The sun slowly peeked over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the bustling streets of the Dweller city Market palace. In the early morning haze, Agneyastra emerged, her breath visible in the crisp air as she jogged through the labyrinthine streets. With purposeful strides, she weaved through the vibrant stalls, each brimming with an array of exotic goods.
Agneyastra''s footsteps echoed as she made her way back to her house, the familiar path etched into her memory. She reached for the aged brass key, fitting it into the lock with a satisfying click. The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing the grandeur of her abode.
Passing through the threshold, she entered the opulent foyer, moving seamlessly through the intricately decorated dining room, Agneyastra felt a sense of tranquility wash over her. The polished wooden table stood proudly in the center, surrounded by plush velvet chairs.
Finally, Agneyastra reached the heart of the house - the kitchen. She carefully placed the recently purchased food items into their designated spaces, ensuring everything had its rightful place. Removing a cloth, she lovingly wiped down the countertops, her motions gentle yet deliberate.
In that moment, as Agneyastra meticulously tended to her surroundings, Marudeva stepped into the kitchen. His presence exuded a quiet authority, yet his warm smile softened his features.
“Good morning, Agney,” he greeted her, his voice carrying a gentle timbre.
Agneyastra returned his smile, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Good morning. Did you need help with making breakfast?”
Marudeva''s face softened even more, and he enveloped her in a fatherly embrace. “No, my dear. You have done so much already. Go rest, and I''ll have breakfast ready in no time.”
Agneyastra turned to face Marudeva, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “There is just so much to do,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of exhaustion. “But I can''t afford to rest just yet.”
Concern etched across his face, Marudeva reached out to gently touch Agneyastra''s arm. “I understand your dedication, but you mustn''t push yourself too hard. You are already more advanced than even my strongest soldiers in the army.”
A determined spark ignited in Agneyastra''s eyes. “I know, Marudeva. But I have to master this one spear move. Aurgelmir needs my help with his upcoming classes this week.”
With a nod, Marudeva gently released his grip on her arm. “Take care, Agneyastra. Remember to listen to your body, and don''t forget that rest is just as essential as training.”
Leaving the kitchen behind, Agneyastra followed her predetermined path through the dining room, the living room, and finally entered the hallway leading to the front door. As she reached the end of the hallway, a vibrant glow emanated from the large training room, beckoning her forward.
With a determined stride, she switched on the lights, illuminating the spacious room. Her gaze fell upon the walls adorned with an array of weapons, each representing a different era and culture. She approached one such wall and selected a gleaming spear, its intricate carvings reflecting the dedication of the craftsmen.
From a small closet tucked in the corner, Agneyastra wheeled out a sturdy wooden dummy. This dummy, worn and scarred from countless battles, had become her trusted training partner. With a gentle touch, she adjusted its position, aligning it perfectly in her line of sight.
In this private haven, Agneyastra would devote hours to honing her skills, perfecting her technique, and unlocking the true potential of her spear mastery. Drops of sweat would mingle with her determination as she relentlessly aimed to exceed her own limits.
Then she grabs a book off the shelf from the same closet. She opens the book and reads the complex Spear maneuver. She starts to implement the moves and it slowly starts attacking the dummy with the spirit doing the maneuver.
Agneyastra, completely absorbed in her training, swung her spear with fluid precision, her muscles rippling with each graceful movement. Her focus was unyielding, until Ramil strolled into the room, his presence so subtle that she had almost missed it.
Ignoring the weight of his gaze, Ramil made a beeline for the corner of the room to a sturdy bench holding a set of weights. Methodically, he positioned himself, ready to embark on a session of strength-building. As he reached for hand weights, Agneyastra''s gaze drawn like a magnetic force, fixated on the subtle flex of his biceps, the tendons straining under the weight.
But Agneyastra was not one to be distracted easily. She tightened her grip around her spear, determined to focus on her own training. Beads of sweat trailed down Ramil''s chest, a testament to his intense workout, and she couldn''t help but admire his dedication, even as she jabbed the spear into the training dummy, imbuing it with a fierce energy.
In the midst of her relentless practice, Agneyastra began to notice Ramil moving closer. He pulled a training dummy from the depths of the closet, positioning it near her, as if inviting her to engage with him. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his eyes focused and determined.
“How have you been training this morning?” Ramil''s voice cut through the air, breaking the rhythm of her motions.
