Celestial Gambit

The Kingdom of Pyria, a realm nestled amidst towering mountains, was adorned with pine trees.

The many lakes of Pyria had crystal-clear waters reflecting the sky and peaks. Vibrant ports bustled with activity as ships from distant lands came and went, laden with goods.

Pyria's banners fluttered in the crisp morning breeze, their deep azure and gold hues catching the sunlight.

Inscribed at the base of each banner were the kingdom's words of pride and purpose:

The brave build, the bold lead.

The Ashwylde royal family—King Frederick and Queen Isabel—ruled at the heart of the kingdom alongside their two cherished daughters, Victoria and Meredith. Their beauty and grace elicited admiration from those within and beyond their borders.

As marriage looms for both princesses, Victoria, the poised elder sibling, embraces royal duties and prepares for her future role. Meanwhile, Meredith thrives in the freedom of living in Victoria's shadow—a liberty her sister cannot afford.

Today, Pyria awaited the visitation of Lord Elyon, one of the three Great Lords who presides in Heaven. The entire kingdom buzzed with anticipation, each corner of the castle alive with preparations for his arrival.

Yet, amidst the fervor, Princess Meredith was nowhere to be found.

Inside her bedroom, Meredith's hand gently cradled Fresia's face, her lady-in-waiting. Meredith's fiery red hair tumbled over her shoulders, her emerald-green eyes bright with mischief. Tall and athletic, she moved with a confidence that matched her bold spirit.

Fresia, in contrast, was quieter in her beauty. Her chestnut-brown hair framed warm amber eyes that glowed with loyalty. Slender and graceful, she carried herself with a gentle strength, a perfect counterpoint to Meredith's fiery energy. Together, they formed a striking pair—opposites that complemented each other effortlessly.

The lady-in-waiting had been pinned against the wall, her cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and anticipation. The princess leaned in closer, her smirk giving the air of someone entirely unbothered by the grand occasion unfolding outside.

"Your reward," with a hushed voice, she whispered into Fresia's ear, "for staring at me."

Fresia's anxiety intensified. Known for her flirtatious nature, Meredith often charmed individuals of all genders who caught her eye. Fresia, loyal as she was, found herself no exception.

"Your Highness…" Fresia stammered, her hand touching the faint glow of the Thysia mark on Meredith's collarbone. "Your mark—it seems more vibrant than usual."

Within the kingdom, a unique symbol known as the Thysia mark adorned the bodies of selected individuals. Randomly bestowed upon children, the reasons behind its distribution remained a closely guarded secret, known only to the innermost circle of the royal family.

"Whenever the Lord is about to show up, it gets brighter," Meredith said casually. "Don't you see that too, with yours?"

Fresia blushed, and showed Meredith her own Thysia in between her chest. "Indeed, it has also become brighter."

Meredith ran her hand slowly upon Fresia's mark, teasingly. With a lingering blush, Fresia gently urged her princess to remember the impending royal event.

"Your highness, we don't have much time for you to get ready. Also, are you certain that you wish to appear in this?" Fresia wanted another confirmation from her. She firmly believed that Princess Victoria would not approve of Meredith's selection.

Sure enough, not too long after, Victoria stormed in, her presence commanding attention even in her frustration. Her ash-blonde hair was impeccably styled in an elegant updo, framing her sharp, regal features. Her piercing blue eyes carried a blend of authority and exasperation, and the intricate embroidery on her lavender gown only added to her aura of refinement.

"You are taking TOO LONG!! We are about to start in less than an hour!" she demanded, her voice cutting through the room before gasping.

In the face of the scandalous sight that unfolded before her, Victoria's cheeks flushed. Fresia's attire was disheveled, and Meredith relentlessly pressed her against the wall.

"What in Heaven is happening here!!!" She shouted. "Also…. what are you doing, dressing in MAN's clothes!" Victoria yelled at her. "Have you finally lost your last bit of decency???"

In a swift gesture, she flung her bracelet, transforming it into a long, crimson whip. She was about to teach Meredith a lesson.

In an effort to evade the menacing electric whip, Meredith made a swift leap towards a dresser within her room.

With swift and graceful movements, she retrieved her bracelet nestled atop the dresser. Deftly, she reshaped it into an elegant crimson bow.

Her sister's crimson whip met resistance from the bow, clashing against it and causing sparks to dance in the air.

Meredith turned, clearly amused. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" She gestured to her finely tailored prince's attire, embroidered with a golden dragon. "Aren't we supposed to impress the Lord?"

"Are you not born with female bits???" Victoria asked, continuing her pursuit of Meredith around the room.

Meredith, brimming with joy, hopped about playfully. Teasing her sister was something she loved.

In the end, after an arduous turmoil, Meredith finally yielded to the inevitable. Fresia, who had been watching the spectacle with bated breath, let out a deep sigh of relief.

