"However,
the older brother defeated the younger,
and grounded him."

I grounded you? Really?
Last I checked, I wasn't your parent.

・ ・ ・

The sound of writing drifted softly through the room.

Flurried writing.

Xenor paused, then breathed out softly, listening to the beating of his heart in his ears as he set down his pen, and closed his notepad. He leaned against his chair, tilting his head back, and closed his eyes.

Basked in the dim, comforting darkness of his room.

Another silent breath.

"You were never like this before, Brother."

His eyes flashed open, illuminating green.

"You were never this... nasty."

Gritting his teeth, Xenor slammed a fist down on his table, causing his pen to jump. It rolled, and he watched it as it approached the edge and teetered there for a split second, before dropping.

A clatter.

He stared down at the floor, at the fallen pen, making no movement to pick it up.

Nasty.

Storm had called him nasty.

I am nasty?

Xenor scoffed, and tucked his notepad into one of his drawers.

I am nasty...?

He pushed back his chair, standing up.

I am nasty.

The word sounded foreign to him. Strange. He dipped his head, trying to control his palpitating heart as Storm's voice echoed in his mind.

Just what part of him was nasty, exactly?

His face? Definitely not, he thought, as he gently touched his cheek, feeling the smooth skin beneath. The Spirits had given him uniquely handsome features— like his vibrant, lime green eyes, for example— so surely, that was not the case.

His hair? He admitted, it was closer to the wild side, but that was just how it was. A natural wildness, which accommodated his pulchritudinous appearance. And it was most definitely clean. Smooth. Refined.

Maybe his body? But what part of his body was nasty? Everything about it was perfect— neck, shoulders, arms, hands, torso, legs, and even his feet, for the fucking Guardian Spirit's sake.

He was perfect.

So why had Storm called him nasty?

And why was it bothering him so much?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

"You were never this... nasty."

He was not nasty.

Storm was wrong.

A shine caught his eye, and he glanced up, only to see the photo of his family, still sitting there, watching him. He stared at it. It stared back, haunting him, and he found that he couldn't tear his gaze away. His family's smiles reflected at him, and he faltered.

It was like the image itself knew about his intentions.

His dark, ambitious intentions.

Stop.

His fingers twitched as he glanced from his father, to his mother, then rested his gaze on Storm. His little brother's chubby, smiling face.

Xenor surprised himself by grimacing.

Stop.

He clenched his fists, and reached out to the photo frame. Picked it up. Brought it nearer to him, to see the details of the image more closely.

A tremble. His hand was trembling.

Stop.

The memory of him injuring his little brother flashed through his mind. Despicable. Disconcerting.

Weak.

Xenor closed his eyes once more, listening to the hollow silence of the room. It echoed in his ears, much like someone whispering to him. He lowered his arm, lowered the frame. Set it back on the table, away from him.

And as he slowly rebuilt the walls within, reinforcing them, the silence was broken by the cries of ravens.

Wingbeats.

He tilted his head to the direction of his window, and approached it. Drew back the curtains, allowing moonlight to stream in. A few black shapes flittered past, and he watched them.

Ravens.

They cawed again with their harsh voices, screams that split through the night air like a knife cutting into cake, dark feathers gently falling from the sky. One landed on his window sill.

The moonlight was disrupted by their soaring bodies, casting broken shadows over his face.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer, before he drew the curtains back shut, and headed back to his table.

There came a sudden snapping sound, and he looked down to see the pen he had dropped under his foot. He bent down, and picked it up, examining it. There was a crack on the casing, and his fingers felt sticky. Some of the ink was leaking out, staining his skin black.

He scowled, and slapped it on to the table, before directing his attention back to the photo frame.

There was his family's picture again, waiting for him.

His father. His mother. Storm, and his ever-bright smile.

Xenor pushed it to the darkest corners of his table, then paused. He glanced at Storm's image, one last time.

His smile which shone brilliantly like the sun.

