The soft rays of the early morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a warm glow over the quaint kitchen. Agneyastra stood near the stove, her slender fingers deftly chopping vegetables and sautéing them in a sizzling pan. Across the way, Emathion gracefully glided to-and-fro, reaching for plates and cups from the cupboard with a quiet efficiency.
In the midst of this bustling morning routine, Ramil his entrance into the kitchen. His eyes scanned the room briefly before he started to leave, as if searching for something he couldn''t quite find. A concerned tone emerged from Agneyastra''s lips, “Is everything okay?”
Ramil''s gaze turned to Agneyastra, his face contorting with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. In a curt manner, he expressed, “I thought Emathion was supposed to cook breakfast today.”
With an air of nonchalance and confidence, Agneyastra replied, her voice carrying the undertones of determination, “Well, we swapped. I am cooking breakfast, so Emathion will graciously take care of cooking dinner for me. I won''t be here.”
A procession of silence followed Agneyastra''s statement, each second filled with the weight of unspoken conflict. Ramil''s gaze remained fixed upon her, his expression now clouded with an air of displeasure. In a sudden outburst of authority, he sternly questioned, “Where are you going?”
Undeterred by Ramil''s attempt to assert control, Agneyastra let out a musical laughter, a sound that danced like a melody in the air. With an unyielding resolve, she uttered, “I was invited to have dinner. But you know what? It''s actually none of your business what I do.”
Ramil, now standing in close proximity to Agneyastra, his footsteps slow and measured, asserted his claim of authority. His words dripped with a sense of entitlement as he declared, “I am in charge of this house, while my father is healing. So, yes, you do have an obligation to comply. I forbid it.”
Agneyastra, however, was not swayed by Ramil''s authoritative stance. She returned to her cooking, focusing her attention on the aromatic symphony that filled the kitchen. Plating the various dishes she had prepared, she gracefully carried them out of the kitchen with Emathion joining her in the dining room.
But Ramil''s curiosity, and perhaps a hint of concern, persisted. He continued to probe, his voice filled with a mix of determination and uncertainty, “Where will you be going later for dinner?”
Agneyastra couldn''t help but roll her eyes as Ramil, with his usual arrogance, placed the platter of breakfast food on the table. He hovered near her like a persistent fly, his presence impossible to ignore. “You are not going anywhere,” he declared in a tone that dripped with entitlement.
Emathion, sensing the tension, interjected, “I will go get Sinai and see if father wants to join us.” Without waiting for a response, he swiftly escaped the suffocating atmosphere of the dining room.
Ramil, never one to miss an opportunity to assert his authority, couldn''t help himself and added, “You should just ask for my permission.”
The words struck a chord within Agneyastra, igniting a flame of fury within her. Suddenly, her black hair transformed into a blazing inferno, a visual representation of her anger and power. She faced Ramil, her eyes piercing through him, and uttered, “Why? You made it perfectly clear that I am not, nor will ever be, your sister. You are not my kin. I exist only because Emathion and Sinai need someone to protect them from you.”
With each word, the intensity of Agneyastra''s flames seemed to intensify, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Ramil, undeterred, stepped closer, his finger trembling as he pointed towards her flaming hair. His voice resonated with a mixture of fear and disdain, “You protect them? Look at yourself, Agneyastra! You can barely control yourself. How can you protect anyone?”
Feeling a surge of frustration mixed with sadness, Agneyastra managed to regain her composure. She willed her fiery hair to return to its normal state and swiftly turned, storming out of the dining room. Passing by Emathion and Sinai in her haste, she rushed upstairs and into the solitude of her bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her. Alone in the now-quiet space, she lay on her bed, her gaze fixated on the ceiling above.
The morning light trickles through the window, casting a soft glow upon the room. Ramil, with a worried expression etched upon his face, cautiously enters Agneyastra''s bedroom. She lies on the bed, her gaze fixed upon the ceiling, a veil of desolation draped over her.
