As the first rays of the sun gently caressed the landscape, Agneyastra, clad in her training uniform, emerged from her bedroom. The anticipation of another day at the Dweller educational training swirled in her chest, urging her forward. With hurried steps, she descended the staircase, her heart pounding with excitement.
Just as she reached the threshold, a voice echoed through the hallway. Ramil comes out from his father’s office. “Agney, are you not going to eat breakfast?” Ramil inquired, concern etching his brow.
Turning to face him, Agneyastra smiled wistfully. “I have countless tasks awaiting me at the Training, Ramil. I will grab a pastry on my way there,” she replied, her voice laced with determination.
Ramil''s eyes flickered towards Sinai. “And what about Sinai? Who will walk him in the morning?” Ramil questioned, concern evident in his voice.
Agneyastra''s gaze softened as she considered her faithful wolf. “Emathion and you can walk with him today, Ramil. I trust you both can manage it,” she assured him, her voice filled with gratitude.
Pushing open the door, Agneyastra''s eyes widened with surprise. Waiting patiently in front of their humble abode was Fitch, a Dweller was mounted on his horse, Fitch exuded an air of readiness and determination.
Ramil pointed towards the unexpected visitor, his confusion evident. “Why is Fitch waiting for you, Agney?” he inquired, perplexity etched on his face.
Agneyastra''s smile grew brighter as she approached Fitch. “Fitch is an exceptional student, just like me,” she explained, her voice tinged with admiration. “We have been chosen to assist Aurgelmir, our esteemed mentor, in teaching until the new Warrior recruits are ready for battle. I must go now,” she added, brimming with enthusiasm.
With a graceful sweep, Agneyastra mounted the horse behind Fitch. Their journey commenced swiftly, the rhythmic galloping of hooves carrying them through the bustling streets. They rode on, their destination set, not pausing until they arrived at the training building.
They both walked with purpose through the grand entrance of the magnificent building, their steps echoing against the marble floors. Agneyastra and Fitch strode down the long corridor towards Aurgelmir''s classroom. As they settled into their seats, the hours flew by, their minds occupied with the rigorous demands of their normal coursework. They diligently filled in for Aurgelmir, their commitment to their studies evident in their every action.
When the lunch break finally arrived, Agneyastra emerged from the classroom and made her way towards the bustling lunchroom. Fitch caught up with her, his footsteps falling in sync with hers. His voice was warm and inviting as he asked, “Do you want to have lunch together?”
Agneyastra''s eyes flickered with a mix of delight and regret. “Yes,” she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of apology, “but I promised Sinai and Emathion that I would eat at their table. Today is Sinai''s first day, you see.”
The lunchroom greeted them with its lively chatter and tantalizing aromas. Agneyastra led Fitch to a table where Emathion and Sinai eagerly awaited their arrival. They joined the table, enveloped by the camaraderie and warmth that radiated from their friends.
Agneyastra turned her attention towards Sinai. Smiling warmly, she asked, “Sinai, how are you liking your first day, so far?”
Sinai''s eyes sparkled with excitement as he replied, “It''s more than I could have ever imagined.”
Agneyastra savors each mouthful of her lunch, relishing the flavors dancing on her tongue. The aroma of freshly baked bread and spices fill the air, creating a sense of warmth and comfort in the bustling lunchroom. Before her, Sinai, Emathion, and Fitch engage in lighthearted conversation, their laughter carrying across the room.
As Ramil, enters the lunchroom, a smile immediately lights up Sinai''s face. Ramil confidently strides towards their table, exuding an air of charm and charisma. His voice resonates through the room as he greets everyone, “How is everyone''s first day back?”
Sinai, unable to hide his excitement, eagerly asks Ramil, “Are you going to join us?”
Emathion, always the realist, interjects with a hint of sarcasm, “He never does.”
Sinai, puzzled by his brother''s constant absence, inquires, “Why?”
The answer becomes clear as Sandra walks over to the table. Emathion lowers his gaze, acknowledging her presence, and explains, “That''s why.”