Then he collected himself, steeled himself, and slowly, gingerly, turned the frame around, pressing it against the wall.

He heaved a breath— one he hadn't realised he had been holding back.

"You were never this... nasty."

The voice wobbled in his head, and he shoved it out. Killed it. Massacred it. His eyes drifted back to the frame, and his heart twisted with an emotion he didn't know.

The photo of his family was no longer exposed for the world to see. For him to see.

No more.

That strange emotion thudded in his chest once again.

He shoved it out too.

Storm sighed, dropping his sword.

Ash towered over him from where he crouched on the ground, trying to catch back his breath. "You can do better than that, Your Highness." The general pulled him up. "Want to try again?"

"Yes." Storm picked up his sword, and dusted himself. Sweat trickled down his face, and his eyes stung. He rubbed them, blinking. "I'm ready."

"Very well." Ash brandished her rapier. "Prepare yourself!"

The sound of clashing metal filled the air as Storm swung his blade at the general. Ash swerved her rapier around his sword, and dragged it along the metallic surface. He gasped, and quickly ducked as the rapier flashed over his head, cutting a few strands of his hair.

"Slow!" Ash barked, and directed her weapon towards him. Storm brought his sword up, a feeble guard, and grunted as he was sent tumbling back by the sheer force of the general's attack.

"Weak!" Another brutal slash. Storm staggered, only able to guard against Ash's attacks. "You are wearing out."

"I am not—" Storm began to protest, and that was when Ash smashed the hilt of her rapier against his hip. He choked, stumbling sideways, and the general stabbed at the guard of his sword, sending the weapon flying and ultimately disarming him.

A roundhouse kick, and Storm crashed to the ground, coughing and groaning.

"... Perhaps we should call it a day." Ash stood over him once again, peering down at his slumped body.

He managed a weak nod, and winced as his hip throbbed, his skull aching from his collapse. His muscles screamed at him, berating him for overexerting them.

A towel fell over his face.

"I apologise for injuring you, Your Highness." The general offered her hand. He took it, and wobbled unsteadily to his feet as she assisted him in standing up while he held onto the towel. "You ought to visit Zana before taking a break."

"I will," Storm said. He felt strangely groggy, and used the towel to dry off the sweat rolling down his face. Ash patted his back in approval, taking it from him once he was done.

"You have a long way to go, Your Highness," she stated, picking up his fallen sword. "Off you go. I'll clean up here."

Storm dipped his head in gratitude, gingerly rubbing at the sore spot on his hip. "Thanks, Ash. See you." He waved to the general and left the battle arena, heading to the medical centre so Zana could check on him. Rubbing his temple, he grimaced in pain as his head throbbed.

Like back then.

Storm faltered in his steps, the memory of Xenor kicking him in the face flashing through his mind. Another memory, with his brother punching the side of his head.

And his skull pounding, pounding, pounding.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and that was when he saw Xenor approaching him.

Behind him trudged Tesarah, her head low in a miserable manner, hands swaying limply by her side. Her turquoise eyes were dull, white locks short and tangled.

A pang shuddered through Storm, and he stopped in his tracks, watching as his brother marched past him, along with Tesarah. Xenor didn't even give him a single glance, as though he wasn't there. The girl, however, raised her head the slightest bit, and he saw suffering.

Loss.

Pain.

He bit his lip, and opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come. And thus he stood there, staring after them as they rounded the bend and disappeared out of sight.

Storm felt empty. He clenched his fists, as he recalled his futile efforts to free Tesarah from Xenor's grasp. Every single day, every useless tactic in the face of his brother's superior cunning and dominance.

A year.

Tesarah had been suffering for a year, because of his carelessness, his weakness, his inability to help her.

He slumped, slowly heading to the medical centre, when a pair of patrolling guards passed by.

"Did ya hear?" one of them said, and he realised it was the guard with the strange accent, the one who said 'dumbass', back on the night when he first encountered Tesarah in the Royal Gardens.

