[In the Air Empire – The Palace of Winds]
A spacious chamber furnished with ancient royal furniture. The windows stand open, and fierce winds whip through silk curtains. At the center of the room sits Agnes, the Princess of Air, upon a finely carved wooden chair. She holds a violin with practiced grace, her fingers moving carefully to produce a sorrowful melody that seems to converse with the wind itself.
(The sound of the violin blends with the whistling wind, creating a harmony of sadness and beauty.)
Agnes (whispering to herself):
Why can't I control you? Why do you always resist me?
(She suddenly stops playing and gently places the violin beside her. She covers her eyes with her hands, as if trying to hide her tears. Before she can steady her breathing, the maid Mira enters.)
Mira (bowing lightly with respect):
My lady, His Majesty Emperor Regas is waiting for you in the council hall.
(Agnes slowly turns toward her, her eyes filled with confusion and concern.)
Agnes:
My father? Now? Why?
Mira (in a low voice):
It seems serious, my lady. Everyone is there.
(Agnes rises, smooths her long silk dress, and carefully places the violin on the table. She pauses to look out the window at the dark clouds covering the sky.)
Agnes (to herself):
Everyone expects so much from me… but the winds have a will of their own.
(She leaves the chamber with steady steps, though an inner conflict burns within her. The sound of the wind grows stronger, as if bidding her farewell.)
---
[Location: The Royal Council Hall]
A magnificent hall adorned with decorated columns and wooden seats engraved with imperial symbols. A massive rectangular table dominates the center, around which sit the five members of the Senate, their faces stern and serious. At the head of the table sits Emperor Regas, a man of powerful features with piercing eyes. Behind him stands his personal aide, Geladin, tall, sharp-eyed, and imposing in his silence. To Regas's right sits the elder son Reziv, and to his left the younger son Aeginor, both radiating confidence and strength.
(The heavy doors open, and Agnes enters slowly. Her steps are calm, but tension burns within her. All eyes turn toward her.)
Regas (in a powerful, commanding voice):
At last, you have arrived, Agnes. Sit.
(Agnes nods respectfully and takes the empty seat beside Reziv, scanning the room cautiously as she feels every gaze upon her.)
Aeginor (leaning closer, whispering playfully):
I suppose we interrupted your musical training, didn't we?
Agnes (coolly):
Nothing is more important than my father's summons.
Reziv (with a restrained smile, serious tone):
Indeed. This is no ordinary matter, little sister.
Regas (addressing everyone, his voice filling the hall):
Members of the Senate, my sons, and Geladin… the time has come to discuss the threat looming over our empire.
(Geladin steps forward, holding a rolled parchment. He unrolls it, scans the text, then speaks.)
Geladin (precise and sharp):
Recent reports indicate unusual activity along our northern borders. The winds themselves speak of something approaching… something unseen before.
(Agnes feels a shiver at the mention of the winds, yet remains silent.)
Reziv (deep voice):
And what is this thing? An invasion?
Geladin (looking to the emperor):
Not a human invasion. Something strange is moving on the horizon—a natural force beyond prediction.
(Agnes briefly meets her father's gaze. She senses this concerns her, yet waits.)
Aeginor (laughing lightly):
Perhaps just a powerful storm. The empire has faced worse.
Regas (sternly):
This is no ordinary storm. These are the Winds of Fate—and fate binds us all… especially you, Agnes.
(Agnes's eyes widen as she looks at him, the weight of his words pressing down on her.)
Agnes (hesitantly):
What do you mean, Father?
Regas (serious):
The winds speak of you, Agnes. It is time you face your truth.
Agnes (nervous):
M-my truth?
Regas:
Yes, Agnes. You are the Saintess of the Wind.
(Silence engulfs the hall. Outside, the winds rage more fiercely, echoing Agnes's inner turmoil.)
(After a tense pause, the Head of the Senate, an elderly man named Domeras, rises. His movements are dignified, his black robe embroidered with ancient symbols, authority radiating from him.)
Domeras (calm yet ominous):
Your Majesty, if I may speak honestly… I believe Agnes may become a danger to the empire if her condition is not handled wisely.
(All eyes turn to him as he continues confidently.)
Domeras:
Her powers are unstable. For the safety of all, I propose she be sent to the temple. Under the guidance of the priestesses, she may find peace and learn control.
(Agnes freezes, shock and rejection flooding her face. She looks to her father, awaiting his response.)
Aeginor (mocking lightly):
The temple? Agnes? I doubt a violin suits a life of prayer.
Reziv (firmly, glaring at Domeras):
This is madness. Agnes is no nun—she is a princess, heir to great power.
Domeras (coldly):
The winds will not wait. If she remains uncontrolled, catastrophe may follow. The temple is the safest solution.
(He looks directly at Agnes, eyes filled with deceit and threat.)
Agnes (restrained anger):
I will not go to any temple. I am a daughter of this empire. I will not abandon my place.
(Emperor Regas suddenly rises and slams his hand on the table.)
Regas (commanding):
Enough!
(Silence falls instantly.)
Regas:
Agnes will not be sent to the temple. She will remain here and learn to control her power. Her strength will protect this empire—not destroy it.
(Agnes feels both relief and fear. Yet Domeras's gaze tells her the danger is far from over.)
(The winds howl again outside. Geladin steps forward.)
Geladin:
Your Majesty… there is more. These winds are tied to ancient forces long dormant—forces bound to royal blood.
(Shock spreads through the room.)
Geladin:
These winds began after Princess Agnes's birth. But now… other forces are awakening as well. Fire, water, earth, light… all moving toward a moment of confrontation.
Regas (gravely):
You mean the other empires will feel this?
Geladin:
They already do. That is why the emperors must be summoned. Dialogue is necessary to prevent escalation.
Agnes (uneasy):
And what will happen to me?
Regas (firm and protective):
No one will touch you, Agnes. You were chosen from birth to be the Saintess of the Wind—whether you control your power yet or not.
(The winds calm slightly, as if acknowledging his decree. But Domeras's eyes still gleam with darkness.)