#dragoturkey

[bluwails]

[lavender-tea-dragon]

Also SQUEAK-

Baby's first au!!! <3 She is Thai's pet Dragoturkey and just is (of course) baby c:

[dentess2]

Just got my first Dragonturkey this week!!! after many years of wakfu.

kinda spent some sleeping time drawing this cuz of the sheer HYPE

//

Peguei meu primeiro Drago-peru essa semana!!! depois de muitos anos...

Meio que troquei a noite pelo dia desenhando só pelo HYPE

[weaselmcdiesel]

my guy!! he is messed up!! ohh he's sad!! my wakfu sideblog: @bow-meows

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 14: The Heart of the Matter

Word Count: 21,772

Read on AO3

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Chapter Summary: "When Amalia finds herself fulfilling King Oakheart's request to speak with him, she is inadvertently taken on a journey to the heart of the Sadida Kingdom and its many secrets. Meanwhile, Yugo will try to put his plan to earn his people's acceptance into motion, at the same time as a member of the Council of Six makes an unexpected discovery. Conversations are had, intentions revealed, doubts discussed, and world-shattering realisations creep up on them all. One thing is for sure, their visit to the Sadida Kingdom will be one they will never forget, for a plethora of reasons."

Amalia didn’t really know why she was surprised when Prince Armand excused himself to return to the party the moment he took her to his father. It stood to reason that the heir to the throne would act as regent whenever his father was unavailable. And a ball housing some of the leaders of a potential allied nation should never be left unattended. 

All the better, she couldn’t help but think. While she didn’t doubt the prince only wanted what was best for his kingdom, his more abrasive personality would have added a certain awkwardness to whatever King Oakheart had planned for her. 

Speaking of the king, he strolled leisurely by her side, his hands folded behind his back and his head held up high with a placid smile tugging at his lips. His gaze remained forward, though the doll could swear she saw it flicker from time to time. Sometimes in her direction, and other times over the palace halls, as if the Sadida King was taking in the beauty of his home like any newcomer would. 

Truth be told, Amalia could understand him if that was the case. She couldn’t wrench her eyes away from the majestic palace either. When it was made apparent that the king wished to show her something, she first expected to be escorted out of the ballroom through the same room she and the Council had entered, but it wasn’t long before it became clear that wouldn’t be the case.

In retrospect, it made sense. They never actually saw the royal family and their court enter through the same door after they led them to that balcony and granted them some minutes to rest. Unfortunately, she didn’t make the connection until after looking around in confusion like a disoriented Dragoturkey when she realised she was actually being led somewhere else. 

Fortunately for her, if the king noticed her bewilderment, he didn’t show. 

King Xylem Sheran Sharm really was a genius with a vision when he decided to build the palace inside this oak. It was simply breathtaking: the way nature and architecture became seamlessly interwoven, with thick vines wrapping around the sturdy wooden pillars supporting the building; grass and wild flowers sprouting across the floorboards and cushioning their steps; and colossal leaves pushed up against the wall that were revealed to be doors, sliding up to allow entrance on command. 

Amalia hadn’t the chance to visit and compare many palaces, but she would say that while the Sadida palace wasn’t as ornately decorated as the mural-filled Eliatrope palace, the little artwork and murals it did have were certainly less gaudy than Bonta’s seeming desire for showcasing their leaders in the most opulent way imaginable. 

In certain places all over the walls, branches and pieces of wood would twist and turn, while flowers and leaves would sprout in an intentional and strategic design. The doll gasped the first time she realised that mysterious patch on the wall was actually a portrait, becoming one with the oak tree and the kingdom forever. 

That wasn’t to say the Sadida weren’t familiar with more traditional artistic disciplines. Most of the murals decorating the walls, often depicting their people’s greatest feats across history, were actually painted. The colours still vibrant after all this time. 

Amalia was so lost admiring the artwork, she didn’t see where she was going. More specifically, she didn’t see King Oakheart had stopped in the middle of the hallway and collided right into his side, letting out an ‘oof’ sound before nearly falling backwards. 

Lightning fast, a series of vines shot forward from the ground and wrapped around her, only letting go once they helped her regain her balance. With a sigh of relief, the doll began to dust her clothes off as she made a mental note to congratulate herself on her quick thinking later. 

Except… She hadn’t used her powers to break her fall. Her brow furrowed. 

Turning to her side in confusion, she let out a small gasp of surprise when she caught sight of King Oakheart’s massive palm glowing green for a moment before returning it to its original position behind his back. He winked knowingly down at her with a chuckle and a smirk. 

“You can’t really call yourself a Sheran Sharm if your mastery over plant-life is lacking.” He said simply. 

Cheeks heating up slightly, she cleared her throat in a futile attempt to dispel her embarrassment. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“No thanks needed, my Lady.” His voice sounded distant despite being side to side. 

The tinge of wistfulness in his tone caused Amalia to look at him. Really look at him. He wasn’t facing her, his focus instead on the wall in front of him. Even though that in itself wasn’t exactly normal behaviour, what really caught the doll’s eye were the king’s own. They were fixed right in front of him, misty and a little glazed over, as if overcome by memories, and his smile was watery and trembling yet incredibly loving. 

Her brows knitted together in concern, she finally followed his gaze. Her eyes widened and her heart constricted in her chest, the sight truly startling. 

The object of King Oakheart’s devotion was yet another portrait, only this one portrayed one of the most beautiful women Amalia had ever seen in her admittedly young life. She was Sadida, that much was easy to deduce due to her dark mahogany skin, and cascading viridian hair flowing out of her ponytail and probably reaching down the floor. But she was so beautiful, simply calling her lovely would have been an insult. 

Her features were soft yet sharp, full of maternal love and regal severity in equal parts. Her eyes, or at least the eye that wasn’t hidden by her bangs, were deep brown and held infinite kindness and patience in them. A demure smile tugged at the corner of her lips, making her both approachable and mysterious at the same time. 

Another very good indicator that she was a Sadida woman was the fact that she was decked out in their traditional garments. Seated on a chair at a three-quarters view, she wore a red leafy shawl adorned with daisies over a long white dress. Wrapped around her waist and the hem of her dress were a combination of green and red leaves not unlike the ones Amalia herself liked to wear. 

As a fellow accessory-lover, the doll would have already loved the thistle necklace around her neck, but what was truly important about the woman’s adornments was what all it revealed about her. Because resting atop her head were a leafy headband that kept her massive mane in place and, more importantly, an intrinsically designed tiara composed of several small antlers running over her head and two larger ones sticking out at either side. 

King Oakheart only confirmed what she already suspected. “This is my wife and Armand’s mother. Queen Amarylla Sheran Sharm.”

“She’s beyond beautiful, Your Majesty.” She breathed, still in awe. Then, the stitches in her head tightened as she realised something was off. “How is it possible that we have yet to be introduced?” Even as the words left her mouth, a feeling of foreboding enveloped her. 

King Oakheart finally tore his eyes away from his wife’s portrait to look her in the eye, and Amalia felt a painful pang in her chest. Immense sympathy overtook her as the king regarded her with eyes that seemed to contain all the sadness and longing in the world.

“That would be because it’s impossible, my Lady. As much as I wished it weren’t so…” A sad smile still on his lips, he looked away and gulped thickly, clearly trying to swallow the pain down. “You see, my beloved rose was taken from us by a terrible and quite sudden illness back when Armand was but a teenager. Merely a boy taking his first few steps into the grown-ups’ world.”

The doll cursed herself for her insensitivity, her heart going out to the man and his family. It must have been nearly two decades since her death, and yet it was still plain to see Queen Amarylla was dearly loved and missed by the family she left behind. While she couldn’t tell how Prince Armand felt about losing his mother, she couldn’t imagine he hadn’t been greatly saddened by her loss. What was easy to see, however, was that she took her husband’s heart with her, if the way her widower was still aching even after all this time was any indication. 

Amalia hesitated for a split second, not sure if it was her place to intervene at all, but she finally mustered up her courage and placed a comforting hand on the king’s forearm, which was as far as she could reach given the massive height difference. “You have my sincerest condolences, King Oakheart. I am sure she was a good woman.”

“The best. We all miss her every single day.” The king confirmed, sniffling quietly. A few minutes went by where neither said a word. The Sadida man was trying to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, like he had been doing for the better part of sixteen years, and the doll resolved to remain by his side and offer him quiet comfort. 

Finally, with one last sniffle, the Sadida King wiped the tears off his eyes and recomposed himself. “Yes, she was a most formidable woman indeed. But that is not why I’m showing this to you, Lady Amalia; or, well, not the only reason. Nor is it what I wanted to show you in the first place.”

“It’s not?” Amalia questioned, one eyebrow arched. Then, she registered the second part of his sentence. “And what did you want to show me?”

King Oakheart simply smiled. “I wanted to show you how Amarylla looked because you remind me of her.”

Amalia was left speechless by the revelation. Her head swivelled back and forth between the late queen’s portrait, trying to take in all her beauty, and the king. “Me?” He nodded. “How is that possible?”

Oakheart just shrugged, as much at a loss as her. “I’m not quite sure myself. But you can’t deny, the resemblance is quite uncanny!”

The doll studied the canvas more intently this time, her eyes narrowing in on the queen’s features. Now that the king mentioned it, she really couldn’t deny her human form was eerily similar to Queen Amarylla’s. There were a few key differences, of course. Amalia’s skin was lighter; her hair was considerably shorter; her features were softer, unmarked by the passage of time; and she wasn’t quite as… voluptuous as the queen. 

She noticed that last detail with a flicker of irritation, her eyebrow twitching. Was every mortal woman going to be more developed than she, or what?

Nevertheless, aside from those small details, they really were two peas in a pod. 

The more she looked at the queen, the more she was reminded of something her father said not long after adding the finishing touches to her body. When he explained her ability to willingly shift between forms to her, he mentioned he’d made sure that her human form was as enchanting as her Divine Doll form. Apparently, he had used one of his favourite followers as his model for her. 

Could it be that Queen Amallyra had been that follower Sadida had grown so fond of? Enough to immortalise her beauty into one of his daughters?

As she mulled over those thoughts, Amalia decided against sharing them with King Oakheart. She didn’t want to poke at the wound by suggesting his god had actually used his late wife’s appearance as a mould for her. In a way, he could consider it a great honour, but it would be just as understandable if he were to be upset by the revelation. One would figure a widower would prefer it if his wife lived on through their actual children. 

For some reason, the thought brought a bitter taste to her mouth, her chest thudding painfully at the idea of King Oakheart having a daughter that was actually meant to resemble her mother. 

Shaking those thoughts away, she said instead, “Then it is an honour to resemble such a phenomenal woman.”

“In more ways than one, too.”

“What do you mean?”

His smile broadened. “I mean that your similarities go far beyond your physical appearance, my Lady.” Mirth shone in his eyes as he let out a quiet chuckle. “Although I will admit you aren’t as similar right now.” He gestured vaguely at her, causing Amalia to look down at herself. 

Oh, he was talking about the fact that she now looked like an actual Divine Doll, stitches and all. A horned one, at that, too. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but let out a snicker of her own. It wasn’t the funniest joke she had ever heard, and coming from anybody else, she most likely would have been offended, but the Sadida King managed to make it sound endearing. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She concurred, an amused smile on her face. 

“But, as I was saying, your similarities don’t just end there.” Wordlessly, King Oakheart took a step closer to the wall, closing the distance between himself and his beloved’s portrait by lovingly placing a hand on top of it, tracing the queen’s delicate features with his fingertips. “Amarylla was so much more than just a pretty face, and she made sure everyone knew, especially when some other royal would dare look down on her for not being of royal or even noble blood during an assembly.”

That picked the doll’s curiosity. “The queen was born a commoner?”

“That’s right.” He nodded. “She was actually one of the soldiers stationed to guard the forests at the outskirts of the kingdom. We met when her superior fell ill and was unavailable to report to me, so he sent her instead.” He let out a wistful, lovesick sigh. For a moment, he was a young man in love all over again. “Just one look at her and I was completely under her spell.”

“That sounds very romantic, Your Majesty.” 

“I like to think it was.” He chuckled then, seemingly lost in a forest of memories. “She knew all along that I had feelings for her, but continued to act coy and refuse my attempts at getting closer to her until I made my intentions clear and asked her out on a proper date.”

“Sounds like a woman who knew what she wanted.” Amalia commented, a new wave of admiration for the queen blossoming in her chest. 

“I think you just summarised my beloved rose’s character in one sentence, Lady Amalia.” The king agreed. His already cordial voice melted into tenderness the more he spoke of his wife, an edge of melancholy added to it that never quite went away. “Like any rose, she was undeniably beautiful, but she also had thorns. And I’m not just talking about her flaws—which she also had plenty of, I assure you—, but of the fact that she had such an indomitable spirit that anyone who would try to break it or subjugate her was in for a surprise.

“Amarylla was so free-spirited, so adventurous. She couldn’t stay still, especially when she knew there was a whole world out there to explore. She really wasn’t fond of meeting up with our fellow members of the Council of Twelve, as those meetings could devolve into a constant ego clash that led us nowhere, but she adored getting to step foot outside of the kingdom and visit new lands. Few things filled her with as much joy as that.

“But even when it appeared she would much rather do anything else than serve her people and fulfill her role as Queen of the Sadidas, nothing was further from the truth.” When he turned to address the doll, his dark eyes were beaming with pride and love for his wife’s accomplishments. “Keep in mind, my Lady, that my wife was a warrior by trade. Regardless of her adventurous streak, her heart would always belong to her kingdom. Her sense of duty and responsibility were so strong, most of the time she took on more responsibilities than pertained to her position and took care of them before me and my advisors even had time to register it needed to be done. She was also the one who arranged for Armand to be trained by the best masters from a very young age!” He choked at the mention of his son, burdened by the knowledge that his mother never got to see the fine young man he had grown into. “She wanted to make sure our son would be ready to ascend to the throne and wear the heavy weight of the crown and all it represented when the time came. And that included being able to protect the kingdom.”

The tears were streaming down his face freely now, and he wasn’t the only one. Amalia had never even met the Sadida Queen and she’d been moved to tears by the way King Oakheart spoke of her. Every single word was filled with so much admiration, so much yearning, so much love. It was plain to see this man had been devoted to the woman he loved from the very first time they met. 

A wistful part of her couldn’t help but wish to find a love like that someday. 

“And that’s precisely why you remind me so much of her, Lady Amalia.” He finally confessed, taking his guest completely aback. It was easy to tell from the way she jerked back to look at him, her doe-like eyes wide and unblinking even through her tears, that she hadn’t been expecting such a comparison. “I can tell you share her same spirit. An inquisitive mind and a dutiful heart bound by its responsibilities to the gods, the Twelvians, and the Eliatropes, all wrapped up in the most beautiful package imaginable.”

The Sadida King took a deep breath, as if he had been too afraid to share what was in his heart and he was finally ready to take that step. “Had we ever been blessed with a daughter, I like to think she would have been like you.”

There was no hope in stopping the tears from falling freely down her cheeks now. “T-thank you! Thank-thank you so-so much, Your Majesty…!” She managed to choke out in between sobs, bringing her hands to her face as she fought futilely to keep the tears at bay. 

Wordlessly, the kindly king brought her into a paternal hug, rubbing her back soothingly as she sniffled and finally got the tears under control. Before she had time to question herself, the doll returned the hug as best as she could, before finally letting go with one final grateful squeeze.

They exchanged one watery smile and turned to face Queen Sheran Sharm’s portrait once more, no words exchanged between them. None needed. 

Amalia didn’t know how much time passed with them like that. But it was enough for her to get lost in her own head as she contemplated what the king told her. The way he spoke about his late wife… Those were the words of a man in love. A man who would move mountains just to see his beloved smile. 

She could picture it all so clearly. A young Prince Oakheart becoming captivated by his future bride’s beauty at first glance. The two of them growing closer as time passed and becoming indispensable in each other’s lives. Exchanging sweet nothings and powerful words of reassurance, turning into each other’s roots in a world full of uncertainty. 

An image of Yugo smiling down at her flashed through her mind. She gasped. 

Her heart beating fast, she unfortunately didn’t have time to unpack what it all meant because King Oakheart spoke again, taking her by surprise. 

“I loved that woman from the day I first laid my eyes on her.” He chuckled, lost in a memory. “Little did I know back then I would love her even when she was no longer with us.”

“Is that normal?” Amalia surprised herself by asking. It actually took her a minute to realise those words came out of her mouth. When the king turned to her with a questioning look, she shook those doubts away and plunged through. “I mean, is it normal to love somebody even when they're not with you?”

“That's just how love—true love—works, my Lady.” He explained patiently, almost as if he had been expecting that question. “When you truly love someone, those feelings can’t just be washed away by their absence. On the contrary, your heart is constantly aching for them, longing to be near them, and you feel this great loss when you're apart. And it doesn't just apply to when you outlive your loved ones, although that is a very special and heart-wrenching kind of ache—you find yourself missing them simply because they're not with you.”

At his words, impassioned and coming from experience, Amalia couldn't help but furrow her eyebrows as she considered what the king just said. For some reason, her mind immediately went back, unbidden, to how she used to feel when Yugo used to ignore her. Even now, when things between them were better than ever and they saw each other daily, she still found herself missing his company greatly the moment it was time for them to go their different ways.

Could that be the reason why her every heartbeat whispered Yugo’s name? 

Was that why her days always seemed to get a little brighter whenever she saw him, and a little dimmer as soon as it was time to say goodbye? 

Did she value his company above everybody else’s because of that?

Was that the same thing King Oakheart felt for his late wife? Would Yugo feel the same way about her?

Could it be that kind of love?

Just as something warm, and light, and comforting, and wonderful began to blossom in her chest, making her feel happier than she could even remember, memories from when he pushed her away came rushing back, and with them, all the heartache she went through. In an instant, the fluttering in her heart turned into a rooted pain. Like someone had stepped on top of a flower and dug their heel deep into the ground, savouring its demise. 

She couldn’t help the way she winced, but at the moment she didn’t care if King Oakheart saw and thought her weird. Instead, she pushed her hurt down. It was stupid. It was simply ridiculous that she had been so close to confusing what she felt for Yugo for… for… for that! He was her friend. Of course they cared for each other, and of course she missed him when they were apart. King Oakheart just said that was normal, but he never said it was an exclusively romantic experience. 

One could very well care and miss their friend that much. Just like she missed her father and sisters dearly every single day. There wasn’t anything more to it. 

Whatever she thought there was between her and Yugo beyond a strong friendship was wrong, and it caused her unnecessary pain. And so, she pushed it down. The more she pushed it down, the more difficult it would be for it to pop up again. It was all a matter of time. 

King Oakheart, ever the one with impeccable timing, saved her the trouble of dwelling into those thoughts when he cleared his throat. The sound carried an air of finality to it, heralding the time to move on had come. 

“I must sincerely thank you for your time, Lady Amalia.” He told her honestly, a small smile plastered on his face that the doll soon found herself mimicking despite everything. “It has been quite a while since I last got the chance to share my memories of my dear Amarylla.” He chuckled in a self-deprecating manner. “At least, to a willing ear. Most of the time I just get lost in my own thoughts rather than bore my subjects and guests with all this.”

Amalia giggled softly, though it sounded hollow even to her ears. “On the contrary, my King. It was my pleasure.” She turned back to look at the queen’s portrait one last time, her already small smile fading into wistfulness. “I wish I could have met her…” Her eyes widened when she felt a hand on her back, her head immediately snapping back to the Sadida ruler. 

“She would have loved to, Lady Amalia.” A moment of silence passed between them, the monarch’s soulful words hanging heavy yet comfortingly in the air. When the Sadida King finally yanked his hand from the Divine Doll’s back, his whole demeanour changed, becoming more serious, though not any less kind. “Now, please, follow me. There is something else I wish to show you.”

Amalia started at that, it took her a minute to notice the king resume his march down the hallway. She hurried to follow after him. When they were walking side by side anew, the doll ventured, “Something other than Queen Amarylla’s portrait?”

“Certainly. Something that is even more important than that.”

“‘More important’?” The doll repeated, incredulous. “What could possibly be more important to you than your late wife, Your Majesty?”

“You’ll see, my Lady. You’ll see.” A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes flicking down to her fleetingly. “Although, I do have to admit this isn’t actually more important to me. It’s important to the entirety of the Sadida Kingdom; that’s why I believe you ought to know.”

.......................................................................................................................

Amalia’s brows had knitted in curiosity and confusion at the king’s admission, a million questions swirling around her mind. Her doubts only multiplied, becoming a veritable swarm, the moment the mysterious hallway reached its end and led them back to the throne room. The guards stationed at each side of the door opened it without a word, and only after receiving a silent nod from their king. 

Once back inside the dimly lit room, the doll’s confusion only increased when the Sadida King led her around the pond surrounding the throne. She turned to glance at the king questioningly, but he simply stepped forward and onto the first mushroom, followed soon after by another, and another, and another… Before she knew it, he had already closed the distance between them and the symbol of his status. He beckoned at her with a wave of his hand. “Follow me, Lady Amalia.”

Blinking in astonishment, the doll ultimately shrugged, choosing to place her trust unto the older Sadida once again. Soon after she reached him, they rounded the throne until they arrived at its back, where the luminous tendrils connecting to the ceiling grew from. What she saw left her squinting her eyes in bewilderment when the king gestured at it.

For some reason, standing in front of her was a wooden door. One so perfectly camouflaged with the bark around it that she never would have even noticed it without King Sheran Sharm’s indications. The door was framed by two large stems that blossomed into near translucent purple petals, and above them, there were two equally lilac three-petaled flowers with… holes for stygmas?

What was she even looking at?!

Before the questions clamouring to be uttered even had the chance of making it to the tip of her tongue, her head snapping back towards Oakheart's imposing figure and her eyes wide in shock, the king interrupted her. Much to her consternation, he simply met her gaze and… winked knowingly down at her before turning his head forward once more, pointing with his finger for her to do the same. 

Her mouth hanging open, lost beyond relief, the doll still did what she was told. Only to do a double take in utter bewilderment. The two flowers growing above the mysterious door sprouted more light tendrils similar to the ones surrounding the throne from the inside of their emptied-out stygmas. 

That in itself was enough to send her jaw crashing down onto the floor in mind-shattering shock, and yet, what really made the doll jolt in her place was seeing the tendrils grow and reach out to her, inching ever close to her head. Her first instinct was to take a step back and avoid its touch, but just as her anxiety had begun to spike up, her frantic heart began to beat for a completely different reason. A calming, rhythmic pulse resonated against her ribcage, the same kind of pulse she had been feeling ever since she arrived at the Mortal Realm. 

The one she almost lost herself to as soon as they stepped foot into Sadida territory. 

It was more powerful than ever, but also… More reassuring? With each coordinated beat of her heart something told her she was safe. No harm would come to her. She was home.

And she found herself desperately wanting to believe that voice. 

Taking a deep breath, Amalia steeled herself, letting any lingering doubts and fears be washed away like fallen leaves during a summer shower. When the tendrils finally made contact with her skin, she broke into a small grin as it stole several giggles from her. That tickled!

It was over as soon as it began. Catching her breath, Amalia snapped her eyes back open when she felt the tendrils free her face and head. She watched with furrowed brows as they retreated back into their respective places, disappearing from sight. Before she had the chance to question what was going on, something even more astounding took her barely recovered breath away yet again. 

The petal-crowned stems flanking the door spread open, revealing what looked like an eye located right in the middle of its surface. The doll started when the eye snapped open, frantically looking around as a soft tremor began to reverberate around the room, almost causing her to lose her balance and fall down. With each shake of the room, the door descended back into the ground more and more, not unlike the shuttles back in the Eliatrope palace, revealing the entrance to a secret passageway, faintly illuminated by the light coming from the walls. 

She could only blink. This trip was proving to be much more of an emotional rollercoaster than a visit to the Trool Fair. 

King Oakheart gestured for her to do the honours, breaking his silence at long last. “After you, Your Grace.”

“Oh. Uh, um, right. Of course.” She stammered. Bringing a hand to her chest, she chose to focus on that steady pulse that told her everything would be alright and tentatively took the first step into the passageway. 

It was a long and narrow path, their footprints cushioned by the grass growing underneath their feet—not to mention all the flowers growing wherever the doll walked on—, with fern trickling down the walls and vines hanging from the ceiling. 

Amalia’s brown eyes kept darting back and forth all over the space, taking it all in and letting it fill her with awe, her mind scrambling to make sense of it all. King Oakheart had yet to say another word, but by that point she was too busy paying attention to literally everything else to really notice his silence. 

After a few minutes that stretched into an eternity under the uncertainty of it all, the doll finally caught a glimpse of light at the other end of the tunnel. With a brief look asking for permission and the king’s warm consent, the doll dashed forward and crossed that threshold, skidding into a halt when she was face to face with a small forest. 

What was this palace? The tree version of a matryoshka doll?

A thick fog hung heavily in the air, enveloping the space into an otherworldly aura as it hid the trees from view save for their silhouettes. Light blue luminescent orbs floated about, reminding Amalia of her own Sadida Stars, yet much more ethereal. She feared they would pop out of existence if she so much as grazed them with her fingertips.

She didn’t know where she was, but she did know it was the epitome of sacredness. A place of worship and meditation where hardened warriors were humbled, cynical beliefs expelled, and devout believers uplifted. She knew, because the ineffable threads pulling her closer told her so. 

“Lady Amalia, over here.”

When she turned at the sound of King Oakheart calling her name, she was overcome by an indescribable emotion. So much so, tears sprang to her eyes, unbidden. Her feet mindlessly took her to where the monarch stood, patiently waiting for her. His regal posture seemed to straighten with a deep sense of pride, illuminated by the blue light shining bright behind him. Because the king currently had his back to a most curious sight. A lake. There was a crystalline lake in the middle of this forest, its waters reflecting the faint light of the mystical source it guarded. Because, located in the very centre of the body of water, there was a small island holding a tree and a very rudimentary-looking cabin.

The tree was like nothing Amalia had ever seen in her life, and yet, she felt like she was intimately familiar with it. It had to be one of the smallest ones she had ever seen, barely doubling the king in size compared to its fellows’ elongated tree trunks that practically scraped the sky. Unlike the other trees, who grew straight as an arrow, as the Cra would say, this one in particular twisted in on itself until its branches spread out into a leafy mantle. But what was most captivating about its appearance and what truly left Amalia speechless were the countless magical symbols growing alongside its bark, pulsing with energy and suddenly making her own divine nature seem meaningless in comparison. 

Whatever this tree was, it was a truly humbling experience. The Divine Doll found herself hugging her torso with one arm as her hand fiddled absently with the stitches around her bent elbow and she took measured steps closer to the source of her awe. The rustling of her dress breaking the quiet as she walked felt like a great offence to the sacredness emanating from the area. 

The closer she got, the more familiar it all became to her. And not just because the threads were pulling her closer to figuring out the truth. But because you’d have to be blind to not recognise that type of energy after spending months living with the only race capable of mastering it in its rawest form. 