"What?" The other guard rubbed his nose, sniffing. Storm knew him too; it was the guard with the deep voice.

He wondered why he kept bumping into the two of them.

"Apparently, 'Is 'Ighness Xenor argued wit' 'Is Majes'y Kin' Bayne yesterday." The first guard flexed his gloved fingers. "'Twas a big fight by the soun' o' things, ya get me?"

"What did they fight about?" the second guard asked, and shifted the position of his sword, which was hanging around his hip.

"The lass." The first guard shrugged. "Y'know, the one wit' the snowy 'air an' the big ocean eyeballs, innit."

Tesarah, Storm realised. They were talking about Tesarah. He stopped once again, and listened to their conversation.

"Again?" A sigh from his companion. "How long has it been since then? A year?"

"'Is Majes'y wan'ed to let 'er go, since it's been tha' lon'. But 'Is 'Ighness Xenor disagreed, sayin' somethin' 'bout 'er punishmen' not bein' lon' enough. Then both o' 'em started screamin' at each other," the first guard said.

"Dramatic."

"Well, Qui, me mate, they still dunno 'ow she came in, back then. Probably wanna keep 'er till she tells. Know what I mean?" The first guard heaved a breath, scratching his head.

The other guard, Qui, nodded his head. "Maybe."

Storm watched as the two of them continued down the hallway, talking. "Say, Auréis, what do you want to..." Their voices faded into the distance, and he was left standing there, contemplating on what he had heard.

Brother had an argument with Father?

He frowned, and a shiver of foreboding ran up his spine.

Yet another argument had occurred. Ever since Xenor had forced Tesarah to become his personal maid, his brother and their parents had been having occasional fights. It was rather... painful to hear them shouting at each other, in all honesty.

Painful to see their family slowly falling apart.

If only he could ameliorate the situation, in any way.

But the first thing he had to do was to get Tesarah away from the Palace. Away from Xenor.

And that meant getting her away from his brother's watchful eyes.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. That would be difficult to accomplish. Xenor was bringing Tesarah everywhere with him, never letting her out of his sight.

Well, except for when he bathes...

Storm blinked in realisation. Perhaps he could sneak Tesarah away while his brother was in the bathroom.

Why didn't I think of that before? How stupid can I be?

And all he had been doing was confront Xenor about Tesarah for the past year. Confront him. It was so utterly stupid, Storm wanted to smack himself for his boneheadedness.

Perhaps it was because he had been more... rushed, back then. More eager to save Tesarah (he still was, currently).

More determined to prove to Xenor that he was better, that he could defeat him and stand up to him.

So much so that the thought had never occurred to him.

He raged at himself, messing up his own hair vigorously.

How frustrating.

Night fell, and Storm glanced around him warily, before heading over to the bathroom.

He spotted Xenor marching into the bathroom, and Tesarah stood meekly near the door, hands clasped, head low. Her forearm was strangely bandaged up, as though she had been hurt recently.

A stab of worry, and Storm hurried over to her.

Tesarah's eyes widened when she saw him, then she quickly dropped her gaze, pursing her lips. "Tesarah," he hissed at her, and she slumped further, trembling. Storm frowned. "Tesarah, look at me." He came up to her, and tentatively touched her shoulders. She stiffened.

"Please."

She lifted her head, eyes glistening. Her lower lip quivered. "Storm."

"What happened to you?" Storm said softly, and he glanced at her bandaged arm. Tesarah rubbed it, grimacing.

"It happened during lunch." She clutched at the stark white material wrapped around her skin. "His Highness Xenor threw his teacup at me because I was 'standing too close' to him. The tea scalded me."

Storm clenched his teeth to keep himself from swearing out loud.

Brother.

"Does it hurt?" He took her arm, and held it gently, brows creasing together.

The girl shook her head. "Only a little. Ms Zana treated it. I just have to rest it for a day or two, so she said."

Storm drew in a shuddery breath, trying to contain the rage that was slowly building up inside him. "I'm sorry." He clenched his fists. "I'm sorry for not being strong enough to free you earlier."