Sandra gently tugs at Ramil''s arm, a gleam of hope shining in her eyes. With a soft and inviting voice, she asks, “Are you coming?”
Ramil''s eyes sparkle as he gazes at Sinai, a promise of their rendezvous later in the day. His voice, warm and filled with affection, resonates through the lunchroom, “I will see you later when we walk home.”
Agneyastra casually waved at Ramil as he walked away, flanked by Sandra. Her eyes shifted to Fitch and Emathion, who sat by her side. Fitch couldn''t resist a remark. “Living with Rami must be intense,” he quipped, a playful smirk on his face.
Intrigued by Fitch''s comment, Agneyastra pondered, her expression growing serious. “Why?” she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity.
Fitch, ready to spill the secrets, responded with a knowing grin. “You know the rumors about him,” he said, his eyes flickering mischievously.
Emathion interjected, his voice laced with a tinge of irritation. “Fitch, enough.”
Agneyastra''s curiosity piqued further as she pressed on, her gaze locked onto Fitch. “What rumors?” she asked, eager to uncover the truth.
A sly smile danced on Fitch''s lips as he prepared to enlighten Agneyastra. “Where should we start? He''s been involved with most of the girls in his class this year, and he''s had a reputation as a bully since he could barely walk,” Fitch revealed.
Agneyastra, taken aback by the revelations, felt a surge of emotions welling up inside her. She fought the urge to defend Ramil from Fitch''s accusations. “Ramil has endured so much since the passing of his mother,” she said, her voice carrying a note of quiet defiance. “You don''t know him like I do. Yes, he can be harsh at times, but he carries an immense burden, and he rarely complains. He cares deeply about the people around him.”
Fitch laughed, dismissing Agneyastra''s defense with a dismissive wave. “Ramil caring about anything other than himself? Don''t make me laugh.”
Agneyastra, overcome with frustration and anger, suddenly found herself unable to contain her emotions any longer. Her fiery hair began to flicker and glow, the flames reflecting the intensity of her feelings. Pointing her finger directly at Fitch, she let her voice rise, unaware of the volume of her words. “You are wrong about Ramil,” she shouted, her voice echoing through the lunchroom. “He is good.”
Startled by Agneyastra''s sudden outburst, Ramil''s attention was drawn toward the commotion. With a quick understanding of the situation, he swiftly removed his jacket and placed it upon Agneyastra''s head, shielding her fiery display from prying eyes. Without a word, he gently wrapped his arm around her waist and led her out of the bustling lunchroom.
***
Ramil gently guided Agneyastra down the dimly lit hallway of the training building, his jacket draped protectively over her trembling form. They moved swiftly, fear and urgency evident in their hurried steps. Finally, reaching their destination, Ramil skillfully eased Agneyastra into a cramped closet, shutting the creaking door behind them.
Once inside, Ramil unburdened himself from his jacket, his eyes immediately drawn to Agneyastra''s hair, which flickered with fiery strands that danced like vibrant embers in the dim light. Worried lines etched his face as he approached her, his voice soft and soothing. “Agney, breathe. Calm down,” he implored, his hand reaching out to gently touch her trembling shoulder.
As Agneyastra took in a shaky breath, her fiery hair gradually returned to its usual shade of black. Tears streamed down her face as she cradled her face in her hands, her voice breaking with anguish. “Fitch,” she choked out, her voice filled with pain and disbelief, “he said the most horrible things about you.”
Ramil''s face hardened, the weight of the accusations causing him to clench his fists in frustration. “To let your powers slip out because you were defending me,” he mused, his tone a mix of disappointment and understanding. He looked away, his troubled gaze fixated on some distant point.
Agneyastra''s voice trembled as she desperately tried to explain, her emotions pouring out. “Fitch spread rumors, Ramil,” she whispered, her voice quivering with a mix of hurt and anger. “He said... he said you were selfish and that you... you had relations with many of the girls in your class.”
Ramil''s gaze dropped to the floor, he confronted her. “And… you believed him?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Agneyastra''s eyes widened, her hands reaching out to touch Ramil''s arm desperately. “No! Ramil, never. I have been defending you, standing up for you against those lies,” she pleaded.