Agneyastra paused momentarily, her gaze shifting from the dummy to Ramil. “Only for a few hours,” she replied.
Ramil''s concern was evident as he suggested, “Maybe you should take a break. You look exhausted.”
Agneyastra clenched her fists around the spear, determination etched into her features. “I am fine,” she brushed off his concern, her voice firm.
Craving a moment of respite, she lunged forward, thrusting the spear towards the dummy. But fatigue had subtly crept into her limbs, betraying her focus. In a split second of misjudgment, the spear slipped from her grip, slicing deep into her knee and side. The force of her movement propelled the dummy into the air before it crashed down perilously close to her bleeding leg.
Ramil, alert and concerned, swiftly knocked the spear from her hand, sending it clattering to the ground. “See? You are overworking yourself,” he stated, the worry apparent in his eyes.
Defiantly, Agneyastra snatched the spear back from Ramil, refusing to acknowledge the pain that throbbed within her. “I am fine,” she repeated, her voice now tinged with stubbornness. Stepping away from Ramil, she found herself drawn to the sight of crimson blood staining her skin. The realization stung, a testament to her exhaustion and the consequences of her unwavering dedication.
***
Moments later, the training room was filled with tension and urgency. Ramil''s heart pounded in his chest as he quickly grabbed his shirt, hastily tearing off a piece to fashion a makeshift bandage. The crimson stain on Agneyastra''s leg grew bigger by the second, a stark contrast against her pale skin.
“Sit down,” Ramil urged, his voice laced with a mix of concern and determination. “I will grab the first-aid kit from the closet.”
Agneyastra winced in pain but managed a weak smile. “Too bad Emathion is helping Sandra today,” she murmured, moments before Ramil disappeared into the closet.
Inside the dimly lit space, Ramil''s hands trembled with a combination of fear and resolve. He searched frantically amidst the tangle of equipment, his eyes scanning every shelf until he finally laid his trembling hands on the first-aid kit. With a silent prayer, he clutched it tightly and made his way back to Agneyastra''s side.
before Agneyastra, his hands trembling as he carefully opened the small kit. The urgency of the situation fueled his every movement as he retrieved a small bottle from the kit and poured its contents onto Agneyastra''s open wound.
A sharp intake of breath escaped Agneyastra''s lips as pain shot through her body. Her brow furrowed as she clenched her fists, trying to endure the discomfort. Sensing her discomfort, Ramil leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing her skin as he gently blew on the wound. Agneyastra couldn''t help but shiver at the intimate touch, her eyelids fluttering shut as she bit down on her lip in an attempt to suppress any further signs of pleasure.
Reluctantly, Agneyastra pulled away from Ramil''s ministrations, her determination shining in her eyes. “That felt weird,” she murmured, determination lacing her voice. “Don’t do that again.”
The sound of Marudeva''s concerned voice broke through the moment of whispered conversation. “What''s going on, Agney?”
Ramil glanced up briefly, his eyes filled with worry. “She slipped with a spear,” he explained, his voice filled with urgency. “Agney, please, let me finish cleaning the wound.”
Agneyastra sighed and slowly lowered herself back to the ground. Ramil wrapped her wounded leg with the utmost care, his hands working swiftly yet tenderly as he secured the bandage. Once finished, Agneyastra pushed herself up, determination etched into every line of her body. Marudeva watched from the sidelines, her worry evident as she witnessed Agneyastra''s unsteady movements.
“Agney, no more training for today,” Marudeva declared firmly, her voice laced with concern. “Ramil, help her back to her room.” Agneyastra didn''t respond.
Ramil and Agneyastra walked side by side, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridor. The training room lay behind them, as they reached the foot of the stairs, Ramil''s face brightened with a hint of excitement.
“Great,” he said with a slight smile. Then, without any hesitation, he swiftly scooped Agneyastra up into his arms, effortlessly carrying her up the stairs. His muscles strained as he made his way to her bedroom, careful not to jostle her.
Gently, Ramil laid Agneyastra down on her bed, his tender touch displaying a delicate balance between strength and tenderness. His gaze lingered on her face for a moment before he slowly moved away. But Agneyastra turned away from him, her body language revealing an unspoken pain.
“Why do you keep carrying on like this?” Ramil''s voice was filled with genuine confusion as he questioned her softly.
Agneyastra remained silent, her face hidden from his view. Her voice trembled as she finally spoke, her words laced with a mixture of anguish and defiance. “Leave me alone!” she pleaded, her voice choked with tears.
