in the silence, mingling with the distant cries of Sinai, their youngest brother.
Stepping inside, the scene before them felt surreal and haunting. Ramil stood motionless, his gaze fixed upon a blood stain on the floor. Beside him, Sinai wept inconsolably, his small frame trembling with grief.
Ramil''s voice quivered with anger as he reached Emathion, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Where were you?” he demanded.
The Hooded man intervened, pulling Emathion away from Ramil. His voice was filled with urgency as he asked, “Where is your father?”
Ramil pointed towards the staircase, his voice heavy with sorrow. “He went upstairs when the doctors arrived. He has remained in the same spot by the fireplace in his room, ever since they took her body away.”
Emathion''s disbelief resonated in his voice as he whispered, “No, this can''t be. Mother was just here this morning.”
Agneyastra, overcome with grief, held Sinai tightly, tears streaming down her face. Her voice was filled with anguish as she whispered, “I can''t believe Pyla is gone.”
Ramil turned his attention to Agneyastra, his eyes filled with empathy. “You should call her mother, that''s what she wanted. Agney, please take Sinai upstairs. Emathion and I will clean up down here.”
Emathion stepped closer to Ramil, his voice filled with understanding. “We should take a moment.”
Ramil glanced at Emathion and simply stated, “She was not fond of a messy house.”
Agneyastra led Sinai upstairs, her heart heavy with grief, as the hooded man opened the door to Marudeva''s bedroom. Inside, Marudeva sat in a chair, his face hidden behind his trembling hands. The door closed, leaving them with the weight of their shared loss.
***
The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting a somber glow across the dining room. Ramil, his face etched with sadness, placed carefully arranged platters of breakfast foods on the table. Each dish held a piece of his mother''s absence, a void that seemed impossible to fill.
Agneyastra, accompanied by Sinai, entered the room, her steps heavy with sorrow. She walked Sinai to his usual chair, her eyes lingering on the vacant space where Ramil''s mother used to sit. Ramil, appearing disheveled, hurriedly carried more food from the bustling kitchen, his movements swift yet devoid of enthusiasm. Agneyastra followed him, trying to bridge the growing distance between them.
As Ramil wiped the counters in a slightly distracted manner, Agneyastra approached him, concern etched in her voice. “Ramil, do you need help with anything?” she asked softly, her words a gentle offering of support.
Ramil continued his cleaning, “yes,” he replied, the weight of responsibility evident in his voice. “You must ensure that Sinai and Emathion eat. I must leave to make the necessary arrangements for our mother''s ceremony with the clerics. And please, make sure Father and my brothers arrive at the glass burial chamber on time this afternoon.”
Unsatisfied with his response, Agneyastra stepped closer to Ramil, reaching out to touch his hand. There was a tenderness in her gesture. “Did you sleep last night?” she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
Ramil averted his gaze, his pain reflected in the lines etched on his face. “I will worry about that later,” he replied quietly, his words tinged with exhaustion. “Now, please, do as I''ve instructed.” And with that, Ramil discarded his apron.
As Ramil emerged from the kitchen, his footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor. He navigated through the familiar corridors of his family home. It was in the living room, with its newly laid carpet, that he stumbled upon a momentary respite.
His eyes glanced upon the couch, and for a brief, heart-wrenching instant, his mind created a vivid tableau - the haunting image of his beloved mother, life slipping from her body, cradled within his trembling arms. Beside him, Sinai cried out inconsolably, his innocence ripped away by the cruel hands of fate. And in the depths of this sorrow, Marudeva, broken and weeping, clung desperately to the remains of his love, unable to comprehend a world without her.
Gently shaking himself from the cruel grasp of those memories, Ramil found himself jolted back to reality by a soft voice that pierced through the thick fog of his thoughts. “Ramil,” the voice called, its tone filled with concern. Blinking away the remnants of his reverie, he turned to face Agneyastra.
Ramil regarded the freshly laid carpet beneath his feet, he murmured, “It''s as if nothing has changed, yet everything has been irrevocably altered.” He finally turned to meet Agneyastra''s gaze.
A surge of frustration tore through him, emerging in a torrent of emotions that he could no longer contain. With a sudden burst of cathartic energy, Ramil exclaimed, “I am fine!” His words rang out, laced with defiance and pain, as he turned away from Agneyastra, his steps carrying him towards the staircase.
Ramil ascended the grand staircase with a purposeful stride. Each step echoed through the empty corridor. Arriving at his father''s bedroom door, Ramil paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. He raised his trembling hand and gently tapped on the sturdy oak, the sound merging with the soft crackling of the fireplace from within. With a deep breath, he turned the doorknob and pushed it open, revealing a scene of melancholy.