“Is that… Is that wakfu?” Her whisper broke the quiet around them. It felt almost sacrilegious to do so, but she had to know. 

Fortunately, King Oakheart didn’t seem bothered by her impudence. Rather, he chuckled fondly. “Why, yes it is, Your Grace. You have a keen eye.”

The doll just shrugged, too distracted to properly bask in his praise. “You learn a thing or two from living with the Eliatropes for as long as I have.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He conceded. “Would you like to take a closer look?”

That got her to tear her eyes off the focus of her attention. “Can I, really?”

“My Lady, I wouldn’t have brought you here in the first place if I didn’t want you to get closer.”

King Oakeahrt threw his head back and let out an uproarious cackle when the doll could only nod vehemently at his offer. Under any other circumstances, Amalia would have been offended, but she was too laser-focused on learning more about the mysterious tree to really dwell on the possibilities of whether her guide was laughing with her or at her. 

Once his laughter quieted down, he led his guest over to a small dirt path that crossed over the lake and connected the small island the tree was at with the hidden forest they were standing on. Without hesitation, the drumming of her anxious heart echoing in her ears, Amalia breached the distance between herself and the tree. With one last questioning look at the monarch over her shoulder, she nodded and, with a gulp, extended her hand towards the tree.

The moment her palm made contact with its mystical bark as it pulsed with wakfu, those very threads surrounding her heart completely unraveled, and with them the powerful force she had been feeling all along.

It was an all-encompassing explosion. Expanding all around her yet filling her up from the inside out. All of a sudden, she was one with everything and everything was one with her, reaching a level of intimate knowledge she never thought possible. Not even with her strong connection to nature, second only to her father’s. 

She didn’t just find the origin of those mysterious threads that had been beckoning her closer all along, she became their origin. She could feel it all at once, no matter the distance. It was all part of her. 

Daisies blooming in Amakna soil. Inconsiderate travellers stepping on the grass lining up the paths to Bonta. Pandalusia’s beloved bamboo sprouts rocking gently with the breeze. Her heart being ripped out in tempo with all the trees that were being sacrificed as kindling for Frigost. The Sadida forests, brimming with life as the Tree People took great care of them. 

But the most mind-boggling yet extraordinary thing of all was the fact that she felt connected to every single Sadida alive. How was that even possible?

As if reading her thoughts, King Oakheart chose that very moment to reveal everything to her. She must have been deeper in her trance than she originally thought, because she completely failed to notice him approaching until he was already behind her. 

“This, Lady Amalia, is the Tree of Life.” he started, gesturing with one hand at the tree. Her own hand never once broke contact with its surface. “The most well-known secret in the entire Sadida Kingdom.”

“How can it be a secret if it’s well-known?” She asked. 

He smiled. “Because nobody but us knows where it is located. In case a Sheran Sharm takes a non-Sadida as their spouse, only extremely dire circumstances would justify revealing its location to an outsider.” He pursed his lips in thought. He had the feeling the Divine Doll understood his implicit meaning immediately. His tone grew solemn as he, too, let himself bask in the grandiosity of the moment. “You see, my Lady, the Tree of Life is our most treasured gift; my family has dedicated their entire lives to protecting it for centuries. And Armand and I are committed to ensuring its safety for many years to come.”

Amalia considered the king’s words, chewing on her bottom lip. It all made sense. If the Tree of Life was the epitome of sacredness amongst the Sadida, then it stood to reason their royal family and warriors took on an oath to guard it with their lives and keep it away from strangers that could wish them harm. Still, it begged the question…

“Your Majesty, if outsiders aren’t allowed anywhere near the Tree of Life, then why did you bring me here?”

“Because you are not an outsider, Lady Amalia. You are one of us.” He answered without hesitation, and her heart swelled at the sense of belonging his words sparked. 

“Do you feel it?” He went on, seemingly changing the topic. “Can you feel the life of every single one of Sadida’s followers through your fingertips?” The doll simply nodded, slowly and still taken aback by the overcoming feeling. “That is because the Tree of Life is the greatest source of wakfu in our world. Not only does it store the life force of every single plant, miniscule as it may be, but also our own.” When their gazes met, his dark eyes pierced through her very soul, the gravity of the situation hitting her like a crazed Dragoturkey. “That is why we guard it so fiercely. The Tree looks over all of us, its children, and in turn we look over it. Losing it would mean the total eradication of the Sadida people.”

Amalia was left reeling from all the revelations she had been confronted with in the span of less than an hour. Her head was spinning, her mind swirling with all the new information as her brain scrambled to process it. In her disoriented state, there was only one question she could manage to voice, “How did something like this come to be?”

“Your father.” 

The doll started at his simple answer. “My father?” She echoed him, pressing on in disbelief when he nodded yet again. “How did that happen?” Catching the lack of faith in her voice, she admonished herself mentally. How could she say that? How could she doubt her divine father and his many talents? She felt ashamed of herself. “W-what I mean is… I know my father’s power over nature is unparalleled, but what does he have to do with the Tree of Life?”

“He was the one who planted it.” He said simply yet again. With a kind of calm that shouldn’t come from someone who kept delivering earth-shattering revelations to his poor, unsuspecting victim. “It is thanks to that fact that we Sadida came to be part of the World of Twelve. And by creating the Tree and instructing our ancestors to build our kingdom around it, the Father of the Tree People ensured our safety. Because, not only was the Tree’s protection assured by keeping his followers near, but we could draw strength and power from it in case we were ever attacked. Especially the Sadida Royal Family.

“The Tree of Life is Sadida’s greatest gift to his followers, Lady Amalia.” King Oakheart proclaimed, the conviction in his tone unwavering as he walked around her and came to stand before the prodigious tree. “Greater even than the very plant-life we worship or the conception of the Primordial Dofus that brought peace and prosperity to our world.”

At the mention of the Dofus, Amalia perked up in curiosity. Now that she thought about it, while she was perfectly aware that her sisters had had a hand in their creation, she didn’t really know all that much about them. So, seeing as King Sheran Sharm was definitely knowledgeable in everything pertaining to his god, she chose to venture. 

“Your Majesty?” She called out tentatively. When she heard his expectant grunt in response, she continued, “Could you please tell me more about the history behind the Primordial Dofus? I’m afraid Father didn’t have much time to tell me everything before sending me to Oma Island, and I wouldn’t really expect the Eliatropes to know much about Twelvian history…”

Understanding immediately flashed through Oakheart’s eyes. Expressing his deep delight over getting to educate the Divine Doll on such matters, he turned back around to face her. He beckoned for her to follow him into the cabin on the other side of the small island with a nod of his head. While the idea of breaking her connection to the Tree of Life and everything it encompassed pained Amalia greatly, she ultimately did as she was told. After all, the Sadida King was willing to entertain her and answer her questions. It was the least she could do. 

As soon as they were both sitting crossed-legged in the cabin, facing each other, King Oakheart dove right into the long history of their world. Amalia could only listen, enraptured, as the man told her about how, apparently, the Primitive Era of their world, the one preceding the creation of the Dofus, was a lawless land. Nothing guaranteed the survival of the Twelvians, forcing the gods to act on behalf of their followers. Lest they risked losing them for good. 

Apparently, it was Osamodas who enlightened his fellows by sharing a well-kept secret: dragon eggs, or Dofus, were artefacts of great power. They could be used to great effect and eventually rid their little world of the scourge tormenting their people. And, more importantly, the more powerful the dragon, the more powerful the Dofus. Which was the reason why the Chief Conspirator suggested they targeted his Primordial Dragons. 

There was only one problem, however: a dragon only laid a Dofus when they were in love. And a dragon’s love had nothing to do with mating—rather, it was the uncanny ability to sense a person’s inherent purity and being moved by it. 

Such a condition left the gods at an impasse. Who could fulfill the gargantuan task of seducing the Primordial Dragons? They couldn’t exactly entrust such a mission to some randomly selected mortals; there was no way of knowing if they would be truly pure or not. (Certainly not the Sram…). Not even the gods and goddesses themselves would be of much help. Not in small part due to the fact that they already knew each other and the dragons had never laid a single Dofus out of love for them. Much to their chagrin and offence, that ruled the deities out. 

In the end, it was Sadida who came up with the perfect solution. As the Doll Master, the nature god was already quite accomplished in the crafting of loyal and extraordinary creatures. Thus, he would create ten Sadida Dolls—the greatest of them all— to seduce the dragons with. And that was exactly what he did. He created ten dolls from scratch, using the finest materials he could get his hands on, such as ogrine hearts to fill them with life. But he didn’t stop there. On the contrary, the Leafy God went out of his way to ensure his dolls, his daughters, would be absolutely exceptional. He gave them all distinctive personalities, so they could form their own thoughts and opinions rather than follow his will blindly. And he gifted each and every one with a part of his power, which he sealed into magical leaves they all would wear, in order to elevate their status to truly divine.

Amalia reached for the leaves hanging from her headband absently, her father’s power pulsing underneath her fingertips. 

When the time came, he sent them all to the Mortal Realm to fulfill their mission. There were ten Primordial Dragons, so he crafted ten Divine Dolls, one assigned to each dragon. Unfortunately, not all of them succeeded. Four of them came back home empty-handed, but from the love the remaining six managed to spark within their assigned dragons’ hearts, the six Primordial Dofus were born. 

Their mission complete, they could finally return home while their father and his fellow gods took care of the rest. They placed the Dofus in a safe place and watched as peace flourished in their world. 

“And that, Your Grace, is how the Six Primordial Dofus all came to be.” Oakheart finished, leaning back in his makeshift seat with his arms crossed in satisfaction. “And it was all part of Sadida’s intervention. No matter what others try to say…” He muttered that part darkly. 

It was a well-known fact that the Sadida and Osamodas races tended to butt heads over whose role in the creation of the Dofus was greater: Sadida’s, since he created the Divine Dolls that kickstarted their creation; or Osamodas’, given that without his dragons, there would have been no Dofus, with or without dolls. Naturally, each race attributed the merit to their own god, so it was unlikely they would ever settle that argument and reach an agreement. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Now I think I understand everything a little more clearly…” The doll trailed off as she bit her lip, her mind elsewhere. Oh, she understood everything better alright, but it had nothing to do with the Dofus. At least, not the Primordial ones. 

The Sadida King’s retelling didn’t just allow her to have a better grasp on the history behind the World of Twelve—it revealed so much about the Eliatropes as well! 

…at the same time as it only raised more questions about the portal-making race.

The more King Sheran Sharm revealed about her sisters’ role in the creation of the Dofus, the more Amalia’s mind wandered back to her time in Oma. Everything she learned in the past few months kept flashing through her mind. Truth be told, the mere mention of the dragon eggs reminded the doll of the fact that, for some reason, the Eliatropes also possessed their own Dofus, which they kept safely away at the throne room. Theirs were also six, in fact.

She still vividly remembered her utter shock when Mina and Phaeris took them out during the ceremonial part of Sacred Dance Day. The way in which they commanded them to manipulate their subjects’ wakfu into recreating the dance responsible for the creation of the Krosmoz…

With a start, her eyes widening as realisation dawned on her, the pieces began to fall into place. According to any Eliatrope you asked, the Krosmoz came to be when the Great Goddess Eliatrope and the Great Dragon began to dance, which only happened in the first place because, seeing as they were the only living souls wandering the immense abyss that preceded the Krosmoz, they inevitably fell in love. 

Dragons only laid eggs when they fell in love!

But the world-shattering revelations didn’t stop then. She thought back to Yugo and his siblings, known amongst their people (since the Twelvians insisted on calling them the ‘Eliatrope Council’) as the ‘Council of Six.’ But there were twelve of them. And Amalia had the feeling it had nothing to do with convenience given the World of Twelve’s rulers also formed the Council of Twelve. No, there had to be more to it. There were twelve siblings forming the Council of Six, and they had six Dofus… Could it be their name actually referred to the fact that the Eliatrope Council was composed of six sets of twins? Six Eliatrope siblings to their six dragon ones… 

“Six Dofus… Six sets of twins… Each set formed by one Eliatrope and one dragon… Dragons only lay Dofus when they fall in love…”

As the answer to her questions materialised in her mind, Amalia gasped. Everything made sense now.

“Something on your mind?” King Oakheart questioned suddenly, though there wasn’t an ounce of judgement in his voice. He had been observing the doll intently as she seemed to ruminate whatever was on her mind; he would be lying if he said watching her expression change wasn’t amusing. 

“Just… Thinking.” She answered carefully. She chose to keep quiet about her discoveries. She would like to ask any of the Eliatrope siblings about them first. She mustered up a small, tired smile. “Today’s been full of surprises, that’s all.”

The king’s gaze softened, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Indeed, it has.” Amalia jerked away in surprise when, with a grunt of effort belying his age, the Sadida man stood up. Her surprise melted away into confusion when he offered her a hand to help her stand up as well. “Although, I’m afraid we aren’t quite finished yet.”

She took it, her brows knitted together. “We’re not?”

“Not quite.” He shook his head. Even more surprising than his admission was the sight of the confident and composed king growing sheepish. “I must admit, Lady Amalia, that I didn’t invite you to the Sadida Kingdom just to show you around.”

“You didn’t?”

“It played a key role, that much is true. However, my true intentions are much simpler than that.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised, given everything I have learned about yourself and your kingdom already… But you have been nothing but courteous and kind so far, Your Majesty.” She smiled up at him, the same comforting feeling that reminded her so much of her father coming back. “I’m willing to place my trust in you.”

King Oakheart regarded her with paternal affection. “You honour me, Lady Amalia. The truth is, I wish for you to meet someone.”

“Oh?” That picked her interest. 

“Then again, you actually know her already. So it’d be more like a proper introduction?”

“Huh?” That left her bewildered. 

Either King Oakheart didn’t notice her confused reaction, or he was very committed to surprising her, because he simply turned to step out of the cabin and the small island guarding the Tree of Life. Blinking at his retreating back, Amalia had no choice but to scramble after him. She couldn’t help but look back when they finally reached the threshold that would guide them back to the throne room, her brown eyes intent on the Tree of Life as it disappeared from view.

Yup. More emotional rollercoasters than at the Trool Fair. 

...................................................................................................................

He had been talking some more to Canar and Renate when he saw her. 

Even if he still wasn’t sure which one was which, Yugo would be lying if he said their company, snobbish as it could sometimes get, wasn’t endlessly entertaining. Especially when the Sadida stepwards made his siblings squirm for a change. He had been in the middle of trying to hide his laughter behind his glass as they shared an embarrassing story from Prince Armand’s childhood in hushed tones when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. 

The ears on his hood immediately perked up in delight, his expression lighting up and his heart skipping a beat as Amalia finally returned to the ballroom alongside the Sadida King. While she had been gone for a while, it nevertheless caught him by surprise to find her stitched-up appearance as striking as when she first transformed. Even though it was true seeing the Divine Doll in all her glory filled him up with warm, fuzzy feelings and a deep sense of admiration, he reluctantly admitted to himself that her horns also made it all that much easier to find her in a room full of people. 

Not like he wouldn’t be able to otherwise. There was no doubt in his mind that his eyes would automatically be drawn to her, always, regardless of where they were. 

He felt Adamaï slide up next to him, both of them watching as King Sheran Sharm spoke quietly with his son all the way over to the other side of the room. Prince Armand gave a firm nod, his expression unchanging, as he went to fetch his wife for what the Emerald Twins were beginning to suspect was going to be an announcement.

Chibi would have been proud, because, as soon as his daughter-in-law was near—though she kept a safe distance from Amalia, her bangs stubbornly hiding her face from view—, King Sheran Sharm’s whole stance changed. His presence alone commanded respect as it drew all eyes to him. 

Quiet murmurs began to fill the air at the same time as lively conversations quieted in anticipation for what their leader was about to say.

“Honourable members of the Eliatrope Council, may I interrupt the celebration by asking for a moment of your time?” He requested respectfully. 

In the blink of an eye, all attending members of the Council of Six had left their places among the party and joined the royal family. A few surprised squeaks resounded around the walls as portals were summoned and dismissed at will. 

As expected, Yugo stood ahead, with Adamaï close behind him. It took everything in his power not to glance in Amalia’s direction, worry for her gripping at his heart as he feared for the worst, however fleetingly. “Is something the matter, Your Majesty?”

He could feel his siblings’ frazzled nerves behind him. While Adamaï remained as cautious as ever and Nora and Qilby were simply curious, if a little apprehensive, Efrim and Phaeris stiffened up immediately. One wouldn’t need their psychic bond to know they believed their worst fears were about to come true and this was all a trap to snatch Amalia away from them. 

The Eliatrope King bristled at the mere thought. Unless she said otherwise, they would have to go through him before so much as thinking about laying a finger on her.

But King Sheran Sharm dispelled all his doubts yet again with another one of his warm smiles. “Not at all, King Yugo. I believe I speak in the name of everyone gathered when I say it’s our pleasure to have you here.”

This time, it was a collective effort not to look in the royal couple’s direction. Something told them not everyone was quite as delighted by their presence as the good king. 

But Yugo wasn’t about to voice those thoughts aloud, or any of his siblings, for that matter. “Oh. In that case, pray tell, what is on your mind?”

“Are my intentions truly that transparent?” The king smirked. 

His fellow mirrored his actions with a competitive smirk of his own. “Well, you did interrupt the festivities to summon us, King Sheran Sharm. One would hardly do such a thing without a reason.”

“Despite your youthful appearance, your wisdom shines through, King Yugo. It is apparent nothing gets past you.” Yugo smiled at his praise, honoured that the Sadida ruler would think so highly of him. After a beat that stretched into an eternity under the intense scrutiny of his expectant subjects, King Oakheart finally acquiesced. “I have called for you because there is something I would like to discuss with you.” His dark eyes met Amalia’s curious ones. “With all of you.”

Nothing would have prepared them for what King Sheran Sharm did next. He raised one large, meaty hand, pointing at something they couldn’t quite glimpse at even as they followed the direction of his limb. 

“Evangelyne, if you would be so kind…”

A chorus of gasps echoed all around the ballroom, the Eliatrope’s own voice —and Amalia’s, he was sure—mingling with the rest. All heads swivelled back in the direction the Sadida King’s hand had been outstretched towards, finally coming to understand he wasn’t pointing at something, but at someone.

Indeed, Evangelyne, the very same Cra woman who had been stationed at the feet of the throne and whom the king had introduced as the most reputed bodyguard in the kingdom, marched towards her speechless audience with assured steps, her head held up high. Once she was finally face to face with the royals, now that she didn’t have her bow at hand impeding her movements, she sank to the floor, one knee bent with her head hanging low, her blonde bangs brushing against her skin. 

“Powerful Sadida, honourable members of the Eliatrope Council. It is an honour to greet you once more.”

The visitors from Oma could only blink in shock at her overly formal behaviour, especially compared to her, still respectful yet subdued, introduction back in the throne room. Even Amalia was standing on her tiptoes to study the Cra over Yugo’s shoulder. Sensing this, the king immediately crouched down ever so slightly to facilitate her view. He also made it a point to focus exclusively on the doll’s sweet smile of gratitude as opposed to his brother’s insufferable smirk. 

They were broken out of their shock by King Oakheart’s fond chuckle as it reverberated from deep within his chest. “At ease, Evangelyne. We all know who you are already.” Evangelyne raised to her feet the second her leader gave her permission to. 

“My apologies, Your Majesty. I simply believed such esteemed guests deserved a far more respectful greeting than the one I presented them with when we first met.”

“Oh, how ironic that carrying a bow does not allow one to bow properly, am I right?”

A placid smile spread across the Cra’s lips, illuminating her otherwise serious features. “Certainly, Your Majesty. It is most ironic.” 

Then, the bodyguard did something unexpected. She focused her keen, green eyes solely on Amalia, who couldn’t help but start under her scrutiny. Under her gaze, the Divine Doll was overcome by the feeling of her stitches tightening around her joints so hard they could snap at any moment, tearing her limbs in half, and of her horns growing heavier by the second. 

The doll narrowed her eyes, bracing herself for the worst, her jaw set. She had already dealt with one blonde nuisance’s insolence, she would not put up with another’s. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Miss Evangelyne?” She kept her tone as even as possible, still careful of how her actions might reflect on the Eliatropes. 

To her surprise, the blonde woman simply turned her gaze towards King Oakheart, her green pools expectant. “Ah, the one who wishes to tell you something is me, Your Grace.”

The doll turned her confused eyes to the monarch. She already knew the surprises were far from over, but that still didn’t really help soothe her nerves any. “King Oakheart?”

He shared a meaningful look with his son, who nodded encouragingly back at him. “After much deliberation, Armand and I have decided it would be best to send Evangelyne to Oma Island alongside you, Lady Amalia, as we hope she will be able to serve you as your lady-in-waiting and bodyguard.”

Someone dropped their glass on the floor, its crashing sound perfectly encapsulating Amalia’s reality. 

To be perfectly honest, after being in the presence of the Tree of Life, when King Oakheart told her there was one last person he wished for her to meet, Amalia was ready to be underwhelmed. She really didn’t mean to be rude or condescending, but she found it a little hard to believe anything or anyone could compare to the literal life source of an entire race. 

Only for the king to throw this curveball at her and force her to eat her words. 

She was still trying to process what was going on when she took the first step forward and away from the Sheran Sharms’ united front, by-stepping Yugo and the others, headed straight for the Cra. Her head tilted, the leaves from her headband following her movements, she took cautious steps in her direction, studying her carefully. 

The blonde had risen to her feet from her bowed down position on the floor, her back straight as an arrow, standing firm like a soldier waiting for orders from her superior. Her chin was lifted, but not in defiance, and her bright green eyes seemed to be appraising the doll as intently as she was doing her. 

Amalia didn’t know how to feel about that. Especially when Evangelyne’s striking beauty didn’t diminish at all in the last hour or so they hadn’t spoken, and the archer’s intense gaze on her only made her feel more self-conscious about her own appearance. She crossed her arms over her torso in what she hoped appeared to be a display of authority, but was truly a desperate attempt at hiding her stitches from view. She didn’t even bother to try and hide her horns. 

Finally, she reached her. “So, you’d be my lady-in-waiting and bodyguard, huh?” She tilted her head to the side, confused. “What exactly does that mean?”

If the blonde was surprised by her lack of knowledge, she didn’t show. “It means my duty will be twofold, Your Grace. On the one hand, as your bodyguard, I will be acting as your protector, looking after you and ensuring you aren’t in danger. And, on the other hand, as your lady-in-waiting, I will be your assistant and companion. Wherever you go, I will follow.”

A part of the Divine Doll couldn’t help but feel offended at the implication that she needed to be protected. The mere reminder of Efrim’s accusations about her being too weak and reliant on Yugo still left a bitter taste in her mouth. One she had to force herself to push down as she clocked in on a very specific word. 

Evangelyne’s perfectly composed exterior finally cracked for the first time when Amalia’s face lit up with the widest grin she had ever seen, and she took her hands in hers. She could only look on, startled, as the Divine Doll suddenly regarded her with near manic glee. 

“Oh, a companion! How wonderful!” She exclaimed, still holding her hands. “I have never had one before!”

“Never?” Prince Armand questioned, an accusatory tone in his voice. 

But Nora, already suspecting what he was trying to imply, was quick to shut that down. 

“Amalia has complete freedom to roam around Oma Island and to do whatever she pleases. And while me and my siblings, and especially our king, are more than willing to spend time with her,” she sent a meaningful look Yugo’s way, who tried very hard not to blush as all eyes fell on him, “she still has duties and responsibilities of her own that keep her busy.” Behind her mask, she smirked at the way the prince pouted at having his refutals rebuked. “She barely has the chance to feel lonely, Your Highness, I assure you.”

“That’s not to say Lady Amalia wouldn’t necessarily benefit from having more people around.” Phaeris pointed out, trying to smooth things out. He loved Nora to death, but sometimes she had the tact of a drunk gobball. 

Hearing Nora and Phaeris cover for her blunder, Amalia couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish, and very embarrassed. She had completely forgotten this decision didn’t just affect herself, but the actual rulers of Oma Island, too. It wasn’t just her call to make. 

She finally let go of Evangelyne’s hands and made her way back to Yugo and the rest of the Council. The pit in her stomach only grew when she looked back at the Sheran Sharms and saw their slightly concerned gazes. Well, except for Aurora. Her otherwise dull or malicious red eyes shone with an odd mix of impatience and stand-offishness. For a moment, the doll bristled at that, seriously tempted by the idea of putting her in her place for daring to disrespect her a second time. But she held herself back long enough to realise the Osamodas seemed to be staring right through her… 

And straight at Evangelyne. 

She raised an eyebrow in intrigue. Looks like Her Highness had a lot of people on her black list. The doll could only wonder what poor Evangelyne must have done to earn her scorn. 

Catching her train of thought, she reprimanded herself and shook those thoughts away. She had much bigger seeds to plant. 

“Your Majesty, I am truly grateful for your kindness and consideration towards me. Knowing my father’s followers have my safety and well-being at the forefront of their minds fills me with joy.” Her hand on her chest as means of conveying her sincerity, she raised her head to stare deep into their eyes. “But I cannot, in good conscience, accept this offer if it means overriding Yugo and the Council of Six’s authority.”

“Amalia…” Yugo breathed out, already extending a hand towards her. The king’s next words halted all movement. 

“Well, my Lady, we intended to ask for the Eliatrope Council’s opinion all along.” He explained. 

By his side, Prince Armand went on, “As you said, we understand this decision affects not only you, Your Grace. What my father failed to convey when he made his announcement was that we would like for Evangelyne to serve you in Oma, with the Council’s permission.”

“My son is right. Forgive my clumsy wording. In my excitement, I got ahead of myself.”

Before the doll could so much as open her mouth again, the familiar feeling of Yugo’s comforting hand on her shoulder caused her to glance up at him in surprise. Careful not to hit him with her horns. He was smiling down at her, just as he always did when she needed him the most. 

Her heart thudded in her chest. 

The Eliatrope King flicked his eyes, intense and resolute, back to the Sadida Royal Family. “Powerful Sadida, it would be an honour and a privilege for us to be able to house someone as reputed as Miss Evangelyne in Oma Island. I am sure, this will be a great opportunity for all of us.”

Having Evangelyne around would actually be tremendously beneficial in more ways than one. On the one hand, having a Cra living in Oma would allow them to get to know her race without the risk of offending her people if they reached out to them first. And, on the other, more pressing hand, a bodyguard that remained by her side from dawn to dusk was exactly what Amalia needed. That way, she would be protected even without him and his siblings there in case that winged woman chose to return.

As he spoke, one by one, his siblings came to stand by his side, a clear sign of their support for the king. Naturally, the first one to step forward was Adamaï, coming to stand on the other side of the doll. The message was clear: even if they were willing to accept the Cra woman as her new bodyguard, the Emerald Twins would always look after Amalia themselves. Then came Phaeris, followed shortly after by Qilby, who wore an unreadable expression. Discreet as they were, the doll didn’t miss the way Nora had to bully her twin into accepting yet another outsider into their territory, but before long, all six of them were standing tall and proud. 

They were a united front. Whatever Yugo decided, they would follow through with it. 