“Go away, Ramil,” Agneyastra murmurs, her voice tinged with bitterness. “I hate the way you make me feel.”
Undeterred, Ramil quietly shuts the door behind him and takes a hesitant step towards the chair beside her bed. His voice trembles with sincerity as he speaks, “I don''t understand why I seem to take my frustrations out on you. I am truly sorry, Agneyastra. Technically, we are sort of family now.”
Agneyastra''s curiosity pierces through her melancholy as she sits up and looks at Ramil. Her eyes search his face for any trace of deception. “Really?” she questions, a glimmer of hope dancing in her otherwise weary eyes.
With genuine remorse, Ramil nods. “Yes, Agneyastra. I am just genuinely worried for you. That is all. Please, tell me where you are going tonight.”
There is a brief pause, Agneyastra sighs and finally relents, her voice now tinged with resignation. “Fine,” she acquiesces. “I am going to Aurgelmir''s and Mr. Willow''s for dinner. Jake is still recovering from his injuries during the attack, and it seems he may never walk again. I feel compelled to assist Aurgelmir more in the classroom, so he has time to be with his family.”
“That is nice of you,” Ramil said, his tone filled with genuine admiration. However, his facade of contentment quickly faded, and he looked down, his voice laden with hesitation. “I have to tell you something, something that I shouldn''t tell you.”
Agneyastra''s curiosity was piqued, her brows furrowing as she sought to understand the reason behind his sudden unease. “What is it?” she inquired.
Ramil took a deep breath, his eyes darting nervously across the room. “Could you please make sure Sinai washes before you leave tonight?” He paused, his voice laced with a deceptive intention. “He only listens to you.”
Agneyastra''s response was quick and filled with playful sarcasm. “Yeah, because I don''t yell at him,” she quipped, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.
Ramil shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. “If he didn''t have his head always in the clouds, I wouldn''t have to yell,” he muttered, frustration evident in his words. His gaze met Agneyastra''s, hoping to find understanding in her eyes.
Agneyastra crossed her arms, an exasperated expression crossing her face as she rolled her eyes at Ramil. “That is just Sinai,” she sighed, her voice tinged with both exasperation and affection.
Ramil''s voice softened as he spoke once more, his remorse shining through. “Please, let''s not argue again. I apologized,” he pleaded, his eyes searching for forgiveness in Agneyastra''s gaze.
***
As the morning sun''s soft golden rays slipped through the gaps in the curtains, Ramil roused from his deep slumber. Stretching his limbs, he yawned and glanced at the time, realizing that a new day had begun. With a sense of purpose, he proceeded to choose his attire, carefully selecting garments to suit the upcoming activities.
With his clothing sorted, Ramil stepped out of his room, making his way down the corridor. As he approached the door adjacent to his own, anticipation flickered in his eyes. He gently knocked, though there was no response from within. Curiosity gnawed at Ramil''s insides, compelling him to open the door and unveil the scene within.
It was Agneyastra, still peacefully asleep amidst the morning tranquility. Basking in the gentle sunlight that filtered through the window, its rays caressed her ethereal, purple-hued complexion. Her midnight tresses cascaded messily around her face, shrouding her in an enchanting aura.
In that moment, Emathion, silently appeared behind him. Breaking the silence, Emathion remarked with a touch of unease, “It''s quite creepy to watch someone sleep, isn''t it?”
Ramil, feeling a sudden surge of defensiveness, jabbed Emathion playfully. “I wasn''t watching,” Ramil protested. “I was only trying to wake her up.” Frustration seeped into his voice as he irritably kicked the edge of Agneyastra''s bed. “Get up!” Ramil exclaimed urgently. “We only have a few days left before training resumes, and we need to discuss matters.”
Startled awake by Ramil''s insistence, Agneyastra narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Scrunching the bedsheet closer to her, she muttered, “I''m getting up. Are we having a group meeting in here?”
