Midday Agneyastra sank onto her bed, listening to the heated exchange happening just outside her bedroom door. The voices of Tyson, Ramil, and Marudeva echoed in her ears, each filled with worry and frustration.


    Through the thin walls of her room, Ramil''s voice cut through the air, laced with urgency. “She got angry, furious even, and she almost burned down the entire Educational training building! She was on the verge of exposing her powers to everyone inside. Thankfully, Sinai was there to intervene.”


    Marudeva''s voice rose in defense, tinged with irritation. “This doesn''t involve you, Ramil! You need to stay out of it.”


    But Ramil''s voice only grew stronger. “Ever since you brought her into our home, I have become involved. Her power continues to grow with each passing day, and it''s becoming increasingly dangerous.”


    In the midst of the rising tension, Tyson''s voice rang out, a steadying force amidst the chaos. “I will take it upon myself to teach her how to control her powers. Both of you, go and carry on with your duties. I will handle her, guide her through this.”


    Agneyastra sat on her bed. Her tear-streaked face was buried in her knees as she quietly wept. She could hear the faint sound of two sets of footsteps growing fainter in the distance, indicating that whoever had been in her bedroom moments ago was now leaving.


    A soft knock on the door broke through her despair, and Agneyastra mustered the strength to utter a weak invitation, “Come in.” The door creaked open, revealing the figure of Tyson. His somber eyes were filled with empathy as he surveyed his niece''s sorrowful state. With a tender concern, he stepped closer to her, bridging the distance between them.


    “Come on,” Tyson said gently, his voice wavering slightly. “I am going to take you to the Fire Kingdom for the day. We must teach you how to control your powers.” His words carried a mixture of determination and hope.


    Agneyastra slowly rose from her bed, her tear-stained cheeks still glistening with moisture. She followed her uncle out of the room, her steps filled with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. As they walked, a question lingered on her lips, “I thought no one could see me there.”


    Tyson turned to face her, his expression serious yet reassuring. Removing a hooded cloak from his shoulders, he draped it over Agneyastra, the soft fabric enveloping her like a protective shield. The hood covered her face, concealing her identity. In that moment, she became an enigma, hidden from prying eyes.


    “There,” Tyson said softly, his voice filled with a sense of trust. “Come on. We can practice in my old home.”


    As Tyson and Agneyastra made their way downstairs and out of her home. The noon sun illuminated their path, casting long shadows on the street as they headed towards a towering tree. Tyson''s wrist bore a subtle glimmer of a green bracelet adorning his arm. As his fingers made contact with the rough bark of the tree, a brilliant green light emanated from its core. A portal, shimmering and ethereal, materialized before them, beckoning them to step into its mysterious depths.


    With a shared glance filled with determination, they crossed the threshold. And just like that, they emerged in a realm known as the Green Forest. Its beauty was awe-inspiring, teeming with vibrant vegetation in every shade of green imaginable. Ancient trees reached towards the sky, their branches forming a verdant canopy, bathing the forest floor in dappled sunlight.


    Unfazed by the enchantment surrounding them, Tyson strode purposefully towards another tree. Agneyastra followed diligently, as Tyson''s green-braceleted hand met the rough surface of the tree, once more, a portal materialized, this time leading them into the Endless Burning Forest.


    The air grew thick with heat and the crackling of fire as they passed through the portal. Trees, normally symbols of life and growth, were now engulfed in raging flames, casting an eerie glow upon the landscape. The roar of the conflagration echoed through the silent forest, a testament to its unrestrained power. With cautious steps, they made their way through the fire-laden wilderness, the heat of their surroundings seemingly testing their resolve at every turn.


    Finally, as they emerged from the scorching forest, a sight caught Tyson''s eye. A pile of coal, smoldering and billowing with smoke, lay near a group of Fire Kingdom Soldiers. Tyson stood amidst a pile of blackened coal. With a commanding presence, he raised his hand, as if beckoning an unseen force. In a matter of seconds, the pile of coal began shifting and rearranging, its dark surface shimmering with an otherworldly energy. And then, before their very eyes, the coal transformed into a magnificent horse.