The dress she chose for the princess was stunning, a deep, rich purple that complemented Meredith's skin tone perfectly. The bodice was adorned with delicate lace, and the skirt flowed gracefully to the floor.

Shortly after, both sisters were impeccably dressed and elegantly presented at the Grand Outdoor where the meeting will take place. The King and Queen nodded in approval.

The Grand Outdoor was alive with fragrant flowers and elegant seating, including benches, chairs, and swings. Around a hundred courtiers gathered, their anticipation filling the air.

Lord Elyon descended from Heaven with a splendor that left the world beneath him breathless.

The skies above Pyria seemed to part in deference, golden rays piercing the clouds as if they were heralding his arrival. His descent deliberate, each moment stretched as if time was honoring his presence. The ground below shimmered faintly, resonating with the divine energy emanating.

He did not simply walk; he glided forward with an elegance that defied mortal comprehension. His long, flowing robes, adorned with intricate patterns of white and gold, seemed to ripple as though touched by an unseen wind, catching the light in a dazzling display.

His golden eyes, sharp and ageless, swept over the gathered crowd with an intensity that made the air thick with reverence.

Every feature of his visage—his chiseled jawline, his high cheekbones, and his short, wavy golden hair—seemed too perfect, too commanding to belong to any world but the celestial realm.

As Lord Elyon touched the earth, it was as though the very ground accepted him with quiet reverence. His presence was overwhelming, his aura filling the space with a power that was both awe-inspiring and humbling. Mortals instinctively bowed their heads, some trembling, others unable to look away from the radiance that surrounded him.

Behind him, his twin angels descended with equal grace, their movements synchronized and serene. Their golden hair fell in cascading waves, framing faces that bore a quiet, unearthly beauty.

Their wings, wide and luminescent, shimmered faintly as they hovered before folding elegantly behind them. Though less imposing than their Lord, they carried an undeniable authority, their presence amplifying the sanctity of the moment.

The world around them seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of nature dimmed, the murmurs of the crowd silenced.

This was not merely the arrival of a leader; it was the descent of a deity, a moment etched into the hearts of all who witnessed it. Elyon's every step resonated, as though the ground itself reverberated with the weight of his divine judgment.

"The twin angels," Meredith elbowed her sister as the royal family bowed before their celestial guests. " I forgot their names… again…."

"As expected," Victoria sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "Raphael and Cassiel."

As time passed and everyone settled into their seats in the Great Outdoors, the air buzzed with polite conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.

Courtiers exchanged pleasantries, their voices mingling with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of nature.

Amid this tranquil yet expectant atmosphere, King Frederick took his place at the head of the gathering. His expression, calm but purposeful, hinted at the weight of the matter he was about to address, one that had been pressing on his mind for some time.

"My Lord," the King began, his voice steady but with a hint of strain, "The unprecedented number of dragons plaguing our kingdom is... deeply troubling." He paused, choosing his words carefully.

As the Lord casually took a sip from his cup, he responded with calm authority, "I shall dispatch an angel to keep watch over your kingdom."

The King inclined his head respectfully, his tone measured but earnest. "My Lord, we are grateful for your assistance," he said. Then, after a pause, he added, "Perhaps, in addition to patrol, a more... targeted approach could help us."

Around them, the gathering continued unabated, the courtiers indulging in the festivities with enthusiasm. The soft melodies of string instruments wove through the garden, mingling with bursts of laughter and murmured conversations.

The sun cast a warm glow across the scene, highlighting the cheerful faces of the nobility as they sipped wine and exchanged pleasantries. The weight of the King's discussion seemed distant to most, overshadowed by the carefree revelry of the moment.

Suddenly, the serene atmosphere was shattered.

A piercing, otherworldly sound ripped through the air, silencing the party and sending a collective chill through the attendees. Eyes turned skyward as a series of shrill, bone-chilling shrieks echoed from above.

A creature emerged. It was a dragon, its gray scales shimmering in the sunlight as its powerful wings propelled it through the air. Though not massive, it was still imposing, easily twice the size of a human. Its eyes glowed with an inner fire, and its long, sinuous tail flicked behind it like a whip, a warning to all who dared to challenge it.

The sight of this beast sent riot rippling through the crowd. As it circled above, the dragon emitted a deafening roar, its voice reverberating through the air. Cries of fear rippled through the Great Outdoors as courtiers scrambled to safety.

But Pyria was ready. On a nearby mountain, a unit of skilled archers stood prepared, their bows drawn tight, arrows aimed at the beast. At their captain's signal, a volley of arrows streaked through the sky, each aimed at the creature.

The arrows struck the dragon's shimmering scales but bounced off harmlessly, clattering to the ground. Frustration flickered across the archers' faces as they adjusted for another shot, determined to find a weakness in the seemingly impenetrable beast.