Ramil exchanged a glance with Emathion, their silent communication conveying that was not their intention. “No,” Ramil replied, his tone laced with a touch of confusion.
Shielded by the protective cocoon of her bedsheet, Agneyastra issued a stern command. “Then both of you, please leave. I need some privacy to get dressed.”
Without uttering a single word in protest, Ramil and Emathion obeyed Agneyastra''s request. They quietly retreated from her quarters, leaving her to prepare herself for the day.
Ramil stood, Emathion by his side. Ramil''s voice carried a sense of urgency as he instructed Emathion, “Go start breakfast, I need to attend to father.” With a gentle but firm push, he steered his brother towards the stairs before turning his attention to his father''s bedroom door.
Ramil rapped his knuckles lightly against the worn wooden door, announcing his presence. “Father, good morning,” he said, his voice filled with concern and love.
Upon entering, Ramil found his father, Marudeva, seated in a worn chair, facing the wall. The toll of sleepless nights was etched upon Marudeva''s face, evident in the shadowy circles that framed his tired eyes. Empty bottles of wine littered the space around him, amplifying the grim atmosphere. A tattered blanket draped over his slumped shoulders, providing little comfort. In his trembling hand, Marudeva clutched a faded photograph — a snapshot frozen in time that captured his wedding day, where he and Ramil''s mother shared a tender kiss.
Ramil moved purposefully, clearing away the empty wine bottles that seemed to mock his father''s pain. As he cleaned, his eyes never left Marudeva, who remained lost in the memories captured within the photograph. Breaking the heavy silence, Marudeva whispered, his voice laced with exhaustion and uncertainty, “Ramil, what do I do now?”
Ramil continued his task, gently guiding his father''s attention to the corner of the room where a door led to the bathroom. His voice carried the weight of the responsibility he had assumed. “Go wash up for the day, father,” he urged, his voice steady. “Just focus on healing yourself. I will meet with the Ash Kingdom advisors and Dweller Advisors on your behalf.”
As Marudeva slowly walks towards the bathroom, his steps are hesitant and filled with the weight of his words. Within the confines of his lavish bedroom, adorned in rich mahogany and soft golden light, a somber atmosphere surrounds him.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“It is a good thing,” Marudeva murmurs, barely audible, his voice laced with a hint of sorrow.
Ramil, his son, senses the heaviness in his father''s words and asks with genuine concern, “Why is that, Father?”
Marudeva''s eyes, haunted and distant, meet Ramil''s gaze. “Because marrying someone you truly love, only to lose them in the end, it is a pain that no heart should endure,” he replies, his voice trembling with emotions that refuse to be contained. “I fear I shall never recover from such a loss.”
As if in agreement with his father''s sentiment, Marudeva''s fragile form stumbles, falling just before reaching the bathroom. Ramil rushes to his side, his voice filled with panic and love. “Father!” he exclaims, desperately trying to support him.
Drawing upon a reserve of strength, Ramil assists Marudeva in rising once more. But the toll of his words and the weight of his emotions remain etched upon his face. “Look at what love has done to me,” Marudeva breathes, his voice a mere whisper that veils a lifetime of pain. “You must avoid it, my boy.”
Ramil, however, refuses to accept his father''s belief, his voice filled with conviction. “No, Father. It is not love that has caused this harm. It is the numbing embrace of wine.” With that realization, Ramil takes a step back, his gaze settling upon the trash bag filled with empty bottles strewn across the room. He seizes it firmly, determined to rid his father''s chamber of its intoxicating presence.
Leaving the room, his burden heavy but his heart resolute, Ramil takes a moment to collect himself. Leaning against the sturdy door, he inhales deeply, attempting to cleanse himself of the turmoil that lingers within. Agneyastra, ever observant, notices his turmoil and approaches with concern in her eyes. “Advisors are here to see you, Ramil. Are you okay?”