    Agneyastra, Tyson''s curious and awe-struck niece, stepped closer, her eyes wide with amazement. “That was amazing,” she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement.


    Tyson smiled warmly at his niece. “Come,” he said, his voice filled with anticipation. “I will show you even more wonders.” With a graceful leap, he mounted the horse, his body immersed in flickering flames. He extended his hand towards Agneyastra, who eagerly accepted his invitation, and with a swift motion, was pulled onto the horse''s back.


    As they embarked on their journey, the air around them shimmered with heat and energy. The fiery horse galloped through the sprawling Fire Kingdom, their journey passing by the lesser realms of smaller fire-dominated kingdoms. The landscape, a tapestry of blazing colors, was a mesmerizing spectacle of orange and yellows, with streams of red and gold flowing through the land like rivers of molten lava.


    Finally, they arrived at a regal sight - the grand Fire Kingdom Palace, towering over the landscape. Adjacent to it, a smaller castle stood, its elegant structure adorned with intricate patterns of flames. Tyson''s steed refused to halt until they reached the gates of the smaller castle.


    Agneyastra dismounted the steed and followed Tyson through its grand entrance. She struggled to keep up with her uncle''s swift pace as they hurried down a long corridor. “Keep up, Agneyastra,” Tyson called back to her.


    As they entered the private training room, the midday sun cast a golden glow through the windows, bathing the space in a warm, ethereal light. Tyson, with a commanding presence, led Agneyastra to the center of the room. His voice, rich with knowledge and experience, resonated with a sense of authority.


    “Fire power, my dear Agneyastra, is akin to the untamed force of the wind,” Tyson began. “It is a power that lies within each of us born from that bloodline, controlled by the ebb and flow of our emotions. Unlike the powers of water and earth, which are harnessed from sources beyond themselves, fire power springs forth from the depths of our beings.”


    Agneyastra, her attention split between her uncle''s words and the portrait that hung on the wall, felt a swell of curiosity inside her. The painting depicted a younger version of her uncle, standing beside a man whose emerald, green eyes captured her attention. In that moment, she couldn''t help but wonder.


    “Is that my father, Maccoy?” Agneyastra asked, pointing a slender finger at the portrait.


    Tyson''s gaze softened as he looked towards the painting. “Yes,” he replied. “That is indeed Maccoy, your father. But let us not delve into the past just yet. There will be time for answers later. For now, let us focus on your training.”


    With a nod of understanding, Agneyastra shifted her attention back to Tyson, ready to embark on this journey of mastering her fire power. Hours passed by, and within the confines of the training room, Agneyastra found herself engulfed in a dance of flames. Guided by her uncle''s wisdom and guidance, she began to tap into her latent abilities.


    With each flicker of flame and surge of heat, Agneyastra discovered something new. Fueled by her training, she soon realized that her firepower extended beyond the usual bounds. It was not just fire she wielded, but something more unique and captivating.


    Coal powers, she discovered, as she effortlessly conjured shimmering black coal from her flame hair. It was a revelation, an unexpected twist in the tapestry of her powers. And she knew that with her uncle''s guidance, she would uncover even more astounding abilities that lie within her. As Agneyastra hugged Tyson tightly, overwhelming emotions filled her heart. With gratitude and respect, she looked up at him and whispered, “Thank you, Uncle.”


    ***


    As the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training arena, Ramil diligently put away his sword, carefully arranging the scattered weapons left behind by his comrades. Ramil''s footsteps echoed through the deserted field as he muttered under his breath, his frustration clear in the word “slobs.”


    Lost in his task, Ramil remained oblivious to his surroundings, focused solely on tidying up the mess. It was then that Killa swiftly approached him, her presence breaking through his concentration. A smile played on her lips as she gazed at Ramil, uttering words that cut through the air like a soft breeze, “Are you just the perfect warrior?”


    Ramil continued his task, methodically collecting the weapons and placing them onto the cart. In response to Killa''s question, his voice carried the faintest tinge of hope, “Have you approved my regiment for battle?”


    Expressing her support and assurance, Killa tenderly reached out, her fingers grazing Ramil''s arm. Her touch held a comforting warmth as she whispered, “Not yet, but I will very soon.”