Frustration and exhaustion tugged at the corners of Ramil''s expression. “I don''t need you to defend me, Agney,” he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. “I don''t care what they think about me. Ruby is simply lashing out because I haven''t spent any time with her during the summer break.”
Agneyastra looked at Ramil, concern etched on her face. She reached out, gently tugging at his arm, her touch as light as a feather. “Ramil,” she spoke softly, her voice filled with sincere worry, “I''m just worried about you. You haven''t shown any emotions since your mother''s death.”
Ramil''s restless energy filled the cramped space as he paced back and forth, his eyes darting anxiously. With each step, the floor creaked under the weight of his stomping. He turned towards Agneyastra, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and determination. “Please,” his plea echoed through the confined space, “don''t pity me. I can handle it.”
Ramil burst out of the closet, the door slammed shut behind him, emphasizing the finality of his decision. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Ruby, animatedly talking with one of his classmates.
Summoning the courage, Ramil approached them, his voice steady but firm. “Ruby, I need to speak with you alone,” he said, willing her to understand the urgency in his words. But instead of taking him seriously, Ruby burst into laughter, her laughter tinkling through the air like shards of broken glass.
“No!” she scoffed, dismissing his request with a wave of her hand. Ramil''s frustration rose, his jaw clenching as he observed her friend''s smirk.
“You are Phoebe, aren''t you?” Ramil''s gaze bore into her, Phoebe hesitated for a moment before answering, her eyes darting nervously between Ramil and Ruby.
“Yes, why?” Phoebe''s voice wavered slightly.
Turning his attention back to Ruby, Ramil''s voice dripped with contempt. “Did I have relations with her as well?” he spat, his words laced with bitter sarcasm.
Ruby''s frustration swelled, her face contorted with anger. “Leave her alone!” she demanded.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Ignoring Ruby''s protests, he extended his hand toward Phoebe, a challenge glinting in his eyes. “Well, according to you, I am easy now,” he taunted. “Perhaps I will allow your Phoebe here, easy access to me, just like you claimed. See how you like it.”
Ruby''s voice cracked with desperation as she cried out, “Ramil, wait!” But it was too late. Phoebe''s eyes sparkled with mischief as she smiled, tentatively taking Ramil''s outstretched hand.
Ramil''s mischievous smile lingered on his lips as he watched Ruby recede into the distance. Phoebe, full of resolve, guided him through the winding corridors of the training building until they arrived at the Dean''s office. With a swift motion, Phoebe shut the door behind them, enclosing the pair in a cocoon of secrecy. The room felt empty, its stillness and solitude amplifying the intensity of the moment.
Ramil''s eyes as he surveyed the office, “I believe I should leave,” he murmured, a trace of remorse coloring his voice. “My intention was only to vex Ruby, and I have succeeded.”
But before Ramil could make a move towards the door, Phoebe''s swift actions caught him by surprise. She pulled him close, her lips finding his in a passionate kiss. Leaning into the embrace, Ramil reciprocated Phoebe''s affections. “If we are discovered here, we risk expulsion, and my dreams of becoming a Warrior will be shattered,” he cautioned.
Ignoring his words, Phoebe tantalizingly began to remove her garments, a small smirk playing on her lips. “I never thought you to be a coward, Ramil,” she teased, her eyes locked with his.
Ramil met her gaze with annoyance, his determination resolute. “I am no coward,” he retorted, his voice laced with conviction.
With a decisive motion, Ramil strode towards the door, locking it firmly. Taking a step closer to Phoebe, he slowly closed the distance between them. He gently lifted her, placing her on the smooth surface of the desk.
Moving in closer, Ramil teased Phoebe''s soft skin, nibbling on the sensitive curve near her ear. Her breathing quickened, betraying her desire. “Are you sure?” he whispered.
Phoebe''s response was unwavering, her eyes aflame with longing. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. Ramil surrendered himself to the overwhelming tide of desire, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss.