Unyielding, Ramil walked around to the other side of the bed, his eyes meeting Agneyastra''s tear-stained face. He spoke with a gentle firmness, wanting to understand and ease her pain. “Why do you keep carrying on like this? You can''t be more perfect than you already are.”The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Agneyastra''s head lay heavily on the pillow as tears continued to flow. “You don''t understand,” she whispered.
Ramil gently brushed Agneyastra''s hair away from her face, his touch so delicate it was almost imperceptible. “Make me understand,” he urged, guiding her to sit up as he settled beside her on the bed.
With trembling hands, Agneyastra wiped away her tears and took a deep breath. Her voice quivered as she poured her heart out to Ramil. “I want to belong somewhere. I possess abilities that I don''t understand or know where they come from. I''m forced to keep calm, unable to even sing. And I can''t write to my father, Rufus.”
A pensive expression crossed Ramil''s face as he considered her words. “What if all these measures are in place to protect you?” he suggested, his voice filled with a mix of concern and hope.
Agneyastra''s voice wavered with longing and frustration. “Protect me? From what? I just wish they would be truthful with me, like you always are.”
Ramil''s gaze dropped, his eyes clouded with sadness as he cleared his throat. “Take the day to rest, and in the morning, ask my father,” he proposed.
Agneyastra leaned closer to Ramil, a slight smile gracing her lips. “Do you think he will tell me more about my mother and father?” she inquired, her eyes searching his for an answer.
Ramil''s lack of understanding was evident in his response. “I had no idea this was important to you,” he admitted softly, his gaze lingering a little too long in the depths of her emerald, green eyes, momentarily lost in their beauty. As Ramil reached out his hand, he found himself caressing Agneyastra''s arm, a touch that sent shivers down his spine. His gaze, uncontrollable, remained locked onto her.
Ramil''s hand gently brushed against Agneyastra''s neck, his eyes fixated on her. “Agney, there is something I must share with you about your future.”
Agneyastra rests her head on Ramil''s broad shoulder, seeking solace in his embrace. Her voice, soft and tender, is tinged with concern as she asks, “What?”
“You will decide your own future,” Ramil murmured. Ramil hastily stood up, breaking the spell. “I forgot something downstairs,” he stammered, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He swiftly left Agneyastra''s bedroom.
***
As the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the cold stone walls of the nearly empty castle, Moriko found comfort in the warmth of her cozy bedroom. A crackling fire from the fireplace cast flickering shadows, creating an inviting ambiance that she often sought after a long day.
Lost in her own world, Moriko reclined on her bed, her body enveloped in a soft velvet blanket. Her fingers delicately turned the pages of the book she held, immersing herself in the tale of a fantastical land. But, as if stirred by an unseen force, an inexplicable chill ran through her body, causing her to drop the book onto the floor.
Startled, Moriko sought comfort in burying her face in her pillow, her moans of pain muffled, as if she didn''t want to disturb the ethereal silence of the room. The shivering continued, sending tremors through her entire being. Her breath became heavy, each inhalation gasping and desperate.
Finally, the shivering subsided, leaving Moriko sitting up on her bed, her emotions tangled in a perplexing mix of confusion and concern. She surveyed her surroundings, searching for a presence that she couldn''t explain. Her voice trembled as she uttered words that she felt were spoken to an unseen entity sharing her space. “Why does that keep happening?”
Slowly, Moriko reached down to retrieve her fallen book from the floor, her fingers brushing against the smooth cover. Just as her thoughts began to settle, a faint knock echoed through the room, causing her heart to skip a beat. The bedroom door creaked open, revealing the figure of Yeongi.
As Yeongi stepped further into Moriko''s room, the warm embrace of a motherly hug engulfed the air. The two souls, connected by a bond that extended beyond blood, savored the comforting gesture. Yeongi''s words drifted gently, like a melodious whisper, echoing through the room.
“Dinner will soon be ready,” Yeongi announced, a twinkle of excitement dancing in her eyes. “Tyson is already greeting an archivist who is joining us tonight.”
Moriko followed Yeongi out of her bedroom, her footsteps almost silent as she crossed the threshold.
As they meandered through the halls of the Earth Kingdom Castle, Moriko turned to Yeongi, her voice filled with anticipation. “Do you like that place I had the Brucie building for you and Tyson? Did you ask him about having Agney visit for her birthday?”