    In a moment of vulnerability, Killa leaned in, her lips almost brushing against Ramil''s. But a surge of caution jolted him back to reality, his eyes hastily scanning the empty training arena. He pulled away, his voice tinged with worry, “Are you foolish? What if someone sees?”


    Killa moved with deliberate steps towards Ramil, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. “Relax,” she uttered softly, her voice carrying a hint of teasing amusement. “Everyone has left to be with their families for the weekend.”


    Ramil''s face remained stoic, his brows furrowing in disapproval. With a controlled toss, he flung the final weapon onto the hastily arranged cart, the clatter of metal echoing through the empty space. “You are far too careless,” he retorted, his words laced with a mixture of frustration and concern.


    In a daring move, Killa pressed her body against the sturdy cart, the sharp edges of the weaponry serving as an unusual backdrop for their clandestine encounter. Leaning in, her lips barely brushing against his, she whispered delicately into his ear, her voice carrying an air of irresistible allure. “Just one more time,” she murmured, her words tinged with a hint of longing.


    Ramil momentarily raised his hands in a resigned gesture of frustration. “Fine,” he yielded, his voice laced with a mixture of defeat and desire. “Do with me as you will.” Despite the surrender in his words, he remained steadfast, leaning heavily on the weapons cart, as he releases himself from his trousers.


    Killa, fueled by passion, rushes towards Ramil, closing the distance with a swift movement. With a longing in her eyes, she presses her lips against his, as strokes him. Ramil''s arm encircles Killa, drawing her close in a tender and intimate embrace. Ramil gently instructs Killa on the technique to grasp him firmly in her hand.


    Ramil, clenched teeth on his lip, as he clutched on the cart. His breath came in quick, his face contorted with a mixture of anguish and determination. Killa felt Ramil’s urgency in her hands, as she gazes to investigate Ramil''s enjoyment. Killa kneels down before him, she cast a glance up at him, then fills her mouth with him. Ramil direct her to faster with his hand.


    Outside of the Training building, Marudeva and Aurgelmir were engaged in a lively conversation, their voices carrying in the crisp evening air. The setting sun cast a warm golden glow on their faces as they stood in a small courtyard, filled with the scent of blossoming flowers. The tranquility of the moment was interrupted when a carriage pulled up, the sound of hooves clattering against the cobblestones.


    Aurgelmir extended his hand in greeting as a man stepped out, holding a small basket in his hands. The man was Alex. Aurgelmir''s eyes lit up with recognition as he welcomed his friend. “Hello, Alex. What brings you here?”If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Alex, with the basket cradled in his arms, spoke softly. “I know Killa has been working late lately. I thought I would bring her dinner as a small gesture of my love and support.”


    Marudeva, always perceptive, nodded with a smile. “That is a kind and thoughtful gesture, Aurgelmir. I will handle things here. Go and be with your family. Besides, I am waiting for Ramil anyway.”


    Aurgelmir expressed his gratitude and bid farewell, intending to reunite with his loved ones. As he walked away, Marudeva and Alex ventured into the Training building. The hallways were dimly lit, their gentle footsteps echoing against the stone walls. They walked silently, their anticipation building with each step, until they reached the grand training arena.


    But as Alex came to a sudden halt, his grip on the basket slipped, and it tumbled from his grasp. His eyes widened in disbelief, his heart sinking like a stone in his chest. There, before his eyes, stood his beloved wife Killa, entwined with Ramil. The sight struck him like a blade to the heart, shattering the illusion of trust and loyalty that he had held so dear.


    Anger flared within him as he found his voice, his words laden with pain and confusion. “What is going on?” His voice trembled with a mixture of hurt and anger, echoing in the vast training arena.


    Ramil, caught off guard, hastily separated himself from Killa, attempting to conceal any evidence of their illicit encounter. Killa, her eyes filled with an indescribable mixture of sadness and guilt, looked at her husband with no words. She reached out, desperate to bridge the growing divide between them, but Alex turned on his heel and stormed off, the weight of betrayal heavy on his shoulders. Killa chased after him, leaving behind the training arena and its myriad secrets.


