Chapter Text
In a realm veiled by time, the Great Goddess Eliatrope reigned, weaving wakfu into the very fabric of existence and birthing life itself. Along with the goddess was the Great Dragon, a god of destruction and stasis. They stood as stark contrasts; she exuded the vibrancy of creation, while he emanated the relentless force of destruction and stagnation. Yet, the two formed an unexpected union, commemorating their marriage with a myriad of stars as their silent witnesses. Their cosmic embrace swirled and danced, birthing the Krosmoz into existence with a symphony of celestial energies and swirling galaxies. Though the Great Dragon was satisfied, Eliatrope wasn’t.
On their second dance, they gave birth to the Eliatrope dofuses, mystical eggs containing dual essences—an Eliatrope and a Dragon, bound together from birth. But they weren’t just ordinary children like all of you. With lifespans spanning eons and the gift of reincarnation, the Eliatrope dofuses were bestowed with unparalleled wisdom and resilience, far surpassing the ordinary beings of their realm.
After birthing the rest of you, Mother decided to care for us on her own, crafting a sanctuary exclusively for us; Zuflucht, a haven of serenity and divine protection. Each day was spent content on our beloved planet; all of our actions and thoughts were guided by our goddess. Though we experienced many centuries of joy, that all ended when the other gods found out about our existence, plunging our simple lives into a reality filled with hardship and no guarantees of survival. For years, we scoured the universe, battling mechasms and other nefarious creatures and fleeing planets in a frantic rush. One fateful day, during our explorations of the Krosmoz, we chanced upon a planet seething with intense stasis energies, as if to warn us of the great evil that lay there. We found Mother on that planet, chained and having her very essence stolen from her. Then–
“That’s enough, Bal.” Exclaimed the king. His eyes were narrowing at the perched dragon. Balthazar immediately looked down at his brother, giving him an apologetic smile. The dragon spread his petite wings and slowly flew down from his tree, leaving behind a group of disappointed little Eliatropes in the nest.
“Balthazar apologizes, Yugo, but the children must know of their history. ” Balthazar leaned on the oak tree, observing the king’s tired demeanor. Ever since they landed on this planet, his poor brother has rarely gotten a moment's rest. Dark eyebags and messy hair made up his daily look, along with the slow dimming of his wings. He had expected this, but the result still broke his heart. Once a passionate warrior, he had turned into a bitter and tired monarch, which Balthazar was currently facing the wrath of.
“I understand, brother. But there is no need to discuss her.” Yugo's tone was one of thinly veiled anger. Bal knew it would be unwise to argue with his king, so he simply gave up. Letting out a sigh, the dragon gave a nod and flew back to his branch. The Eliatrope watched his brother as he painstakingly made his way up the tree, his massive body size weighing him down. When he finally made it back, Yugo continued to follow his original path along the patches of worn-out grass, the little detour only worsening his mood. The king was heading to a meeting with Efrim and the other lookouts. Lately, their secluded home has become a magnet for dubious journalists seeking scandalous stories and leery warriors lurking in the shadows, both unwelcome visitors to the Eliatropes. As much as they tried to ignore their attackers, the offenders started to get more bold in their advances. Some launched full-scale attacks, while others snuck onto the island in search of evidence—for something they didn’t know. In other words, it had gotten out of hand. The Eliate had its limits. The weight of exhaustion bore down on the members like a burdened sky, manifesting in Yugo's slouched form and hollow gaze, a reflection of the weary collective soul of their community. Even though he was the newly appointed König, he was the general of their militia. Two roles that seemed to drain his very life source, but he kept persevering for his people and his ego.
Yugo shuffled along to their meeting spot, passing by the training grounds. No one was there except a few bright-eyed kids, swinging their twigs at the training dummies to no avail. Once they spotted Yugo, their grubby little hands rose in the air, and each gave him a vigorous little wave—waves that he simply had to reciprocate. Now, with a slight smile on his face, he stood in front of the twin trees guarding his destination. Allowing himself a quick inhale, he slowly pushed the trees out of his way, his face immediately hardening due to the sight in front of him. On the boulders sat Efrim and Nora, two members of the council, and his kin. They were accompanied by one of his soldiers. Gisela was her name, and she had been one of the first members of his team. Seeing the girl so distraught left him with a bad feeling in his stomach, like a storm starting to brew. Gisela had rarely expressed any sort of fear during their missions, always wearing a stoic expression no matter the cuts and bruises that decorated her arms. Whatever was troubling her was definitely cause for concern. Clearing his throat, he made his way to the boulders. Sitting down calmly, he raised his face towards Gisela, asking her to speak.