Inhaling a shaky breath, Ramil straightens himself, trying to mask the pain that still lingers in his eyes. “I am fine,” he murmurs, his voice betraying the lingering ache within. “Just ensure that Sinai has everything he needs for his first year of training.” With measured steps, Ramil descends the grand staircase to meet with the advisors.
***
Midday stretched its golden fingers through the dense canopy of the Green Forest, casting dappled sunlight on the vibrant foliage below. A hushed stillness permeated the air, broken only by the distant melody of chirping birds and the gentle rustling of leaves. Moriko paced back and forth in front of a towering oak tree, her emerald eyes scanning the surroundings.
Suddenly, as though summoned by her fervent thoughts, a shimmering green portal materialized before her. Stepping out of its ethereal embrace, Tyson emerged, her arms wrapping around him like a long-lost daughter.
“It''s good to see you,” Moriko''s voice trembled with a mixture of relief and concern. “But, are you sure about this?”
Tyson nodded solemnly, his gaze intense as he took Moriko''s hand. Together, they embarked on a slow walk amidst the ancient trees, their feet treading on a carpet of emerald moss. In this tranquil setting, their words floated on the breeze.
“I know that this isn''t a normal request,” Tyson admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “But I can''t shake the feeling that the advisors are hiding something about Marudeva''s household. The future of the Fire Kingdom is in that home, Moriko.”
Moriko''s brow furrowed, her eyes searching the horizon as if seeking answers from the whispering winds. She quickened her pace, walking a few paces ahead of Tyson, her every step a silent testament to the weight of her dilemma.
“Emathion doesn''t know I can do this,” Moriko confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, “and the few times I have, it was purely by accident, and it happened while I was healing a Brucie. It’s invasion of his privacy.”
Tyson moved closer, his voice filled with urgency and conviction. “Please, Moriko,” he pleaded, his eyes locking with hers. “If you fulfill this request, I promise you full access to your Kingdom. Starting today, you will be granted the freedom to explore all of the Earth Kingdom, I will speak with Brucies about today.”
Moriko''s eyes shifted downwards momentarily, her mind deep in thought. With a decisive nod, she finally spoke, her voice resonating with a hint of uncertainty, “Fine, sit.”
Tyson obediently positioned himself on a weathered stump, his gaze fixed intently on Moriko. A mixture of curiosity and concern danced in his eyes as he questioned, “How much will I see and feel?”
Leaning back against a moss-covered boulder, Moriko hesitated for a moment, considering her next move. She turned her gaze towards the whispering leaves, lost in contemplation. “Perhaps,” she murmured softly, “I should consult Emathion before we proceed. I cannot predict how this power will affect him.”
Tyson''s voice tinged with suspicion as he countered, “If he knows, he may attempt to conceal the truth from us. But tell me, Moriko, do you truly desire to reclaim your Kingdom?”
A flicker of determination ignited within Moriko''s eyes. “Yes,” she replied resolutely, “but my experience with these powers has been limited to trees and Brucies. Placing your hands upon my head may grant us both access to Emathion''s visions.”
As Moriko tenderly covered Tyson''s eyes with her slender hands, a surge of anticipation coursed through both their bodies. Tyson reciprocated by gently placing his hands atop Moriko''s head, his touch tingling with an electric energy.
Taking a deep breath, Moriko tapped into her ancient abilities, her powers intertwining with the essence of the forest. And in that transformative moment of unity, the veil between their realms merged.
Tyson''s vision blurred and shifted as Moriko channeled Emathion''s sight. He found himself standing within Emathion''s humble abode, a spectator to the tumultuous scene unfolding before him. Ramil''s voice boomed, reverberating off the walls, as he lashed out at Agneyastra and Sinai. The air crackled with tension as harsh words flew back and forth, filling the room with a thick sense of animosity. In a sudden burst of anger, Ramil pushed against Emathion, sending him stumbling backwards.