Marudeva, his face etched with sorrow, sat in a worn armchair, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames in the hearth. In his hand, a half-empty bottle of wine, shadows danced across the walls. As Ramil entered, he called out, “Father.”
Marudeva''s eyes slowly turned towards his son, their gazes meeting. “Yes, Ramil,” he responded, his voice a mere whisper carried on the ember-lit air.
Ramil''s voice faltered as he broached the delicate matter. “I am going to meet with the clerics about mother''s service. Did you want anything special for her?” His words hung in the air, suspended by a sense of finality.
Marudeva, lost in his own thoughts, waved his hand dismissively, his eyes not leaving the crackling fire. “Just make sure your brothers are well dressed and come to get me before the service begins,” he murmured, his voice heavy with resignation.
A solemn nod was Ramil''s only response. The weight of his duty settled upon his shoulders as he swallowed back the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yes, father,” he replied.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Ramil emerged from his father''s bedroom, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his grief. He descended the stairs and made his way to the front door, pausing for a moment to inhale the crisp morning air. As he exhaled, he raised his hand and signaled for a carriage to halt before him.
The carriage came to a stop, its wheels crunching softly on the gravel road. Ramil climbed inside, the worn leather seats creaking beneath his weight. Peering out of the window, he beheld a once bustling Dweller City now shrouded in mourning. The streets that had once thrived with activity were swallowed by an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant sounds of grieving souls.
His eyes scanned the cityscape, pausing to take in the remnants of the Water Kingdom''s ruthless attack. The buildings stood as battered and broken as the hearts of its inhabitants. Ramil felt a surge of anger welling within him, a fire that promised to consume everything in its path.
“I will reduce the Water Kingdom to ashes,” he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with a mix of determination and righteous fury. The words echoed in his mind, each repetition solidifying his vow. The loss of his mother, the suffering of his fellow Dwellers, it all fueled his burning resolve.
Unable to tear his gaze away, Ramil continued to watch through the carriage window, absorbing every detail of the devastation. The sight of the wreckage became imprinted in his mind, etching itself onto his very soul. With each passing moment, his determination grew, pushing him beyond his limits. He declared, “I will never allow this to happen again.”
***
As the weeks passed by in the tranquil morning of the Green Forest. The once-vibrant trees now wore a sickly shade of brown, their once proud branches drooping with fatigue. The bark, once firm and sturdy, now showed signs of decay, slowly rotting away like forgotten memories.
Amidst this desolation, a portal shimmered into existence, giving birth to a figure bathed in an ethereal green glow. Yeongi, for it was he who had arrived, surveyed the deteriorating scene with growing concern. He turned to a Brucie who had rushed over to him, desperation etching lines on his face. Yeongi''s voice trembled with urgency as he inquired, “Did Moriko leave again?”
The Brucie''s response was filled with resignation, “She will not leave her room, that is why I summoned you.”
Together, they made their way towards a modest cabin nestled between the decaying trees. As they walked, Yeongi''s eyes trailed after the Brucies toiling away in the forest, their labored breaths punctuating the eerie silence. They coughed, their bodies weakened by an invisible affliction.
Deep in thought, Yeongi couldn''t help but voice his confusion, the words escaping with a tinge of despair, “I don''t understand, why is the forest rotting again?”
Yeongi followed the Brucie''s lead, guiding her to a secluded cabin nestled amidst the dense forest. As she entered the cabin, Yeongi found herself standing outside Moriko''s bedroom door, her hand poised to knock. Taking a deep breath, she finally rapped on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
“M-Moriko?” Yeongi''s voice trembled with concern.
A muffled reply came from behind the door, a mixture of sadness and resignation lacing Moriko''s words. “Come in.”
Yeongi pushed open the door, revealing Moriko sitting at her desk. The room was a reflection of Moriko''s restless mind, filled to the brim with countless notebooks. Pages upon pages of her thoughts and dreams spilled across the surface, revealing the depth of her creative spirit.
But now, Moriko seemed lost and vulnerable, her head bowed low, fingers gently tracing the lines of a page in one of her notebooks. Tears stained her cheeks, a testament to the emotional turmoil she was experiencing. Yeongi''s heart ached at the sight.
Kneeling beside Moriko, Yeongi reached out and gingerly placed a hand on her back. “What troubles you?”
Moriko lifted her tear-stained face, her eyes filled with a mix of guilt and anguish. She hastily wiped away her tears, smearing ink across her cheeks. Her voice quivered as she spoke, “his mother is gone, and it''s all because of me. They wanted him to hurt me... Why do I keep bringing pain to Emathion''s life?”