"It isn't your fault, Storm," Tesarah whispered, turquoise glowing with a dismal gratitude. "It is my own." She dropped her head once more, expression contorting into a woebegone wince. "I should have listened to you when you told me to leave, back then."

Storm's heart twisted painfully as crystal tears fell from her sorrowful pupils. "Storm." She reached out, and grasped his hands. Her palms were calloused, and yet they were warm.

They were shaking.

"Please help me," Tesarah sniffled. "I want to go home."

"I will help you," Storm said in a hushed voice, his chest constricting from the tortured look on his friend's face. "Right now." He took her hand, tightening his grip. "If Brother wants to be sneaky, then so shall I. Let's get you out of here, while he's still bathing."

"I would have done so a long time ago, if it were that easy," Tesarah said dejectedly. She looked down again, and Storm followed her gaze.

Tied around her ankle was a big bell.

"What in the name of the Guardian Spirit...?" Storm crouched down, examining the object. "What's this for?"

"Your brother ties it on me every time he goes to bathe. It makes a lot of noise even if I shift a little, so he'll be able to know that I'm moving." Tesarah gestured hopelessly at the bell. "It happened before. I just wanted to move a bit, to stretch my legs after standing still for so long. The bell rang, he came out of the bathroom half a minute later, and he punished me."

She heaved a sigh. "That's why I can't escape, even if he's bathing."

"Have you tried taking it off?" Storm asked, pressing his lips together in an effort to control the enraged monster inside him which was continuously growing with murderous intent.

"I did," she said. "But the bell's as big as my palm. I tried untying the knot while holding onto it, but I couldn't do it. His Highness Xenor came out while I was trying to figure out how to get it off." She shivered. "He punished me again, after that."

Storm chewed on the inside of his cheek, running a hand through his hair. "I'll untie it." He kneeled on the ground, fingers twitching as he reached towards the knot tying the bell to her ankle. "Could you sit down and help me hold the bell?"

"If I sit, the bell will ring," Tesarah said. "But I think I can bend down and hold onto it."

And so she did, grasping the bell, her white hair falling like a snowy waterfall over her face. She was surprisingly flexible, Storm had to admit.

He plucked at the knot, squinting. It was ridiculously tight. "Do you know when Brother will come out of the bathroom?" he hissed at the girl, and Tesarah pondered on it for a moment.

"He usually takes ten minutes to finish bathing. It's been about seven minutes since he went in, so there's three minutes left," she said.

Three minutes.

Storm breathed out, trying to relax. He picked at the knot painstakingly, wishing that he hadn't cut his nails the previous day.

A couple of twisting and tugging with cut fingernails later, and the knot was starting to come undone. He exhaled, feeling sweat trickle down his forehead. Yanking at the rope, he managed to loosen the bonds even more.

Two minutes.

Storm gritted his teeth, rubbing the sweat away from his eyes.

Another tug. Another pull. He examined the knot closely, observing the ends of the rope, scrutinising. The burden of the time he had left weighed heavily down on him.

One minute.

"Almost... done," he huffed out. Bloody Guardian Spirit, why did the knot have to be so tight? It was killing his fingers, just trying to untangle it.

Tesarah's eyes were alight with hope, and she whispered words of encouragement to him. They echoed in his ears, spurring him on.

Thirty seconds.

Storm gave the knot one last pull. It loosened all the way, but then got caught at the end. He growled, and quickly tugged it apart.

Fifteen seconds.

The rope came off, and Tesarah gasped in delight. Storm grinned at her, and opened his mouth to tell her to put the bell gently on the ground, but before he could, she let go.

The bell dropped to the ground.

Five seconds.

It hit the carpeted floor, and rang. Loudly.

Two seconds.

Storm jumped to his feet and grabbed Tesarah's hand.

One.

The door of the bathroom swung open, just as Storm tore down the hallway, Tesarah squeaking in surprise as she was dragged along.

