Chapter 2

A solid decade passed as the boy grew, living and learning in a monastery on the cliffs of the most southern tip of the island. There he was taught of the entirety of elements and the Gods from whence they came. As his excellency bloomed, his father's withered under the curse. Crops had begun to die in the hundreds, riots were breaking out, and subjects were moving away from their lands. Several groups from each tribe had already started up a caravan of mules off to another country. Everything seemed to be ever slowly falling to ruins.

Lucorrian, though they knew not of each other, studies the arts in not too dissimilar a way than that of his little brother so far away was. He took great care to learn the ways of leading a country as well as elegant skillful fighting. Though the guards of the castle were known for their brute strength and use no such elementals in their fighting, they honed the young prince's skill with many a weapon. Elemental masters were renowned for not using weapons. However, Lucorrian's favorite was a specially crafted sword made of equestrian blood and asteroid metals. He came to develop his own fighting style and techniques, focusing his elemental bending abilities down his chosen weapon, enhancing its power and damage.

Several more dreary years passed as things worsened for the King. He was slowly going mad, giving more and more responsibility to Lucorrian and the Queen. Though only the age of 15, the boy prince had been forced to grow up fast. Not only was he basically running the entire kingdom, but he was also stuck with caring for his younger sister, Denarha, now the age of 12. She has been unexpected and unwanted by King Spiroar, throwing her in the way of her brother. She had begun sparring with him since far younger than when he had first begun. Lucorrian took pride in the fact that he had raised the greatest rival known to him. Denarha's studies however were done at the hand of the governess of course, secretly learning dark magic enchantress spells as well. Between her two teachers, the princess was undoubtedly the most clever in the kingdom, even more so than her brother that knew nothing of the dark arts or her involvement in it.

The King's time had come, he could feel it. As he lay in his deathbed. Master King Spiroar summoned his wife and two children. He had been fighting his unknown curse for so long that his body had just given up the will to live. With his dying breaths he whispered in a gruff raspy voice, his whole body shaking "I have another son… your half brother," he ended glancing down at his children. Taking a deep shuddering breath he continued. "I can no longer hold up in my lie and shame for I am withering away. He's only days younger than you Lucorrian. I sent that half blood albino to the Isle of Carlyle. P-p-please forgive me…" With a subtle whoosh of the wind, his soul left his body to be carried away to the Air Tribe, where they held nightly rituals for the dead of all the country to release their souls back to the Gods in the afterlife.

The family stood around his body in shock and sorrow. The quickest to grasp what had happened was Lucorrian, he had long since been prepared for his father's death and was detached from the situation. He jolted from the daze and quickly said in panicked tone "we mustn't let anyone know of his death, not just yet. Not until I go find this...this...brother." "Yes. Yes," his mother replied. "Whether he wants to stay or not, you must bring him here at once; he must know the truth." "But you're the new king!" Danarha whined. "I know. I know." he replied hastily with worry. He paused with a hard thoughtful look in an attempt to make a plan. His mother took her a deep breath and took her turn to speak. "I will be able to keep up appearances while you're gone. I know enough to run the place for a short while, but I fear that after about a week, people will become suspicious." "Well I'm coming with you!" the princess chirped up. "You'll need backup...No one can know we're royals and I'm the best at camouflage." Everyone just nodded in agreement to the plan and then the Queen was left to hide her husband's body on her own while quietly crying to herself.