As touched as Amalia was by both the Eliatrope and Sadida royals’ dedication to her comfort and safety, and as much as she didn’t wish to disrespect either of them, there was a gnawing feeling in the back of her head that wouldn’t let her enjoy the moving moment. Something wasn’t right. 

Her brown eyes trailed over her bodyguard-to-be and the knot at the pit of her stomach only tightened. She pursed her lips, her mind set, and closed the distance between herself and the archer once more, this time leaving a respectful distance between them, ignoring the others as they stared at her in confusion.

“And what do you think about this arrangement, Evangelyne? Do you truly wish to come to Oma with us?”

Her green brows rose when the Cra jerked away at her simple question. She actually seemed surprised to be asked for her opinion at all. After a moment, however, a soft smile drew itself onto her features. A genuine one. 

“While I appreciate your concern, Your Grace, it is unnecessary.” She gestured back at the king and prince. “His Majesty already made sure I was in agreement long before even suggesting the idea to you. And, as I told him, nothing would please me more.” Her smile turned a little softer, warmer, like a big sister trying to reassure a younger sibling. “Please, trust me, Lady Amalia. I have been raised in the Sadida Kingdom my whole life, with serving its royal family and people being my life mission. Nothing would make me happier than being your bodyguard and lady-in-waiting on their behalf.”

Despite her reassurances, Amalia wasn’t convinced. “But… What about your life here? Are you really willing to leave it all behind just on the king’s orders?”

“With all due respect, Your Grace,” The blonde cut her off by raising her hand. Mimicking the doll’s actions from earlier, she leaned forward and grasped her hands in hers. “It is not King Oakheart’s orders I’d be following.”

She blinked. “They’re not?”

“Only partly.” The Cra admitted with a shake of her golden locks. “You see, the Goddess Cra tasked me with the mission of guarding Sadida’s daughter herself, and as her loyal follower, I could never refuse her anything.”

At this, it was hard to tell whose eyes were bigger from shock—Amalia’s or the entire Council’s.

“Wait, Cra told you to look after me?” Amalia couldn’t help but ask, incredulous. She knew the Lady of the Bolt and her father were close friends, but for her to go out of her way and entrust her safety to one of her followers…

“Between you and me,” Evangelyne continued, breaking her out of her shock. “It is not everyday one is entrusted with the monumental task of assisting a demigoddess by her own goddess. I know a few people who would kill to be in my place.” The impish smirk she wore faded into a much gentler smile. She even grew bold enough to squeeze the doll’s hand in reassurance. “So, trust me when I say that going to Oma with you and assisting you is no obligation at all, but a great honour I’d be foolish not to carry out.”

The Divine Doll stood motionless for a moment, her brain too astonished to process her words. But when it finally did, she broke into the widest grin, touched tears welling in her eyes, even if she didn’t dare let them fall. 

“Thank you, Evangelyne. That means a lot to me.”

Suddenly, a large shadow fell over both young women, causing them to look up in surprise. They found King Oakheart smiling kindly down at them. “Why don’t you two spend some time together to get to know each other better? It should do you some good to have something to build upon in Oma.”

Exchanging a glance, the two smiled and agreed with the monarch, thanking him for his advice before disappearing into the crowd. Yugo watched them go, a fond smile on his lips as he watched Amalia, happy because he knew she was over the moon over the idea of potentially making a new friend. The doll was a very sociable creature. Always on the lookout for more people to connect with. 

This would definitely be good for her in more ways than one.

He was so entranced, he almost forgot to mask his irritation when Adamaï elbowed him in his side. Hard. A scowl already twisting his features, he didn’t have the chance to demand answers before his twin pointed discreetly with his tail at the Sadida ruler now that he didn’t seem to be too busy. 

Eyes widening at the reminder, the Eliatrope King immediately knew what to do. He marched up to King Sheran Sharm and cleared his throat to get his attention. 

“Your Majesty, may I have a word with you, please?”

.......................................................................................................................

“Would I be wrong to assume you, too, have your own reasons for asking to speak with me, King Yugo?”

Yugo couldn’t help but flinch in surprise at his keen eye. King Oakheart had thankfully agreed to dedicate some of his time to him, saying it would be much better to take their impromptu meeting outside of the ballroom. Truth be told, the Eliatrope had been so engrossed by the arboreal beauty of the palace corridors, the Sadida’s question was like a bucket of cold water, bringing him back to the cruel reality. 

He almost laughed humourlessly at himself. Back in the day, when they first discovered the planet they had decided to settle down at was inhabited, Qilby had commented they would vastly outdo the natives in all aspects thanks to their long-lived existence and technological superiority. And yet, here this man was. Centuries younger than him, and he could still see through him as if he were made out of glass. 

However, Qilby was right in one thing. Their technology was superior. 

Yugo let out a self-conscious chuckle. “Is it really that obvious, Your Majesty?”

“You don’t make it very far as ruler if you don’t learn a few things from meeting up with the rest of the world leaders.” His smile was understanding, kind. “One of the first few things you learn, in fact, it’s that when a king asks to speak with you in private, he has some ulterior motive in mind.”

The Eliatrope blanched at that, his hands raised in supplication. “None of that, King Oakheart! I would never wish you harm!”

“I never said you did.” The Sadida raised an eyebrow, his smile quirking into a smirk. “I’m just saying, there is something you want from me. And I wonder, what is it?”

“Would you be willing to listen to what I have to say?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to joining you in the first place if I didn’t plan to all along.”

Nodding gravely, Yugo took a deep breath. “I need your assistance with something, Your Majesty.” He looked him dead in the eye, his expression unflinching. “You’re the only one who can help me. Help my people.”

For the second time that evening, King Sheran Sharm’s features hardened, his wakfu roiling with a mix of suspicion and unease. “Does this have anything to do with Lady Amalia? Is there any problem?”

For a moment, Yugo considered mentioning the incident with the spy to his fellow ruler, to gouge out his reaction or, at the very least, ask his opinion on who could have been. He pursed his lips into a thin line. No, that would be too foolish and risky. If the king was involved, he would never confess to it willingly, and if he wasn’t, he risked breaking the tentative trust the Sadida seemed to be willing to extend to his people. 

“Rest assured, King Oakheart. Amalia is perfectly fine. Nothing is the matter.” Especially now that she would have an extra pair of eyes watching over her in the form of Evangelyne. “In fact, I actually owe the idea I’m about to share with you to her. Hadn’t it been for her, we never would have thought of it!”

“I see. How intriguing.” The green-haired man visibly relaxed. His brow was still creased in cautious curiosity, however. “And, pray tell, what is it you need my help with, exactly?”

The Eliatrope King stopped in his tracks, putting an end to their leisurely walk around the palace. His cape rustled as he turned to face his fellow ruler, who mimicked his movements, only more deliberately. His steel-cold determination shone in his brown eyes, his mind made up and his decision set in stone. 

He couldn’t afford to waste any time, otherwise, he risked losing his nerve and floundering with his words. 

“I’ll be frank, Your Majesty.” He started strong, causing the Sadida leader’s brows to rise. A silent sign for him to continue. “It is no secret that we, Eliatropes, are struggling to adapt to the World of Twelve. More specifically, we look back at everything that has happened since we arrived, and we know we are not welcomed here.

“Your people do not accept us, and that is a fact. In the eyes of Twelvians, we are nothing but outsiders overstaying their welcome. And that…” His fists clenched at his sides, thankfully hidden by the fabric of his cloak. “That is something that, as king, weighs heavily on my mind. It wasn’t until Amalia’s arrival that things began to change.” His lips quirked into a sad, yet immensely fond, smile. “In a way, we owe it all to her.”

“And you want me to help you gain that acceptance.” It wasn’t a question. “I’m guessing due to my people’s loyalty to Lady Amalia?”

Yugo raised his head; he still wasn’t fully used to having to crane his neck to look somebody in the eye. Usually, other people had to do that with him.

“With all due respect, King Oakheart, I am not stupid. The Eliatropes aren’t stupid.” He made sure to emphasise his point, his voice hard. “We hold no delusions that we were ever invited to Bonta or your kingdom for any other reason than her. Because she inspires more awe and admiration in you than we do fear and mistrust. And, if I may be so bold, according to Amalia, she was sent here to act as the bridge between our civilisations—we would be fools not to take advantage of the situation.”

King Sheran Sharm remained impassive, just listening to the Eliatrope monarch as he spoke with a raised eyebrow. 

“So, forgive me when I say that, yes, I hope you will be able to help me precisely because of how much Amalia, as Sadida’s youngest, means to you and your kingdom.”

Without a word, the king resumed his march down the hallways. That took Yugo aback, a flicker of fear taking hold of his heart. Maybe he had taken things too far and lost his one chance at forging a powerful alliance that would have helped with his people’s inclusion in this world. Heart in his throat, he picked up the pace until he was walking side by side the Sadida again. 

“Your Majesty…?” He tried, only for the man’s deep baritone voice to cut through the silence like a knife. 

“I must admit, I admire your pragmatism.” Oakheart said. “Sadida knows wearing the crown comes with difficult decisions.” He shot the Eliatrope a wayward glance. “Am I right to assume you wish for me to put in a good word for you next time the Council of Twelve meets up?”

His brows rose when Yugo shook his head. “No, King Oakheart. Not quite.” 

So simple, and yet those words hid so much meaning. 

“Then what is it that you want me to do for you?”

“I want you to call a council meeting; one where the Council of Six will get to be present.”

The Sadida’s eyes widened at his request, his mouth agape. Yugo bit down on his bottom lip, concern at the idea of being rejected coiling around his heart. He started, blinking in surprise, when all the king did was throw his head back and laugh loudly instead. 

A short eternity passed before King Sheran Sharm, still holding his rotund belly, finally quieted down. With a few more wayward chuckles, he wiped a tear off the corner of his eye and sighed. “There are no words to describe how much I admire your boldness, King Yugo.” He admitted. “I must say, it’s quite the welcomed change after an entire lifetime of people trying to conceal their true intentions behind protocol and overly polite, overly pompous lexicon.”

The hooded Eliatrope felt hope flicker in his heart. “Does that mean you will help me?”

He smirked down at him. “I’d be willing to.” Before Yugo could celebrate, however, he raised one meaty finger in the air. “But, I would like to know what you have in mind beforehand. You have to understand, King Yugo, my fellow council members are bound to take offence to being ambushed into meeting you. I need proof that by helping you, I will not risk straining my own relationship with my allies.”

Yugo grinned and nodded. “Certainly, King Oakheart. This is actually where Amalia’s idea comes into play.”

“Oh?”

And so, he told him of the Zaap Portals. Of how his people could travel to faraway lands thanks to them, without the need to spend a fortune on recall potions, and with the added benefit of their unlimited uses. King Oakheart didn’t bother to mask his fascination with the idea, but he also couldn’t help but point out that many people wouldn’t be happy at the possibility of their businesses going bankrupt due to not being able to compete with a much cheaper, more convenient means of transportation. Especially the Enutrofs.

Luckily, Chibi and Grougal had already thought about all that and let him know. Given how challenging it was to replicate Eliatrope technology with Twelvian materials, it would not be possible to build Zaaps everywhere, so for the time being, they would have to limit themselves to certain key areas. Preferably, the ones that got the most traffic. That way, people wouldn’t have to go bankrupt every time they wished to go to Bonta, and at the same time, recall potion sales wouldn’t suffer as much either. 

King Oakheart ruminated the Eliatrope’s words for a moment. It certainly would help shorten travelling time for many adventurers, travellers, and merchants, making their journeys safer, and he himself had lamented how inconvenient their current method was. It was almost too good to be true. 

“Are you sure you will be able to build these Zaaps you speak of outside of Oma Island?”

Yugo nodded, confident in his odds. “I have already talked about this with my brothers. They’re great inventors, and the minds behind their creation in the first place. They have been doing tests for a while now; according to them, Zaap Portals should be fully operative even outside of the island.”

A beat passed where the Sadida King remained silent. Yugo could only hope he was simply weighing the pros and cons of his proposal—and that the pros far outnumbered the cons. His heart kept hammering in his chest louder and louder with every second that ticked by, sweat pooling on his forehead. He had to use every ounce of self-restraint he possessed not to fidget in his place. He could feel a twitch in his eye begin to manifest when at last…

“What do you need me to do?”

He had to suppress the urge to sigh in relief. “You gather the Council of Twelve. My siblings and I will pitch the idea to them.”

King Sheran Sharm placed a hand over his heart, his head bowed down slightly as a sign of respect. “You have my word, King Yugo of the Eliatropes. So shall it be.”

They sealed the deal by shaking hands and agreed to keep in touch as they both finalised the details on their respective ends of the bargain. Yugo couldn’t help but smile. It looked like things were finally looking up. 

.............................................................................................................................

Efrim’s deep blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched Yugo leave with the Sadida King. Between leaving them to their own devices before the celebration and retreating Eliatrope knows where with both the Divine Doll and now his brother, their host didn’t exactly do a lot of hosting. No matter, at least he wasn’t trying to talk to him. 

Beautiful as this place was, between the humiliation of being mistaken for the Divine Doll twice by the same crazy old bush, and witnessing firsthand how the prince’s Osamodas consort insulted the Divine Doll, it only really served to confirm what he already knew. The Twelvians were a dishonourable, disrespectful bunch. 

If he was being honest with himself, a part of him, the one that was embittered by the way the doll seemed to have everyone under her thrall, felt vindicated when Princess Aurora confronted her. It was nice to know she didn’t have everyone at her beck and call. Even so, when the blonde venomously implied she wasn’t truly divine, his old acquaintance, outrage, chose to pay him a visit. Yes, he had to admit he felt offended on the doll’s behalf, but only because that harpy single-handedly showed her and her fellow Twelvians’ true colours—they were arrogant and duplicitous, bordering on heretic. 

Never in all his years had he seen a mortal who dared question a demigod’s parentage. No Eliatrope in their right mind would ever suggest the Council of Six wasn’t descended by the Great Goddess herself! 

He’d shown himself contrarian to the humiliation the Sadida Doll had put the princess through, and with good reason. What kind of regal demigoddess let herself be swayed by one person’s insults and potentially initiate some sort of political conflict with another royal family? It was simply unbecoming. 

But if that fashion-challenged, horned, overgrown emo brat ever dared breath a word about Efrim or his siblings, he would turn her into a roasted gobball chop before she even had the chance to blink. 

He chomped down on yet another bun soaked in that mysterious, aromatic sauce of the Sadida. With an appreciative hum, he brought it closer to his eye level to better appraise it before swallowing the rest whole. He didn't know how, but these people managed to turn an assortment of vegetables, roots, and wheat-based products into a veritable feast. He wasn’t sure if it was due to how delicious the food was or his swallowing down his frustrations, but he had been stuffing his face since they arrived at the ballroom. 

The presence of an otherworldly, snarling, starving dragon might have also been the reason why the other guests steered clear off the refreshments table. Not like Efrim was complaining. 

But the layers upon layers of ulterior motives interwoven in this ‘invitation’, that he would complain about to Shukrute and back. 

His scowl deepened, his sapphire orbs not once leaving the door Yugo and King Sheran Sharm had been headed towards even after they were long gone. He knew his brother and king had a plan that somehow involved the doll, Chibi and Grogaloragran, and now the Sadida King, apparently. Its completion being the reason why the Ebony Twins stayed behind. But that didn’t mean he liked the way they kept indebting themselves to the Twelvians when they had always been perfectly capable of getting by on their own. 

And whenever you had debts, you had no choice but to pay on the other person’s terms. 

His eyes flickered to where his king’s precious flower was; as he shook in rage, he crumbled the pastry in his claw, the filling smearing all over his palm and dripping onto the table. She and that Cra woman had retreated to the far corner of the room. Soon enough, they tuned out everyone around them, too engrossed in their own conversation to even care. 

It was simply sickening.

First, the Divine Doll just waltzed into their lives and blackmailed them into taking her in lest they incurred the twelve gods’ wrath. Then, the Bontarian emissary came and went as he pleased, always bringing a demand from this world’s egomaniac rulers with him. And now this? Now they were forced to accept yet another stranger into their lives just because she was meant to act in the doll’s favour?!

It wasn’t bad enough that his siblings had so readily fallen for their trap, but they had the nerve to keep him from voicing his dissent! They stripped him of his one chance to put his foot down (metaphorically speaking) and refuse to be cowed into submission by a bunch of tree-huggers. They drowned him out, and for what? All in that forsaken doll’s name! 

His own family had cast him aside in her favour, but soon they would see. Soon, they would realise how wrong they were for ever doubting him. Even if he couldn’t risk offending the gods by hurting the Sadida Doll, he would show them how this world and its natives could not be trusted. 

Starting with that Cra. 

Almost as if she’d been able to hear his thoughts with those big ears of hers, the blonde bodyguard perked up then. Her green eyes flitted back and forth in search of something, until they met his icy blue ones. She squinted. Efrim narrowed his eyes back at her, fully expecting her to recoil under the intensity of his gaze and look away. A wave of shame overcame the periwinkle dragon when all she did was meet his scowl with a glare of her own, silently warning him not to underestimate her, and he found himself averting his eyes instead. 

He was so busy trying to save face, he almost didn’t notice when a tall, pompous presence slid up next to him at the table. 

“Is there any root soup left?”

Speaking of people he’d rather swallow nails whole than interact with… It was Prince Armand. 

Nevertheless, no matter how much he didn’t want to, he was in the presence of the future king of this realm. He should at least pretend to feel even a smidge of respect for him. 

His scowl settling into forced neutrality, he jerked his maw at a stimming pot a few plates to his left. “I believe there is still some left, Your Highness.”

“Thank you.” The Sadida’s response was just as curt. Efrim watched him from his periphery as he leaned over to grab a wooden bowl, before opening the lid and pouring himself some of that creamy, green soup with the ladle. 

Just like that, the two of them came to eat their food in silence, standing at opposite sides of the table as they watched the going-ons around them with forced interest. 

At least, until the annoying prince broke the quiet, “Is there a reason why your brother insisted on talking to my father in the middle of the festivities he’s holding in your honour?”

“I was under the impression that they were in the Divine Doll’s honour.” Efrim said flatly. 

“They are. But my father hoped to make this experience pleasurable for you as well.” He replied, not bothering to look up from his plate. “To have the king of a completely different realm be so committed to your comfort is a great honour.”

“Is there a note of bitterness I hear in your voice, my Prince?”

Under any other circumstances, Efrim would have grimaced at his own boldness. Undeserving of respect as these people were, he knew better than to get on another royal’s bad side, especially one as prideful as Prince Sheran Sharm. But there was no denying the Sadida’s tone was clipped and stern. Far too much for someone who was simply hard to deal with. 

No, something had hurt the prince’s pride long before they arrived at his kingdom. And he had a pretty good guess as to why. 

To his credit, Armand feigned ignorance. “Bitterness, you say? No, nothing further from the truth. Whatever could make you think that?”

“Just a hunch, I suppose.” The dragon pretended to hum in thought, his shoulders bobbing up and down in a half-hearted shrug. Though his wording was still measured. 

Apparently, measured or not, that was the wrong answer. The prince’s temper flared. He didn’t manage to control his anger enough, so when he placed his bowl back down on the table, he ended up slamming it against it, rattling the other refreshments spread out around them. He finally turned to his ‘guest’, an accusation in his eyes. 

“Pray tell, Master Efrim.” He started through gritted teeth. “What exactly brought forth this hunch you speak of? What could have I possibly done to make you believe I am bitter about anything at all?”

The Turquoise dragon had to use every ounce of self-restraint that he possessed not to gesture as the young royal from head to toe as means of answer. Instead, he chewed deliberately slowly, secretly enjoying the way Prince Armand’s patience seemed to thin with each passing second—that he might or might not have been intentionally dragging out. After what he was sure felt like an eternity, he finally swallowed and simply said: 

“You keep talking about your father and his involvement with us, but you have yet to express your own opinion on the matter. This all leads me to believe you aren’t quite as approving of our presence as you claim.”

He allowed a small smirk to tug at the corner of his maw when the heir’s haughty frown faltered. Looks like he hit a nerve—or was it a root?

He didn’t have much time to relish in his own perceptiveness before Prince Armand turned the tables on him. “And what about you, Master Efrim?”

He frowned. “What about me?” He asked, his voice lowering an octave or two in warning. 

He bristled when the prince actually chuckled at him, his tail flickering menacingly like a snake ready to pounce. 

“Oh, please, Your Grace.” Armand flashed him a snide look, arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t be coy with me. You are as enthused to be here as I am to welcome you. Maybe even less so.”

The dragon’s sapphire orbs widened as he jerked back slightly in surprise. Had he really been that obvious? He thought he kept his unease well-hidden. He narrowed his eyes on the prince, almost imperceptibly, yet appraisingly. Perhaps he was more observant than he originally gave him credit for. 

Never mind that. That would be the last time he let a Twelvian catch him with his guard down. 

“Can you really blame me, Your Highness?” He asked rhetorically. Refusing to let that arrogant prince look down on him, either literally or figuratively, he squared up his shoulders and shifted the length of his tail to stand more upright, until he was eye level with the taller man. “Your people haven’t really given me reasons to trust you.”

Armand’s smug smirk was as dangerous as a Sram’s blade. 

“However, the rest of your family seems perfectly at ease around us.” He was quick to point out. He felt a flicker of satisfaction at the way the dragon snarled at the reminder. He opened his maw to speak, but Armand wouldn’t let him. Not until he said his piece. 

“I am very curious to know why you think we haven’t exactly given you reasons to trust us, however. Were you not invited by the Queens of Bonta to a banquet where you were introduced to this world’s leaders? Haven’t we chosen to trust you with Lady Amalia’s safety, even though she is much more important to us than you will ever understand? And hasn’t my father invited you to our kingdom as a sign of good will?”

With each word that left his mouth, while the prince’s tone didn’t grow louder, it certainly became more accusatory, more ruthless. Like a Rogue tearing into an unsuspecting victim crossing a dark alley until they had nothing on them but their underwear. His face was twisted into an ugly snarl, one that Efrim met with a scowl of his own. It only got worse when Armand began to gesture at him and his siblings scattered all over the ballroom. 

“Conversely, what have your people done to prove to us that you are trustworthy?” He demanded, taking a step closer into Efrim’s personal space until he was practically breathing in his face. Challenging him. “You arrive out of nowhere and settle in our world without so much as a warning, let alone asking for permission. You trespass the sanctity of our Council meetings, showing nothing but disrespect for us, all the while you demand we accept you and embrace you as one of us. Even when you get what you want and are granted permission to come to our kingdom, our home, you have the audacity to act like we are beneath you.”

His next words were unforgiving. “And yet you dare ask why I don’t roll over for you like some trained Bow Wow? Don’t flatter yourself, Your Grace. You are simply not worthy of our trust.”

Efrim could already feel the raging fire of fury burning deep within him, his fangs gnashed as a deep, guttural growl resonated from his throat. 

“You say we’re unworthy of trust?” He repeated, his voice dripping with equal parts outrage and disbelief. “We are not the ones who responded to a peaceful, if poorly timed, introduction by sending about a dozen warriors after your king’s head!” He accused, ice and fire in his voice.  

“Warriors who claim your king defeated them in combat single-handedly!” Armand shot back. “And you expect us to believe your presence here doesn’t pose a threat to us all?!”

“Not any more than having over a dozen kingdoms and nations be constantly wary of us, making us live under the constant threat of war breaking out at a large scale!”

Fists clenched tightly to his sides, his teeth gritted as he forced himself to calm down enough so as to not bring attention to himself, Armand groaned in furious exasperation. “Why Sadida and my father thought it wise to entrust Lady Amalia to you is beyond me.” He ground out with a sniff, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to entertain the dragon’s insolence any longer. 

The Turquoise dragon mirrored his actions. “And I will never understand why Yugo thought it would be a good idea to come here.”

A beat passed where they remained in silence, each of them stewing on their thoughts. Little by little, their anger ebbed away, their jumbled thoughts going from incoherent flashes of anger to more pensive, interwoven reflections. 

Even so, Efrim refused to budge an inch. Let that arrogant, foolish prince feel the full extent of his ire. He knew nothing about him. He knew nothing about his siblings, about the Eliatropes. He did not know what it was like to lose everything you held dear in the most tragic, most unfair ways, and all because you trusted the wrong people. Although, given the woman he chose as his wife, the dragon figured it was only a matter of time before he experienced a similar feeling of betrayal, and all because he surrounded himself with the wrong company. 

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he actually started when the Sadida Prince finally, and surprisingly, broke the silence. “Am I wrong to assume you, too, know what it’s like to be ignored by your king? To have no choice but to do his bidding even when you know he is in the wrong?”

Efrim blinked a few times at the young heir, who returned his stare, a flicker of vulnerability shining in his stern eyes for the first time the entire evening. As soon as it arrived, it disappeared, and with it the dragon’s own unmasked bewilderment. His expression hardened once more as they averted each other’s gaze. 

“Not like this is any of your concern,” he spat out venomously, before his voice softened, almost wistfully. “But I would be lying if I said I don’t ever find fault in my king’s ideas, even when the rest of the Council chooses not to question him…” He muttered that part, almost to himself. He shook his head. Not one to show his cards without at least taking a peek at his opponent’s, he tentatively ventured, “Am I right to assume you don’t always see eye to eye with your father either?”

Armand let out a mirthless chuckle, almost a scoff. “Do not misunderstand, I love and respect my father immensely. He is a great king, and he’s taught me all I know.”

The dragon raised an eyebrow. There was a ‘but’ in there somewhere. 

“But…” There it was. “Sometimes I can’t help but feel as if he’s grown softer with age.” He said quietly. Judging from the way he clenched his jaw and his eyes gained a misty quality, Efrim was willing to bet against an Ecaflip that it wasn’t just old age that had changed the king, but he chose against pointing it out. “He is far too forgiving and trusting. Especially when it comes to strangers and outsiders. It’s as if he willfully chooses to blind himself to the potential risk trusting the wrong people poses! Like he chooses to forget everything he has learned over the years. All the while—!”

“All the while he completely ignores your concerns, seemingly placing more faith in some stranger over his own flesh and blood.” Efrim finished bitterly, causing Prince Armand to snap his head in his direction, his mouth agape from shock. 

But he ignored it. 

His claws strengthened their hold on his crossed arms, his tail twirling around himself as a myriad of emotions coiled around his heart. Disbelief at the idea that a Twelvian could ever relate to his feelings. Frustration at Yugo and their siblings for constantly shrugging him off. Devastation, for he doubted even his own twin sister was on his side anymore. Fury at the Divine Doll for causing all this. 

Prince Armand took the words right out of his mouth. “Indeed…” He agreed, his tone low and distant. “All you want to do is help, to prove yourself worthy of his trust and of the place you’re bound to occupy one day. But does it matter?”

“No, of course not!” Efrim scoffed. “No matter how hard you try, it is never enough because it doesn’t align with his beliefs.”