    Amidst this disarray, Marudeva, a pillar of authority and command, strides towards Ramil, as he raises an accusing finger towards the young man''s face. His voice cuts through the silence, dripping with disappointment and outrage. “What is wrong with you, son? She is married!”


    Ramil''s reply, though tinged with a hint of resignation, bears the weight of his tumultuous struggle. “I tried to resist her, father, but she insisted that I comply, that it was necessary for me, and my fellow recruits can go to battle.”


    Marudeva''s voice softens yet retains a tinge of reproach. “I am sorry, Ramil, but you should have reported this misconduct. It is unacceptable.”


    Ramil''s eyes drop to the ground, his voice laced with regret and uncertainty. “I didn''t know if you would believe me, father. I thought I had no choice but to endure.”


    With a touch of paternal wisdom, Marudeva gently reminds his son of their bond. “I am your father, Ramil. I know when you speak the truth. And now, at twenty-one, perhaps it is time we find you a suitable bride.”


    Ramil''s plea fills the air, a glimpse into his burning ambition. “Please, father, grant me the opportunity to be a warrior. Marriage can wait, but my passion for battle cannot.”


    Marudeva''s voice, saturated with understanding, resonates through the empty arena. “Very well, my son. I understand the trials you face. Yet, when the time comes, it would be wise for you to enter into marriage with love, or at least deep affection. I fear that our family may encounter similar challenges with your brothers.”


    ***


    The library of the Earth Kingdom was a grand space, with towering bookshelves that stretched towards the vaulted ceiling. Soft light filtered in through windows, casting a warm glow upon the rows of ancient tomes and leather-bound volumes. In this hallowed sanctuary of knowledge, Moriko sat beside Emathion.


    Emathion''s face lit up with an enamored smile as he delved into the pages of a new medical book, his silver eyes twinkling with fascination. His fingers traced the words delicately, as if he was deciphering a secret code written only for him. Emathion exclaimed, eyes wide with awe, “Jeremy is simply extraordinary! How on earth did he manage to amass such an impressive collection of medical books?”


    Moriko, captivated by the sight of her companion engrossed in his reading, gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Emathion''s face, clearing her view of his radiant smile. With a soft sigh, Moriko began to answer. “He told me he came across these books at some kind of university,” she explained, her voice laced with curiosity. “I''m grateful that you get along so well with my friends, Emathion.”


    Emathion closed the book in his hand, his gaze fixed on Moriko, a hint of skepticism in his eyes. “Are you bringing up Devereaux again?” he inquired, a playful hint of mischief dancing on his lips.


    “Perhaps one day when Devereaux visits, we could all do something together,” she suggested, her voice filled with hope.


    Emathion''s smirk revealed a trace of possessiveness, as he raised an eyebrow. With a coy tone, he added, “Or maybe you can keep him as your private friend?”


    Moriko''s shoulders slumped in defeat, her sigh carrying a mix of reluctance and acceptance. “Fine,” she murmured, her hand finding its place on Emathion''s arm. Her eyes, warm with affection, followed his every movement as he returned to his book, the words blurring together in a dance of knowledge.


    Emathion turned the page of his book, his eyes scanning the words with a focused intensity. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows on his face, revealing the faint lines of concentration etched into his brow. Moriko, nestled beside him, glanced up through a curtain of green hair, her gaze tracing the movements of his slender fingers. She sighed softly, a contented sound that seemed to merge with the gentle crackle of the fire.


    “Are you finding the book engaging?” Emathion''s voice broke the stillness, warm and velvety.


    Moriko''s head remained on his shoulder, her voice soft and filled with affection. “I always feel at peace in your presence, my friend.”


    A fleeting smile danced upon Emathion''s lips as he gaze flickers to Moriko, noticing her head resting gently against his shoulder. “I feel the same,” he murmurs softly.


    Moriko lifted her head from Emathion''s sturdy shoulder, her eyes wandering across the stack of books before her. A look of realization crossed her face as she spoke, her voice tinged with excitement. “I think I forgot the book on livers in my room. I will go get it.”


    Emathion''s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don''t be too long. This book on the workings of the brain is proving to be quite captivating.”


    Moriko''s smile matched his, a radiant expression that made her eyes sparkle like gold glitter. “I won''t keep you waiting,” she replied, turning towards the door.