A smile slowly curled at the corners of Yeongi''s lips, radiating love and gratitude. Her voice painted pictures of joyous anticipation. “We love it, and yes,” she replied, her voice shimmering with anticipation. “I will be going to get her the day after tomorrow.”
Hand in hand, Yeongi and Moriko stepped out into the world beyond the castle walls, their journey illuminated by the setting sun. The path before them weaved through nature''s tapestry, the vibrant hues of flowers outside blessing their steps. This smaller castle, nestled so close to the Earth Kingdom Castle.
Yeongi and Moriko cautiously stepped into the grand entrance of the smaller castle, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the opulent halls. As they made their way deeper into the castle, a distant voice called out from an office, drawing their attention.
Curiosity piqued, they followed the sound. Pushing open the door to the office, they found themselves in the presence of an old man, his long silver cloak sweeping the floor as he spoke. His weathered face held an air of authority, his voice resonating with wisdom.
Tyson stood before him, his expression a mix of disbelief and disturbance. “What do you mean the Ash Kingdom’s betrothal agreement is not valid?” he demanded, his voice laced with urgency.
The old man adjusted his spectacles, his eyes fixed on the parchment before him. With measured words, he began to explain the complexity of the situation. “The maiden’s name listed on the agreement has already signed a betrothal agreement six years ago with another gentleman, whose title holds a higher rank than the Ash Prince as of yesterday.”
Moriko glanced at Yeongi, confusion etched across her face. She whispered softly, her voice barely audible against the hum of conversation, “What are they talking about?”
Yeongi shrugged, equally perplexed by the cryptic discussion unfolding before them. As they stood just outside the office, their presence caught Tyson''s attention. He turned to them, his eyes widening in recognition. “Moriko, Yeongi,” he exclaimed, his tone eagerly. “Perhaps we should discuss this over dinner. There is much to unravel.”
The Archivist walked beside Tyson, his long robes wisping around his ankles as they made their way down the narrow, dimly lit corridor. Moriko and Yeongi followed closely behind, their expressions a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The Archivist''s voice echoed softly against the stone walls as he spoke, “Is she still alive?”
Tyson nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “Yes but allow me to accompany you in the morning. Perhaps there may be a solution yet.”
The Archivist''s face remained calm as he nodded in agreement. From the corner of his eye, he pointed to Moriko, silently signaling her. Turning his attention back to Tyson, the Archivist continued with his inquiry, his voice carrying with it a sense of longing. “When will the Earth Kingdom have an official ruler again?”
Tyson''s smile reached his eyes as he looked over at Moriko, his voice carrying a tinge of pride. “Whenever she requests it. But before we depart for Dweller city, I want to see that betrothal agreement.”
Moriko interjected, her voice filled with concern. “Tyson, if they need a place to resolve this issue, we can provide one here.”
Tyson''s confidence remained unwavering as he assured her, “I am sure that will not be necessary.”
Silence fell upon them for a moment, broken only by the sound of the Archivist slowly chewing on a piece of ham from his plate. He swallowed, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “It might be, but first we must meet with the lady and have her do a formal request to her betrothed.”
***
The early morning sun cast a golden glow through the windows of the King''s Office, illuminating the room with a sense of unease. Devereaux burst into the chamber, his footsteps echoing off the marble floors. Arroyo, his father, sat behind the desk, diligently signing paperwork without bothering to look up.
Arroyo''s voice filled the room with a tinge of annoyance, “Is there something bothering you, Devereaux?”
Facing his father, Devereaux''s voice quivered with frustration, “Why would you pick Marius, then Evain, then me? Why was I selected last?”
In a sudden burst of anger, Arroyo slammed his fist down on the desk, causing the papers to ruffle. His voice boomed through the room, “They put their duty above themselves, which I have never seen you do once. You are fortunate to have inherited a succession title. Now, get out of my office.”
Devereaux gritted his teeth, his face flushed with a mix of anger and hurt. He turned on his heels, ready to storm out of the room, when he noticed Evain standing there, accompanied by an old man in a silver cloak. She spoke, her voice hushed with concern, “Father, an Archivist is here to speak with you.”
