Lord Creed Messiah Abadon sat upon his throne, a masterpiece forged from the breath of his dragon. The throne itself was shaped like a dragon, its head twisting upward while its coiled tail served as the seat. It was a symbol of his dominion—a reminder of the fire nation's supremacy.
Before him stood the council of elders, the highest representatives of the four nations. A wall of fire encircled him, separating the Fire Lord from his subordinates.
Michael Felion, Chief of the Water Nation, spoke first. "Let us hear from the High Priestess."
Darius Markreed, King of the Earth Nation, scoffed. "The High Priestess? Her ramblings are little more than folklore. She'll offer tales of futures that will never come to pass."
Gordan Redred, Lord of the Air Nation, countered with a glare. "The Priestess is a sacred symbol of the Four Nations. Your disrespect is an insult to us all, Lord Markreed."
Darius gritted his teeth. "Are you looking for a fight, Redred?"
"Enough!" The sharp voice of Prince Talight Uras, high prince of the Fire Nation, cut through the tension. "You stand before his majesty! Bow your heads and speak no words of mockery."
The room fell silent. The Fire Lord had not yet spoken.
"The Chief Priestess has arrived!" The crier announced, and all eyes turned as she entered.
She wore a robe of white leaves and thatches, her feet bare. Her hair was gray to the roots, her eyes clouded with blindness, and she leaned heavily on a wooden staff. Falling prostrate before the throne of fire, she proclaimed:
"Long live the conqueror of the Four Nations! The King of Kings! The Dragon's Breath!"
The Priestess's words, though a ritual of worship, served as a reminder to the other lords of their defeat in the Rivers of Blood War sixty years prior.
"Welcome, Seeker," the Fire Lord finally spoke, his voice steady and commanding. "Offer your counsel."
The Priestess looked upward, her blind gaze fixed on the ornate ceiling, where carvings depicted the wars of their forefathers.
"A darkness is coming," she whispered. "One that will destroy the Four Nations."
A gust of wind swept through the throne room, and lightning split the clear sky. The Priestess's voice rose above the storm.
"A rebellion—a river of blood—shall doom us all!" She clapped her hands, and thunder echoed her warning.
The council held their breath. The Fire Lord leaned forward. "What can we do about this darkness?"
"Nothing," she replied, as shadows swirled into a tornado, filling the room with an eerie chill. "Only the union of blood can save us all."
The storm stilled, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.
"Thank you for your counsel, Priestess," the Fire Lord said, his voice unwavering.
"As I have spoken, so shall it be," she declared before bowing and leaving the room.
When the doors closed behind her, Messiah's gaze swept over the council. "You heard her. One of you will betray me. Who shall it be?"
At that moment, the doors burst open, and his twelve-year-old son, Cage, ran in, laughing. "Father! Father! I've discovered something incredible!"
He tripped over the carpet, and an object slipped from his hand. It floated upward, glowing. The flames surrounding the throne shifted—first to blue, then to white.
The council gasped. The room filled with an icy chill.
"What is this sorcery?" Michael Felion exclaimed.
"This is an abomination!" Darius shouted, his voice trembling.
Messiah descended from his throne, gripping his son's shoulders. "Who else has seen this?" he demanded.
"No one," Cage said hesitantly. "I wanted to show you first, Father."
Messiah's gaze turned cold as he addressed the council. "No one must ever know of this abomination. Do you understand?"
He turned back to his son, his voice steely. "Cage, you are stripped of your title as prince. From this moment, you are a duke."
The boy's face fell. "Yes, Father," he whispered, the light in his eyes dimming.
Messiah's heart ached, but he knew the danger. His son's power—ice sorcery—was a threat to the royal family and the fragile balance of the nations.
Before he could process his own decision, Concubine Rachel burst into the room. "Your majesty!" she cried. "Please, have mercy! Punish me, not him!"
"Silence!" Lord Michael roared. "A woman in the King's Court?"
Rachel dropped to her knees, pleading. "He is just a child, your majesty."
Messiah's expression hardened. "You have broken the rules of the court, Concubine Rachel. For this, you shall be punished—twenty lashes."
"Father!" Prince Talight protested, but Messiah silenced him with a glare.
He watched as Rachel and Cage were led away, her cries echoing in the hall. The boy turned, his eyes meeting Messiah's with a look that chilled him more than the icy air that lingered.
This was no ordinary child. This was the child who possessed the forbidden sorcery of ice.