Only a winged being could challenge the dragon and strike the fatal blow. The archers' assault was a distraction, providing time for the dragon's true vanquisher to arrive.

In a silent gesture, Lord Elyon gave a meaningful look upon Raphael, one of the twin angels, entrusting him with the responsibility of handling the matter at hand. With graceful movements, Raphael begins to flutter his wings, propelling himself towards the dragon.

With a resounding swoosh, Raphael's sword cut through the air as he swiftly descended upon the dragon. His blade gleamed as he expertly maneuvered around the dragon's attacks. The dragon roared, its scales shimmering with a deadly iridescence. Raphael dodged the dragon's tail swipe and landed a blow on its wing, drawing blood.

The dragon shrieked, his eyes glowing. Raphael plunged his sword into the dragon's heart, and with a final roar, the creature collapsed, its life force fading away. Raphael stood victorious.

Throughout the kingdom, a collective sigh of relief echoed through the air. The King and Queen expressed their gratitude to the Lord and the twin angels before continuing their celebratory activities with renewed joy.

Why are there many dragons lately?

Meredith wondered in her heart.

As evening descended, a sudden wave of discomfort overtook her. The Thysia mark on her body began to throb with an intense, searing sensation. The burning ache spread across her skin, sharp and unrelenting, forcing her to clutch at her chest in a desperate attempt to dull the pain.

Nearby, Victoria, who had been calmly observing the festivities, furrowed her brow in concern and moved closer.

"Are you alright?" Victoria asked, her tone clipped but tinged with genuine worry.

Meredith forced a smile, attempting to brush it off. "Nothing serious. Just this cursed mark acting up again."

Her gaze drifted to Fresia, who was calm and composed. "It doesn't seem to bother anyone else."

With a casual, almost dismissive glance, Meredith turned her attention to the garden, her eyes landing on Lord Elyon himself, who now stood tall among the gathering guests.

She noticed, with an inexplicable thrill, that his piercing gaze was fixed solely on her, an intensity in his expression that felt as if he were reading her every thought.

His presence was magnetic, commanding attention, a force that left her both intrigued and unsettled.

Unable to resist, Meredith let a hint of her natural flirtiness slip into her demeanor. Her delicate features softened into a playfully seductive smile as she locked eyes with Lord Elyon.

With a subtle tilt of her head, she gave him a sly wink, a teasing gesture that dared him to respond, her gaze lingering just a beat longer before she looked away, feigning innocence.

Lord Elyon's gaze softened in response, his eyes glinting with a warmth that contrasted with his normally stern expression.

He raised his glass in a subtle acknowledgment, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. With a casual shift, he turned back to his conversation with the King, seamlessly resuming his discussion about court politics, his manner as smooth as silk.

As if in response to their silent exchange, Meredith's mark suddenly ceased its throbbing. The unexpected relief left her feeling almost light-headed, a welcome reprieve from the pain that had been gnawing at her.

She watched Lord Elyon's distant figure, a strange mix of relief and curiosity lingering as the festivities continued.

High above the gathering, an angel perched on a marble railing, his presence hidden, radiating an ethereal grace that seemed to transcend the mortal realm.

His wings, luminous and pristine, folded elegantly behind him, their faint glow reflecting the first glimmers of starlight.

His face was striking, almost sculpted, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw softened by the calm serenity in his expression.

His chestnut brown hair was short, framing his features with effortless precision and lending him an air of both discipline and charm.

He wore a simple white tunic, its clean lines unadorned yet luminous, as though imbued with divine light. The tunic's modest design highlighted his unpretentious grace, while his strong hands rested lightly on the railing, exuding calm control.

Golden eyes, deep and unyielding, carried the weight of uncounted years, observing the scene below with quiet intensity.

From this perch, he watched a certain princess move through the crowd below. Her fiery red hair glinted in the lantern light, and her laughter carried upward, bright and unrestrained. She stood out, her energy and confidence drawing the eye even amidst the noble finery around her.

The angel's gaze lingered on her, his expression calm but unreadable, as if the scene unfolding below was both familiar and distant to him.

She teased and laughed with those around her, her gestures bold, her presence magnetic. There was something undeniably alive about her, a vitality that caught his attention despite himself.

His golden eyes softened momentarily, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips, though it quickly faded into his usual composure. The angel's ethereal presence remained unwavering, but a flicker of thought stirred within him.

Earlier, he had seen her Thysia mark throb —a telltale sign— and he knew all too well what it signified.

Yet, watching her now, vibrant and so utterly human, he felt a pull—a reminder of the beauty and fragility of mortal life.

For a moment, his golden eyes lingered on her, as if committing this fleeting image to memory.

His wings shifted gently behind him, luminous in the dimming light, before his gaze turned back toward the heavens above, his expression unreadable.