Yeongi gently enfolded Moriko in a warm embrace, offering solace and understanding. “This isn''t your doing, Moriko,” Yeongi whispered softly. “King Arroyo''s malevolence stretches far beyond your presence in Emathion''s life. Long before you and Emathion, he has been causing destruction.”
Moriko''s grip tightened on Yeongi, seeking comfort and reassurance in her embrace. “I can feel Emathion''s pain so acutely, Yeongi. His heartache and tears weigh heavily on my own soul.”
As the morning sun cast its golden rays into Moriko''s bedroom, a sense of tranquility filled the air. The soft rustling of curtains danced in the gentle breeze that whispered through the open window. Yeongi delicately plucked a brush from Moriko''s dresser, its smooth wooden handle fitting perfectly in the palm of her hand. She approached Moriko, who sat upright in bed, her green locks cascading down her shoulders like a flowing waterfall.
With every stroke of the brush, Yeongi''s hands moved in rhythmic harmony, each stroke an act of tender care. Her voice, like a melody, broke the serene silence of the room. “You told me once, Moriko, that every time you felt lost, Emathion''s words would comfort you.”
Moriko''s eyes met Yeongi''s gaze. She nodded, with a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I have been selfish with Emathion,” she confessed, her voice carrying a hint of remorse. “I take his friendship for granted. I can''t feel that he is trying to hide his pain from me. But, Yeongi, I don''t think he realizes just how deeply we are connected to each other.”
Yeongi stands behind her, gently brushing her long hair. Her words hang in the air, filled with a mix of worry and admiration. “You and Emathion are very young,” Yeongi says, her voice gentle and soothing. “It is natural to feel unsure and impatient. But trust me, my dear, everything will fall into place in due time.”
Moriko leans back against Yeongi''s comforting embrace, her arms wrapped around the older woman''s waist. Her worry etched into her voice, she confesses her fears. “I don''t understand how Emathion keeps it together. If anything were to happen to you and Tyson, I would lose myself.”
Yeongi''s eyes brim with warmth as she gazes down at Moriko. A soft smile plays upon her lips, conveying the depth of her love and appreciation for the young girl before her. “You, my dear, possess a kindness that is unmatched. Your fear is a testament to your incredible capacity for love. But worry not, for we are all here together, and with that, we are stronger than any adversity that may come our way.”
Moriko''s gaze flickered towards Yeongi''s reflection in the mirror, her eyes tracing the gentle movements of Yeongi''s hand as it brushed through her long, ebony locks. Her curiosity piqued, Moriko turned her attention to Yeongi, her voice soft and inquisitive.
“What was Emathion''s mother like?” She ventured, her words hanging delicately in the air.
With a sigh, Yeongi spoke, her voice filled with reverence and admiration for the woman she dearly missed.
“Pyla... she was a beacon of kindness and warmth. Her love for her sons surpassed all else, a devotion that knew no bounds. Pyla had an uncanny ability to fulfill any request, to make dreams come true with her unwavering dedication. Marudeva and Pyla''s love for one another radiated from their very souls, a love that could be seen and felt by all those who crossed their path.”
As Yeongi''s words floated through the room, Moriko''s curiosity deepened further. She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “But how did Emathion''s father meet his mother?” she inquired, her voice tinged with eagerness.
“They were childhood friends, Moriko. Marudeva''s family were revered leaders and skillful farmers, while Pyla''s family was known for raising the finest Dweller Warriors. As the years passed, their friendship blossomed into something deeper, something profound. Pyla, who had dedicated herself to the cause as a General for many years, eventually found herself standing by Marudeva''s side, bound by the sacred vows of matrimony.”
Yeongi''s voice held a soft ache as she concluded her narrative, a melancholic note lacing her words. “Pyla''s departure has left a void in our lives, Moriko. She would have adored you, welcomed you into her family with open arms.”
***
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the large arched windows of the Water Kingdom Palace''s library, casting a warm golden glow on the shelves lined with books of ancient knowledge. Evain sat alone at a round table, engrossed in a book titled “The Art of the Spear.” She lost herself in the fascinating world of combat techniques, her eyes dancing across the pages as if choreographing a battle of her own.
Just then, Klaus entered the library with a weariness in his eyes that belied the luster of his armor. His gaze swept across the room before he approached Evain''s table, his footsteps echoing softly against the hallowed silence. He reached out and selected a random book from the shelf, pulling up a chair beside Evain.
“It''s been too long, my friend,” Klaus murmured, exhaustion coloring his voice.
Evain chuckled softly, her eyes lifting from the pages to meet Klaus'' worn gaze. “Friend? You missed my 16th birthday, Klaus. I think ''acquaintance'' would be more fitting.”
