In the grand palace of Mire, every creature was present—angels with luminous wings, elemental spirits shimmering in their ethereal forms, and kind creatures of all kinds.
The throne room was alive with anticipation and reverence.
At the center, the mighty elementals sat upon their thrones, their presence commanding respect.
But one more figure was present, standing apart from the others. The crowned prince of Mire, the one and only odd element—Bolt Ha-Joon.
Clad in a majestic grey elemental cloth, the fabric shimmered like a stormy sky, embroidered with intricate silver patterns that curled and spiraled like lightning bolts and swirling clouds.
His attire radiated authority and mystique. In his hands, he held his silver flute, polished and shining, a symbol of his connection to the elemental forces.
His silver hair flowed smoothly, catching the light as his eyes flickered uncertainly, yet determined.
"Oh hail Bolt!" the creatures erupted in cheers, their voices echoing through the palace. They cheered loudly, celebrating his return.
Bolt smiled softly, a hint of humility and resolve in his expression. "I am back, and I vow to always protect Mire. No matter what threats may come, I will stand as its guardian."
The entire palace erupted into applause once more, but the celebration was brief, silenced by a shared understanding that this moment marked a new beginning.
Zephyria, with her pink hair styled neatly back, watched with a bright smile, her heart swelling with hope.
Nearby, Aquaris observed silently as his brother was crowned, both their parents—Emberion and Terranox—standing proudly, their faces glowing with happiness.
Elara stood in the corner, observing quietly, her gaze calm and thoughtful.
"Well said, Bolt," Terranox began, stepping down from his throne. "We knew you'd come back. You sacrificed many years for us. Though we never age, it's been a long journey."
He placed a steady hand on Bolt's shoulder, a gesture of pride and kinship. "I'm proud and glad you're back," he added softly.
Bolt's gaze shifted toward the crown, a sense of responsibility weighing on him. He waved his hand gently, and a soft glow of determination filled his expression.
"From now on, Emberion and Terranox will no longer fight among themselves. Zephyria, Aquaris, Elara, Mysta, and I will take responsibility for defending Mire from the creatures of the night."
Emberion, with her shimmering red hair, nodded in agreement, her eyes fierce yet hopeful.
She glanced at Mysta, who was standing quietly nearby.
Signaling subtly, Mysta summoned a burst of light, creating a display of fireworks that danced across the sky, illuminating the palace with bursts of color and magic.
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In-Su stood silently in front of the grand Mire Palace, his tall figure silhouetted against the towering gates.
Hands crossed over his broad chest, he held his head high, pride flickering in his sharp eyes. Today was a day of victory—Ha-Joon had become the prince of Mire.
In-Su knew in his heart that Ha-Joon's good heart would guide him through the treacherous palace corridors and into his new throne.
Still, a flicker of nervous anticipation gnawed at him beneath his composed exterior.
A voice broke the silence, smooth and teasing. "Why won't you get in and congratulate your friend?"
In-Su tensed, instinctively fidgeting. He turned slowly, eyes narrowing as he recognized the speaker.
It was Jeon-Seo—though not quite the same man who had once been rude and dismissive.
No, this was a different form—long wolf ears twitching alertly, fur sleek and glossy, with a tail that flicked with controlled fury.
Jeon-Seo, transformed into a tall, commanding wolf—one of Vespera's slaves, and his mentor, guide, and sometimes, his unwelcome shadow.
"What are you doing here, Fenrir?" In-Su asked, voice calm but edged with curiosity.
The wolf—Fenrir—smiled softly, a predator's grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I'm here to watch Bolt get crowned," he said quietly, his tail twitching behind him with a flick of impatience.
"And… to tell you something. Your mother said you should come back home early. She needs to talk to you."
In-Su exhaled slowly, the weight of the words sinking in.
His gaze flickered to the palace again, then back to Fenrir. "I'm coming," he said simply, voice steady.
"I'm waiting for Ha-Joon to congratulate him. That's what matters now."
Fenrir's ears perked up, and he smirked. "In your clothes?"
Zekar looked down at himself—dark, sleek attire fitting for a prince of night, tailored sharply to his muscular frame.
He nodded. "Yeah. We'll match the prince of night and the prince of Mire. It's fitting, isn't it?"
Fenrir's tail swung lazily behind him as he stepped closer, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"It seems you want him to become the prince," he said, voice low and deliberate.
In-Su gaze darkened, but his expression softened.
"Day say Don't get too attached here in the world of Nightmire," he said softly. "Because we both know the truth. We'll have to fight each other someday. And you can't do that if the person you're fighting is your, dear one."
Fenrir's smile grew sharper, his ears twitching with interest.
"I see you're already planning your battle. But remember—if you don't fight, you die. Just like your brother."
In-Su's jaw clenched at the mention of his brother's name. His voice, though steady, carried a quiet resolve.
"I know. But I want to enjoy this moment—before everything starts to fall apart. Before we have to tear each other apart."
Fenrir nodded slowly, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. "Yes… if you don't battle, you'll perish. That's the truth. And if you need help… I'll always be here. Just call me."
He turned, ears flicking back as he stepped into the shadows, vanishing into the darkness that shrouded the palace grounds.
His voice lingered in the air—calm, commanding, and warning. "Come back soon. You need to return to Earth. That's where the real fight will begin."
In-Su watched the shadows swallow Fenrir whole, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over the palace gates.
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of destiny settle on his shoulders. The moment of peace was fleeting, and soon enough, the battle would commence.