“I have plans for this kingdom, Master Efrim.” He confessed, staring straight ahead even as the dragon set his dark blue gaze on him. “Plans meant to bring it back to its former glory. Meant to ensure we won’t have to grovel before Bonta, or the Council of Twelve, or anybody else as we ask for help that might never come. All I need is for my father to trust me, to believe in me like he believes in Lady Amalia and even your people!” He scoffed with a shake of his head. “But does he ever regard me with pride and faith? No. Even now, all he sees is a child who still has a lot to learn before he can ascend to the throne.”

There was a beat of silence after Armand’s venting. For a while, all Efrim did was regard the Sadida prince in curiosity, his head tilted to the side as he observed the prince pant and rub at his face with one hand. For his part, Armand was about to apologise for his unsightly outburst, so utterly unbecoming of a future king, when—.

“All I ever wanted to do was protect my people.” The dragon admitted softly, his words almost a whisper, staring straight ahead and away from the Sadida royal. “All I wish is for them to be happy and safe, but there is no way we will ever achieve that in a world that doesn’t want us.”

Armand felt stricken by the admission, humbled, even. All this time, he thought the Eliatropes and their dragons were nothing but a bunch of invaders who aimed to lower their guards and steal their world right under their noses when they least expected it. Truth be told, he still didn’t rule that possibility out. He couldn’t, not yet. But arguing with the dragon by his side and learning they shared many goals and aspirations, even their frustrations with their respective family members… It did something to him. Something he never thought possible. 

“I suppose…” He started hesitantly. “I suppose that means we are more alike than we thought.”

The dragon’s long neck snapped back to the prince, his eyes as wide as saucers. His first instinct was to argue, to deny any resemblance between the two. But just as he had the vehement retort at the tip of his tongue, the same combative fire he’d come to know so well over the last few years died out. 

Loathe as he was to admit it, Prince Armand had a point. It was astounding, but true. Somehow, he related more with a Twelvian and vice versa than he did with his own siblings, even Nora. 

So, instead of gutting the Sadida with one of his scathing remarks, he simply said. “I suppose we do.”

Armand nodded. Then, he shot Efrim a sideways glance. “Oh, and don’t worry about Evangelyne.” When he shot him an incredulous look, he just chuckled. “I noticed you staring in her direction as I came over for some soup.” He explained calmly, and Efrim stiffened, concerned over the possible scolding he was about to receive. “I know I can’t ask you to just trust her, Sadida knows I wouldn’t keep my eyes off an outsider until they’d proven themselves. But, for what it’s worth, Eva is truly one of the most trustworthy people I have ever met. Assigning her to Lady Amalia wasn’t just my father’s choice, you know?”

“Eva?” He couldn’t help but wonder, squinting his eyes. He heard her say she had been raised in the Sadida Kingdom, but that sounded far too affectionate for it to be merely a way of addressing an underling. Especially for someone as anal about protocol as the prince. No, there was a story there, and he was going to find out what it was. 

For the time being, though… 

“I’ll take your word for it.” He said flatly. 

Even as Prince Armand’s company turned out to be far better than he expected, Efrim would occasionally glance back at the Divine Doll and the Cra. He narrowed his eyes at their laughter when they weren’t looking. No matter how much Prince Sheran Sharm and he had in common, that still wasn’t enough to dispel his doubts. 

Somebody here was hiding something. Maybe it was the Sadida Doll, maybe it was the Cra, maybe it was the gods themselves! Whatever the case, he wouldn’t rest until he found out what it was. His people’s safety depended on it. 

.......................................................................................................................

Yugo returned from his improvised meeting with the king, feeling more hopeful over his people’s future than he had in months. With the Sadida’s help and support, the path to acceptance amongst the Twelvians had just got a little shorter, and a little less rocky. Thanks to King Oakheart, the Council of Six and the Council of Twelve would be able to hold their first official diplomatic meeting since the Eliatropes arrived. 

He didn’t count Bonta because, while it served as a great introduction to the races populating this world, in the end, there was very little politics involved. No, if anything, that had been the appetiser. And their upcoming meeting would be the main course. 

As they finally made their way back to the ballroom, since it would be in bad taste for the two most prominent political figures in attendance to just skip the event altogether (and Yugo was hoping to squeeze in another dance or two with Amalia), the two kings commiserated on how to proceed. In the end, they agreed to keep in touch and inform the other of their progress. 

Yugo would report the Zaap’s development to King Oakheart and let him know when it was finally fully operative and ready to be presented. Meanwhile, the Sadida King would inform him of anything taking place on his end: other rulers who might be interested in supporting the Eliatrope Council even before the meeting, when it would take place, where it would take place, who would be attending… 

They decided to keep using the Tofu messaging method to keep in touch. Privately, however, Yugo considered asking Chibi and Grougal if they could introduce the Magnolias to the Sadida Kingdom at some point. While Eliatrope technology could be difficult to employ for outsiders, he had the feeling the Sadida’s natural connection to plant life would make it easier for them to use the communication-based flowers to their full potential. 

Once they finally reached the large doors guarding the ballroom, the two of them shared one last respectful bow. Expressing his wish that he enjoyed the party, King Oakheart was the first to go back inside, joking about having to make sure Armand had everything under control. 

Grinning gratefully at the man’s retreating back, the Eliatrope King took a deep breath before going in himself. Pleasant as the evening had been, and as much as he’d come to appreciate the Tree People’s company, there was only one person he wanted to be with right now. 

He found her immediately. She had her back turned to him as she talked to Evangelyne, the Cra nodding along to what she said with nothing but the utmost courtesy. He smiled. It was nice to see Amalia branching out and making new friends. He knew how much she loved meeting new people; she thrived in interacting with others. 

It wasn’t long before his smile faltered. 

The more he watched the Divine Doll, the more he could tell something was off. It was impossible not to, not when he knew all the little expressions she made and all her twitches by heart. 

Her glee and excitement as she conversed with Evangelyne were genuine, that much was for certain, but her smile, which didn’t reach her eyes, was tinged with a touch of sadness and unease. Her bright brown eyes shone, but a flicker of pain would flash through her face whenever the Cra shifted her stance and the Sadida Doll’s eyes followed her movements. 

His feet moving on their own accord, the Eliatrope navigated the throngs of people, offering absent-minded apologies as he bumped into some of the guests, as he made his way over to Amalia. The closer he got, the more clearly he could see just how self-conscious she truly was. 

Though she moved her arms from time to time, they remained close to her body at all times, even coming to strategically hide some parts from view. Right now, she had them crossed over her torso, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the stitches running down their lengths, picking at them almost obsessively. She was constantly shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her outfit rustling with her movements, and making her flinch each time, almost as if she hated the way it brought attention to herself. 

And she was constantly lowering her gaze, her bangs falling over her face with each turn of her head. Sometimes, her hand would tentatively reach out for her horns, only to flinch away seconds before she could truly make contact with them, like a little kid reaching out to touch fire and getting burned as a result. 

It was like she was trying to make herself as small as possible, to disappear from view.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest. It was the exact same thing he had been meaning to talk to her about before she’d been whisked away. First, to participate in the Petals Dance, and then, to talk to King Oakheart. Between Amalia disappearing on him and him requesting the Sadida King’s time, he hadn’t the chance to broach the subject with her. 

His stomach churning in worry for her, he quickened his pace through the crowd. His heart ached seeing her in such a state. Far from the regal and self-assured Sadida demigoddess she’d introduced herself to Aurora as, now she looked more like a withering flower, timid and unsure.

He internally cursed Adamaï, not caring about the fact that he probably heard him either way. He should have asked her about it as soon as he got the chance instead of waiting this long. 

He made it to where the two women were talking just in time to catch the end tail of their conversation.

“...And that is why breaking a Cra’s bow is the worst blemish you can inflict on us.” Evangelyne finished explaining, subconsciously tightening her grip on her weapon. Seeing as she was the one facing the crowd, she was also the first one to perk up at his arrival. “King Yugo, you have returned!”

As soon as his name was out of the blonde’s lips, Amalia turned around. A beaming smile stretched over her lips at the sight of him, and Yugo had to make a conscious effort to fight down the butterflies soaring in his stomach. 

“That I have, Evangelyne.” He sent a nod her way, then, he returned Amalia’s smile with a soft grin of his own. “I see you’re well entertained, Amalia.”

She giggled. “Oh, yes. Evangelyne has been telling me so much about her culture.”

“Has she, really?”

“Don’t let the fact that I was raised in the Sadida Kingdom fool you, Your Majesty.” The bodyguard warned, though not unkindly. “Cra and Sadida have a long-standing friendship. There are many of us stationed here and acting as back-up protection. I am very much in touch with my people.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Yugo chuckled. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you be willing to share your culture with the Eliatropes as well? We don’t always get the chance to learn about this world’s races from them. It would be a great opportunity for us to learn more about your people.”

The Cra woman grinned and arched her body forward slightly in reverence. “It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

Before he could get another word in, Amalia cut in almost rashly, the cheerfulness in her voice sounding somewhat forced and strained. “What brings you here, Yugo? Would you like to dance some more?”

His smile dimmed at the reminder of why he was there. “Actually, I would like to speak with you, Amalia.” He flashed Evangelyne an apologetic look. “In private, if you don’t mind.”

Amalia started at that, blinking in surprise. She shared one intrigued look with her soon-to-be bodyguard. “What do you say, Evangelyne? Do you mind?”

“Not at all, my Lady.” She shook her head. “You two are the guests of honour, after all. I am just grateful you found the time to entertain me for a little while.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Evangelyne. Hopefully, you’ll share more stories once we’re back in Oma.”

“Nothing would please me more.”

And with one last polite bow, the Cra made herself scarce, leaving Yugo and Amalia alone. 

The doll looked up at her friend, her stomach tying into knots as she recalled her previous conversation with King Sheran Sharm. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Her breath hitched in her throat when he leaned close to whisper in her ear, his breath rustling against her hair. “How about we go to a more private place? I wouldn’t want any prying ears to eavesdrop.”

As he leaned back and away from her, the doll brought a hand to her ear, flustered. She almost let out a whimper as she nodded shyly back at him. “Y-yeah. Of course.” Clearing her throat, she gestured to her side. “Lead the way, Yugo.”

It was a short walk between the ballroom and the balcony located in the far corner of the room. But to Amalia, it felt like an eternity as a million thoughts battled for dominance in her  mind. 

Try as she might, she couldn’t shake King Oakheart’s words about love from her mind. Whenever her brain revisited the conversation, images of Yugo would flash through her mind, and she was left with no choice but to push them far down. 

Of course Yugo was important to her, how could he not be? He was her closest friend ever since she arrived at the Mortal Realm. He was always looking out for her, and lifting her up whenever she was feeling down. They spent most of their time together and they always had a blast; of course she missed his company when he was gone. She was closer to him than anybody else. Of course his friendship meant the world to her!

But that was all it was. Friendship. 

There was simply no way that what they had went beyond platonic. 

She still remembered how distant Yugo sounded that day at the beach as he talked about love. Even more vividly, she still felt the pang of rejection at the mere memory of how he pushed her away after that. 

Whatever they had, it wasn’t that kind of love. How could it be? 

Nora had said so herself, so did Ibago all those months ago. Men were simple creatures with very straightforward tastes. Tastes Amalia did not fit, especially not now that she looked like this. 

A thorny feeling roiled within her as she thought back to his interactions with Evangelyne, to the Cra herself. Not like they were anything other than some perfectly innocent words exchanged in casual conversation. But a part of the doll couldn’t help but feel Yugo was probably looking for a queen that was a little closer to the blonde in appearance. 

The pain in her chest intensified until she couldn’t breathe. 

Desperate to steer her mind away from that train of thought, Amalia made a show of looking around as the soft glow of lanterns illuminated them, the starry night sky acting as a background canvas. 

“Somehow we always end up on a balcony.” She murmured wistfully. 

She heard him chuckle softly under his breath. However, instead of offering a joke of his own like she expected him to do, the Eliatrope King just remained quiet. Too quiet. Her brow furrowed in confusion and worry as she finally turned to look at him. The pained seriousness on his face was enough to make her heart thud. 

She had just taken a step towards him, mouth open to ask him what was wrong, when he beat her to the punch.

“Amalia, is everything okay?”

The doll recoiled in surprise. So straightforward, without hesitation, like ripping off a band-aid. 

For a moment, she panicked, her mind instantly going back to her conflicting feelings. Her mouth went dry at the mere idea of explaining herself to him. 

But then she thought better of it. No, that wasn’t it. That couldn’t be it. Because there was nothing to explain if that were the case. She wasn’t in love with Yugo. King Oakheart’s devotion for his wife had just touched her to the point of leaving her a confused mess. She had nothing to worry about. 

She was about to tell him as much when he spoke up.

“And, please, don’t tell me you’re okay.” He practically pleaded. “Not when you’ve been curling in on yourself ever since we were escorted to the ballroom. Not when I see you distracted or unsure whenever people interact with you, even though coming here meant so much to you.” He finished closing the distance between them. Placing his hands on her shoulders, to steady her or himself she didn’t know, he looked into her eyes, imploringly. “Not when we promised to be honest with each other.”

That struck a chord within Amalia, and she felt the urge to kick herself for almost falling back onto old habits. Yugo was right, she wasn’t okay. She hadn’t been ever since she calmed down after changing forms and putting Aurora in her place. Everything about her new body felt wrong, but also right. Like it was still her but at the same time it was someone new entirely.

And Yugo, bless his wonderful, caring heart, had noticed. Because, of course he did! And he was suffering on her behalf. And she could never in good conscience just brush his concerns off like that. 

Not when they promised. 

Heaving a deep sigh, Amalia placed her hands on top of his, squeezing them in reassurance, and gave him her best attempt at a smile. Judging from the way his frown only deepened, she failed miserably. 

“It’s actually not that deep, really.” She started. She went on before he had a chance to protest. “But I suppose it has been weighing heavily on me despite everything.”

“What is it?”

She shot him a rueful smile and stepped back, his arms falling limply to his sides. She immediately missed his warmth, but she pushed that aside and simply gestured to herself. To all of her. “This.”

He looked her up and down, and she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around herself under his scrutiny. At long last, the Eliatrope breathed out, shaking his head, “I… I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been struggling trying to come to terms with my Divine Doll form.” She explained, the words coming out rushed and breathless. “Don’t get me wrong, a part of me knows I’m still me. And I actually consider this form to be as true to myself as my doll or human forms. It’s just…” She trailed off, biting down on her bottom lip as she tried to find the words. 

“It’s just…?” Yugo urged. She sighed. 

“It’s just so different!” She finally exclaimed, bringing her hands to her face. “I know this is how Divine Dolls are supposed to look. Trust me, I look more like my sisters now than I’ve ever done. But at the same time, I can’t help but feel…” She tentatively peeked at him from between her fingers. “Vulnerable.”

His expression softening at her admission, the king was by her side in an instant. “What do you mean, Amalia?”

Her eyes were full of sadness as they stared back at him. “None of my sisters have horns. I know it’s stupid, and they never bothered me when they were just part of a headdress. But now… Now I can’t help but feel like I don’t fit in anywhere.”

She was about to continue with her spiel when Yugo’s finger on her lips, hushing her softly, made her freeze. She stared wide-eyed as he slowly slid his finger down her lips and towards her chin, before he lifted it gently so she could look him in the eye. Heat blossomed all over her face when his dark brown eyes glanced upwards, shining tenderly as he regarded her horns. 

Right as she thought her heart was about to burst out of her chest, the Eliatrope chose to mercifully put an end to her torture. Only all he did was leave her even more perplexed. 

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who knows what it's like to have something sticking out of your head.”

“What are you talking—?”

Whatever she was about to say died in her throat when she took in the scene before her. 

At that moment, with slow, deliberate movements, Yugo brought his hands to the sides of his hood and pulled it down from his head. The doll was sure she was left gaping at him, her mouth nearly touching the floor, but she couldn’t find the will to care. Not when she finally had the answers to her questions right in front of her. 

And they were beautiful. 

Because sticking at either side of Yugo’s head, standing tall and proud amidst strands of dirty blond, were a pair of dragon-like wings shining brightly. The blue light they emanated seemed to eclipse the glow coming from the lanterns. Dear Sadida, the stars themselves had nothing on them!

But wait… She knew that glow. 

She gasped at her own realisation. Were they wakfu wings?!

Amalia searched Yugo with her eyes, uncomprehending, and with an awkward chuckle, the king seemed to take pity on her astonished state. 

“This is that one physical trait I once told you about that distinguishes Eliatropes from Twelvians, even non-believers.” He said, gesturing with his hand at his wings. “Much like how Sadida are dark-skinned and green-haired, or Eniripsa look like fairies, and Osamodas like blue demons, all in their respective god’s image, Eliatropes are born with wakfu wings. This is what connects us with our goddess.”

So she was right. They were wakfu wings. She almost started when Yugo went on. 

“That’s why they hold such big religious significance, and why we hide them from most people.” After a beat, he added, almost as an afterthought. “That, and because they’re very sensitive.”

An impish grin stretched over Amalia’s lips at that, and Yugo immediately knew he made a mistake. 

“Sensitive, you say?” She asked coyly. 

The doll was fully expecting him to grow flustered and to vehemently forbid her from so much as thinking about touching his wings. So she was left understandably baffled when, instead, he simply let out a sigh and, rubbing his neck nervously as a furious blush overtook his face and the tip of his ears, he gave her the go-ahead.

“Just… be gentle, okay?”

Completely speechless, all Amalia could do in response was nod dumbly. All her slyness had been swiftly replaced by reverence and shyness as she stretched out her hand and tentatively closed the distance between them. She gulped, her heart hammering against her ribcage as she finally made contact with his left wing. 

She marvelled at the sensation. 

It was incredible. While she didn’t think it would feel feathery, or even scaly, like an actual wing, it was still smooth and warm under her touch. In awe, her fingers caressed and played with the surface almost absentmindedly, a delighted grin splitting her face in two the more she toyed with the appendage. 

She was so entranced by the experience, she couldn’t help the surprised gasp that escaped her when Yugo abruptly gripped her wrist and yanked her away from his wing. She was about to apologise, fearful of having accidentally hurt him or overstepped, when she took notice of his state. 

If he’d been blushing before, his face was now redder than Brakmar soil. His breathing was laboured, and his eyes were blurry, unfocused. His voice came out strained when he finally spoke up, “I… I think… I think that’s enough. O-okay, Amalia?”

That broke her out of her trance. “Oh! Y-yes, of course!” She played with one strand of her hair sheepishly as soon as he let go of her hand. “Sorry about that. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

The earnestness in his voice took her aback. “Don’t apologise.” Then, flushing, he added. “It… it really didn’t hurt.”

“Oh.”

They fell into an awkward silence. For a moment, Amalia feared it was going to stretch into an eternity, but it wasn’t long before Yugo, mercifully, cleared his throat. 

“Anyway, see what I mean? Even if no other Divine Doll has horns like you, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” He said with a smile, bringing his hands to her shoulders once again. “It only makes you even more unique. But, if what you’re worried about is not fitting in…” He shrugged helplessly. “Well, just remember Eliatropes are in a similar boat as you.” His already radiant smile softened further, and the doll could feel herself melt under the affection emanating from it. “Guess that means you’ll always have a place with us.”

And then, just as the Divine Doll felt her heart wouldn’t be able to take anymore before it burst, Yugo did something that halted all train of thought. Taking a deep breath, as if to steel himself, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the base of one of her antlers. The heat of his lips searing through the sensitive skin. 

And then he went for the kill. 

“For the record, I think you look beautiful with or without horns.”

And just like that, as multiple flowers blossomed all around her as she stared back at him, she knew. 

It was at that moment, as he stood to her level and revealed his own vulnerability only to make her feel better, that she knew. 

Her heart no longer whispered his name, it clamoured it. 

She was in love with Yugo. 

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu Manga - Tome 2, Part 1

Even the manga calls them friends!! He is impressed by their bravery and exploits, and it IS natural that he should join forces with them, at least to understand Jiva's strange behaviour.

Personally, I just think he wanted to go on an adventure with Yugo, Amalia, and Eva, but needs to justify it to himself in some more professional and cold way.

Standing there so cutely...

[casually sits on a rock in a cool pose and doesn't talk to anyone or socialize, just staring awkwardly, like a true warrior with 0 social anxiety issues.]

He's so funny, I can't do this anymore.

Show-off.

Casts a sidelong Judgemental Gaze about their landing.

Lands perfectly, just like a cat. Catboy.

Sorry to keep screenshotting panels where he says Nothing, but the longer he does that, the more awkward it gets. Truly, he is a king of socialization.

Of course Joris would be interested in steam engines... It's cute to see him be excited.

Joris puts his hands in his pockets. We now know that his pants actually have pockets + that Joris puts his hands in those to strike a casual — yet still cool looking — pose. You're welcome.

Very Kerubim-core pose of him to do.

Firstly, this is a very good drawing. Secondly, Joris is very serious about travel preparations. Thirdly, he and Eva once again show themselves to be the two sane people of their respective groups.

Besides that, he addresses the multiple elephants in the room: it's bad that a person who is already close to a god even more power, and she might not keep her promise, and even if they use the dofuses against her, they are still probably toast.

Basically, Joris's outlook is one of very realistic pessimism.

Amalia asks him before anyone else. She really looks up to him :)

I'm sorry for being unable to stop screenshotting him. The art of this manga is wonderful. I also love the very cautious way he approaches this interaction. fsjfgsdfa.

Of course he wants to take care of the equipment.

[casually leaves with the group while not looking at anyone and trying to walk as far away from others as he can]

I;'m insane.,

An interesting note: Joris did not walk together with Ruel, Yugo, Adamai, and Pinpin to try his hand at taming the shushu — but he is also not present anywhere near Amalia or Eva. Now me pointing out that he was walking a bit away from everyone seems a bit more poignant.

This guy left them all to quietly go cook some food.

VERY big page for Joris fans. He seems to have been making well-done dragoturkey and soup. While wearing a cute apron. (I really don't think he expected anyone to walk in on him... jgkdsfg. Judging by the size, it's something he brought with him from home.)

This confirms that: Joris likes meat well-done, Joris wears aprons, Joris likes cute aprons, and Joris is used to spats with shushus that control environments and furniture and attempted to use that skill here.

VERY big for me, as a fan of the friendship between Joris and Amalia&Eva. The way they giggle at his misfortune, and the way he doesn't take it to heart... sfgjsdf

This is why I really like the manga, as a fan of Joris. There's a very friendly and domestic side to him shown here.

The way he just Copes and sets the burnt dragoturkey on the table anyway is so funny... He's very nervous about time, and planning, and he is willing to eat something very bad for that reason.

Also! He is helping the girls with their task, instead of trying his hands at taming the shushu — and he was doing this without telling anybody. I'm assuming it's a mixture of him being a friend to Eva and Amalia, of being used to cook for his family (he and Keke both do, but I think Joris does it more often), and just plain not wanting two people to do the job that would be more efficient with three.

Besides that, I just think it doesn't sit right with Joris, for two women (one of whom is pregnant) to do all the cooking.

He is so, so responsible. Also, "a little worried" and "we need to plan for Every Contingency" is a funny combo of words.

Once again, readers, he is "a little worried."

Also, hngnhn. He cares about Yugo's feelings a lot — and he trusts Eva and Amalia enough to say this to them.

Aww, Adamai's "hungryyyy..." is so cute. I'm assuming Joris fretting with the stove is probably him trying to clean it a little after it burned the food.

Joris once again being responsible and asking questions about things immediately.

Joris is the only one not eating or drinking, and while it is relaistic to think he might have eaten before anyone came, I think it's more in character to think that his reasoning is "DO NOT EAT. WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW YOU HAVE HUMAN NEEDS AND WEAKNESSES."

I'm trying so hard to come up with commentary to justify including so many images of him, but I am sad to say, the way he's drawn in this artstyle is far too cute. Just far too cute...

Notably, Joris is the only one who wasn't under the impression that Eva would be staying behind! (BASED, BASED, BASED BASED, B—-)

[shadow-coolness]

Flopin: Chibi, wheres Grougal?

Chibi: He said he had to take care of something.

Elely: And that didn’t set off any alarm bells?

Chibi: Come on guys im sure he’s just off somewhere napping.

*Meanwhile in the Sadida Kingdom*

Grougal bust into the royal stables: So we meet again.

That Dragoturkey that kicked him in the face in S2: *Dragoturkey noises*

Grougal: Theres only one way this’ll end and you know that!

Dragoturkey: *Dragoturkey noises*

Grougal: You talking mad shit for someone in flaming distance!

Dragoturkey: * Dragoturkey noises*

Grougal: Thats it! Lets settle this!

*Grougal charges towards the Dragoturkey with a battle cry*

*Back to The restaurant*

Chibi: Yeah im sure he’s fine.

[ursarminoris]

What are these fuck*ng eggs ? 🤨

Was he a dragoturkey breeder in his past ?

Why no one is talking about the hatches egg

Bro try to cook with that or 😂

[ankamagames]

[malvacross]

Dephi Croquets from krosmaga

[nautiscarader]

Billythesquid writes: Amalia loves Yugo, but she’s nervous about bearing his child (Adamai’s jokes about eggs aren’t helping). But Elaine and Cléophee are here to support her, even if it means sharing the struggle (they also need a place to hide out from the law). And so, the royal couple takes turns- Yugo plants the seed, and Amalia uses her vines. And maybe those librarians are watching?…

As far as honeymoon trips go, this one would certainly classify as the oddest. The dragoturkey wagon was finally parked in front of a small cottage in the middle of the woods, the house made completely out of vines, roots and branches of the Sadida magic, though even with that there might be slight problem accommodating all the passengers inside.

Yugo and Amalia hopped off first, letting the other four stowaways climb off the cramped space in the back. Cleophee and Elaine, two piratesses that were were seeking refuge in Sadida kingdom, as well as Serna and Elbona, two Sadida librarians they took along the way to help them translate some ancient scrolls they have "acquired".

If the circumstances of the unlikely mix-up were odd, then the evening was even stranger. Though she might have looked down on the two criminals, they were still Amalia's friends, and when the topic inevitably switched to what should have been happening between her and Yugo had the two were left alone, Elaine and Cleo offered help. Niot just of a moral kind, as the prospect of bearing the child of Eliatrope king might be difficult... as them getting knocked up would gain them the title of royal concubines... and the immunity they have been seeking.

The twin librarians joined in, asking if, once again, they could observe them, as not every day a history is written between two powerful figures, let alone four, and Elaine and Cleo passed them the cups of wine in agreement, knowing well how will that end.

Yugo was in more than a bit of a surprise when he was told that not only his wedding night was happening, despite the odd entourage, but his husband duties might have to be extended just a lil' bit. With Cleo and Elaine on Amalia's sides they spread the queen's legs and told Yugo all he needed to know in just two words: "Breed her".

If Yugo was afraid about performing under pressure of an audience, his worries were silenced by not only three pairs of lips, but also delicious wine that gave him enough of courage to step up and indulge in the crazy plan. he tossed his hat aside, revealing his glowing wakfu antlers, and with a kiss to his wife, he sank deep inside her, her sex already overflowing with juices, thanks to Cleo's and Elaine's fingers.