***
Moriko awoke with her gaze drawn to the somber scene unfolding outside her cabin window. The once vibrant forest seemed to mirror her own troubled emotions as dark clouds loomed overhead. Dragging her feet, she made her way to the desk adorned with scattered documents, the weight of her actions bearing down upon her.
A gentle knock broke the silence, interrupting her melancholic reverie. Moriko''s voice, tinged with sadness, spoke from within the depths of her soul, “I am not hungry.”
Sir Brucie, undeterred by her somber state, entered her bedroom carrying a tray of breakfast. Carefully placing it on her desk, he gently coaxed, “Eat.”
Moriko reluctantly picked at her meal, her appetite diminished by the regret that swirled within her. “I betrayed Emathion for my own selfish desires,” she whispered.
He must come to understand that you made this sacrifice to reclaim what is rightfully yours,” he reassured.
Moriko sighed, her voice laden with anguish. “Yes, but at what cost? Have I used my dear Emathion, my only friend for the sake of my own ambitions?”
Sir Brucie, ever the steadfast protector, suggested a change of location. “Perhaps it is time we relocate you to the palace, where you rightfully belong,” he proposed, hoping that the change of scenery would bring solace.
Moriko turned away, finding relief in the refuge of her bed. “I am fine here,” she responded, her voice marked by a hint of defiance. “Besides, the Brucies have never seen eye to eye with the Stone soldiers.”
Sir Brucie persisted, knowing the life she had yearned for awaited her in the palace. “Trust me, everything will be fine. Avoid those that pose a threat and focus on the destiny that awaits you. This is what you have longed for, Moriko.”
With a heavy sigh, Moriko relented, her weary heart temporarily swayed. “Alright,” she conceded. “Perhaps, when I speak with Emathion this afternoon, he will understand my motivations and find forgiveness.”
Moriko slung her trusty backpack over her shoulders and followed Sir Brucie, as they left the comforting embrace of her room and ventured out into the world beyond the cabin. Their footsteps echoed in harmony as they traced a winding path through the dense forest, guided by the touch of Moriko''s magical abilities. Ahead of them stood a massive bush, imposing in its stature, blocking their path to what lay beyond. With a flick of her wrist, Moriko summoned her arcane powers and waved her hand, causing the bush to obediently part ways and reveal a hidden tunnel.
Treading forward, their excitement mounting with each step, they journeyed deeper into the heart of the tunnel. The air grew colder, and the sound of their footsteps resonated through the eerily empty stone city that lay on the other side. Its vastness stretched before them like a forgotten dream, deserted and untamed.
As they traversed the desolate streets, their footfalls echoing through the stillness. The city beckoned them forward, with its mystique and secrets waiting to be unraveled. Time had claimed its toll, leaving behind dilapidated buildings and crumbling structures, reminders of a forgotten era.
But their destination was clear. It loomed before them, a towering castle that seemed to defy the laws of nature, its grandeur exuding an air of majesty and intrigue. Moriko approached the entrance, a heavy wooden door groaning in protest as she pushed it open. Together, they stepped into a cavernous palace, its vastness and opulence taking their breath away.
In the center of the grand foyer stood a magnificent staircase, its marble steps ascending towards the heavens. The staircase split into two paths halfway up, each leading to unexplored realms within the castle''s labyrinthine depths. Overwhelmed by the sheer scale and beauty of their surroundings, Moriko couldn''t help but feel a surge of excitement course through her veins.
As she gazed up at the staircase, her eyes alight with anticipation, she turned to Sir Brucie. Her smile widened, illuminating her face. “It''s an enormous place, isn''t it?”
Sir Brucie nodded, his eyes sparkling with determination. “Indeed, my dear Moriko. But fear not, for we shall not face this challenge alone. I will summon more Brucies, and together, we shall restore this place to its former glory.”
Moriko''s footsteps echoed through the grand hallways as she made her way up the stairs to the largest room in the palace. The heavy double doors stood before her, beckoning her to enter. With a surge of anticipation, she pushed them open, revealing a sight that took her breath away. She stepped into the royal bedchamber, filled with opulent furniture that seemed to mimic the beauty and strength of the Earth Kingdom.