Klaus glanced around the library once again, his battle-worn armor standing out amidst the tranquil surroundings. “We have been sent to battle against the Dwellers,” he confessed, his voice tinged with thinly veiled concern.
Evain promptly closed her book, her attention shifting fully to Klaus. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”
Klaus hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering with a mix of unsettled emotions. “I should be telling,” he began, his voice trailing off as a maid entered the library, her broom whisking away the invisible dust that clung to the shelves.
Frustration etched her delicate features, Evain leaned closer to Klaus. “What? You can tell me,” she implored, her voice filled with genuine concern.
Klaus stood abruptly, his chair scraping across the marble floor. “I have to go,” he announced, his voice heavy with regret. “It was lovely seeing you again, Evain.”
Fear clutched at her heart, Evain instinctively followed Klaus as he hastened towards the library''s exit. Once they stepped out into the corridor, she approached him, her voice laced with both persistence and tenderness. “You can tell me anything, Klaus. You know that.”
Klaus glanced around, his gaze lingering on the many palace staff bustling about their duties. The walls seemed to close in, the air growing heavy with unspoken threats. He sighed, finally succumbing to the weight of his silence. “There are too many ears,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Evain and Klaus stood in the grand entrance hall of the Water Kingdom palace, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the palace staff going about their daily tasks. Evain''s eyes sparkled with determination as she turned to Klaus and said, “I have an idea.”
Klaus, mystified by the chaos around them, glanced around nervously before responding, “Just forget it, Evain. It''s too dangerous.”
Undeterred, Evain extended her hand towards Klaus, her voice filled with conviction. “Follow me,” she urged. Klaus hesitated for a moment, but then allowed her to take his hand, their fingers intertwining as Evain led him down a dimly lit corridor. At last, they arrived at a secluded room, and Evain swiftly closed and locked the door behind them.
Klaus glanced around the spacious bedroom, his eyes falling upon a heavily damaged dummy in the corner. Confusion etched across his face, he turned to Evain and questioned, “Where are we?”
Drawing closer to Klaus, Evain''s voice was filled with a seriousness that demanded attention. “I will tell you, but first, speak what is troubling you.”
Klaus squared his shoulders, his gaze steady as he met Evain''s unwavering stare. “The Dwellers have changed, Evain. Ever since the loss of their leader''s wife, their attacks have become merciless. The moment our Water Kingdom soldiers set foot on their lands, they are violently assaulted. Today, I barely escaped with my life, and yet, I am expected to return tomorrow.”
Evain''s words hung in the air, filled with both longing and frustration. “So, I wish my father would have let me fight with you,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on Klaus.
Klaus, still unfamiliar with his surroundings, peered around the opulent bedroom, his confusion evident. “Where are we?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
A small smile played on Evain''s lips as she responded, her tone tinged with a hint of mischief. “This is my private chambers,” she revealed, gesturing elegantly to the ornate surroundings.
Klaus''s eyes widened in surprise, apprehension slowly creeping into his voice. “Are you mad?” he asked, his concern evident.
Evain''s serene expression remained, betraying no signs of derangement. She shook her head gently, a glimmer of determination shining in her eyes. “No,” she declared, unwavering in her conviction.
Restlessly, Klaus paced the room, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. He turned to face Evain once more, his voice laden with worry and one hand nervously running through his hair. “You, the Water Kingdom''s only Princess, you are not allowed to be alone with someone outside of your family. You are not wedded,” he pointed out.
Evain''s eyes rolled in response, a trace of exasperation coloring her tone. “What does it matter?” she rebuffed, her voice tinged with rebellion. “You said you were going to die tomorrow, always on the battlefield. If I were you, I would rather my life go to something worth dying for.”
Klaus couldn''t help but let out a hearty laugh, filled with a mixture of both amusement and disbelief. “You are always teasing too much,” he chided gently, unable to contain his amusement. “Don''t speak about something you have no intention of following through with,” he cautioned.
Evain''s footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit bedroom as she made her way towards Klaus, who stood near the door, his hand poised on the handle, ready to depart. Sliding gracefully between Klaus and the door, Evain reached out, her delicate fingers grazing his cheek.
There was a spark in her eyes, a mischievousness that matched the twinkle in her voice as she whispered, “You have no idea the extent I would go to annoy my mother.” Her touch sent a shiver down Klaus'' spine.
Lost in the moment, Klaus closed the gap between them, his lips meeting Evain''s in a passionate exchange. As their lips finally parted, Klaus revealed a heavy truth, his words hanging in the air like a sword poised to strike. “The queen will have me executed in the morning,” he murmured.
Undeterred, Evain took Klaus by the hand, guiding him towards her bed. In the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, she spoke, her voice filled with both urgency and desire. “We have many hours before morning,” she whispered.