The room was soon filled with delicious, carnal sounds of mating, as Yugo's hips worked over time to ensure hiltimg as deep as possible, especially with their friends' naughty whisperes from, both sides. the piratesses painted vivid images of him claiming her womb with his royal seed and staining the bed, and how Amalia wants gaining new curves, a statement only confirmed by the queen's moans.

It wasn't long before Yugo's silhouette turned into a blue blur, exploding with sparks, smashing against Amalia's crotch with unnatural speed. And when he stopped, he rammed himself balls-deep inside Amalia's wet sex, making the queen growl with pleasure as her belly got slightly bigger with each batch of cum he pumped inside.

Cleo and Elaine barely had time to congratulate the couple, before Yugo took the two at the same time, alternating between their pussies as Elaine was pushed onto Cleo. it was time for Amalia, spent, but satisfied, to tease them about the future that awaits them and the prospect of carrying Yugo's children. Amalia couldn't help but find it arousing, as she watched him slip from one pussy to the other, while the girls moaned and writhed against each other. Finally, it happened, as the piratesses came together, so did Yugo, first flooding Elaine's womb, and then moving to Cleo's sex, losing just a few droplets of seed in between them.

All of that was recorded, both with drawings and in writing by the two chroniclers observing the orgy... or at least it would have, if the two didn't get naked and started making out aroused by the carnal scenes, culminating with them asking Yugo to let them share the fate of other three.

One portal later, and the two Sadidas landed on the bed as well, getting the same treatment of being loved and caressed by Cleo, Amalia and Elaine, and fucked by the Eliatrope king, who once more switched from one pussy to the other, building up momentum before his third climax of the evening, planting his seed in two more wombs.

He thought that such a tiresome task would drain him of his powers, but strangely, he felt invigorated by the sight of five women he loved and bred, and the fact that they didn't seem to be tired as well, meant only one thing: the night was only beginning.

============

As the months went by, news of this fateful fortnight have spread, and they only seemed to be confirmed by the growing bellies of one queen, two former outlaws and two chroniclers, who made sure to document Yugo's achievements, with detailed descriptions and illustrations of how Eliatropes were brought back to the World of Twelve, and how he made their pregnancies easier by worshipping their growing bodies every morning, and portalling the snacks from the kitchen as their cravings grew as well.

[darker-than-darkstorm]

.....?

??????

originally a turkey was going to be the national usa animal instead of an eagle, i think our flag needs a turkey. bonus pints dragon-turkey.

DRAGON TURKEY YES

That's what I'm talking about!!! Make the flag better!! DRAGON TURKEY

[celestial-sword-kaz]

Dofus level up of another kind...!

As mentioned in my last post (and then I proceeded to gush about Wakfu’s very successful season 4 kickstarter victory), something cool happened to me involving DofusTouch that is noteworthy to share.

So, starting at the beginning... My friend Kaei who runs the guild that I’ve been proud to be a member of (and even became her 2nd-in-command), has sadly had a lot of bad things happening to her ever since the year started & never told anyone in the guild because she was afraid it’d freak us out. It made her take big hiatuses from playing the game & being there for us as our leader (and though I was in charge whenever she’s gone, it still felt awkward whenever things came up that needed her input or involving the leaders in our alliance). Anyway, between the drama in her life and drama involving a now ex-friend in the game (who’d once been her best friend & friend of mine), it made our guild leader feel like she’d abandoned us and got super depressed (even though we love her dearly & never thought ill of her being gone so much, even if bothersome at times). Thus, she decided that until things in her life get less chaotic, that she’d step down as leader & become 2nd-in-command... AND GAVE ME THE HONOR OF BEING THE NEW GUILD LEADER. Been a few weeks since then, but I’m still in shock over the whole deal. Like, I’m thrilled & deeply humbled that she trusts me so much, but at the same time saddened that she won’t be around like she used to be (also bummed that the guild is experiencing a lack of activity due to summer making many of our guildmates too busy to play the game). Yet I won’t let the summer lull get to me and look forward to greater things to come. For example - our alliance recently changed it’s name to something epic (”Krosmic Flux”; formerly “Regal”) thanks to my dear friend & leader of the alliance becoming a huge Wakfu fan (even renamed his guild, to “Fu Shu”, due to him roleplaying often with his masqueraider as being a Shushu guardian who leads a band of other guardians chosen by Sadida to restore the balance to light & darkness in the World of Twelve). We lost a lot of guilds after learning they were kinda dead (having only 1-2 people rarely active, and none of the guild leaders, is frustrating), so the new name was rather fitting for giving the alliance a grand rebirth.

THEREFORE - if anyone out there plays DofusTouch and is looking for an awesome guild to join, especially if you’re also a Wakfu fan & would enjoy being a part of an alliance that regards itself as being a big family, then I’d be honored if you’ll choose “The Darksiders” or “Fu Shu” to be your guild! <3

(Darksiders in particular warmly welcomes anyone... including those who’ve been a victim of being forced to leave another guild; we don’t discriminate, all we ask is that you act decent & hopefully understand English to be able to get along with everyone)

In celebration of such a grand occasion for this Twelvian, enjoy a screencap of dear Kaz my awesome Iop... showing off her now iconic “Imako” hat, cloak, and Boss Saw shield (legit, no one else playing the game ever wears this set & I’m grateful that I own it). Also I do plan to make a post soon with several screencaps of all 5 of my wonderful characters (even dragoturkeys; got 3 cuties). <(^o^)>

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 8: Hostile Takeover

Word Count: 28,297

Read on AO3

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Chapter Summary: "What was supposed to be a success story takes an unexpected turn when Amalia is faced yet again with Efrim's clear distaste for her, much to his sister's chagrin. But as conversations are held, bad memories revisited, and secrets are revealed, Amalia will find out that the most hostile member of the Council of Six's animosity towards her might be rooted in something much deeper. But the real question is, will she be able to come out unscathed from it all?"

“As much as Phaeris hates to question Lady Amalia’s abilities, it has only been two weeks. How could she have made significant progress so soon?” Phaeris mused aloud, his voice laced with scepticism.

“Well, she is a Divine Doll, Brother. Surely her magic must have played an important role.” Mina, who was walking by his side, reminded him gently. The silver curls framing her face bounced with her every step.

“Then she should’ve been done within seconds of stepping foot into the room. It certainly took her less time to remodel her personal quarters.” Chibi pointed out, exchanging a glance with his dragon twin, who nodded.

From that point onwards, the Ebony Dofus twins weren’t quite the same. After what they’d witnessed, the two couldn’t help but keep a safe distance whenever Amalia was around, not keen on her powers startling them again. Much like everyone in the Council had taken to brace themselves whenever it looked like the Divine Doll was about to shapeshift.

“Well, Amalia said she preferred to do things the old-fashioned way.” Yugo, who was leading their march towards the doll’s garden, spoke up. “Maybe that’s why things are growing more slowly?”

Even though that was what he said, the explanation didn’t sound very convincing even to his ears. He, too, had witnessed the things Amalia was capable of with her magic. The fact that she grew giant vines that encircled the room’s pillars in a matter of seconds as opposed to the many years it would have taken had they grown naturally was testament enough of that.

As always, Qilby was quick to point that fact out, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Last time I checked, some things still took far more time to grow than a mere two weeks. A whole garden being one of those things.”

“Oh, Qilby, there you go again.” Shinonomé chided her twin brother playfully, grasping his shoulder and elbow and squeezing affectionately. “If Lady Amalia has managed to grow her garden in such a short amount of time, all the better! That just means we’ll get to enjoy the fruits of her labour sooner.”

“Shinonomé is right.” Adamaï nodded. Standing close behind Yugo, he had his arms crossed over his torso, his head tilted down as he got lost in thought. “Why look a gifted Dragoturkey in the mouth?”

The Emerald Dofus twins locked eyes and exchanged wordless nods. As expected of a Primordial Eliatrope and his dragon twin, their bond was so deep they could hold entire conversations without so much as uttering a word. Although the psychic link they shared also helped.

While they remained composed and collected on the outside, on the inside both Yugo and Adamaï reminisced on the conversation they had shortly after the king escorted their guest back to her room once she’d been shown to what was to become her garden. The moment Amalia walked into her room and closed the door behind her, Yugo didn’t waste any time in making a beeline with his portals in search of Adamaï, desperate to unload the day’s conversations and worries onto his brother, hoping he’d be able to help him.

As soon as he found him in the palace library, leafing through some tomes now that he had some free time, Yugo did just that, and though startled at first by the severity which his twin spoke with, the dragon still listened intently to his ramblings. Although not before leading his brother to a more secluded area in the library so as to not be overheard by their subjects.

As expected, no one understood him quite like the blue-and-white dragon. He told him everything, from his conversation with Qilby and his idea to have Amalia grow everything they needed under the guise of allowing her to reconnect with her culture, to Amalia’s eventual acceptance of the role she would play and eagerness to carry it out. He didn’t even spare any details when explaining his guilty conscience over potentially taking advantage of the Divine Doll, either, nor did he omit how grateful and relieved he felt now that things were out in the open.

Adamaï had to admit, he also felt very relieved to know his brother had come clean about his intentions and Amalia had agreed to help in turn. Beyond relieving the burden on their people’s shoulders by making their survival easier, the dragon knew how important her consent was to Yugo.

He wouldn’t dare say it aloud, for he knew his twin would vehemently deny it and outright clamp up on the subject, but it was plain to see he cared about the doll immensely. Her disapproval would affect him deeply. That much was obvious from the way his shoulders, taut with tension and stress, sagged in relief as he recounted his later conversation with her.

Therefore, besides fully believing in Amalia’s capabilities himself—it was a bit hard to be sceptical after both witnessing and being on the receiving end of her power’s full extent as he had—, he would support her, for Yugo’s sake. Although, deep down, he had to admit that this being Qilby’s idea caused him to have some reservations. While he could admit to seeing where the eldest Eliatrope was coming from, he couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive. Despite the good he and Shinonomé did for their people, there was something about him that hadn’t been the same ever since they arrived at the World of Twelve and decided to make the planet their new home.

At least he wasn’t anywhere near as distrustful of everything and everyone as Efrim.

It was precisely the latter’s twin sister, Nora, who broke Adamaï out of his thoughts. “It was about time we gave our subjects some good news. I’m sure they will be ecstatic once we inform them of Amalia’s progress.” She called out to her brother slithering over the floor right in front of her, hope tingeing her voice. “Right, Efrim?”

The periwinkle dragon simply grunted with a shrug in response, causing an uneasy knot to tie itself in Nora’s stomach. Around them, their older siblings all braced themselves for what he was sure to say next.

“Perhaps.” The youngest dragon finally said. “Although it wouldn’t be unwise to keep an eye on her, in case we just unwittingly provided her with the perfect method to execute her true orders.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the entirety of the Council of Six visibly tensed up and unconsciously halted in their march, all turning to look at him with varying levels of concern. Some of them soon chose to mask them, even now, knowing there was nothing the youngest dragon hated more than being pitied or regarded like that. He huffed through his snout at his siblings’ reactions, unfortunately far too accustomed to them not taking his warnings seriously or treating him like he was made from glass.

Stealing a glance his sister’s way, he soon averted his gaze once more and scoffed. No matter how much she tried to hide it, his scars were nothing like Nora’s. He still studied his siblings’ expressions from the corner of his eye.

Both Qilby and Shinonomé chose not to say anything or even show any kind of reaction to his words, they just remained where they stood, with their arms crossed inside the folds of their tunics and the dragoness’ tail swaying back and forth. After them, Mina and Phaeris were the most subdued—they simply exchanged remorseful glances, with Mina shaking her head ruefully while Phaeris tucked his wings closer to himself in discomfort.

Chibi and Grougal were less in sync, though their reactions still showed their own unease at their little brother’s mistrusting nature. While Chibi audibly winced, Grougaloragran pinched the bridge of his nose with his claw, not sure what else to do. For his part, Baltazar was about to speak up in defence of the Sadida Doll, but a pointed look and the shaking of his head from Glip dissuaded him from trying, so, with a sigh, he focused back on trying to avoid crashing into anything due to his large girth.

Up ahead, panicking slightly at what Efrim said, Adamaï didn’t waste any time trying to reach out to Yugo, placing a claw over his shoulder to silently urge him to keep a cool head and not do anything rash that he might regret later. Fortunately for him, his attempts seemed to be working, for even though the Eliatrope King couldn’t help but tightly clench his fists and grit his teeth in aggravation, he held himself back from starting yet another argument with Efrim like the one from back when Amalia had just arrived at Oma.

Something told him Mina would not be as willing to break up their argument in a peaceful manner as back then. He could already picture the wakfu spear jabbed into the nearest wall in warning.

Truth be told, Yugo was torn. Torn between speaking up and standing up for the selfless creature that had been sent to them and who only wanted to help, and sticking by his sibling, especially when they all shared his concerns deep down and he wasn’t entirely without reason for thinking like that.

Not for the first time, the Eliatrope found himself with two opposing forces warring within him for dominance. Fairness opposed Loyalty. Past Experiences contradicted New Beginnings. Resentment threatened to overtake Hope.

And it all was up to him to choose who won.

But he mostly contained himself, knowing what he was going through was nothing compared to his little sister. Even if she hid it better because she picked up the rear of their little entourage, the Council of Six didn’t even need to look back to know no one was as affected by her brother’s words as Nora.

The pink-clad Eliatrope could only look on sadly at her twin’s back. The light in her otherwise playful pink eyes dimming the more she stared, his words echoing in her mind like a haunted melody. And yet, she couldn’t keep herself from sympathising with him, from understanding his concerns and even siding with him, no matter how much she wished to be able to confidently say he was wrong.

She just couldn’t. Because, just like Efrim could be wrong, he could be right, and the consequences of ignoring his warnings and brushing them off as mere paranoia wasn’t a price their people could afford to pay. Not after losing so much already.

Still, what really gnawed at Nora, what shattered her heart into a million pieces as if it were made from glass, wasn’t the fear of what could happen. But the knowledge of what did. The knowledge of what their people lost, of what she and Efrim lost.

As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, the youngest Council member couldn’t help but fear they might never get it back, despite their best efforts.

Was there something worse than staring in the mirror and not recognising yourself?

It didn’t take long for her silence to draw everyone’s attention, their eyes reflecting waves of sympathy over their youngest siblings’ plight, especially Nora’s, who was saddled with dealing with her brother whenever he got into one of his moods. As a matter of fact, even Efrim himself couldn’t bring himself to look over his shoulder and hold his sister’s gaze, the sadness in Nora’s eyes stabbing his heart like a dagger, but he shook it off.

She’d get over it and see things from his point of view. She always did.

Golden eyes darting from one sibling to another, Grougaloragran inwardly winced. How he hated when he was forced to break up the tension. Emotions just weren’t his forte.

And so, clearing his throat awkwardly to get the Council’s attention, he lamely jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, his fanged smile strained despite his best efforts to appear friendly and laid-back. “Um… Should we continue?”

After a beat where the Council of Six blinked in surprise and Shinonomé had to glare at her brother so he wouldn’t comment on the black dragon’s awkwardness, Yugo shook his head, walking past Chibi’s twin and in the direction they were headed in the first place, Adamaï close behind him as everyone else followed his lead. 

He sighed. “Yes, let’s. Amalia must be waiting for us.”

The awkward tension hanging heavily over their heads as they made the trek towards their new garden feel nothing short of torturous and endless. Seeing as Efrim still stubbornly refused to retract his previous statement or even speak up, causing a disheartened Nora to further retreat into the crevices of her own mind with each passing second, the rest of the Council decided to remain quiet as well so as to not risk stoking the flames.

Despite his apparent displeasure, Mina had intimidated Efrim into behaving as soon as they reached their destination, so he would refrain from saying anything while in the presence of the Divine Doll. As much as the mere thought of playing nice with her made his skin bristle, that was nothing compared to the way it crawled every time his older sister’s stern glare flashed through his mind.

The Twelvians were truly lucky Mina didn’t share her brothers’ battle-hungry nature—otherwise, she would be a fearsome opponent, utterly ruthless. Same with Phaeris, in fact, who preferred to lead a peaceful existence unless it was absolutely necessary.

After what felt like an eternity, Yugo finally stopped right in front of the large double doors leading to his little doll’s new playground. Despite his best efforts to hide it, the periwinkle dragon’s snout still curled into a quiet snarl before shaking it off, a puff of hot air emanating from his nostrils. Squaring his shoulders up, he readied himself for the very unpleasant times ahead.

“Well, this is it…” Yugo announced unnecessarily. With an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder from Adamaï, their king raised his hand to knock on the smooth surface of the door.

The apprehension gripping at his heart tightly somehow amplified the sound, causing the soft knocks to echo in his ears to the beat of his uneven heartbeat.

After what felt like another eternity, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, the doll’s cheery voice beckoned them from inside.

“Come on in!”

Efrim’s eyes narrowed in disgust when he took notice of the dopey smile that broke into Yugo’s face at the sound of his ‘guest’s’ voice. More so when he caught wind of the others sharing knowing, pleased glances. The only ones who remained unaffected were Qilby, Shinonomé, and, weirdly enough, Nora.

The dragon forced himself not to dwell too much on that. He knew his sister enough to understand her mind was certainly elsewhere—under any other circumstances, she would not have hesitated to tease their king for his reaction with an almost impish glee—and he wasn’t in the mood to try and dissect what troubled her.

“Well, you heard the lady!” Chibi shrugged, reaching out to grab the handles, “Let’s go!”

However, before his hands could so much as grasp the handles, the door opened on its own accord, causing everyone gathered to take a step back in surprise. The clear shock they felt remained etched onto their faces when a pair of vines revealed themselves as the ones responsible for letting them inside, their green stems waving back and forth in a cheerful greeting before gesturing for them to come in.

The surprises didn’t end there either.

The Council of Six couldn’t help the parting of their lips in astonishment with every step they took into the garden, their gazes lifted upwards as they took everything in. In a way, it still wasn’t much, certainly not the veritable jungle they had been expecting, which in itself was incredible enough, as well as ironic.

The first thing they noticed upon entering was the feeling of soft, cosy grass tickling their feet, causing them to look down and let out appreciative sounds. Indeed, where a mere two weeks prior the same room held nothing but dirt—albeit a very fertile one that took Chibi and Grougal quite some time to acquire—now was a green mantle, glistening under the afternoon sun and muffling their footsteps.

As their eyes scanned the area, they soon spotted some patches of dirt, each of them ready to begin cultivation as soon as possible. Some even had young stems peeking out from the ground, showcasing Amalia’s progress. Although, truth be told, the weirdest thing by far had to be the dug-out hole in the ground on the far end of the room; some smooth-looking, grey rocks were tidily piled up next to it.

Other than that, which was admittedly a huge improvement from how it had first been just a mere two weeks prior, there wasn’t much of notice. The only other thing worth pointing out was the fact that the vines Amalia had summoned back in the day to encircle the pillars supporting the room were now in bloom. The doll in question tended lovingly to the small, white flowers sprouting from them.

She was perched on another large vine that served as both her personal elevator and chair as she completed her task. Perking up at their arrival, a beaming grin spread all over her face as she greeted them.

“Yugo! Everyone! You guys are already here!”

Without so much as a snap of her fingers, her makeshift ladder was reabsorbed by the very earth it came from, lowering its mistress to the ground as it disappeared from sight. As soon as her feet touched the grassy floor, Amalia clasped her hands in front of her, her entire being radiating with excitement.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” She said. “I’ve been working on getting everything ready all day.”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Lady Amalia.” Mina apologised on behalf of the Council; her tone diplomatic as she got a little closer to the doll. “As I’m sure you’ll understand, we had other pressing business to tend to before we could come here.”

Never losing her smile, though it became a little shy under the older woman’s kind gaze, Amalia waved her off. “It’s perfectly fine, Lady Mina. Yugo already told me you didn’t know when you’d be able to spare me some of your time.”

“To be honest,” Yugo chimed in, coming to stand close to her, “there was no guarantee we’d even be able to come today. We’ve all been quite busy…”

Amalia was about to retort when Glip’s mock-stern tone beat her to it, “As a matter of fact, so will you, m’Lady.”

“Baltazar must agree with his brother.” Now that he’d finally squeezed himself into the room—not without a little help from one of Nora’s portals—, Baltazar was quick to add, “Don’t think that just because you’ve been working on official business, you’re spared from handing in your homework next time you drop by the classroom.”

“No, of course not…” Amalia chuckled sheepishly, fidgeting with her fingers. She made it a point to evade her teachers’ gaze.

Truth be told, with her tending to the garden, she had forgotten all about her pending homework. She had a lot of reading and catching up to do. And a report on Eliatrope theology to hand in. One she hadn’t even started on.

“I must admit,” Qilby spoke up as he stepped deeper into the room, his hazel eyes taking everything in from behind his glasses. “I expected a bit more from you, Lady Amalia. Compared to what we have seen from you, this is simply underwhelming.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Growing protective, Yugo stepped a little closer to her, not before sending his brother a warning glare.

Scoffing petulantly at his king’s antics to himself, Qilby had just opened his mouth to protest when a light tap on his arm from Shinonomé made him close it shut. The red dragoness by-stepped her twin and closed the distance between herself and the doll, taking both of her hands in hers in a motherly gesture.

“What my brother means is that, given your natural talents, we’re a little surprised you haven’t turned this enclosure into your own tropical paradise by now.” She explained far more gently. With a smile that was meant to be reassuring, she patted the doll’s dark hands affectionately. “Of course, what you have already accomplished is still incredible. So, please, don’t be too discouraged by Qilby’s words.”

“Qilby’s got a point.” Chibi agreed, with Grougaloragran nodding along. “After what you did to your chambers, we expected something a bit… more.” They both flinched when Yugo flashed them a scandalised look. Not so much for expressing their opinion as it was about them agreeing with Qilby.

Frowning deeply at his brother’s lack of tact, Yugo was about to come to Amalia’s defence when his twin’s rich voice reverberated around the enclosure, sounding like he was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Looking up in surprise, they found him flying over the room with his wings outstretched and peering down at them from up above.

Ad wasn’t one to fly for no reason, being perfectly content with walking around. So when he did take flight, it was usually because he wanted to have a more informed look on everything.

“Pay them no mind, Amalia.” He said as he flew from one place to the other, inspecting her handiwork. “You can’t rush these things. And, if you want my opinion, what you have done so far is nothing to scoff at either!”

Yugo smiled at his brother. He could always count on Adamaï to have his back, even when it included supporting a third person.

Amalia surprised everyone present when, instead of growing offended as they expected, she just laughed. Her giggles loud and clear like a bell as they bounced off the walls. Once her laughter had quieted back down, a small smirk spread over her lips and an unreadable glint in her eyes, almost like she knew something they didn’t.

“Oh, trust me,” she started, turning her back on the Council members and stepping closer to the pillar by her side, her hand outstretched as one of its flowers wrapped itself around her wrist. “This is all deliberate. If I wanted to, I could have it all done sooner than you can say ‘leaf’.”

“Then why don’t you?” Phaeris questioned, an eyebrow raised.

This time, it was Yugo who replied, “Because Sadidas prefer to let nature run its course at its own pace. If they can help it, they won't rush anything unless absolutely necessary.”

“Precisely!” Amalia perked up, smiling back at her friend. He actually remembered! Then, she added, “Besides, I already agreed to help you grow whatever you might need, but I can’t do much until you tell me what it is.” She shrugged, extracting her hand from the flower’s hold and placing both on her hips. “So I’ve been mostly buying time and getting everything ready in the meantime.”

Before any of them could question her further, she pointed at the patches of dirt they’d taken notice of before, silently answering their unsaid questions.

“So you have been preparing the ground this whole time?” Grougaloragran asked aloud. When she responded with a nod, he crossed his arms over his humanoid form, satisfied. “Grougaloragran is impressed.”

The doll preened at his praise, “Thank you.”

Efrim, who had forced himself to remain silent lest he risked saying something his siblings would make him regret—and who raised an intrigued eyebrow when he noticed the wordless conversation going on between Qilby and Shinonomé and wondered what that could even be about—almost did a double-take when Nora turned to address the doll.

She remained calm and polite, but that still was a far cry from the exuberance and mischievousness she was well-known for.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Amalia,” she rolled her eyes when she spotted Yugo’s warning look. That was more like the twin sister he knew and loved. “But have you been doing anything else?” She allowed a small, teasing grin to curl at her lips as she stared at the doll meaningfully, slowly but surely growing back into her usual self. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to tell Glip and Baltazar you’ve been slacking off if this is all you’ve been up to for two weeks.”

The aforementioned educators chuckled fondly at their sister’s joke, along with the student in question.

“As a matter of fact, I have.” She answered back with a playful wink. Strutting confidently around the garden-in-process, she gestured for the Eliatropes to follow her. “Come take a look.”

Yugo didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as she turned her back on them, he was standing by Amalia’s side, complimenting her on what she had done so far. While Adamaï smiled kindly at his reaction, not unlike Mina and Phaeris, Efrim had to force himself to suppress the growl that threatened to leave his throat at the pathetic display. Just a few months with them, and their king would already follow her to the ends of the world.

What was worse, he seemed to be the only one who took the situation seriously! While Adamaï, Mina, and Phaeris seemed to downright approve of their relationship, carelessly overlooking the disastrous consequences it could have, Chibi and Grougaloragran couldn’t help but snicker at their king’s demeanour, whispering among themselves about how Yugo ‘behaved like a lovesick puppy’, and seeing nothing wrong with it!

The only ones who at least pretended to remain professional were the Ivory and Crimson Dofus set of twins. But even then, Efrim knew better than to get his hopes up. Not that long ago, he and Glip had been of the same mind when it came to the doll, and now she was essentially his star pupil!

It was sickening, how she managed to manipulate them all into accepting her with nothing but a smile and an innocent act.

As for his sister…

He chanced a glance her way, but looked away before she could sense his attempts at connecting with her. He shook his head ruefully. His sister hadn’t been the same in a very long time.

Finally, the Sadida Doll stopped in front of a particular patch of grass, one located right beneath the largest windowpane in the whole enclosure, the sun’s golden rays raining directly down on it. She shook her hands in front of her and shifted her weight from one leg to the other, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, clearly readying herself for whatever she was about to do.

She sent them a look over her shoulder, a wry smirk on her lips. “Watch this.”

Immediately after, she slammed her hands down on the grass, coming to bend down on it, and the entire Council took a cautious step back, their guards up. Chibi, Grougal, and Adamaï in particular huddled close together for comfort. They were intimately familiar by now with the fact that things tended to get out of hand whenever Amalia’s palms were in direct contact with the ground. They did not want a repeat of their previous experiences.

However, after a beat, nothing seemed to happen. At most, the afternoon breeze coming from an open window rustled the blades of grass, momentarily disturbing the silence. In response, the Eliatrope and dragon siblings couldn’t do much else besides send each other confused glances and awkward shrugs, flabbergasted by the apparent lack of (literally) earth-shattering developments.