“My brother.. He’s severely injured. If it wasn’t for Efrim spotting him, he could’ve died!” Every sentence led to an uncontrollable sob, furthering Nora and Yugo's aching guilt. They knew the issue had escalated and that their presence had festered distaste among the Twelvians, but both of them never expected an attack this brutal. The same couldn’t apply to Efrim, who was watching the scene with a knowing look in his eye. The dragon still maintained his stance above them, his long tail flicking unrhythmically in the Columbia blue sky. Gisela continued to cry hysterically, staining her heather purple sleeves with tears. Nora quickly stood up from her boulder, rushing towards the poor girl and leading her away from the situation.
Nora had always been the most compassionate of them all, offering each citizen open arms and abundant empathy. This was in stark contrast to Yugo's more timid involvement with his people. The warrior had a heart of gold, often acting as a source of comfort for the council and their people. After the incident, Nora had become a beacon of hope for their society. Even now, with all of the attacks and issues the community has faced, she still manages to bring back smiles for the most sorrowful of their people. Despite her best efforts, Nora's positivity faltered in the face of her brother's deepening sorrow, each passing day casting a darker shadow over Efrim's once-resilient spirit. Efrim had always remained composed, even in the face of adversity, a redundant quality that every reincarnation of his had as Qilby often mentioned. Though in light of the tumultuous events they faced, the serpentine had become frigid and severely perturbed. Every council meeting included at least one jab from Efrim, often criticizing Yugo’s ‘avoidance’ of the issues poisoning their lives. Adamai would quickly fight back on the king’s behalf, sensing that his twin was too busy fuming underneath his heavy robe. Recent tensions brewed between Yugo and the council members, fueled by unspoken grievances and unresolved conflicts that threatened to fracture the unity of their leadership. The massive responsibilities on his shoulders often caused his temper to spike at the worst times possible. Efrim's intense glare reignited memories of Yugo's rash choices the day before, stoking the smoldering conflict between the siblings to a blazing inferno. Before he could slip out a halfhearted apology, Efrim cut in.
“This is what happens when you don’t take action, little king.” He sneered. His pupils dilated, and curls of thick, suffocating smoke escaped his nostrils.
"You know full well that this has nothing to do with me." Yugo clenched his jaw, the unnatural blue glow emanating from his tree bark eyes intensifying. They locked eyes, unflinching in their stance, neither willing to yield. The atmosphere tensed as the oldest sibling strode into the miniature grove, the jingle of bells accompanying her every step and her commanding presence silencing the bickering brothers.
"A citizen is having a public meltdown, and you two are here squabbling?" Mina's voice dripped with disapproval as she addressed her siblings. Their gazes locked on the woman above them, a shared sense of guilt palpable between the bickering brothers. The dragon quickly shifted back into his human form, falling through a big puff of smoke that resembled his previous body. Efrim descended graciously onto the grass, ending up on his knee. He bent his lower body forward, white hair masking his blanched blue complexion.
“I apologize for my behavior, dear sister.”
"Always the critic, huh?" Yugo muttered under his breath, haltingly dipping into a kneel as well, ignoring the ache in his spine.
"It's about authority, Yugo. A trait befitting a true monarch."
"I surpass mere monarchy, Efrim."
“And yet, you keep feeding your massive ego instead of our people.”
“Oh, you can’t be talking, you absolute--”
“Enough!”
Mina's searing gaze was matched by the unruly mane of hair that seemed to bristle with her rising temper, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.
“You Iops can bicker later; we have an urgent situation to solve.” Mina pivoted swiftly and strode off, her mint locks swirling in every direction like a wild feline, exuding a blend of her usual feline grace and a hint of crumbling patience. Both of them took a moment to process what had just happened before stumbling off the ground and barreling towards the Oak Tree exit. Dashing through the tall evergreen, they raced to reach the meeting first. Their ardent determination showed itself through the cacophony of footsteps, the crunching of dead twigs, and the auburn and golden leaves witnessing their private race. Hearts pounding with determination, they threw themselves out of the grove and into the open landscape of their island.
Officially, it was fair game.
“Have you truly abandoned me, or are you deliberately disregarding my pleas?”
