impatient

Mateo stood in the training yard, his focus entirely on his younger brother, who was eagerly trying to improve his swordsmanship. The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed in the air as the younger boy swung his sword under Mateo's watchful eye.

"Remember to keep your guard up!" Mateo instructed, his tone both encouraging and firm.

Just then, an owl swooped down from the sky, landing gracefully on a nearby post. The bird carried a small rolled-up parchment in its beak, and Mateo immediately recognized the familiar seal. He reached over, took the letter, and unrolled it.

As soon as his eyes scanned the contents, a grin spread across his face, though his heart raced with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Without a second thought, he tossed the letter aside, eager to leave.

"Bye, doofas! I'm off to some important work," Mateo called over his shoulder, flashing a playful grin at his younger brother, who was still practicing.

His younger brother stopped mid-swing and looked at him, his face scrunching in disappointment. "You promised to spend time with me, Mateo," he said, his voice a mixture of sadness and frustration.

Mateo's expression softened, but he didn't hesitate. "Sorry, little man. Duty calls," he said, giving his brother a quick pat on the shoulder. He flashed another grin before turning and heading off.

The younger boy stood there for a moment, the weight of his brother's departure sinking in. "You better not be gone long," he muttered to himself, a pout forming on his lips.

Mateo, however, was already walking briskly, his thoughts racing. There was no time to waste. His excitement was palpable as he made his way to the destination, the letter from the mansion burning in his mind.

Ziven lay sprawled in the meadow, surrounded by his ten loyal beasts. The sunlight dappled through the trees, casting warm patterns on the grass. He absentmindedly petted one of the larger beasts, his hand moving in slow, rhythmic strokes, while the others lounged peacefully nearby. This was his solace, his escape from the demands of life.

Suddenly, a familiar flutter of wings caught his attention. His little bird companion darted through the air and landed delicately on his shoulder, a magical scroll clutched tightly in its beak. Ziven's sharp blue eyes immediately locked onto the scroll, curiosity sparking in them.

"What've you got for me, little one?" he muttered, gently taking the scroll. As he unrolled it and read the report, his usually calm demeanor vanished, replaced by a wide grin and uncontainable excitement.

"No way," he whispered to himself, his heart racing.

Without a second thought, Ziven jumped to his feet, startling the beasts around him. "I'm going!" he declared, though no one could truly understand him but the little bird on his shoulder. The beasts simply tilted their heads, watching their master with quiet curiosity as he darted around, searching for his boots.

He barely noticed that he was still in his sleeping clothes. His shirt was rumpled, his pants wrinkled, and his hair an untamed mess. But none of that mattered to him. Clutching the scroll in one hand, he bolted toward his destination, his excitement outweighing any concern for his appearance.

The beasts watched him go, a few letting out low growls of confusion before returning to their lazy afternoon. The meadow quickly became quiet again, save for the rustling leaves and the fading sound of Ziven's hurried footsteps.

Arven sat in his undersea studio, a large canvas before him, the strokes of his brush capturing a familiar face. Every detail of her features was etched into his memory—the curve of her smile, the spark in her eyes. His heart ached with the passage of time, and he often wondered how she would look now, after five long years.

He leaned back, examining his work, his expression a mix of satisfaction and longing. "Five years," he murmured to himself. "I wonder if you've changed... or if you're still the same."

Just then, a servant approached, carrying a sealed scroll. "Sir Arven, a report from the mansion," the servant announced, bowing slightly before handing it over.

Arven's brow furrowed as he set his brush down and took the scroll. His casual curiosity turned to shock as he read its contents. A letter from her? His hands trembled slightly as he held the report, his heart racing. His golden eyes gleamed with a joy he hadn't felt in years.

"She wrote?" he whispered, disbelief mingling with excitement. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. Without wasting a second, he made his way out of the studio.

"I need to go," he said to no one in particular, his voice filled with urgency.

He swam through the vibrant underwater city, the currents guiding him as he ascended toward the surface. Breaking through the water, he took in a deep breath of air and quickly made his way to the nearest teleportation station.

The public teleportation portal buzzed with energy as Arven entered, earning a few curious glances from those around him. His usually polished demeanor was replaced with a hurried, disheveled look, his focus solely on one thing—reaching her mansion.

He didn't know why the letter had come or what it contained, but the mere fact that it was from her was enough to send him rushing to her home, his heart pounding with hope and anticipation.

All four of the boys arrived at the mansion, their hurried steps echoing through the grand hall as they converged at the entrance. Despite coming from different directions and using different means of travel, they somehow reached at the exact same moment, their eyes locking onto one another in stunned silence.

"What are you doing here?" Amaias asked, his tone sharp but laced with curiosity.

"I could ask you the same," Mateo shot back, crossing his arms.

"I had my reasons," Ziven said with a sly grin, though his disheveled appearance—complete with wrinkled sleeping clothes—betrayed his eagerness.

Arven said nothing, simply brushing past them, his golden eyes locked on the entrance. "Move aside," he muttered.

They all hurried inside, their footsteps quick and impatient. As they entered the drawing room, they saw Emily standing there, holding a silver tray with a letter resting neatly on top. Her expression was calm, though her eyes twinkled with a hint of amusement at their synchronized arrival.

The moment they saw the letter, the boys spoke in unison, their voices overlapping. "Show us the letter!"

Emily held back a smile, glancing between the four of them. "You're all quite eager, aren't you?" she said, lifting the tray slightly. "But patience, gentlemen. I'll hand it over to you soon."

The boys exchanged glances, their excitement barely contained. Each of them had a different reason for being there, but they all shared the same hope—the hope that this letter might be connected to her.