Chibi, who had closed his eyes shut in apprehension, tentatively opened one when he didn’t register any changes. His entire posture relaxing, he let out an audible sigh, relieved. “Phew! That was close—.”

Grougaloragran smacked his brother in the back of the head when, no sooner had the words left his mouth, a dim energy wavelength emanated from the spot Amalia was touching and expanded all over the patch of grass, followed immediately after by a small tremor that reverberated around the garden.

“You just had to jinx it, didn’t you?” The black dragon glared at his brother, huffing through his nose.

“I’m sorry…” The prophet said meekly, his shoulders slagging.

As the Ebony twins bickered, it was Mina who first took notice of something strange. For some reason, the fact that Amalia was back to her full height and beaming proudly with her hands clasped before her chest did nothing to alleviate her worries.

“Look!” She exclaimed, pointing at the grass in front of them after registering movement from the corner of her eye.

When the remaining members of the Council of Six peered over at where their sister was pointing at, they all let out small gasps of surprise at what they saw. From deep beneath the soil, a small, rag-like being literally popped out of the ground, stretching and even yawning cutely before taking notice of its captivated audience. Once it became aware of its surroundings, a beaming smile stretched over its stitched lips, and it eagerly waved at the Eliatropes and dragons before dashing forward to properly meet them.

The nearest person was Mina, so the little creature stopped right in front of her, motioning with its little, fingerless arms back and forth. The silver-haired Eliatrope could only blink in astonishment, completely dumbfounded by this little mystery’s needs.

Then it clicked.

“Oh! You want me to pick you up, little one?”

The little thing nodded resolutely, reaching out to the woman in front of it. Not like it was of much help, given Mina was over a metre and a half taller than it was. Still, she obliged, crouching down slightly to scoop the tiny thing up in her arms.

Before Yugo could so much as open his mouth to ask Amalia what was going on, the earth around them began to all but spit more rag-like creatures, all of them looking exactly the same as the one Mina had in her arms.

Each and every one of them seemed to be made from a beige, rag-like fabric. They had tiny bodies and stump-like limbs, and a comically larger head. Their eyes were white and pupilless, and a thin line stitched along the edges comprised their mouths. A big, star-shaped verdant leaf enveloped their tiny form—three leaves framed their face, while the other two hugged their midsection—, its stem curling after them like a tail.

They were as cute as they were disturbing, and, before they knew it, the Council of Six found themselves surrounded and heavily outnumbered by them.

Qilby’s hands shot up in front of his body in surrender, a bead of sweat running down his temple. “This has got to be the cutest takeover I have ever seen.” He mused aloud, earning himself a quizzical eyebrow from Glip, who brandished his staff in front of his body like a weapon.

“Really? In all our lifetimes, you can’t think of anything cuter?”

“I actually find myself drawing a blank, for once.” He admitted.  

A trap! Efrim thought to himself, alarmed. Oh, he knew they couldn’t trust that forsaken doll, let alone leave her to her own devices! If he didn’t do anything, and soon, they were about to pay the price for their complacency.

Snarling furiously at the creatures, his hate-filled gaze strained on the still smiling doll, the periwinkle dragon crouched down low, the grass tickling his softer underbelly. With his long tail coiled around him like a vicious serpent, ready to strike, he set out to unfold his wings and give himself a vantage point from which to deliver a devastating attack.

However, his actions were halted when Yugo, no doubt sensing his intentions and choosing to get in his way for whatever reason, asked, “Amalia, what are these?”

Amalia, who had her focus momentarily stolen by the intimidating young dragon’s strange behaviour, was shaken out of her thoughts by the question. Blinking rapidly, she turned back to Yugo.

“Huh?” Was her eloquent answer.

“These,” the Eliatrope King asked, gesturing down at the little creatures smiling up at him. “What are they?”

“Oh!” That seemed to do the trick. The triumphant grin back on her face, she gestured with both hands at the small army she had literally grown out of her garden. “These are my Sadida dolls. Aren’t they perfect?”

A heavy sense of bewilderment overtook the entirety of the Council, all of them looking at the Divine Doll as if she had just grown a second head. Even Efrim was too flabbergasted to stand up from his position on the floor.

“Um…forgive me if I’m wrong,” Adamaï broke the silence, coughing awkwardly into his claw, “but aren’t you a Sadida Doll?”

“I’m Sadida’s doll.” She corrected, matter-of-factly.

He nodded, at a loss. “Right, right…”

“And you created them?” Phaeris added, staring with an eyebrow raised as a few dolls climbed up his back and swung from his wings. Growing irritated, he groaned and flapped the appendages rapidly to shake them off.

“That’s right.” She nodded.

“So, you’re their mother…” Qilby muttered, only to receive a shake of her head from Amalia.

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’.

“But you just said you’re Sadida’s doll, and we all know he is your father.” Chibi commented, struggling to follow the conversation.

“Father created me as my own being, therefore, he is my father. Sadidas sew their own dolls and are synchronised with them, but they are not their parents.”

“Synchronised…?” Glip could already feel his head spinning.

“Um, Lady Amalia?” Shinonomé called out to her. “I’m afraid we’re going to need you to explain what’s going on. Whatever it is that… this is, clearly eludes us.”

With a patient smile and a nod, the Divine Doll gestured at the Eliatrope Council to take a seat. The latter exchanged confused glances, assuming she meant they sat down on the ground, but they all collectively yelped when each of them was suddenly scooped up by a series of large flowers, their petals arranged so they’d resemble armrests. The only exception was Baltazar who, due to his sheer size in his dragon form, limited himself to contently laying down on the grass with a shrug.

Amalia herself reclined back in the human-sized rosebud she’d summoned with a flick of her wrist. She was surrounded by several of her dolls as she spoke:

“Sadidas are known for their animated dolls.” She started, playing absentmindedly with one of the rag creatures on her lap. “As you can probably guess, it all started as a way to honour Sadida’s creation of his Divine Dolls.”

“Yeah, but… They don’t look anything like you…” Chibi interrupted, earning himself nods of assent from some of the other council members.

“Are you sure?” Amalia shot back, a playful smirk on her lips.

The black-wearing Eliatrope had a very good inkling that it’d be rude to just gesture at the doll’s general direction to bring attention to her very human-looking body as way of answer. So, he pursed his lips in a thin line and simply nodded. “Mm-hmmm…”

Never losing her wry smile but not saying a word either, the Divine Doll simply raised an eyebrow. Then, she disappeared behind a puff of smoke. When the wisps dissipated, in her place was the same dark rag doll they saw in the throne room back when Master Joris ‘introduced’ himself only to eventually extend them an invitation to Bonta.

Now that she was standing beside the other dolls, she turned out to be barely taller than them, and only because of the tuft of green hair on top of her head giving her a few extra centimetres on them.

While Chibi gaped, it was Grougal by his side who voiced his thoughts, “Grougaloragran forgot she could do that…”

Meanwhile, Mina had brought her hands to her face, while Yugo was pinching the bridge of his nose in second-hand embarrassment. The rest of their siblings were trying to contain their laughter at the Ebony Twins’ expense with varying degrees of success. Except for Efrim, who grumbled quietly to himself and burrowed himself deeper into the flower’s folds.

Giggling at their reaction, another puff of smoke enveloped Amalia, bringing back her mahogany curves, and luscious emerald hair. “If you think we Sadida Dolls don’t look alike, Chibi, you should see my older sisters.”

“Huh?”

“Father got better the more he practised.” She explained simply.

“Anyway,” Yugo cut in, desperate to move the conversation along and not to have his siblings embarrassing themselves in front of their guest further. “You were explaining why you created your own dolls, Amalia.”

“Oh! That’s right.” She got a little more comfortable in her seat. “As I was saying, doll crafting became a crucial part of Sadida culture. In fact, alongside nature itself, dolls are a Sadida’s best weapons.”

“Weapons?” Efrim echoed, alarmed. He narrowed his gaze in suspicion on the ragdoll standing at the end of his tail. Squeaking in fright, it immediately scurried off, the dragon’s intense gaze terrifying it to the core. “So, you’re saying these little dolls can actually cause harm?”

Amalia wasn’t faring much better than the doll. If she could, she would be running away from Efrim’s questioning, too. But she didn’t have that luxury.

Swallowing the scared whimper that threatened to leave her throat with an audible gulp, she stammered, “Y-yeah. Th-that’s a way of putting it, I suppose…”

“Explain.” He leaned closer in his seat, his interest (and suspicion) piqued. In the meantime, a quivering Amalia couldn’t help but wonder who anyone was able to make a single word sound like the most threatening of orders.

“Efrim.” Yugo hissed, a blue warning flashing through his eyes. Even Mina was sending him a stern look to get him to ease up on their guest. But their younger brother just ignored them, his focus strained on the squirming Sadida Doll.

“It’s… Um, it’s as I said.” She tried; her voice tremulous under Efrim’s unforgiving scrutiny. “Thanks to the magic used while crafting them, Sadida Dolls are synchronised with their owners, hence, they obey their every wish and command and reflect their masters’ physical state.”

“And that makes them weapons?” He pressed on, like a Bow Wow with a bone.

“Efrim.” Phaeris groaned. Chibi and Grougal were discreetly shaking their heads for the periwinkle dragon to stop.

“Erm, no. What allows them to serve as weapons is their very nature as animated ragdolls. Since they’re not technically alive, they can take hits meant for their master without suffering any real damage, just like they also serve for a wide variety of purposes.”

“What purposes?” Qilby perked up, glad to finally have something to become invested in amidst Efrim’s thinly disguised questioning of the Sadida demigoddess.

“Qilby!” Shinonomé chided her twin, flashing him an incredulous look. She rolled her eyes until they reached the back of her head when all he could do to defend himself was shrug defensively.

Amalia squirmed in her seat, her mouth dry. She was just about to reply when Yugo leaned over and placed his hand on top of hers, smiling at her softly, reassuringly.

Immediately, she felt like she could finally breathe again.

“You don’t have to answer, Amalia. Qilby,” he glared at the bespectacled Eliatrope over his shoulder, “is just being his overly curious, overly annoying self. Don’t pay him any mind.”

“I resent that…” The overly curious and annoying Eliatrope in question mumbled, crossing his arms childishly.

The sincerity, warmth, and care reflected in Yugo’s dark brown eyes was enough to make Amalia want to melt into a puddle of goo, her heart fluttering in her ribcage at the out he was giving her, knowing his family was making her uncomfortable.

Her eyes fell to the ground.

As easy as it would be, she couldn’t take that out. It wouldn’t be right. It was her who had summoned the Council of Six to her garden in order to show them her progress, especially what she’d accomplished with her dolls. She owed it to them, to Yugo, and to herself to see this through, regardless of how uncomfortable Efrim’s attitude towards her was making her feel.

“It’s okay, Yugo. Thanks.” She told him softly, giving his hand a soft squeeze before letting go. “I was planning on telling you guys about it anyway.”

She had to keep her smile from widening when she noticed Yugo hadn’t returned to his seat but had come to stand protectively beside her. Even if she knew it was out of loyalty to his twin, she still felt grateful when Adamaï took his place on the other side of her.

She cooled her features into a calm, confident expression. “To answer your question, Qilby, Sadida dolls aren’t just great at taking hits meant for others, they can also harmlessly inhale toxic substances, grow in size, cushion falls…”

“Sounds like the Sadida equivalent of a Sram army knife.” Nora noted sarcastically, amused. She had to force herself to ignore the betrayed look her twin was sending her for daring to treat the Divine Doll cordially, as well as the pang of pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Wait until I grow the explosive ones!” Amalia laughed, already thinking about all the possibilities laid before her. She was so enthralled in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the scandalised looks from everyone around her.

“…I’m sorry, what?” Adamaï, who had picked one of the dolls up and had been playing with it, asked, dumbfounded. In his unease, he absentmindedly dropped the doll to the floor. Upon hitting the grass, the offended little creature began to wave its fist frantically in his direction and demand an apology from him.

While Ad raised his claws up in surrender at the irate doll, Amalia went on, undeterred, “As I’m sure you can imagine, their versatility, combined with the fact that they obey their master without question, as I already said, makes them extremely useful assets.”

“That goes without question.” Glip agreed, leaning forward with his clasped hands over his knees. “But the better question is, why did you craft them, my Lady?”

That was the question running through everyone’s minds, even Yugo’s. But especially Efrim’s. It was undeniable that there was something very suspicious about what was essentially the god’s peace offering making her own weapons, ones she had just openly admitted were a force to be reckoned with.

Moreover, ones that, due to their very nature, would obey only her, and hence, served no real purpose to the Eliatrope race.

Amalia’s explanation, how she wanted to remain a little closer to her Sadida roots by following one of their most sacred customs as per Yugo’s suggestion, did nothing to alleviate the young dragon’s worries. Quite the contrary, he could feel the pit in his stomach growing deeper and deeper with every second that passed.

She talked about her divine father and sisters and her time in Inglorium. About how, despite his previous feat at literally creating life all by himself, Sadida himself was extremely reluctant to craft any more dolls, even if they weren’t divine—which had to be about the only thing Efrim could believe, judging from the commotion the Leafy God’s youngest child’s birth had caused since the sister preceding her had been born centuries earlier. And how she remembered her sister Dathura—the aforementioned sister that preceded her—had her own horde of loyal dolls she created herself.

He didn’t need Qilby and Shinonomé’s divine gift to know that had to be the flimsiest excuse he had ever heard. As far as he was concerned, manufacturing weapons wasn’t an appropriate way to deal with homesickness!

(Unless you were a Rogue, as he would learn later on).

The whole thing reeked of ulterior motives, and it was becoming damn near impossible to keep himself from roaring in outrage and lunging himself at the Divine Doll to put an end to her machinations once and for all. He was already losing his grip on his worst impulses, if the furious flicking of his long tail was any indication.

But that was nothing compared to how powerless he felt when his siblings chose to remain blind to the clear signs of something sinister going on beneath the surface. Instead, they insisted on giving the doll chances to redeem herself, even though, not that long ago, they would not have hesitated to put an end to their enemy’s misery if it meant protecting their people by any means necessary.

It was as if they simply refused to see what was right under their noses right until the very moment it bit them in the arse.

Somehow, the fact that it was Qilby and Shinonomé who seemed the most understanding of her after Yugo and Adamaï hurt even more. How could they? What happened to their divine gift, the very same one they never stopped alluding to whenever they had the chance? Did they suddenly not remember all the hardships and horrors their people had gone through during the war?

“My, Lady Amalia. You have quite a way to keep your origins close to your heart.” Qilby chuckled airily, leaning back on his seat and adjusting his glasses over the bridge of his nose.

“Indeed. It’s not every day we hear of people crafting weapons to deal with their homesickness.” The red dragoness added, her tail resting on her lap leisurely.

“That’s because you have yet to meet the Rogues.” Amalia pointed out, taking everyone aback by the casualness of her answer. “The only thing they love more than making bombs and setting up ambushes to rob people blind is their family.”

Yugo leaned closer to his twin. “Ad, remind me to never accept an invitation to a family dinner in a Rogue’s home if I can help it.” He whispered.

“Ditto.”

“So, that’s the only reason you’ve been working on your dolls?” Chibi pressed on, examining a doll that had been playfully tugging at his hood closely. As a fellow master craftsman—even if his interests lay elsewhere—, he had to admit they were extremely good quality. And the fact that they were so full of life and yet decidedly not alive was beyond incredible. He flashed an unreadable look at Amalia from underneath his lashes. “To add a little bit of Sadida to your, as of late, Eliatrope-centric existence?”

Smiling softly to herself, growing bashful all of a sudden, Amalia brought a hand to her heart. A sudden prayer to her father to give her strength and help her steel her resolve as she admitted the other reason her little passion project had almost entirely taken over while she waited for further instructions from the Council.

“Truth be told,” she started, her gaze locking with the Eliatrope King’s warm, brown eyes, her grin widening, unbidden. “I actually wanted to contribute to your kingdom in any way I can.”

“But Lady Amalia, Baltazar doesn’t understand. Isn’t this garden supposed to be of help to us in the first place?” The beige dragon pointed out, perking up from his position on the ground. His diminutive wings likewise flattered, a clear sign of his curiosity. “Why would you need to craft your own Sadida dolls, too?”

“Because just like with this garden,” she gestured around, “this way, I feel like I can take on a more active role as I help you gain the Twelvians’ acceptance.”

“By providing us with weapons?” Phaeris found himself asking, sharing a look with his sister. And baring his sharp canines at the dolls that still tried to climb him like some mere monkey bars.

“In case any nation feels especially disinclined to welcoming you.” She retorted, a shadow passing over her features even as she remained the perfect picture of poise and calmness. “By leading my dolls or ordering them to listen to you and your soldiers, your people would gain a new line of defence; one they most likely would not have been expecting.”

Efrims’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when Nora said, “Amalia, you really don’t have to go this far for us…”

As the young dragon could only watch the scene, hopelessness and deep-seated resentment taking root in his heart, that forsaken doll had the nerve to smile warmly and gratefully at her, before glancing up at Yugo, her intentions so clear, they could hardly be called hidden.

“You’ve already done so much for me, Nora. Trust me, this is the least I can do.”

Efrim couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, he slithered out of his seat and dashed out of the door, ignoring his siblings’ calls and questions. But in his haste, he had missed how Nora’s eyes were trained on him, observing his every move. They had been since they agreed on visiting the garden that same morning, in fact.

The pink light of her irises dimming in sadness and regret, Nora pulled her mask up and averted her gaze, not wanting anyone to notice the stray tear streaming down her cheek. 

................................................................................................................

Nighttime used to be her favourite part of the day because of the quiet it brought. Well, her favourite part of the day after morning, when the sound of their native world’s birds singing would rouse her from her sleep and make her jump from her bed to kickstart her duties and encourage the rest of their people to abandon Draconiros’ realm and welcome the new day. And after noon, when everyone would gather around the table and feast on the chefs’ mouthwatering cooking while they recounted their daily misadventures, their bellies full and their hearts even fuller. And after the evening, when the sun’s dying rays would shine down on them, the lazy comfort it brought providing a much-needed respite from their hectic days. And dinner time wasn’t nothing to scoff at either…

Thinking back, she used to love a lot of things.

Now, however?

Now she couldn’t be bothered to find the strength to show genuine interest for anything other than her duties and spending some time with her siblings. And even that could be emotionally and physically taxing after a while. Some days she had to force herself to tease Yugo over his refusal to admit his feelings for Amalia lest she risked they noticed something amiss with her.

She couldn’t decide whether it was all because she was on a different planet and needed time to adjust, or if she was the one who was different. It was even harder to accept she might never be the same.

When she first noticed the changes, the vast expanse of the Krosmoz was her unfailing companion, its stars as endless as the doubts plaguing her mind after the war. Suddenly, her people had to find warmth and comfort in the small things, mainly in each other, instead of turning to their Joybringer for help.

Not like she would have been of much help in the first place.

Seemingly overnight, she went from brimming with life, fluttering around to see how she could be of help with her twin dragon in tow, to quiet and withdrawn. Lifeless. Pretty much like their homeworld after it had been ravaged by the horrors they endured. Her siblings, noticing her abrupt change in demeanour, tried reaching out to her, asking if she was okay or if there was anything they could do to help.

She always replied the same:

“I’m fine.”

But one night, or day, or mid-afternoon snack, or even week—it was hard to tell the time with no dawn or sunset—, after another fitful sleep that left her even more tired than when she first laid down to rest; the truth became impossible to ignore.

She was not fine.

Perhaps the fact that her usual cheerfulness and joie de vivre had been overwhelmed by panic, uncertainty, and the will to survive, tempered with her ability to sense it all sooner—the adrenaline coursing through her veins and fuelling her every waking moment shielding her from the effects of her own mental and physical exhaustion—, but she certainly didn’t remember feeling like this ever before. She could have always asked Qilby if there had been a point in their lives where something similar had happened, but she would essentially be admitting something was wrong with her, after all. The sole possibility scared her more than whatever answer Qilby might have provided.

But as soon as surviving stopped being their driving force?

It was as if she had left her soul back on their home planet.

In a way, she had. They all had.

They had essentially left their lives behind.

After a while, she gave up trying to look for answers to her new emotional state. Most of the time she even gave up trying to get some rest—sleep was always eluding her, anyway. So, she settled for spending her nights in quiet contemplation, her eyes, the colour of the Stasis emanating from their father’s almost ethereal form, fixated on the stellar mantle above her head, her thoughts lost in its infinite abyss. Her bed, untouched. If she was lucky, exhaustion would eventually win the battle, causing her to fall into a restless slumber right where she was, with her arms laying across her lap, her back leaned against her window frame while she was perched on the windowsill with one knee close to herself and her other leg stretched out.

And if she didn’t fall asleep… Well, there were some perks to no longer being able to fulfil your duty as your people’s Joybringer; you got to fall asleep wherever and whenever you wanted.

She only had to be careful not to fall asleep during a Council meeting, lest she risked alerting her siblings of her current state. Now wasn’t the time to worry over something as silly as her insomnia.

Of course, there was one sibling she could never hide anything from. Just like his attempts at keeping her in the dark would always be futile.

She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know he was there. Even without the soft sound of his landing inside her room announcing his presence, she would always be able to tell where he was.

“We need to talk.”

Straight to business as always, huh? She honestly didn’t know if the fact that he had changed too should bring a small consolation to her or make her fall deeper into despair.

“Hello to you too, Efrim.” She deadpanned; her pale eyelids shut. “How are you this fine evening?”

“I’m serious, Nora. We need to talk.”

“When aren’t you serious?” She scoffed. With a sigh, she slid her legs over to the side until they were firmly planted on the cold, polished stone of her floor, and hoisted herself up to properly talk to her twin.

Her ivory skin shining under the moonlight while her robes hid her body from sight, the pink of her eyes seemed to shine brightly in the dark. Her gaze as piercing and hypnotic as a Meow Meow’s as it settled on the dragon.

“So? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“It’s about the doll.” Efrim cut straight to the chase, paying no mind to his twin’s usual sense of sarcasm.

“Why am I not surprised you’d want to interrupt my beauty sleep over that?” She muttered, moving past her twin and towards a small corner of her room. Close to her window but standing on the opposite side to her door, were two wicker loveseats surrounding a small coffee table. A remnant from Nora’s past self, from when she would welcome anyone into her room just to chat amicably between friends; a fragment of herself she chose to keep even now that the only person who visited her room regularly was Efrim.

And usually just to complain. Right as he was about to do.

Really, it was the same song and dance they’d been doing since Amalia arrived. She’d be a fool not to see where he was trying to get at the moment he slithered into her room.

But ranting was Efrim’s way of escaping his own demons, so she let him rant his little heart out. And after today’s events at the garden, she knew he especially needed it.

“Don’t give me that, Nora.” He called her out on her flimsy excuse. A rare, amused smile graced the Turquoise Twins’ lips at the familiarity of their good-natured teasing. It was a small comfort. “We both know you have the sleeping schedule of an owl.”

“Maybe, but I’m still the prettiest owl you’ll ever meet.” She winked at him over her shoulder.

She turned around before taking a seat in one of the loveseats, gesturing with her hand for Efrim to do the same. Despite the exasperated roll of his eyes, the dragon still obliged her, his tail curling around the small sofa. He looked down sceptically at the table, his head tilted.

“No tea and pastries?” He snarked, flashing his sister an unimpressed look, though his smirk betrayed his true feelings.

She shrugged, “I can’t possibly call Serviette over to bring me some snacks in the middle of the night. Now, can I?”

“Last time I checked, out of the two of us you’re the twin who can create portals to move from one place to another…” He pointed out, lazily resting his head over his claw in amusement.

“And last time I checked,” she shot back, her expression morphing into a mock-pout that barely managed to conceal her mirth. “It’s rude to intrude upon others’ chambers in the middle of the night without warning.”

“As if you need to be told beforehand of when I’ll be dropping by…”

Nora blew a raspberry at him.

Efrim just raised his claws up in surrender. “All I’m saying is you’ve lost your touch, Sister; you used to be a much better hostess—.”

He tried cutting himself off the moment his words registered in his mind, mentally kicking himself at his slip up while praying Nora hadn’t been paying attention to him. His heart sank when he realised she very much had, all traces of mirth gone from her face, having been replaced by the quiet melancholy he had seen etched onto her face countless nights now.

A kind of melancholy he was powerless to get rid of for her.

“What was it that you wanted to discuss, Efrim?” Now she was the one cutting to the chase, bringing her cloak closer to herself for comfort.

Another thing that changed was their relationship. While still close as only an Eliatrope and her dragon twin could be, what once was endless laughter and camaraderie now could only be described as profoundly bittersweet, marked by the kind of bond only tragedy could forge between two people and constant pangs of pain resonating to their very core. It was akin to the feeling of constantly cutting yourself while picking up pieces of broken glass.

Only the broken glass once was themselves.

As much as Efrim wanted to reach out to his twin sister and apologise, to offer some words of comfort, he ultimately decided against it. Whenever Nora was reminded of what she’d lost, even if she would rather eat her own hat rather than admit anything was bothering her, she tended to close herself off and detach herself from the world going on around her.

It was a miracle she seemed willing to hear him out still, instead of teleporting him away outright, but then again, she never really kicked him out, no matter how bad things got. They both needed each other as much as a dying man needed salvation.

So, with a shake of his head, he forced himself to focus back on the reason why he came to his twin’s room in the middle of the night in the first place. The doll.

“I don’t trust her.” He said at last, his voice low and serious.

“What else is new?” Nora couldn’t help but snark at his expense, a hint of bitterness in her voice. She came to instantly regret it when her brother just grew more defensive.

“Would you just stop?!” He hissed, his tail coiling further around the loveseat in aggravation, not unlike how a snake would curl around its prey until it suffocated; its tip shaking like a rattle. “This is serious, Nora!”

Rather than dignify his small outburst with a verbal answer, the pink-clad Eliatrope simply motioned for him to continue. Her pink eyes could only follow his form as he all but jumped out of his chair, his serpent-like appendage acting like a spring and propelling him forward. He began pacing frantically in front of her—if one could even pace around without actual legs, that is.

“She’s up to no good, I just know it!” He started, his arms flailing around dramatically as he tried to rationalise the direction their lives had taken ever since arriving on the World of Twelve. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would the twelve gods go out of their way to send us the personification of their blessing to stay in their world, especially when their own followers clearly don’t want us here?

“They’re gods! They’re supposed to look after their followers’ best interests above all else! Instead, they’ve essentially put us before the Twelvians…” He shook his head, gripping at it tightly with his claws as the beginnings of a pounding headache overtook him from trying to make sense of it all. “Mother would have never chosen outsiders over us, her children! She loved us more than anything; she would have never abandoned us!”

At the mention of their mother, both Turquoise Dofus twins momentarily stopped and locked eyes before they couldn’t take it anymore and had to look away. Swallowing thickly, overcome with emotion, Efrim’s voice cracked as he spoke of her. “S-she…she didn’t…  she wouldn’t…” He swallowed again, his mouth dry and his eyes watery, “She would have never willingly parted from us… She just wouldn’t!”

