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Day of the Kingdoms, Chapter six As soon as burn and Lua landed on the plush grounds of the Cloud Kingdom they immediately ran in ignoring the protests of the guards.
"You must help the forest Kingdom!"
He immediately held out a silencing wing and began to speak;
"A day ago Lord Krypton sent in her hybrids and invaded the Forest Kingdom. First, she sent in an assassin to kill lord Rain, and because they had no command she took the chance to enslave all of the people of the Forest Kingdom and took them to the Aqua Kingdom. I'm afraid you're too late.`
Both of them were silent until Lua interjected.
"My home Kingdom! The Sand Kingdom! She's going to go their next. We need to tell Lord Drought! If we don't she'll hurt my Kingdom! If we get there in time Sand and Cloud can combine and battle Aqua."
Lord Breeze hesitated for a second and nodded.
"Alright. I'm only allowing this because I can't let Krypton take over all of the Kingdoms. While you fly for the Sand Kingdom I'll assure we prepare
Day of the Kingdoms, Chapter four Lua's tongue lolled groggily out of her mouth.
Burn shook her even more vigorously.
"Lua! Wake up!"
Lua opened her eyes.
"W-what? Burn? Whats going on?"
Burn immediately shoved the note in Lua's face.
"Read that! Read it now!"
She said as she set her glasses upon her face.
The note was written in the Hybrid Language. It read,
Dear Rain, Lord of the Forest Kingdom,
I have come to the proposal we combine our kingdoms as one. Aqua and Forest. If you decline my proposal I will be forced to rein war upon your poverty stricken kingdom. With this action we both know know will be the winner. And let's say you do decline? Well, when we win our war I will simply take your survivors as slaves. So it's your choice. The easy way.. Or the hard?
- Lord Kyrpton
Lua looked up horrified. Her gaze rested upon Burn. Her eyes tearing. She shook her head.
"W-we're powerless, Burn. You know w-we are.. If we try to interfere she'll.. She'll.."
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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