As she approached the massive bed, adorned with intricate carvings and soft, luxurious fabrics, Moriko felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over her. She couldn''t help but smile, her excitement bubbling up within her. Finally, she had secured full control over the Earth Kingdom, a feat she had dreamed of for so long. The thought made her heart soar with triumph.
But then, a familiar voice, distant yet ever-present, echoed in her mind. It was Emathion, Moriko lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, her expression shifting from joy to a more somber tone.
“Yes,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and anxiety. “I have the most wonderful news. I now have full control over the Earth Kingdom, granted to me by Tyson.”
Emathion''s voice carried a hint of curiosity. “That is amazing,” he said, his words laced with intrigue. “But why did Tyson agree to give it back to you now?”
Moriko took a deep breath, preparing herself to reveal the truth. She had to be honest with Emathion, despite the potential consequences. “I need to explain why I regained my access,” she told him.
Emathion''s voice grew more urgent, filled with a mix of confusion and concern. “Please, go ahead,” he urged.
Moriko revealed her secret. “I possess a unique ability, Emathion,” she admitted. “I can see what you see, as you see it. It''s a power I discovered long ago, but I never used it, fearing that it would invade your privacy.”
Emathion finally spoke, his voice filled with disbelief and hurt. “How could you? Why would you do this?”
Moriko''s voice trembled as she sought to explain herself. “Tyson was worried about someone in your household, someone he cared about deeply. He needed to ensure their safety. So, in order to gain his trust and regain my kingdom, I reluctantly gave him access to see through your eyes. I truly am sorry, Emathion.”
But it was too late. Emathion''s voice grew cold and distant, his tone indicating his resignation. “I have to go,” he said abruptly, cutting off any chance for further conversation.
Desperation welled up within Moriko, her apology falling on deaf ears. “Emathion, please,” she pleaded, her voice filled with remorse. “I only did it to reclaim my kingdom and start rebuilding it.” There was no response from Emathion, only a looming silence that settled over Moriko''s mind. She sank into the grand bed.
***
Late into the night, within the confines of the Water Kingdom palace, a solitary room glowed with a warm, inviting light. It was a training room, adorned with an array of weapons adorning the walls, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the flickering candlelight. The room was silent except for the rhythmic sound of metal meeting fabric as Evain set about her nightly routine.
Evain eyes were fixed on a straw-stuffed training dummy, its features reduced to a vague semblance of a foe. With precise and calculated movements, she effortlessly twirled and lunged, unleashing a flurry of strikes upon the inanimate adversary. In that fleeting moment of concentration, Devereaux approached Evain, his footsteps muffled by the sound of steel on straw, his eyes filled with disdain.
“How dare you?”, Devereaux bellowed, his voice laced with the bitterness brewing within.
Evain, undeterred, retained her composure and flashed a defiant smile in the face of her brother''s disapproval. She continued her rhythmic assault on the defenseless dummy, her every strike filled with unwavering determination. With a mocking tone, she retorted, “What, your friends don''t want to play with you anymore?”
Devereaux seethed with anger, his features contorting into a mask of contempt. “I can''t wait for the day when you are married off, and we will finally be rid of you,” he spat, his words sharper than the very sword Evain wielded.
In one fluid motion, Evain''s sword halted mid-air, the grip tightening in her hand. She turned to face Devereaux, her eyes ablaze with defiance. Pointing the tip of her blade towards his chest, she hurled her words with a steely resolve, “Remember this, brother. You, too, shall be married off, and Marius''s kingdom shall dictate the terms of your fate.”
Devereaux with a storm brewing in his eyes, raises a sword to his chest, its gleaming blade poised dangerously close to his heart. His voice quivers with a mix of concern and curiosity as he addresses his sister, Evain. “Does mother know you are training again?” Devereaux''s words hang heavy in the air, echoing off the marble walls.