Fighting back the tears welling up in his eyes—not helped by Nora’s own misty-eyed expression and the clear sounds of her attempts at stifling her own sobs—he went on. He did his best to remain strong and laser-focused on getting his point across, though it was plain to see he remained anything but stoic.

“And even if they indeed just wanted to help us… Why now? Why didn’t they do anything to stop the Mechasms and prevent the war? Surely the combined might of the Krosmoz’s gods would have been enough to put an end to our suffering. But they’re not our gods, they never were. In their eyes, they had no obligation, moral or otherwise, to care about our survival.

“So why would they suddenly go so far as to create an entirely new Divine Doll just for us—with everyone and their mother on this forsaken planet mentioning how rare and special they are—, with  the ‘sole’ purpose of making it easier for their worshippers to welcome us into their home? And why create a Divine Doll, of all things? Surely there must be easier ways to give your blessing other than creating a young woman from scratch only to ship her away immediately after her birth…”

Somewhere along the middle of his rant, the young dragon had forgotten to breathe, too overwhelmed by the many thoughts and questions running through his mind to pay much attention to anything other than getting the words out and out of his system. It didn’t take long for his anxiousness to catch up to him, however, for he now found himself breathing shallowly, his inhaling coming out much more laboured than his exhaling.

A soft, warm hand helped his body slow down, his heaving coming off as less frantic than just a second ago. As his breathing still wasn’t quite back to normal, Nora began to rub gentle circles around his back, her touch a powerful reminder of her presence and her commitment to being there for her twin brother whenever he needed it.

Not once stopping her ministrations, she began to gently guide Efrim through some breathing exercises, her voice barely above a whisper:

“Easy there, Brother. You’re going to accomplish what the Mechasms couldn’t if you keep this up.” She joked lightly to ease up the tension. Furrowing her brow when that didn’t get much of a reaction out of him, she grew more serious. She leaned in closer to him to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to need you to follow my lead, Efrim. Can you do that?”

That earned her a weak nod in response.

“Very good. Now, take a deep breath with me,” she inhaled, deliberately slow, and he copied her actions, “and now, let it all out slowly.” She exhaled, and so did he. “That’s right, you’re doing great. Now, again, take a deep breath,” they repeated the action, “and let it all out…” And again.

Neither of them knew how long they stood there like that, just taking calming breaths and their actions synchronised. In and out, over and over again. Eventually, the dragon’s breathing was back to normal, and he sent his sister a grateful smile.

“Thanks.” He breathed out.

“Don’t mention it.” She smiled back, before her expression sobered up. “You really oughta start being more careful, Brother. Shinonomé warned you about your panic attacks.”

“I know, I know…” He waved her off. “It’s just… How am I supposed to react to this, to her?”

“You could try giving her a chance? Glip was initially just as wary of her and look at him now! He treats her just like any student. Maybe you—" Nora tried, only to be harshly interrupted by her twin swirling around to face her, his dark blue eyes glinting dangerously and causing her to pull her hand away in surprise.

“All he did was give her a chance to worm her way into his defences!” The dragon snapped, weeks of deep-seated resentment over Glip’s perceived weakness coming to the surface with a vengeance. “Don’t you think the events leading up to his change in demeanour are kind of suspicious?”

“What do you mean?” She asked despite herself, the ears of her hat standing in high alert; she brought her hand back into the folds of her robes.

The periwinkle dragon wasted no time in listing off the events taking place that day.

“First, she requests she be allowed to go to his and Baltazar’s class; then she turns out to have been listening and learning about our history and culture long before she even made said request; she effortlessly earned the children’s adoration; and, on her very first day, a little girl has a near fatal accident she just so managed to prevent.” His words were dripping with sarcasm the more he spoke, his snout curling into a sardonic smile before it turned into a vicious sneer. “Don’t you see, Nora? Everything that happened that day was a deliberate attempt to gain his trust!”

Nora actually gasped in horror when he shook his head in disgust and muttered, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she deliberately put Lori’s life in danger just to make herself look like a hero…”

“Efrim!” She hissed, scandalised he would even think such a thing.

After the war, Nora could no longer bring herself to see the best in everyone like she used to, which was why, while she wasn’t above riling Yugo up over his relationship with her and the fact that she was undeniably beautiful—and totally her type—, Nora chose to remain mostly neutral towards Amalia. While she remained cautious, having learned from example, she ultimately understood only time would tell her true intentions.

But for some reason, she just couldn’t picture the beaming doll she’d seen laughing with her brother on her balcony and becoming starry-eyed over every little thing doing something as heinous as knowingly endangering a child to serve her own purposes.

“C-come on, Efrim…” She tried to reach out to her twin, her voice wobbly. “Don’t you think that’s a little too harsh? After all, Yugo is practically glued to her side, and he seems to trust her—” Once again, the pink-eyed Eliatrope was cut off by her dragon twin’s unforgiving rebuttals.

“Yugo is blind, Sister!” He snapped, his voice, sharp and stern, echoing around the walls. Immediately, Nora realised he had to be in a very agitated state, for his crystalline wings involuntarily unfolded around him, glinting in the moonlight. But rather than the beautiful display she was used to, now it only made him look bigger, more intimidating.

It only highlighted the beast he had been forced to become. 

She idly wondered if that was the last thing his enemies saw during the war before he put an end to their lives.

Efrim himself was too out of it to notice his own accidental shapeshifting, so he simply spat, though not any less venomously. “You and I both know—Shukrute, we all know! — that, regardless of what he tells himself to sleep at night, he is absolutely smitten with that doll! Our fearless king is reduced to nothing but a lovesick Bow Wow whenever she is around! Her every wish is his command, and we’re all going to pay dearly for his weakness.”

“While it’s true Yugo has grown particularly close to her despite his initial reservations,” Nora reluctantly admitted, knowing her twin had a point—no matter how much Yugo tried to deny it. “He is still our king; we must have faith in him and his decisions. Besides, it’s not like he holds all the power. Don’t forget, Efrim, together, all of us form the Council of Six. If any one of us had anything to say on the matter, Yugo would no doubt listen to us.”

“Except we already told him our concerns and he brushed them off, remember?” He pointedly reminded her, his mind tracing back to those meetings soon after the doll arrived, and she asked to be taught by the Ivory Twins.

“From the very beginning, Glip and I were against the doll staying with us, but Yugo insisted we just couldn’t kick her out because it could offend the gods and lead to us getting into heaps of trouble. And when she requested to become Baltazar and Glip’s student, Glip was vehemently against it, but Yugo essentially strong-armed him into accepting because he just can’t say no to his little flower!”

“And look at how that turned out!” Nora exclaimed, opening a portal to close the distance between herself and her brother, her hand gently cupping the side of his snout, begging him to listen to her; to try and understand. “Glip came to realise he was wrong about her and now treats her like any of his students.”

She had to stifle a frustrated groan when Efrim countered, “She manipulated him into accepting her, you mean. You forget the circumstances revolving that day are far too convenient for her to be a mere coincidence. And all because Yugo allowed for it to happen…” He grumbled, shaking his head in distaste.

“And you forget it wasn’t just Yugo who insisted Glip gave her a chance!” Nora shot back, growing frustrated with her dragon twin. “Baltazar, for starters, was just as willing to welcome Amalia in as Glip was unwilling to, and I don’t see you trying to claim Amalia somehow won him over as well.”

“Because I don’t need to!” He all but screeched, throwing his arms to the sides in exasperation. “That’s the worst part! It’s not that Yugo’s clearly fallen for that doll’s siren song, or even that she’s managed to turn Glip away from his most primal instincts, but the fact that the rest of you refuse to see anything wrong with her!”

“The rest of… us?” She echoed with a small voice, hurt by the fact that Efrim seemed to think she didn’t have his back. But he just went on, not sparing her a second glance.

“Just like earlier; somehow you think it’s a good idea to entrust what’s essentially a Sadida demigoddess, a creature whose power over nature is second only to her divine father, with her own garden. And you don’t even suspect it might come back to bite you.” He scoffed derisively, letting out a sarcastic, mirthless chuckle.

The young dragon was far too out of it to notice, but Nora watched with concerned, pink eyes when his wings began trembling, letting out a buzzing sound not unlike an insect. She flinched, unconsciously taking a step forward to try and offer some comfort—Efrim’s wings only acted like that when he was in a very distressed emotional state.

“She’s literally created nigh-unstoppable weapons only she can control, Nora!” He pressed on, finally taking flight and coming to hover over his twin as he looked her dead in the eye. “And you don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Amalia says her Sadida Dolls are her way of offering her help in case we’re ever under attack.” Nora pointed out, but her voice sounded distant, distracted, and not entirely convinced herself.

“And you believed her.” Efrim deadpanned. He shook his head with a sneer. “She’s putting a knife to our throats and you’re actually thanking her for it!”

“How can you be so sure Yugo hasn’t taken everything into account, Efrim?” She challenged, refusing to stand down even as her brother was literally looming over her. “Don’t you remember? Yugo said we could use this opportunity to learn more about the Twelvians and stay ahead of the game if they ever declare war against us.” She made a show of shrugging, though her words were purposeful and irrefutable, “Today we’ve learned Sadidas fight using enchanted, animated dolls; wouldn’t you count that as an advantage?”

“We’ll need much more than that if we want to survive whatever that doll and this world’s gods have planned for us, Sister.” He told her ominously, a puff of smoke coming out of his nostrils.

The Turquoise Twins remained like that, locked into a staring contest, for what felt like an eternity. Despite the intensity in their eyes, all each of them wanted was for the other to try and see their point of view. Each passing day, Nora grew increasingly worried over her twin’s transformation, how he went from cautious but kind and welcoming to paranoid and hostile. Efrim, on the other hand, was desperate for his sister to move on from the uncaring funk the loss of their world had awakened within her and open her eyes to the truth.

And the truth was, the Divine Doll just couldn’t be trusted.

Eventually, the fire in the young dragon’s dark blue eyes flickered practically out of existence, being reduced to nothing but a tired spark. His guarded expression morphing into quiet resignation, he finally averted his gaze, letting out a heavy sigh as he rested his head against his claw.

A small gasp leaving her, Nora was about to reach out and try to console her twin brother when his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“I love you, Nora, more than anything. And I know you love me too.” The look he sent her was enough to break her heart in two. “I’d just wish you would listen to me for once.”

And with that and one last flap of his wings, he dashed out of her still open window, leaving Nora alone in the darkness. A few seconds ticked by where the Eliatrope just remained where she was, motionless, her expression one of shock. And then, unable to stop herself, she choked out a broken sob, falling to her knees as she cried into her palms.

Not that long ago, she and Efrim rarely argued. Their siblings would admit to being jealous of their close, unbreakable bond. Their days would be spent laying down on the grass and lazily drawing shapes from the clouds above or gathering flowers to make crowns to gift their subjects to. They would laugh, and joke, and sing, and lead dances in the middle of the main square. During festivals, while the religious aspects fell within Mina’s jurisdiction, the youngest Primordial Twins would lead their people into the actual festivities, organising games and banquets, and just doing about everything in their power to make the subjects they loved so much feel as happy, lucky, and content with their lives as they felt.

The war changed all that. Now the Eliatropes’ Joybringers couldn’t find it in themselves to feel any joy, let alone share it with everybody else. And their dependence on each other had become as much of a comfort as it was a wound they kept reopening whenever they interacted.

Yes, even since the war, things had changed. For everyone, herself included. In fact, maybe she was the first to change. But nothing had changed quite like Efrim did. 

....................................................................................................................

He could still vividly remember the curious smiles plastered on their children’s faces at the arrival of their new neighbours. To be honest, he’d be lying if he said it was only the children that were ecstatic by the fact that they finally had someone to share their world with. It was as if their mother had finally answered her children’s pleas.

Make no mistake, under the Eliatrope Goddess’ care, her followers never wanted for anything. Food and water were plentiful; under the Council of Six’s guidance, their civilisation thrived; they lived in perfect harmony with nature; and the Eliatropes never knew famine, corruption, pestilence, or war…

The one thing their mother failed to provide them with were companions they could learn from and share their ways with, however. The Eliatropes were the only sapient beings on their home planet, and though that wasn’t without its perks, over the course of the centuries, they found themselves wishing for more, their curiosity for the many wonders beyond the frontiers of their world growing more powerful by the day. Harder to ignore.

Needless to say, there was much rejoicing when the Mechasms arrived, looking for a place to call home. Naturally, they were welcomed with open arms, for the Eliatropes had never known ‘stranger danger’.

That was a lesson that was bound to be etched onto the very fabric of their race’s history.

Against all odds, at first, everything was even better than it had been when the portal-making race still lived by itself. It didn’t take long for Eliatropes and Mechasms to form an almost symbiotic bond. The latter used their vast powers to improve the Eliatropes’ already almost idyllic lives, while the former didn’t just offer the Mechasms a place to stay, but they showed them the secrets of their own magic.

For years, it was a match made in Inglorium. If asked, any Eliatrope would immediately sing the Mechasms’ praises, for that deep was their respect and admiration for their new (and not-so-new) neighbours. Whereas the Mechasms, mysterious as they could be, were nothing but gentle and supportive when it came to the wakfu-wielding people.

One race was the other’s fervent supporter, while the other was the other’s staunchest defender.

Which made their betrayal all the more devastating.

The day the Mechasms betrayed them completely out of nowhere wasn’t just the day the Mechasm War started; it was also the day the Eliatropes had their hearts broken for the very first time in their millennia-long history.

Soon, horrified screams replaced giddy laughter. The images of terrified children crying their little eyes out as they desperately called for their parents—who might not even be alive anymore—were burned into his brain. The happy memories where those same children’s favourite game was climbing up the Mechasms’ huge, but ultimately harmless, forms reduced to cinders by that same fire. 

But the one memory that was fundamentally changed was that of their attackers; gone was the warm, grateful feeling that used to spread all over his chest concerning the foreign race, now all that was left was seething hatred whenever he thought back to their lifeless, uncaring eyes as they massacred his people. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe the vile monster ravaging their land with his armies was the same kind and caring Prince Orgonax who used to be so beloved by everyone. Now he could only reminisce on the bitter hatred and bloodlust reflected in his glowing eyes whenever he thought back to him, a shiver going down his spine at the memories.

Their skies turned red from the wanton destruction going on underneath, while rivers of blood streamed down the desolate land. Everywhere he looked, all he could see were flashes of blue and red clashing against each other, until one of the two colours all but vanished. He remembered cheering to himself whenever it was the red flash that died out, and his eyes stinging as he fought to suppress broken sobs from tearing from his throat when it was the blue light that flickered out first.

And yet, nothing was more heartbreaking than the silence, even amidst the chaos and bloodshed. For the first time ever since the Crimson Twins could remember, the loving, nurturing echo at the back of his head he had been hearing since birth was silent. Their Mother’s voice was gone, his connection to Her all but lost. 

He had never felt so hopeless in his life. And if he couldn’t hope, then did his people have a future at all?

In a desperate attempt to quiet the unforgiving doubts, he spent those days doing everything in his power to fend off attacks and protect the innocent, ensuring everyone was safe as he led them away to whatever safe zone Qilby and Shinonomé had set up to treat their injuries and offer their subjects something to drink and eat. A place to stay until the nightmare was finally over.

And in between fighting, narrowly avoiding deathly attacks, rescuing civilians, and holding onto the very last threads of his sanity to not shut down completely, there was one thought in his mind:

He kept praying with all his might Nora was fine.

When he finally did reunite with his sister, the dam finally broke. Weeks of pent-up emotion tore painful, relieved sobs from his throat as he embraced his twin tightly against his chest, feeling a certain wetness against his scales where her own face was buried. It was a miracle neither her or their siblings had died, although the same couldn’t be said for many of their subjects—warriors and civilians alike had lost everything in the blink of an eye. 

Could they ever rebuild their lives at all?

The Mechasms were once their greatest friends and yet, they turned their backs on the Eliatropes without hesitation, let alone an explanation. And now that forsaken doll claimed they had the twelve gods’ blessing and she was meant to be proof enough of that. 

“Don’t make me laugh.” He derisively thought aloud as he used his forearm to furiously wipe away the insistent tears pooling in his eyes. 

His majestic wings stretching to their full length as he glided under the night sky, he didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to distance himself as far away from the palace, his siblings, Nora, and the doll as possible. 

So that glorified ragdoll wanted to earn their trust? Well, fat chance. Because if there was anything he’d learned from the Mechasm War, that was that he’d much rather die than make the same mistake that cost their people so much. Even if he became the Eliatropes’ last line of defence against that green-haired schemer, so be it. He would never let them get away with whatever it was they were planning. Even if it was the last thing he did.

...................................................................................................................

“Is it selfish of me to be looking forward to being able to really explore beyond the confines of the island the most?” Yugo wondered aloud with a heavy sigh, his body sprawling all over his desk as he—thankfully—finished with today’s batch of paperwork. 

Watching his brother’s antics in amusement, Adamaï chuckled, “I know what you mean.” His wings kept him aloft as he scanned over his brother’s small collection of memorabilia. To the naked eye, a shelf filled to the brim with trinkets would be nothing but ‘small’, but the twins still vividly remembered what their room used to look like back in their home planet. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say they didn’t remember what it looked like, having been overrun by the countless souvenirs they brought home from their many travels over the years. 

Really, they had so much stuff there was no sight of their walls. 

That was one of the reasons why they no longer shared a room after arriving on the World of Twelve—their siblings had strictly forbidden it. They dared to hope it would take the Emerald Dofus twins slightly longer to turn their living spaces into the world’s most disorganised museum exhibit if they both had to start from scratch. 

Now, normally, such an attempt would have been futile, as Yugo and Adamaï would have already elevated their rooms to the dubious honour of being storage closets with beds; but the rising tensions with the Twelvians and the Eliatropes’ subsequent isolation on Oma Island made moving towards that goal feel like crawling at a snail’s pace. 

Still, Yugo had found a way not to let something as silly as ‘self-imposed isolation’ deter him, hence his small, but still growing, collection. 

Draconic eyes scanning the shelves, Adamaï perked up at the sight of something very interesting. Picking up the torn remnants of the Gobbowl match tickets from their visit to Bonta placed beside a bowl of some sort, he mused aloud, “Amalia seemed very excited with her new garden.”

“Yeah, and here I thought she couldn’t possibly be more excited than when I first showed it to her.” Yugo said, throwing his hands above his head and stretching until he heard a loud pop! “Can’t say I blame her, though. It’s only been two weeks and she’s already doing incredible things.”

“As expected of a Divine Doll.” Adamaï concurred. He glanced at his brother over his shoulder. In the privacy of his room, he had taken his cloak off and hung it on his chair. “You told me at first she was very apprehensive of being given her own garden, right?”

Leaning back on his chair with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, Yugo hummed at the memory. “That’s right. She felt she was imposing herself on us. Luckily, I got her to see how ridiculous that was. She’s not imposing herself on us; if anything, we’re the ones who’re always relying on her help!”

Now it was the dragon’s turn to hum noncommittally. “That’s true, I suppose.” With one last glance over, he put the tickets back in their place. His wings still outstretched and flapping in mid-air, he turned to face his twin. “Then again, isn’t that what she’s here for? To help us?”

This time, he was met with silence. Yugo’s attention was trained on the markings running up and down his ceiling, weak pulses of wakfu making them light up every so often. He was clearly lost in thought. Adamaï sighed good-naturedly, for he was very used to his kind of scene happening and his brother had already explained everything to him when he went to look for him in the library right after parting ways with Amalia that day, anyway. He already had everything he needed. 

Although his mind couldn't help going back to what happened today in the garden. The weak undercurrents of wakfu running through his veins and flashing in his mind told him Yugo, too, was bothered by it. The white-and-blue dragon had a very good inkling that was actually what Yugo had summoned him to his room for in the first place. 

Joined by an endlessly adventurous thrive, the Emerald Twins weren’t ones to stay cooped up in their rooms for long, mostly just to sleep and, especially in Yugo’s case, tend to the kingly duties he had been neglecting during the day. 

And considering how often the latter occurrence took place… Well, let’s just say it was no wonder the Eliatrope King wasn’t the most enthused to be in his room. Which at the same time meant that whenever he summoned you there, it was usually something serious. 

Letting himself fall to the floor as he willed his wings out of existence, Adamaï leaned back against the wall, his claws on his hips and his tail thumping the floor as he patiently waited for Yugo to speak up his mind any minute from now. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to cut to the chase and get straight to the point. 

“Did you know what she was really mesmerised by at first was the ground used for the room?”

…maybe it would take some prodding. 

“The ground? How so?” Adamaï immediately smacked himself for playing along despite himself. 

“Because, since it was volcanic rock, it was fertile. Meaning she can grow things more easily.” He explained casually. “Apparently, Sadidas need fertile, workable soil to use many of their powers.”

“I’m guessing you just informed Chibi and Grougal of that fact?” Adamaï guessed, his head tilting to the side in surprise when his brother just shook his head instead. 

“I didn’t even know about that until Amalia told me, when she saw the garden.” He admitted, tearing himself from his desk and spinning his chair around to give his dragon twin his full attention. “That was all Chibi and Grougal.”

“Ever the observant ones, I see.”

“Well, they are our people’s greatest inventors. That’s gotta mean something besides them just being good at tinkering and acting like a pair of interior design snobs.”

“And did you know about her plans for the garden?” Adamaï pressed on, his voice wasn’t accusatory—at neither Amalia or Yugo—, but genuinely curious. 

It took the king a second to get what his twin was trying to say. His form was slightly hunched over, with his forearms resting on his knees and his clasped hands in the space in between. After a beat of silence, understanding dawned on him and he shook his head again. 

“I knew she wanted to prepare it for when we started telling her what we need her to grow, but I had no idea she intended to grow her own animated dolls, if that’s what you mean, Ad.”

Again, Adamaï just nodded. “I was just curious, that’s all. Though I can’t deny I was a little alarmed when Amalia mentioned the explosive ones.”

Both brothers couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. It wasn’t easy catching the white-and-blue dragon off-guard, so when something managed to surprise even him… Well, then you knew it was a pretty big deal. And, truth be told, the face he pulled when Amalia mentioned the possibility of making her dolls explode just as he was playing with one was simply priceless.

“I think we were all quite taken aback that something so small and cute could be such a powerhouse.” Yugo pointed out, wiping a tear off his face, his laughter slowly dying down. 

Adamaï closed the distance between the two and placed a claw over his shoulder, smiling down at his twin with a knowing look, “Yeah, well, then it shouldn’t be all that surprising that Amalia was the one to accomplish that.” He winked. “It’s in her blood, after all!”

Wait, did Divine Dolls even have blood…?

He was broken out of his musings by the almost painfully lovesick sigh that escaped his twin’s lips, “Yeah, you’re right. If anyone knows how to be both cute and powerful, that’s Amalia…”

As soon as the words registered in his mind, Yugo’s eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut. He chanced a cautious look up at Adamaï, and promptly buried his increasingly hot face into his hands at the smug smirk curling at his twin’s thick, blue lips with a loud groan.

“Shut up.” He grumbled, though it sounded a little muffled. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Adamaï tried to sound as neutral as possible, but he couldn’t keep his voice from cracking in amusement at his twin’s predicament. If his vehement denial of the obvious wasn’t so frustrating, he’d be doubled over with laughter by now. 

“You didn’t have to.” The flustered king countered, stubbornly refusing to look the dragon in the eye. “Ever since you hit your first growth spurt, you don’t know how to school your expression into something friendly. Either you look all serious and menacing, or you look absolutely deranged. There is just no in-between.”

“Excuse you!” Adamaï gasped, offended, a claw to his chest. He huffed in outrage. “I’ll have you know I can look perfectly normal if I feel like it! Not once have I scared Amailia off, now, have I?”

Now that Yugo was standing to his full height, he was practically in Adamaï’s face as the two of them grumbled at each other. “Exactly! Your problem is that you can’t play it cool to save your life! The moment you have to plaster a smile on your face instead of letting it happen naturally, you get this psycho grimace instead.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not—!”

“Uh… Is this a bad time?”

At the unexpected sound of the new voice, the two of them whirled their heads around so fast it was a miracle they didn’t give themselves whiplash. There, standing before them and staring at them with the kind of long-suffering resignation only a little sister could possess was Nora, who had just stepped out of one of her diamond-shaped portals. 

“Nora!” Yugo exclaimed, annoyance tingeing his voice. “You can’t just come in like that! Use the door!”

“We’re Eliatropes.” She deadpanned, an eyebrow raised. “Making portals is literally what sets us apart from the other races in the Krosmoz. Why do we even need doors in the first place? We can just go pretty much wherever we like!”

“She’s got a point there.” Adamaï muttered. 

“Well, it’s still common courtesy to at least respect other people’s privacy by not barging into their rooms unannounced.” Yugo couldn’t believe he had to even explain that. Exasperated, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he added through gritted teeth, “Especially now that we actually have a non-Eliatrope guest living with us.”

“Alright, alright.” She rolled her eyes, hoping to get it over with. “I promise not to teleport myself into Amalia’s room unannounced.” She smirked at the way Yugo was scowling at her—she had very deliberately not said anything about not going into his room unannounced. 

A smirk stretching over her lips, she cocked an eyebrow while her hands came to rest on her hips and she shifted her weight to one leg, striking a cheeky pose, “What’s the matter, Brother? Afraid I might see something I shouldn’t?”

Face burning even hotter, Yugo just made a strangled sound while his hands mimicked wringing her pretty, little neck in aggravation.

Chuckling at the display, only to pretend to have a dry throat when his twin flashed him a death glare, Adamaï said, “So, what brings you here?”

The way she seemed to shrink into herself, all semblance of mirth and sass completely gone, immediately got their attention.

“It’s about Amalia…” She paused, swallowing thickly. “And Efrim.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the Emerald Twins tensed up and exchanged worried glances. They had a very good hunch as to what their conversation might be about.

For a moment, a heavy silence hung over all three of them, as neither dared to say a word; they didn’t even know how to begin the conversation. So they just stood there, in the middle of Yugo’s room, bathed by the light blue hue coming from the artificial stone torches perched over the walls. 

In the end, it was their king who spoke up first, letting out a heavy sigh. “Come on. It’s uncomfortable talking while standing up like this.” He beckoned them deeper into his room. “Why don’t you lie down on the bed, Nora? You look like you could use some rest.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Yugo had a point. After her argument with Efrim the previous night, she hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy as a result of both her sleep deprivation and night-long cries. Not even by following her siblings around like usual did Nora grow tired enough to drift off to sleep. The fact that no one had seen Efrim since he left Amalia’s garden only added to her worries. 

When she finally flopped herself down onto her brother’s bed, soft and comfortable, she had to summon every ounce of will power she possessed not to go out like a light. Which was ironic, given all day she wanted nothing more than to find a place she could rest. But nothing about her life was fair anymore, so she would just have to suck it up and pretend things were fine. 

Nothing new, really.

“Had a rough night?” Yugo guessed, offering her a sympathetic smile as he sat down opposite her, at the foot of his bed. Meanwhile, Adamaï opted to remain upright, although leaning against the sculpted frame of his poster bed. 