    As Moriko hastily exited the Emathion, leaving it nestled among the ancient texts in the library of her vast castle, she found herself navigating the labyrinthine hallways with a sense of urgency. Finally arriving at the imposing double doors of her bedroom, Moriko swung them open, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight that awaited her. There, before the crackling fire that danced and flickered in the hearth, sat Devereaux. His normally stoic features were marred by trails of tears streaming down his face, glistening like dewdrops in the pale light.


    Without hesitation, Moriko rushed to Devereaux''s side, perching herself on the plush ottoman before him. Her slender fingers traced a delicate path along his cheekbone, capturing one of his tears as it fell onto her hand. The touch was gentle, comforting, a lifeline offered in the darkness.


    Devereaux''s voice trembled as he spoke, his words weighted with sadness and regret. “I am sorry for not sending word of my arrival tonight. I simply needed someone, someone whom I could confide in.”


    The room was dimly lit by the flickering candles scattered around, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Moriko carefully maneuvered herself, gracefully settling on the arm of the chair, her presence radiating an aura of tenderness and compassion. She turned her gaze towards Devereaux, his eyes filled with a mixture of grief and anger.


    “What happened?” Moriko''s voice trembled with genuine concern.


    “My mother, taken from me by the hand of my own sister,” he uttered, his words heavy with sorrow. “She insists it was an accident, but it was her sword that claimed my mother''s life.”


    Overwhelmed by his anguish, Devereaux allowed himself to crumble into Moriko''s arms, seeking solace in her embrace. Moriko she held him tightly, a refuge from the storm of emotions swirling within him. Gently, she whispered words of condolences, hoping to provide even a sliver of comfort in this time of unimaginable loss.


    “I am truly sorry for your irreplaceable loss,” Moriko spoke softly, her voice filled with compassion. “Please, allow me to brew some tea, or perhaps anything else you may need.”


    Devereaux nestled his head against Moriko''s chest, his tears soaking her garments. In the safety of her arms, he could momentarily escape the harsh reality that had shattered his world. His voice, barely above a whisper, implored for respite.


    “Can we simply stay like this, just for a moment?” Devereaux pleaded, his vulnerability laid bare.


    Moriko gently massaged Devereaux''s back, her fingers tracing soothing circles. With a caring smile, she spoke softly, “Yes, my friend.”


    As Moriko sat perched upon the arm of the chair, her bedroom door remained ajar. The weight of Devereaux''s embrace firm yet tender, but alarming. Unbeknownst to Moriko, Emathion had left the confines of the library, his eyes becoming heavy with the weight of curiosity. The winding corridors led him to Moriko''s bedroom, where he found himself confronted by a sight.


    Caught between bewilderment and anguish, Moriko''s gaze met Emathion''s, freezing time for a fleeting moment. Emathion spoke, his voice tinged with a bittersweet resignation. “I will return home now, since you have company.” with that Emathion disappeared from Moriko''s view.


    ***


    As the first rays of the morning sun wash over the Water Kingdom, casting a golden hue across the land, a solemn gathering of people from distant corners of the realm gather on the sandy shores. They come to pay their final respects to the late Queen, a beloved ruler who had guided them with grace and wisdom. Standing at the forefront of this somber assembly is Arroyo, a regal figure with a stoic countenance. Beside him stand his three children Evain, Devereaux, Marius, who clasps the hand of Brooke.


    Their eyes are fixed upon the vast expanse of the ocean, the very element from which their kingdom derives its strength and spirit. The solemn ceremony now commences, as the Queen''s lifeless body is gently guided onto a small vessel, adorned with delicate flowers that represent the beauty and fragility of life.


    With a deep breath, King Arroyo raises his voice, his words carrying a weighty significance - “May she return to the water, from whence she came, to be embraced by its loving arms and find eternal peace.”


    In unison, the mourners watch as the vessel is slowly pushed away from the shore, gliding over the shimmering waters. Anticipation fills the air as the currents carry the vessel deeper into the vastness of the ocean, a journey that symbolizes the Queen''s transition from the mortal realm to the realm of the sea.