He heard an incredulous sputter behind them.

Then a furious scream.

"Get back here, you insolent fools!" Xenor's harsh voice pierced through Storm's ears like a bullet, and he winced, but continued running. Tesarah's grip tightened on his hand, and he pulled her closer, quickly descending the steps, heading to the gardens.

"Storm," Tesarah panted, just as they reached the Royal Gardens. "There's something you need to know.

"There's no time," he answered, dragging her to the bushes covering the hole in the Palace walls. It was a good thing no one had uncovered it yet.

"No, please listen, Storm." Tesarah halted, digging her feet into the ground, and Storm glanced back at her, stopping as well.

"What is it?" His gaze flickered behind her. Xenor was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps they had a little time.

"I forgot to tell you earlier. Your brother, he's planning something. Something bad." Her voice was rushed, and she fumbled, trying to find the words. "Every night, I would see him awake and writing something on a notepad. And he kept muttering things, whenever he was alone. Something about killing."

Storm raised a brow, confused. Killing?

"Not to mention," Tesarah continued, "back when I first became his personal maid, he kept asking me about—"

There were shouts behind them, and Xenor's commanding voice filled the air.

Tesarah flinched, panic flashing across her face. "Just— please be careful, Storm. Keep an eye on your brother; he's up to something. And whatever he's planning, it's bound to happen soon. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next year."

"What do you mean?" Storm asked, bewildered.

She glanced behind her. More shouts.

"Just please stay safe, Storm. For me?" she gasped. Storm nodded numbly, trying to digest the information that Tesarah had just shoved onto him.

Then Tesarah leaned forward, and quickly pecked him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Storm. For everything." She gave him a brief smile, and dropped down to her knees at the bushes.

Storm blinked, his cheek burning from the touch of her lips. "Tesarah," he rasped out, fists clenching. She paused, looking back at him. He stared back at her. Resounding footsteps slowly approached them from behind.

"Let's meet again, one day."

Tesarah's smile returned, stronger, more affectionate. "Yes."

And then she was gone.

Storm stared at the bushes. At the hole she first came in from.

The hole she just left from.

At that moment, someone grabbed the back of his head and shoved him forward, slamming him against the Palace walls. Pain exploded within his skull, and he cried out, clutching at his head.

It was bleeding.

Just like last time.

"You," came Xenor's malicious voice, dripping with murderous venom. A hand closed around his neck. "You did this."

"B-Brother—" Storm coughed, his head spinning, his vision spinning, the world spinning into endless black.

"Where is she?" Xenor's hold tightened, and Storm grasped at his brother's hand, choking.

"S-she's gone," Storm managed to croak out. Infuriated green filled his waning vision. "She's f-free—"

The hand grew tighter, and Storm sputtered, trying to pull Xenor's hand away from his throat. A ringing filled his ears, shaking his vision nauseatingly.

"Just— please be careful, Storm. Keep an eye on your brother; he's up to something. And whatever he's planning, it's bound to happen soon. Maybe tomorrow."

There were more shouts, and he vaguely heard the distinctive voice of his father.

"Maybe next year."

His brother let go, and Storm gulped in air, coughing and groaning, gingerly touching his throat. It felt bruised. Finger-shaped bruises marking his skin.

There was a bickering sound, and he saw, through his distorting sight, Bayne and Xenor screaming at each other.

Someone crouched down beside him, holding him gently.

"Your brother, he's planning something."

He heard Liss' voice, calling him, telling him to stay awake.

"Something bad."

And then the world crashed into black.

The blackened forest swayed unsteadily as the storm began to weaken, began to lessen. As though it had decided that the forest was too weak.

Too weak to deserve the brunt of its full power.

The forest screamed as the burning flames within its heart continued to eat at it. It twisted, it morphed, and turned into something unrecognisable, something monstrous and dark.

The flames weakened, and the forest shriveled with corruptive black.

Gone was the viridescent green it used to hold.

All it had left was a cruel vengeance.