King Arroyo''s face lights up with a triumphant smile. With regal grace, he rises from his throne-like chair to greet the arrival of the esteemed Archivist. Evain, his daughter and loyal companion, joins him at his side, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
The Archivist, a figure of wisdom draped in robes of ancient wisdom, unfastens his leather bag, and retrieves a bundle of documents, delicately placing them upon the polished desk before King Arroyo. With a voice that commands attention, the Archivist declares, “We, the Archivists of the Kingdoms of Elements, reject this betrothal agreement.”
As Arroyo scans the contents of the documents, a trace of confusion etches itself across his face. “But why?” he queries, his tone laced with intrigue.
In response, the Archivist''s weathered voice fills the room, carrying with it the weight of forgotten tales and hidden truths. “Prince Marius had already committed himself to another, years before. His signature, a symbol of his oath, lies within these pages.”
A flicker of disbelief dances across Arroyo''s features, as he dismisses the notion dismissively. “Nonsense,” he scoffs. “No one has seen or heard from that girl in years. She might be dead, for all we know. They found my son''s horse lifeless, after all.”
With a steadfast conviction, the Archivist counters his words. “The Ash Kingdom has petitioned for the Lady''s hand over a year ago, the lady in question must still exist. However, because of the betrothal agreement from six years ago, it rendered their documents null and void.”
A burst of laughter escapes both Arroyo and Evain, their amusement echoing through the stately chamber. But amidst the mirth, the Queen enters her gaze hardened.
Stepping forward, she interjects with a tone tinged with authority, “No, he must marry the Lake Princess. The consequences of breaking this agreement would demand recompense — a vast amount of pearls gifted from the Lake Kingdom. Evain, my dear, go fetch your brother immediately.”
A smile dances upon Evain''s lips as she acknowledges her mother''s command. With a graceful nod, she bids her farewell and glides out of the office.
Evain''s footsteps echoed through the marble halls of the magnificent Water Kingdom Castle, her urgency driving her forward with determination. As she turned a corner, she nearly collided with Devereaux, who was engaged in a conversation with a lady from the court. Without missing a beat, Evain continued on her path, barely acknowledging his protest as she disappeared from sight.
It was in her brother Marius''s room that she finally halted, the heavy wooden door bearing witness to her frantic knock. Entering without hesitation, Evain found Marius still dressed in his formal attire from the previous night, his face etched with melancholy as he held a crown in his trembling hand.
Making her way towards him, Evain spoke urgently, her voice filled with conviction. “You don''t have to marry that god-awful Lake Princess,” she blurted out, her words hanging in the air.
Marius turned his gaze towards Evain, his eyes clouded with confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“The Ash Kingdom sought a new betrothal agreement, but it was denied,” Evain revealed, her voice quickening with each word. “You are still betrothed to Agneyastra.”
Marius''s expression shifted, his resolve firming. “If she must’ve found love within the Ash Kingdom, then I will release her from our betrothal,” he declared.
Drawing closer to her brother, Evain pressed on, her voice filled with urgency. “But Marius, have you ever considered that perhaps love lies in a different direction? Agneyastra, with her Fire Power, could offer you a warmth that is akin to being in love,” she suggested.
Marius recoiled slightly, his eyes clouded with doubt. “I cannot allow our mother to be made a fool,” he confessed, the weight of duty and obligation shadowing his features. “Why do you even care about who I marry?”
In an instant, Evain rolled up Marius''s sleeve, revealing the faint scars of past wounds. She took a step closer, her voice laced with concern. “Because, Agneyastra never inflicted these wounds upon you. It was Brooke who stab you, even after you gifted her tokens of affection,” she revealed, her words hanging heavily in the air. “I cannot fathom what our mother was thinking, arranging this match.”
Marius''s brows furrowed, his heart torn between duty and personal desire. “Brooke is consumed by anger, but I will allow her to continue her association with the soldier she loves,” he mused, his voice tinged with a hint of hope. “Perhaps, in time, she will resent me less. But I will not let Father use Agneyastra as a pawn. It was you who told me, we don’t have the luxury of marrying for love.”
Evain grasped onto her brother''s arm, her voice filled with earnest pleading. “You were captivated by Agneyastra, I know the gifts you collected are for her, Marius. Do not let her slip away again. Choose her and forget our mother''s greedy wishes,” she implored.
Marius sighed, weariness etched into the lines on his face. “Evain, please, let us go and resolve this issue before the solemnity of my wedding arrives in a few months,” he conceded, determination returning to his voice. With Evain in tow, they made their way towards the King''s office.