    As they watch, a magical spectacle unfolds before their eyes. From the depths emerge a pod of majestic orcas, their sleek bodies glistening in the sunlight. With graceful movements, they encircle the vessel, creating a protective barrier as if, in their wisdom, they understand the significance of the moment.


    With each passing moment, the orcas draw closer, their presence both powerful and tender. Slowly, they begin to devour the vessel, consuming the remains of the Queen with a reverence and solemnity that stirs the hearts of onlookers. It is a symbolic act, an act of unity between land and sea, a final farewell to a beloved ruler.


    Evain walked by Marius, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and longing. Sensing her desire to speak, Marius pleaded with her to refrain, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.


    “Evain, please just don''t,” Marius implored, his voice laced with both frustration and concern. Reluctantly, Evain nodded, understanding the weight of the situation. She watched as Marius escorted Devereaux back into the Water Kingdom Palace, their footsteps echoing in the vast hallway.


    Inside the magnificent great hall, a reception was in full swing. The atmosphere was both celebratory and somber, as guests from all corners of the kingdom mingled among the opulent decor. Devereaux found himself seated at a table with Marius and Brooke, his gaze fixated on Arroyo who shamelessly flirted with the court ladies.


    Devereaux whispered to Marius, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and sadness that tugged at the depths of his soul. “I can''t believe father would carry on like this on the day of mother''s funeral,” he murmured, his eyes welling up with unshed tears.


    As the music swirled through the grand hall, mingling with the hushed conversations, Devereaux couldn''t help but feel a profound sense of disillusionment. The loss of their beloved mother had cast a shadow over their lives, and yet Arroyo seemed untouched by grief.


    Amidst the lavish banquet and extravagant festivities, Devereaux''s heart ached for the loss of his mother''s presence, and he wondered how he could find solace amidst the turmoil within the Water Kingdom. As the evening wore on, Devereaux found himself torn between duty and his yearning for justice and peace.


    Marius stood in silent observation as Arroyo, made his way through the crowd, his arm intertwined with that of a lady from the court. The opulent attire of the courtiers dazzled under the cascading lights, but Marius''s eyes were fixed on his father''s procession.


    “He has always carried on this way, even when mother was alive,” Marius whispered, his voice tinged with a mix of resignation and bitterness. “He will always be the same.”


    Devereaux shared his sentiments. “Someone needs to stand up to him,” he murmured, his voice filled with determination.


    But Marius quickly pulled Devereaux''s arm, a gesture of caution and fear. “Never say things like that out loud,” he warned.


    But Devereaux could not be deterred. He broke free from Marius''s grip and strode purposefully towards the open door, following in their father''s wake. “I will not allow him to dishonor mother today,” he declared, his voice firm with resolve.


    Marius looked back at Brooke, who sat at a nearby table, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and understanding. He reached out and gently squeezed her hand, his touch offering reassurance amidst the chaos unfolding before him. “I will return shortly,” he promised, his voice filled with a tenderness meant only for her.


    As Marius stepped into the hallway, an unsettling sound reached his ears. A symphony of feminine moans echoed from the other end. He quickened his pace, eager to find his brother and protect him from the devastating sight that awaited.


    There, midway down the corridor, Devereaux stood frozen, his voiceless anguish etched upon his face. Marius rushed to his side, grabbing his arm tightly, a silent gesture of support. Their eyes met and in that moment, their unspoken connection spoke volumes.


    “How can he be so disrespectful to mother?” Devereaux''s voice trembled with a mix of sorrow and outrage, a burning question that Marius could not answer. Instead, he took a deep breath, swallowing his own anger, and gently guided Devereaux away from the painful scene unraveling before them.


    Silent tears welled in Marius''s eyes as they retreated, his heart heavy with a mix of sorrow for their mother''s memory and a fierce determination to shield his brother from further harm. “Come, let''s get you something to eat,” he said, his voice tender yet filled with a steely resolve.


    Together, the brothers found solace in the comforting embrace of food, seeking refuge from the storm raging within the walls of the Water Kingdom Palace. As they sat in quiet camaraderie, a bond strengthened by shared pain, their spirits found solace in the simple act of nourishment, promising each other silently that they would find a way to confront their father''s actions and honor their mother''s memory.