A small sapling stood on a pocket of deep brown soil, hydrated by the thin waters surrounding it. Its bark was lined with carvings, all of which were indiscernible to the common eye. But the woman who stood in front of it could clearly understand every symbol. Her name was Amalia, though her subjects reverently called her their queen. When she wasn’t stressing herself out with political work or taking a few moments of solace in her family’s grove, she would sit patiently, the sunlight filtering through the leaves dappling her face as she gazed at the sapling before her. Some days, lost in her thoughts, she would gaze at the tree, searching for any hint of recognition or solace. Otherwise, her time was mostly spent questioning her old friend, who, to this day, has never responded.
“Our kingdom is in a crisis, and all you can do is stand there?!” Amalia sprang up from her seat, sending ripples dancing across the water in her urgency. Her arms stretched out in exaggerated irritation, making her irate expression fully visible. Her scowl deepened as the tree stood motionless, a silent sentinel devoid of any signs of vitality or acknowledgment. It felt pathetic, constantly hoping for a change every day, just to always come back with nothing. There was no way that their guardian abandoned them. No chance. It had always been there for them since the very beginning; why stop now? Amalia lingered in silence for a few moments longer before a defeated sigh escaped her lips, realizing that once again, nothing would happen. Shoulders slumped and heart heavy, she released the hope she clung to before the visit, a sense of resignation settling in her being.
“Have it your way.” The queen huffed before stomping out of the chamber, cringing at the frigid water splashing on the soles of her feet. Thin vines spread across the bottom of the lake, connecting it to the very top of the spiraling trunk. They were covered with the names of the Sheran Sharm ancestors, every name holding a whole life with it. Each ‘floor’ was made up of more carvings, but these were images instead of words. Many scholars would argue over what they depicted, but everyone agreed that they had to have been carved out by Sadida himself. The lines were incredibly precise, with the balanced ratio of complexity and simplicity hinting at a masterful artist. The figures were drawn like everyday folk, but the devices in their hands were intricately designed with such detail that travelers from all around the world would come just to see such a marble. No one knew who these figures were or what powers they held, yet every work of art was nonetheless appreciated. Throughout the years, the Sadida kingdom has endured numerous assaults, resulting in the loss of invaluable fragments of their history. While they couldn't fully comprehend the meaning or symbolism behind the panels, it was just nice to have a little bit of their history preserved. In fact, the entire place was truly a work of art, but it wasn’t the most comfortable. The moment Amalia stepped beneath the wooden arch, entering the expanse of her castle's oak floor, a throng of inquisitive maids surrounded her, eager to catch her attention. In the background, a few women held an array of containers filled with bottles and medicines, their hurried glances alternating between Amalia and the entrance to the prince's bedroom. Renate and Canar, with their towering flower buns that blocked the view of the younger employees behind them, stood at the forefront, eliciting groans and contortions from the curious onlookers trying to catch a glimpse of the revered Tree of Life. However, witnessing the unresponsiveness of their supposed guardian only deepened her pity for their innocent fascination.
"You seem upset, Your Highness; still no response?" Canar's high pitched voice instantly garnered Amalia's attention, her gaze now meeting Canar's bright brown eyes. With a sag of her shoulders, she slowly nodded her head while looking at her feet, embarrassed at the lack of results she was producing. The entire kingdom yearned for even a glimmer of good fortune, yet all they had encountered thus far were repeated letdowns, fostering a sense of shared disillusionment among the populace. First, their entire royal system had been left in shambles after the Necro War, with the marriage between Armand and Aurora highlighting the lack of an inheritance system. Before that wretched crow came along, Sadida monarchs would typically marry inside their kingdom; thus, inheritance was never truly an issue. Not to mention that Aurora herself was an absolute pain, always seeking out some way to one-up Amalia in a desperate manner. This week, her father came to give a 'quick visit', which apparently meant staying for the whole month and being yet another burden. Aurora was more nuanced in her digs; conversely, her father never shut up, always finding something to insult, whether it be about their military or Amalia herself. In addition to the consistent lack of response from the one guardian that had stuck with Amalia her entire life, the feeling that everything around her was crumbling at a sickeningly slow pace intensified.
Amalia's eyes zoned in on the opening in the corridor, the only source of light in the dark corridor. She could hear more comments from the maids, probably more questions about their elusive little sapling. Soon, the noises all faded into white noise, the only sound being the slow falling of the leaves outside. Their colors reflected the slow beginning of winter, as the once orange and yellow leaves were slowly turning into a depressing shade of brown. The lush trees had begun to lose their shine, with the first traces of snow covering their beauty. It was a bittersweet reminder of the loss of time. Once the trees were fully covered with snow, Amalia wouldn't be there to see it.
She would be at her very first council meeting, without her father, or Armand.