The King's Anguish
The king stood amidst the smoldering ruins, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of his people. The air was heavy with the stench of ash and blood. Broken shields, shattered weapons, and scattered belongings lay strewn across the battlefield, a grim testament to the devastation wrought by the enemy. The once-proud city of Ignir now lay in disarray, its vibrant streets reduced to rubble.
His golden cape fluttered faintly in the breeze, a stark contrast to the deathly stillness around him. His gaze swept across the carnage, his heart burdened with a grief too great for words. He muttered, his voice trembling but resolute:
"My people… I have failed you. I, your king, the one sworn to shield you from such atrocities, have faltered."
He raised his head to the crimson-streaked sky, his expression darkening with each passing moment. Slowly, his sorrow gave way to determination. With a single, purposeful leap, he ascended into the air. His powerful aura trailed behind him like a blazing comet as he flew toward the place he had last seen his wife and daughter.
Upon landing, his sharp eyes searched frantically, hoping to see the barrier that had once protected his family. Instead, he was greeted by emptiness—no trace of them remained. His voice thundered through the desolation, filled with desperation and dread:
"Eliana! Where are you?"
The echo of his voice faded into silence, broken only by faint sobbing. Turning sharply, he saw Hesta still encased in her barrier. She knelt on the ground, her face streaked with tears, her shoulders trembling.
"My lord," she sobbed, her voice heavy with guilt. "I… I am so sorry. I couldn't protect them."
The king strode toward her, extending his hand. With a flick of his fingers, the barrier dissolved into shimmering particles of golden light. His eyes, fierce and unyielding, bore into hers.
"Hesta," he said, his tone cold but restrained, "tell me—where are they? Speak now."
Hesta lowered her gaze, her lips trembling. "They… they were taken, my lord. I couldn't stop them, I failed."
The king's jaw tightened as his fists clenched. His piercing eyes scanned the debris, and there, on a shattered wall, he saw it:
A bold, taunting message scrawled across the stone:
"We have what is most precious to you. Do not worry; we shall take good care of them."
The king's aura surged, golden energy crackling around him like a storm. His fury was barely contained. Closing his eyes, he whispered a single command:
"Search."
A massive field of magic expanded from him, golden light rippling across a radius of ten kilometers. His spell detected every living creature within its reach—animals, civilians, soldiers—but not the ones he sought.
His expression darkened as he dismissed the spell. He walked slowly to a nearby rock, sitting down heavily. Resting his face in his hand, the weight of his failure threatened to crush him.
But then, beneath his palm, his expression shifted. Anguish gave way to righteous fury. He removed his hand, revealing eyes blazing with resolve. Rising to his feet, he spoke, his voice low and powerful, resonating with an unshakable promise:
"You dare to steal my sacred treasures. You desecrate my lands, slaughter my people, and now, you take my family? Let it be known that the fury of this kingdom will descend upon you like a tempest. I shall reclaim what is mine, and you will know the meaning of wrath."
Turning to Hesta, he softened his tone only slightly, though his determination remained unshaken. "Hesta, wipe away your tears. There is work to be done. Summon the nobles, generals, commanders, and advisors. We must convene immediately."
---
The Council Chamber
The council chamber was a grand and imposing room, its high domed ceilings adorned with intricate golden carvings depicting the triumphs of Ignir throughout history. Massive windows allowed moonlight to filter in, casting an ethereal glow on the polished marble floors.
At the center of the chamber sat a large, circular table where the king, his advisors, generals, and commanders were gathered. Surrounding the table were elevated rows of seats for the nobles, their murmurs filling the room like restless whispers.
Hesta stood silently behind the king, her posture rigid despite the disapproving glances cast her way.
"Why is that girl always here?" one noble whispered harshly.
"This is proof the king no longer trusts us," another muttered under his breath.
The king, his hands interlocked before him, raised his gaze. His voice cut through the noise like a blade:
"We stand at the precipice of calamity," he began, his tone commanding immediate silence. "Ignir has been desecrated, our people butchered, and my family stolen from under my protection. How shall we address this atrocity? Speak."
An advisor with silver hair and a shrewd expression leaned forward. "My king, this is undoubtedly the work of the Unbound. Who else would dare such madness?"
A towering general with a broad chest and weathered features slammed a fist on the table. "The Unbound are too many. We need to pinpoint which faction is responsible before we act."
A hawk-eyed woman, another advisor, interjected. "We mustn't ignore the possibility of outside influence. The Readez Kingdom has long harbored enmity toward us. It is not unthinkable that they hired the Unbound to weaken us."
A nobleman rose from the benches, his voice sharp and accusatory. "How did they even enter Ignir? What have you been doing, Commander of Security? You've clearly failed in your duties."
The commander of security, a lean yet imposing man with a steely gaze, crossed his arms and replied evenly, "How they breached our borders, let alone the heart of our city, remains a mystery to me. There were no signs of infiltration."
The king raised a hand, silencing the room. His gaze was cold and calculating. "I saw one of them vanish into something—black, with bluish lights surrounding it. It was as though the very fabric of space had been torn apart. I surmise that this is how they entered unnoticed. These are no ordinary foes."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling heavily over the assembly.
---
Kaelan's Pursuit
In a barren clearing outside the city, Kaelan knelt on one knee, his keen eyes scanning the ground for signs of movement. His fingers brushed over a set of footprints leading away from the scene. Rising slowly, his gaze followed the trail to a set of deep tire tracks a few meters ahead.
"Kruiser tracks?" he muttered under his breath. "Out here?"
Turning his head, he noticed a long crater etched into the earth—the aftermath of Festron's dramatic attempt to catch the stone.
"This must be where they switched transportation," he concluded.
Rising to his full height, he began following the trail with deliberate steps, his mind focused on uncovering the truth.
---
The Kruiser's Interior
Inside the moving kruiser, Ziraiah stirred from her restless sleep. Blinking groggily, she awoke to the sound of voices.
"I don't remember a mission about freeing Earthers," Festron remarked casually, lounging in his seat.
"That's because it's my mission," Anuel replied from the helm, her tone calm but firm. "You're just tagging along."
Festron grinned. "Sounds like fun."
As Ziraiah sat up abruptly, Lisa let out a startled yelp. "Aahh!"
Festron laughed, pointing mockingly. "Look at you—scared of an Earther!"
Ziraiah's gaze darted around the kruiser before she finally spoke. "Who are you people? What do you want from me?"
Festron, ever casual, pointed at each of them. "Festron, Lisa, Anuel. What's your name?"
Ziraiah remained silent, her distrust evident.
Anuel glanced back briefly. "Be friendly, Festron. She'll be one of us soon enough."
Lisa frowned. "Why? Earthers are useless. What could she possibly do?"
Anuel's tone was sharp. "You'll find out soon enough."
Ziraiah's thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of memory and speculation.
This woman... she saved me—or more like kidnapped me. But she didn't hurt me, which means she needs me. Why?
Her mind drifted to the ancient language on the stone, and a chilling realization struck her. No way… could she be interested in Mom's language? The Elf man said no one on Yilheim could understand it. If that's true… only my brothers and I can speak it.
Her fists tightened. Were they kidnapped too?
She recalled her mother's cryptic stories about her family, the insistence on learning complex languages. Mom's from Yilheim. She's one of them…
Her thoughts turned to her father. What would Dad think if he found out? He wasn't even there when we disappeared… he must be so worried.
To Be Continued...