As Tyson observed the tense confrontation unravel before him, a whirlwind of emotions consumed his very being. The room, once filled with an air of tranquility, now felt constricting, suffocating even, as the toxic energy permeated the atmosphere. Each strained muscle and clenched fist, every heated word and lingering glance, became etched into his consciousness, transforming him from a mere observer to an unwilling participant in their bitter conflict.
Moriko delicately lifted her hands away from Tyson''s eyes, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and curiosity. “Did you find out what you were seeking?” she asked, her eyes searching his troubled face.
Tyson, feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders, buried his face in his hands. His voice, laden with exhaustion and uncertainty, quivered as he responded, “Yes, I have uncovered the truth. But I fear I am ill-equipped to offer any assistance at this moment.”
A flicker of hope danced across Moriko''s features as she proposed an idea. “What if you were to allow Emathion and Agneyastra to spend a few hours with me?” she suggested, her voice laced with an unspoken plea for help.
A genuine smile crept upon Tyson''s lips as he considered Moriko''s proposal. “Let me discuss this with Yeongi first, and then I shall make a decision,” he replied, gratitude shining in his eyes. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a bundle of papers, placing them into Moriko''s outstretched hands. “It is all yours now,” he murmured, his voice filled with both reassurance and a touch of melancholy. “You may not be named queen until your presenting party, but at least you have reclaimed your castle and lands.”
With a wave and a whispered goodbye, Tyson disappeared into the shelter of the surrounding trees, leaving behind a trail of uncertainty and sorrow. Moriko clutched the papers to her chest, the weight of them sinking deep into her being. A wave of regret washed over her as she sank to her knees, her voice barely above a whisper. “What have I done?” she lamented, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. With haste, she rushed back to the small cabin, retreating to the familiarity of her room.
***
The first faint rays of morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Evain, still lost in the embrace of sleep, lay peacefully on her bed, her breathing gentle and rhythmic. Beside her, a young woman of the same age stirred as she heard a loud knock on the door.
Evain''s eyes fluttered open, and she gently shook the lady beside her, urgency creeping into her voice. “Quickly, get your clothes and go to the bathroom to get dressed,” she whispered urgently.
With a sense of urgency, the lady stumbled towards the bathroom, struggling to find her clothes amidst the clutter. Just as she managed to slip inside the bathroom, Evain''s bedroom door swung open, revealing the Queen.
The Queen walked purposefully towards Evain''s bedside, her face lined with authority and determination. “Get up, now!” she commanded.
Evain, still groggy from sleep, sat up and greeted her mother with a respectful nod. “Good morning, mother,” she murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
The Queen''s gaze swept over her daughter disapprovingly. “Why are you not dressed?” she inquired, her tone tinged with mild annoyance.
Evain motioned towards the bathroom, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. “I am waiting for the maid to finish cleaning my bathroom,” she explained.
Before another word could be exchanged, the bathroom door swung open, revealing the lady now clad in a maid''s uniform. The Queen''s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she wasted no time in dismissing the lady''s presence. “No one is allowed to be alone with the Princess,” she declared firmly. “Now, get out.”
The lady bowed respectfully, her features a mixture of apprehension and deference, before hastily making her exit from the room. Evain reached for a nearby robe, wrapping it around herself as she rose from the bed. With a sigh, she made her way towards the bathroom, her voice trailing behind her. “Give me a minute, mother,” she implored.
Evain emerged from her bathroom, adorned in a magnificent dress befitting her role as the Water Kingdom Princess. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she performed a mocking curtsy before her mother, who stood poised and regal, her patience threadbare.
“We have very little time for foolishness,” the Queen declared sternly, her voice carrying the weight of authority.
Confusion etched across Evain''s face as she trailed behind her mother, down the grand corridors of the palace. “Why?” she inquired, curiosity lacing her voice.
A heavy sigh escaped the Queen''s lips. “The other small kingdoms have become reluctant to send their daughters to court here in the Water Kingdom,” she explained, her tone tinged with disappointment. “Rumors about your behavior have begun to circulate, tarnishing our reputation.”