Evain swiftly intervenes, gripping the hilt of the sword and pulling it away from Devereaux''s vulnerable chest. Her touch is firm, but there is a gentleness underlying her actions. With an authoritative flick of her wrist, she smacks the flat part of the blade against Devereaux''s shoulder, an indication for him to back away. “Leave me alone,” Evain retorts.
Unfazed, Devereaux continues to probe, unable to comprehend his sister''s relentless dedication. A crease forms on his forehead as he asks, a hint of disbelief laced in his words, “Why do you keep practicing? Mother will never let you go to war.”
Evain, her features illuminated by the pale moonlight, slashes the sword through the air, striking a nearby training dummy with precision and grace. Her movements are fluid, honed through countless hours of practice and discipline. As she inches closer to Devereaux, her voice flutters with a mix of frustration and determination. “Don''t you have others to bother?” She demands.
A steely resolve hardens Devereaux’s face as he declares, “I will go. I am sure mother would like to know about this late-night training of yours.”
Devereaux turns on his heel and leaves the room, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. As he disappears into the depths of the palace, Evain''s gaze lingers on the empty space he once occupied. Slowly, she places the sword back on the wall among the array of weapons, its metallic glimmer reflecting her unwavering commitment. Driven by an unyielding desire to prove herself, Evain''s hand trails along the assortment of weapons until she settles on a gleaming spear. Gripping it tightly, she breathes in deeply, her eyes resolute.
As the moon cast its ethereal glow upon the training room, Evain''s form moved with swift elegance amidst the flickering torchlight. As she stood resolutely, a spear gripped tightly in her hands. Every strike she unleashed upon the defenseless dummy resounded with a determination that seemed to pulsate through the air.
The Queen''s voice, tinged with concern and weariness, cut through the silence. “Evain, stop this and go to bed,” she ordered. Evain remained steadfast in her pursuit with her training.
The Queen''s expression hardened as she gestured towards her loyal soldiers. Clad in their gleaming armor, they approached Evain with measured steps, their gazes fixated upon their duty. Undeterred by their arrival, Evain continued her relentless assault, the spear becoming an extension of her will.
In a defiant retort, Evain''s voice rang out, filled with a mix of frustration and rebellion. “Leave be, mother!” she cried, her words laced with a determination that refused to yield.
Though a flicker of anguish passed through the Queen''s eyes, she held steadfast in her resolve. With a single snap of her fingers, the soldiers sprang into action, their hands moving swiftly to try disarm the princess.
With a mixture of duty and empathy, the soldiers surrounded Evain, offering her a respectful escort. The Queen''s words resonated with authority as she commanded, “Escort my daughter to her bedroom.”
Though she felt the weight of her mother''s command and the eyes of the soldiers upon her, Evain''s spirit remained unyielding. In the face of adversity and the clash between duty and personal aspirations, the fire within her burned brighter than ever, promising a future where she would forge her own path, one worthy of her fierce and indomitable spirit.
Evain stood squarely in the center, her back turned to the soldiers who had surrounded her. The air was thick with tension as she spoke, her voice laced with defiance, “Are you willing to die for your queen?”
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to respond. A single soldier stepped forward, his voice trembling slightly as he addressed the princess, “Princess, drop your weapon and retire for the night. This is not a battle you should fight.”
Evain''s gaze shifted towards her mother, the Queen, disappointment etched into every line of her face. With bitter resentment, she murmured, “Mother, this is all your fault.”
In one swift motion, Evain swung her spear around, effortlessly fending off the soldiers who lunged at her. The clash of metal reverberated through the air as she effortlessly dispatched each opponent, their bodies crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.
One soldier dared to sneak up on her from behind, his anger fueling his intentions. But Evain, skilled and agile, anticipated the attack, swiftly impaling him with her spear. He crumpled to the ground, life slipping away from him.
With an air of superiority, Evain closed the gap between herself and the soldier in charge of the group. Her eyes burned with defiance as she pointed to the fallen soldier by her side, her voice laced with contempt, “Is this the best the Water Kingdom sends out into battle? No wonder the Dwellers defeat us day after day.”