Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Five

Yevvi Nei followed the boy's moves, observing his newfound techniques. Lukas pivoted, avoiding his opponent's attack and launched his knee into his back. The man whimpered and fell to the ground before rolling just in time to doge Lukas's incoming grip. He raced after the man, flailing his arms and yelling mockeries and curses. Yevvi chuckled, the sight of his large grin far too infectious to avoid.

It had been a few weeks since the young boy clutched to Yevvi and poured a stream of repressed tears and hidden emotions. It shocked him at first to have a stranger so desperately release his inner thoughts, but he later remembered that Lukas was a child. Seventeen at that. Far too young to live in the streets of Sora and suffer the irreversible consequences of their king, Krest Andel. Part of him thanked the gods for sending Lukas to him, to know that one less child is living in filth. That had been a bittersweet trait of his. To help the poor but also fall naïve to the ones that take his kindness as a great advantage.

Lukas tumbled to the ground, wrapping his arms around the man playfully. "Lukas," Yevvi yelled in a disproving tone, as if a mother calling to her child. "I do not recall teaching such pitiful fighting techniques." He lifted up his nose and crossed his arms theatrically. Lukas waved at him before plopping down and stretching out his limbs.

Something about the glow in Lukas's eyes and the faint colour of green in his hair that shimmered under the light called to Yevvi, begging him to stay close with the boy. He pondered his appearance. What about this peasant child is so important? Perhaps Lur, the goddess of wind, were pushing him towards Lukas. As legend goes, Lur would reveal the secrets one desperately needed in the form of wind. Perhaps this was her godliness. Yevvi shook his head, a little shocked at his sudden infatuation with simple legends and divine forces.

He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't realized Lukas's repetitive calls from down the hill. Yevvi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Focus, you damned fool, Yevvi thought before snickering and trotting down the hill.

"By god, do you daydream this often?" Lukas gasped, his eyebrows raised at the annoyance in Yevvi's face. Yevvi looked the boy up and down. His slightly toned muscles drenched in sweat. It had only taken a few meaty meals and intense training sessions to bulk him up a bit. The way he moved reminded him of his own king in the kingdom that he forced from his mind all these years, afraid that his origins will be discovered and himself hunted down.

"You resemble a few features of someone I once knew," Yevvi stated blandly before plopping himself onto the ground. The sun scorched his skin as if tearing it apart layer by layer. He squinted his eyes in response to the blazing light.

Lukas tilted his head, those golden eyes flashing under the bright sun. His void black hair fluttering with the faint breeze. Something about that look. That rested pondering expression. The way his eyebrows furrowed slightly creating a stern infatuation with the world before him. It mirrored Daris in every aspect. So strangely similar to—no, it couldn't possibly be. Yevvi shook his head, indicating his discontinuation with the topic.

"Thank you."

"Pardon?" Yevvi paused. His wondering mind snapping back.

"In Sora, I am treated as a freak of nature. I mean, look!" Lukas chuckled before flicking his hand, a single shard of silver light burned into the small patch of grass. "But, you treat me like—"

"What the hell are you doing?" Yevvi hissed as he swiftly stood up, the gritty dirt flushing into a cloud of dust. He froze, glaring at the boy, unable to find words. Yevvi darted his eyes around the area, thankfully detecting no one else. "You can't do that in public."

Lukas stood back, his eyes wide and lip trembling. Those gold eyes watery on the verge of tears. Yevvi opened his mouth, yet a pathetic breath was all he managed to release. Everything spun around him. So many aspects were identical to the prophecy.

"Lukas. I—" he stopped, gaping at the tear that slid down his cheek. Lukas backed away, that wonderfully determined expression now vanishing into pure betrayal and pain. Yevvi stupidly stood still as he watched the black hair bounce into the distance.

Yevvi cursed and kicked the dirt, sending a gust of dust into his face. Stupid, stupid! He sighed obnoxiously loud. It caught him by surprise that burst of power. He stared down at his hand, sending a small cloud of dark mist around his arm. He had not used his powers in years and forced it down so much that he almost forgot how to use it.

Yevvi recalled the times as a small child when he had but a simple silver light, as every Maragnian begins with until the judgment day arrives. By god, he hated the weakness of its burn and the way it zapped not flowed. A smile tugged his lips at the sweet memory.

A daunting thought struck him. Lukas seemed to have no idea who he really was or what incredibly important prophecy is in his name. He couldn't possibly know nothing about his origins. Naedeen promised Lukas's true origins would be known. She promised.

Yevvi drooped to the ground, his orange hair falling onto his face. He had finally found the lost son of Daris and he will stop at nothing to avenge the kingdom burned to the ground so long ago.