Incredulity contorted Evain''s features as she absorbed her mother''s words. “My behavior? At least I have the courtesy to seek consent,” she retorted, her voice laced with defiance. “Perhaps it is your beloved son, Devereaux, that you should be concerned about. The whispers among the palace staff speak of the haunting screams emanating from his chambers.”
The Queen''s grip on Evain''s arm tightened as she glanced around the room, her eyes filled with an intensity that sent shivers down Evain''s spine. “Keep your mouth shut,” she hissed, her voice carrying a dark command. As they entered the vast room, Evain''s gaze swept over the faces of different Princes, all around her age, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
Searching for reassurance, Evain turned to her mother, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and worry. “I am not allowed to meet with Princes until after my presenting party, which is months away.”
The Queen''s response was unyielding, “It''s for the smaller Kingdoms to help fund your father''s war. Be nice, Evain. Perhaps one of these Princes will ask for your hand on the day of your presenting party.”
The Queen''s final act was to forcefully shove Evain into the room, leaving her standing alone amidst the sea of Princes. The sound of the door closing echoed in Evain''s ears, casting a sense of foreboding and isolation.
As Evain entered the grand ballroom, its opulent décor shining under the golden glow of the chandeliers. Intricate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes from ancient battles and mythical creatures. The scent of fresh flowers floated through the air, mingling with the soft perfume worn by the elegantly dressed Princes.
Amongst the sea of polished nobility, Evain stood out like a solitary star in the night sky. Her presence sparked a wave of curiosity and interest, drawing the attention of the Princes who couldn''t help but glance her way. Their eyes, sharp and assessing, followed her every move, as if searching for something hidden within her.
Unfazed by the overwhelming attention, Evain waved a hand at the gentlemen, a radiant smile playing on her lips. “Hello, Gentlemen,” she greeted them, her voice carrying a sweet melody that silenced the buzzing conversations.
As most of the Princes rushed to greet her, Evain''s gaze fell upon two figures sitting nervously in the back of the room. Intrigued, she excused herself and made her way toward them, her steps deliberate and graceful.
Reaching their side, Evain questioned the two Princes with genuine curiosity in her eyes. “Why are you two sitting over here by yourselves?” she inquired, her voice gentle and warm.
The two Princes, Fred and Seth, stood quickly and bowed to her, their expressions a mix of surprise and gratitude. “I am Prince Fred, and he is Prince Seth,” Fred introduced them, his voice tinged with a hint of hesitation. “We come from different parts of the wetlands.”
A Prince from across the room couldn''t resist speaking up, his voice filled with disdain. “They are Swamp Princes, the lowest of the low,” he sneered.
Evain''s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a flicker of determination gleaming within them. She took a step closer to Fred and Seth, her voice soft but filled with unwavering conviction. “Does it displease you the way they talk about where you come from?” she asked.
Fred glanced at Seth, a mixture of pain and resignation etched on his face. With a sigh, he replied, “They always do.”
Evain couldn''t help but be moved by their plight. She reached into a hidden fold of her dress and pulled out two small daggers, placing one in Fred''s hand and the other in Seth''s. Her voice lowered to a whisper as she leaned in close to them, an air of secrecy surrounding them. “Never let anyone disrespect your house and land,” she advised, her words carrying a weight of empowerment.
With newfound determination, Fred and Seth nodded at Evain. Their eyes gleamed with a fire that had long been suppressed. In a swift motion, they moved with astonishing agility, using the daggers she had bestowed upon them to attack the Princes who had mocked them.
As chaos erupted in the ballroom, Evain watched with a satisfied smile playing on her lips. But her mother re-entered the room and her face contorted with shock and horror at the sight of the carnage caused by Fred and Seth. “Evain, what did you do?” she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of anger and despair. “Soldiers!” she called out, her voice echoing through the room.