“You could say that, yes.” She smiled sadly in return. For a moment, neither said a word, until, “I’m worried about him, guys.”

“He’s clearly not taking Amalia’s stay well.” Adamaï observed. 

Nora snorted, “That’s putting it mildly…”

“He was clearly out to get her yesterday. All those questions about her dolls being weapons, and the way he crouched down on the floor, as if ready to pounce…” Yugo trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. “Clearly, Efrim is still convinced Amalia is a threat, and it shows.”

“Yeah, and Amalia is aware of it, too.” The girl pointed out, her eyes falling to her fidgeting fingers on her lap.

“She is?” Adamaï asked, surprised.

“It’s hard not to notice the way Amalia basically shrinks whenever the two are in close proximity.” The casualness of her tone did not take away from the truth of her statement. “She knows Efrim doesn’t like her and it makes her want to stay as far away from him as possible.” She then added with a resigned shrug, “Though, again, it’s not like he does a great job at hiding how he feels.”

“This is such a mess!” Yugo exclaimed tiredly, his hands running through his dirty blond locks and yanking slightly at them in frustration. His wakfu wings—always in sync to his mood swings— went from flickering brightly due to his troubled emotions to lowering slightly, as despondent as he felt. “If we really want the Twelvians to trust us, we can’t afford to have one of our own distrust of Amalia so much! That would only complicate matters, or cause some diplomatic incident, or make them even more suspicious of us, or-or… or I don’t know!”

“Not to mention, Efrim is a member of the Council of Six like us, the rulers of the Eliatrope race.” Adamaï was quick to point out, wincing slightly when he realised he was only adding to his twin’s stress. Though not before saying, “If word gets out that one of us thinks so little of Amalia, the Twelvians could use the excuse of trying to protect one of their gods’ children to attack us or kick us out.”

“Thank you for that summation, Ad.” Yugo deadpanned, his hand holding his head as he sent a look his twin’s way. 

“Right, sorry. Not helping.” He said meekly. 

Groaning loudly, their king jumped to his feet and paced around the room, the motion not unlike that of a caged animal. Stopping abruptly, he threw his head back, his hands having once again found their way to his hair while his wings remained firmly pressed to his head. 

“I just don’t understand the source of Efrim’s animosity!” He complained, throwing his arms to his side. Under his siblings’ curious gaze, he resumed his pacing. “Yes, it’s true Amalia’s arrival was very abrupt and unexpected. I think we can all agree I was the one the most taken aback by it. But Amalia’s presence contributed greatly to the most significant progress we’ve been making in being welcomed by the Twelvians!”

“Nobody denies that, Yugo.” Adamaï said placatingly, sliding off the bed frame and walking towards his twin to rest a pair of comforting claws on his shoulders. “All our subjects know it’s all thanks to Amalia that we were even invited to Bonta. And, from what you told me, she was rather well-liked when you two visited the village.”

“You visited the village together?” Nora questioned, surprised. She had no idea. Then she realised they most likely went without even Adamaï around to act as their chaperone and she found herself feeling personally slighted over having missed such a perfect chance to annoy her brother over his date with his crush like any good little sister would.

Yugo, sensing her intentions, addressed her over his dragon twin’s shoulder, “Yes, to visit Qilby and Shinonomé, nothing more!” Growing more serious and ignoring her mutterings of how ‘she’d have to ask Qilby and Shinonomé later’, he focused back on Adamaï, “And exactly! I simply don’t understand how Efrim could be so judgemental of someone he barely even knows.”

“Can’t you?”

Nora’s quiet yet piercing question immediately drew her brothers’ attention, with Adamaï turning around to look at her while Yugo leaned over his twin’s shoulder to face her better. They exchanged a confused glance before the king muttered, “Um… no? It’s exactly as we’ve been saying, Nora; Amalia’s been a huge help practically since she arrived, and Efrim’s hostility towards her could be taken as an insult by Twelvians and gods alike.”

“True, but that didn’t stop you from keeping your distance from her or suspecting her of having ulterior motives when she arrived.” Hoisting herself up from the bed as well, she pointed an accusatory finger in Yugo’s direction, the action and her words feeling like a suckerpunch. 

While he tried to recover from the blow, she went on, “Because you said so yourself; you were just as suspicious of her true intentions when we first met her. And although for a while you kept good on your promise of keeping her company, you also avoided her for weeks! Shouldn’t you understand Efrim’s feelings better than anyone?”

For a while, Yugo just stood there, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping as he struggled to come up with an appropriate response to her question, even if it was clearly rhetorical. Because, the truth was, Nora was right. He was the first one to distrust Amalia as soon as he heard of her presence on Oma Island. And he did spend weeks keeping her at arms’ length or outright avoiding her altogether after he feared they’d got too close during their visit to the beach, precisely because he felt he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. 

But the worst part was that, deep down, he still had doubts. They would creep up on him when he least expected it, like some thieving Srams lurking in the shadows as they waited for their prey to make their presence known to rob them blind. One moment, he would be happily conversing with Amalia, laughing and joking over everything and anything under the sun, and the next, something she said would send him spiralling down paranoia. Suddenly, he would internally question her true reasons for saying what she said, analysing it from every angle as the ever present fear of betrayal lingered heavy on his mind. 

In the blink of an eye, Amalia would transform from an innocent flower who could never hurt anyone, to a scheming seductress with horns and a tail pointer than an Osamodas’ right in front of him. 

And then, as soon as those fears came, they would be gone when her sweet, melodious voice called out to him, sounding genuinely concerned. 

A part of him was beginning to understand the doll’s aversion to Eliatrope portals. He himself was beginning to feel like he kept jumping in and out of one whenever they interacted and those doubts assaulted him, the neverending exercise leaving him quite dizzy. 

He didn’t know where he found the strength to say, “But I am spending time with her, and learning more things about her every day, Nora.” His voice growing more confident with every word he spoke, he pointed his glowing palm to the floor underneath him and materialised a portal that led him right beside his sister, who regarded him with a raised eyebrow, listening intently. 

He leaned forward slightly to be at the same eye-level as her and placed his hands on her pink-clad shoulders reassuringly, not unlike what Adamaï had done to him mere moments before. “And each day she’s giving me more reasons to trust her.”

Instead of fighting him, the pink-eyed Eliatrope just hung her head in defeat, her snow-white bangs following her movements. “And that’s Efrim's greatest fear. That no matter how much time we spend together with her or how much we claim to know her, we still won’t know anything at all and she’ll turn her back on us.”

Like the Mechasms.

None of them needed to voice their thoughts to know the others were thinking the same thing as them. It wasn’t necessary, not after the war with their former allies had left a permanent scar on Eliatrope history and on each and every one of them—some were just more visible than others. 

It was one of the reasons settling down on the World of Twelve had been such a difficult and risky choice. They were driven off their own world by those who once were their closest allies. Could they really risk suffering the same fate at the hands of countless races that were so different from them? 

In the end, desperation and necessity won out over cautiousness, and the rest was history. 

“That’s what weighs heavily on Efrim’s mind, guys.” Nora continued, her voice tremulous as tears welled up in her eyes, her concern for her twin apparent. “He’s not the same he once was, and I fear he’ll never be. He… He just… he doesn’t seem like he can move on from what happened!”

“And he’s terrified that what happened with the Mechasms will repeat itself with Amalia. That we’ll open our hearts and our home to an outsider only for her to stab us in the back like a treacherous Sram.” Adamaï concluded, his voice distant as he watched the tears streaming down his sister’s face. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, feeling powerless to stop her tears and offer her some comfort while Yugo gently wiped them off and tried to reassure her.

“I understand, Nora.” Her older brother said softly, lifting her chin with one finger to get her to look at him. “Believe me, I do. But trusting Amalia is a risk we must take if we want to be able to call this world our home one day. It really is our best shot.”

“He’s right.” Adamaï agreed, finally willing his feet to move and to stand beside his brother, supporting him. “But I’m afraid Efrim’s attitude towards Amalia will only complicate matters.”

Wiping the remaining tears off, she sighed. “I know, and I’ve tried getting him to at least dial it down, but he refuses to back down. He sees himself as our last line of defence against her, or something. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Why don’t you try talking to Amalia instead?” Yugo offered. 

She perked up at that. “What?”

“Yeah, if one side is too stubborn to listen, then maybe you’ll have better luck with the other.” Yugo explained. Then, the all-too-familiar dopey grin they’d come to associate with whenever he was thinking of the Divine Doll came back with a vengeance. “I’m sure if you tell Amalia not to take Efrim’s attitude too personally or you explain to her why he acts like that in the first place, she’ll understand.”

Nora considered it, bringing a finger to her chin pensively. She supposed that could work. She’d just have to be careful not to break Efrim’s trust by revealing anything too personal. 

She gave a satisfied nod and a smile. “Very well, I’ll try talking to Amalia about it.”

“That’s great!” Yugo grinned back. 

“Now, Brother…” He did not like the sound of her voice one bit. It was innocent, too innocent. “Why don’t you tell me all about your date with Amalia at the village?”

Yugo just teleported himself out of his room.

....................................................................................................................

“And that’s all for today, class. Don’t forget, starting next week, we’ll be meeting up at the training grounds back at the village to formally begin your training on Wakfung.” Glip called after his students as they filed out of the classroom, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. 

Amalia picked up the rear end of the throngs of Eliatrope children walking out of the room, sighing in relief, glad that the day was finally over. Since she had been working tirelessly on her garden and her dolls, she had neglected her studies a bit, more specifically, her homework. Meaning she had had a lot of catching up to do the night before to be able to hand in her reports and essays on time. 

She would have also had to give an oral presentation on her findings on her assigned topic regarding Eliatrope worshipping practices if it hadn’t been for class mercifully ending just as it was about to be her turn.

She might have prepared a presentation on Eliatrope worship, but she was going to spend all night thanking Sadida for that save. 

The doll was about to cross the threshold leading to the palace halls and back to her room when she felt the curled end of Glip’s staff grabbing hold of her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She almost let out a resigned whimper, already lamenting the fact that she hadn't been so lucky after all and her teachers were about to make her share her findings with them. 

“Lady Amalia, do you have a moment?” Baltazar’s kind voice said, his grandfatherly tone revealing nothing. 

“Yeah, sure. Of course…” She all but squeaked pitifully, turning her body fully so she was facing her teachers. She took a deep breath and began to recite the speech she had prepared for the occasion, “Every year, during the month that best corresponds to the Twelvian Descendre, the Eliatrope people gather to celebrate their goddess’ greatest feats: the creation of the Krosmoz, the birth of the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons, and the creation of—.”

“My Lady, what are you blabbering about?” Glip cut her off, confused. 

“Um, I’m explaining what I’ve found out about my assigned topic on Eliatrope worship?” Amalia replied, unsure, her eyes darting this and that way. “Isn’t that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Dragon and Eliatrope shook their heads. “Not at all.” Baltazar said. 

“Huh.” Now Amalia was the one who was confused. “Then what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Well, you see,” Glip started. With a sigh, he walked further into the room and hooked his staff with one of the rings hanging from the ceilings that the kids used to practise their moves. Hoisting himself up, he somersaulted in the air until he came to rest atop his twin’s head, peering down at the gaping doll with an unreadable expression (and feeling very smug about his physical feat). “As you know, next week—.”

“Did you really have to do all that just to make it to Baltazar’s head?” The dragon questioned, doing his best to send his brother an accusatory glare even though doing so was considerably difficult when your target was out of your line of vision. “Couldn’t you have just opened a portal? Glip, you’re the Eliatrope!”

The Wakfung master’s expression morphed into a resigned grimace. He went on all fours to lean over the dragon’s head and look his twin in the eye. “Mastering the art of Wakfung requires both physical fortitude and agility, not just proficiency at manipulating wakfu. You’d know this if you didn’t spend all your time with your snout stuck in a book.”

An annoyed puff of smoke abandoning his nostrils and almost causing Glip to choke, the beige dragon was quick to shoot back, “And if you didn’t spend so much time jumping around like a monkey, you would recognise there is no point in mastering Wakfung if you do not know the legacy you’re trying to protect!”

Amalia could only blink as the two people she’d come to see as wise and esteemed masters bickered with each other like children. In a way, she supposed she should be more than used to the sight by now. In the few months she’d been living on Oma Island, she’d come to witness firsthand and on more than one occasion that the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons had a very interesting relationship. One minute, they were the very picture of leadership, diplomacy, and refinement, and the next they would have the most childish spats over the silliest things.

She didn’t know if she should find it funny or embarrassing that, more often than not, Yugo always found himself squabbling with his siblings.

She shifted in place uncomfortably, digging her big toe into the floor, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, she really didn’t want to interrupt, but on the other hand, they had yet to tell her what they wanted from her in the first place and she was growing rather impatient. She still had a garden to tend to! And who knew the kind of trouble her dolls would get into if she wasn’t there to watch over them until she had them fully under her command?

At last, she had enough. To be honest, she would have summoned forth a set of tendrils to wrap around the twins’ forms to pull them apart, but seeing as, technically speaking, they were still her teachers and, thus, her superiors in a way, the doll limited herself to clearing her throat loudly to gain their attention. 

It was almost comical the way they abruptly stopped their bickering to turn their heads to her.

“Sorry to interrupt, Master Glip, Master Baltazar, but could you please tell me what you wanted to talk to me about in the first place?”

The Ivory Twins shared a sheepish glance before hastily collecting themselves as if nothing had happened. Adjusting his tunic and tightening his grip on his cane, Glip resumed what he was saying, “As I was saying, before we were rudely interrupted,” he yelped when Baltazar used one of his tiny, yet perfectly functional, wings to smack him on the back of his head. “As you know, next week we’ll be starting the children’s formal training on Wakfung.” He finally said, nursing the back of his head while flashing his brother a glare. 

Amalia nodded. “That’s right. You reminded us about it right before dismissing class.” She tilted her head, confused. “But what does that have got to do with me?”

Glip grew sheepish at that, wincing slightly. “Well, as I already mentioned when you first started attending our lessons,” his wince intensified as he remembered the less than stellar way he had treated the Divine Doll back then, “since you’re not an Eliatrope, your magic doesn’t work like ours.”

“Uh-huh.” She mumbled, nodding along to his explanation. 

“So, the thing is… Erm…” He trailed off. He peered down at his brother. “Lend me a claw?”

“What Glip is trying to say, my Lady, is that he simply cannot teach you the art of Wakfung, as your magic is not compatible with it.” Baltazar finished for him, looking the doll straight in the eye. 

“Oh. I…I see.” Was all Amalia could say in response. Truth be told, she already suspected she wouldn’t be able to learn like the rest of the children, as Glip had made that very clear on her first day. But she supposed a small, naïve part of her had hoped the Wakfung master would change his mind upon seeing how diligent she was as a student.

Still, hearing them say she just wouldn’t be able to practise with them hurt more than she cared to admit. 

“Then, what am I supposed to do starting next week?” She chose to ask instead of voicing her hurt feelings. Not like it would have been necessary—the pitiful glances her masters sent her way made it plenty clear she was doing a lousy job at masking her disappointment in the first place. 

She must have looked like a kicked Bow Wow at the moment.

Glip’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and reassuring as he suggested, “You can do whatever you want, really. From working on your garden to watching the children and I train at the village.”

“You could always spend that time at the library with Baltazar.” The beige dragon offered kindly, and Amalia couldn’t help but smile. She knew him well enough by now to know he meant it. “We could always spend that time to help you catch up some more on your studies.”

The doll felt her cheeks grow hot at their next suggestion, innocent as it might have sounded. “Or you could always go look for Yugo and spend time together if he’s not too busy.”

“Oh! Uh… I-I don’t know. I mean, sure! I-if he’s not too busy…” Clearing her throat, she scrambled to change the topic. “I guess I’ll take some time to figure out what I’d like to do first and I'll let you know as soon as I’ve decided?”

Both masters nodded. “Of course.” Glip said, at the same time as Baltazar added, “You let us know whatever it is that you decide to do.”

“Right. Well, if there’s nothing else you would like to talk to me about…” she trailed off purposely, giving them a chance to speak up. When instead they just shook their heads and smiled at her, she returned their smile with one of her own—one she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes— and proceeded to make her way towards the door as she waved goodbye over her shoulder. “Okay, then! Thanks for today’s lesson! See you soon!”

As soon as she was out of the threshold, she closed the door behind herself, knowing the educators liked taking some time to clean up after each lesson before they too had to leave. She let out a sigh and leaned back against the door, feeling thoroughly drained all of a sudden. 

“Sweet Sadida, what a day…”

“Amalia.”

Startled by the unexpected voice, she let out a loud, high-pitched squeak as she jumped away from the door. Immediately, the sight before her let her know the day was far from over. 

“Nora?”

For a moment, as if under a spell, Amalia just blinked, taken aback. To say she was surprised to see the youngest Eliatrope would be an understatement. Not because she wasn’t used to seeing Nora around, quite the contrary, as she was one of the faces she saw the most; but because, for once, she was alone. Normally, whenever Amalia and Nora were in the same room, the latter was accompanying at least one of her siblings for one reason or another. It got to the point where the doll wondered if perhaps she just disliked being on her own. 

She always waved that idea off, however, as, even though Nora was always around, Amalia simply didn’t know her enough to feel confident in her assessment of her. But one thing was for certain: Nora had never approached her like this before, all by herself and with her pink eyes denoting a graveness that felt foreign to the otherwise impish woman.

To be completely honest, Amalia couldn’t help but squirm under her penetrating gaze, subconsciously bringing her arms around her body for comfort, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the white fabric of her wristbands. She had the feeling whatever the reason was that Nora came seeking her out, it had to be important.

“Do you have a moment? I’d like to speak with you.” The Eliatrope girl said bluntly. 

Just as the doll had opened her mouth to reply, the doors to Glip and Baltazar’s classroom creaked open, the two masters in question peeking through and glancing around in worry, no doubt because they had heard Amalia’s embarrassingly loud squeak from earlier. When Baltazar’s eyes set on the young doll, he offered her a kind smile. He was about to speak to her when he finally registered his little sister’s presence, his beady eyes going as wide as Amalia’s must have been just a few seconds ago. 

It was Glip who spoke at last, though his voice betrayed his own surprise. “Nora! We weren’t expecting you. Is there anything we can do for you?”

“Perhaps you have come to return to Baltazar the book he lent you?” The beige dragon smiled weakly, a clear attempt to diffuse the mounting tension. But Nora just shook her head, her expression kind yet unreadable. 

“Sorry, Baltazar. I still haven’t got around to finishing it. I promise I’ll be done with it soon, though.”

“It is quite alright. Take your time.”

Amalia had to suppress the urge to flinch when Nora’s magenta eyes settled on her yet again. “I actually wanted to talk to Amalia. I imagined she’d be done with her classes by now and came to see if she’d be up to some girl time.” She tilted her head to the side invitingly, her snowy bangs following her movements. 

Immediately after, the doll could feel her teachers’ worried gaze on her, silently asking her if she was really okay with this. Wordlessly offering to give her an out. Her own dark brown eyes darting discreetly from Nora to them, she ultimately nodded along, plastering a small smile on her face. 

She was still hugging herself when she said, “Sure, Nora. We can talk, if you’d like.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Amalia. Come, there’s much I’d like to tell you.” And with that, she turned around and beckoned for the doll to follow her. With a quiet yelp, the Divine Doll scrambled to catch up to the white-haired Eliatrope, coming to stand by her side as they made it through the palace corridors in silence. 

As they kept walking, Amalia couldn’t keep her mind from wandering to Glip and Baltazar’s genuine concern for her. Touched, she couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading all over her being even if she wanted to. Not that long ago, the Wakfung master hadn’t exactly been enthused to have her as a student, but now he seemed to care for her about as much as any of the children.

But then, the rustling sound Nora’s magenta cloak made as she moved reminded her of the reason they had been worried for her in the first place. Not for the first time, she found herself just as concerned. Sneaking a furtive glance her companion’s way, she knew that, deep down, her unease had nothing to do with Nora, but with her brother. 

The core of Efrim’s attitude remained a mystery, even after all this time. All Amalia knew for certain was that the periwinkle dragon didn’t like her. Not one bit. It wasn’t difficult to reach that conclusion; after all, how would one describe the constant glares he shot her way, the warning snarls and growls with bared teeth, and his brusque manner of addressing her?

What, his love language was supposed to be ‘barely restrained aggression’?

No, of course not. The mere thought was ridiculous. Amalia may have been young by virtue of how she was conceived, but she wasn’t a fool. She could tell when something was wrong with almost as much accuracy as she could tell the state of the plants around her. And even they advised her to be careful around Efrim. 

What was more, for a while now she had had the feeling it wasn’t just the plants that grew worried over the tense relationship between her and the young dragon—and that was being generous. Yugo in particular always seemed to keep his eyes peeled whenever the two of them were in close proximity and he was there to see it. And today, Glip and Baltazar’s reactions were only further proof of what she already knew, with what transpired the other day at her garden only serving to cement her beliefs. 

Efrim was out to get her. And she could only speculate the reason why. 

Despite her usual nervousness whenever Nora’s twin was around, for once Amalia had been able to ignore the pit that usually formed in her stomach around him almost effortlessly. She had been far too excited about showing the Council of Six what she had been up to to really pay Efrim much mind. 

How could she not have been ecstatic, right? Not only had she already prepared the soil for when the Council members told her what their people needed her to grow, but she had finally been able to craft her own Sadida Dolls! She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been a little envious of Dathura when she made use of what little time they had together to show her baby sister all her dolls. 

As with everything back then, her natural instincts kicked into gear at the sight of the blue and green ragdolls, the Sadida within her urging her to heed their call and honour her father the best way their people knew. By replicating his greatest feat. 

Which was, ironically, her and her sisters’ own creation.

So when Yugo gave her the go-ahead to cut loose with her powers, she didn’t hesitate to bring that dream of hers to life, especially when she knew her dolls could contribute greatly to the development and defence of the Eliatropes. They would carry out any task asked of them without complaint, and their versatility and resilience turned them into the perfect tools to have at hand when under attack. 

There was a reason why young Sadida learned to craft dolls almost as soon as they had their motor skills under control! What could be better than a vegetable doll?

However, what she wasn’t counting on was that the attack would come from within the kingdom and directed straight at her. 

While Amalia was already expecting she would have to explain Sadida customs to the Council, she certainly hadn’t accounted for the sheer venom that would be dripping from Efrim’s every word as he questioned her on her decision to create weapons, of all things. As his predatory eyes bore into her and his every exhale tore into her skin with unspoken accusations, the underlying message was clear: he suspected her of intending to turn her dolls against them in the future. 

The Divine Doll still felt a shiver running down her spine at the memory, her heart squeezing almost to the point of pain at the silent suspicion Efrim’s cobalt blue eyes screamed as they were trained in on her. When she first met the young dragon, Amalia had been mesmerised by those eyes, shining like sapphires, but now, the more she was forced to lock her gaze to his, the darker they seemed each time. Like obsidians. 

And at that moment when Efrim had struck that pose, ready to pounce on her, the obsidians had melted into tar, sticky and inescapable as it trapped her, surrounding her very being and threatening to plunge her to the dark depths of the abyss, never to see the light of—.

She frantically shook her head, willing those thoughts to leave her mind lest she risked drowning in them again. Loath as she was to think about it, even after Efrim abruptly dashed out of the door, it had taken her longer than she cared to admit for her heartbeat to go back to normal. Thank Sadida for Yugo, who remained by her side through it all, offering her wordless but much needed comfort through his mere presence or even some fleeting, yet lingering touches. 

Regardless of what Efrim made her feel, one thing was for certain: for reasons beyond her, the young dragon didn’t trust her, and she would not be able to feel truly welcomed until he did. 

But that still didn’t explain why Nora would want to talk to her in private. 

Unlike with Efrim, who practically radiated hostility, Amalia didn’t sense any real malice coming from the pink-eyed Eliatrope. On the contrary, whenever they interacted or, at least, both were present, Nora seemed to be rather approving of her. 

(Yugo would go as far as to grumble about how she was, perhaps, a little too approving of her, but whatever he meant by that always flew right over the doll’s head). 

Still, that didn’t change one undeniable fact: Nora and Efrim were twins, and if there was one thing she had learned about the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons, that was that no bond was stronger than the one each set of twins shared with each other. So, regardless of her own feelings towards Amalia, chances were Nora would always put her brother first. 

“I’m sorry about Efrim’s behaviour towards you, Amalia.” 

…then again, what did Amalia know? She was just a Sadida Doll. 

Upon registering her apology, the doll stopped dead in her tracks as she tried to process what the white-haired Eliatrope had just said. Turning her head to face her, Amalia found herself staring at the back of Nora’s dark pink hood, for she had stopped walking as well and was now standing with her back to the doll, facing the landscape spreading before them. 

They had halted their movements just as they ventured into the outdoors bridge that connected the South and North wings of the palace. Soon they were enveloped by Oma’s natural beauty and the sound of the local wildlife around them. 

As Amalia made up her mind whether she should join her companion or not, the latter continued, “I know my apology isn’t exactly worth much.” She let out a mirthless chuckle. “After all, it should be Efrim apologising to you but…” She trailed off, a moment of silent understanding where words weren’t needed to express what she was trying to convey passing between them. “You still deserve an apology. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her head hanging slightly as she contemplated Nora’s words, Amalia tentatively slid over to where she was standing. Giving her a sidelong glance, she copied her movements and her hands came to grip at the marble railing of the bridge as the two of them oversaw the scenery. 

“Thank you, Nora.” She told her quietly, almost afraid to break the silence. The light afternoon breeze rocked her bangs, causing her to tuck the rebellious strands away from her face. “You really didn’t have to.”

But Nora just shook her head. Amalia was only noticing it now, but she hadn’t pulled up her mask to cover her lower face. The doll didn’t know why, but that made her feel more at ease. Like Nora was allowing herself to be open and vulnerable for once even in her presence. 

“It’s the least I could do. Efrim was way out of line the other way.” She sent the green-haired woman by her side an apologetic glance. “I can’t imagine how he might’ve made you feel.”

“Can't say being questioned like that was the nicest feeling…” Amalia admitted timidly, rubbing her upper arm up and down for comfort and pulling her wristbands down by accident. She tugged at the garments lightly to put them back in their place. “I just don't understand why your brother seems to be out to get me! What have I ever done?”

“It’s not because of anything you’ve done, Amalia. At least, not really.” The words were out of Nora’s mouth before she even had the time to think them over. Startled by her own admission—and embarrassed, not like she’d ever admit to that—, she clamped her mouth shut, doing everything in her power to avoid looking the Divine Doll in the eye. 

She didn’t have much luck, unfortunately. Because after a few seconds ticked by, she eventually caved and chanced a furtive look the doll’s way, only to immediately avert her gaze when it turned out her bright, brown orbs were staring almost owlishly back at her.

After much consideration, the youngest Eliatrope heaved a heavy sigh, giving up. Still, she weighed what she could say next, careful not to break her twin’s trust, “Efrim has… trust issues with outsiders. Especially now that we're the outsiders. He’s just worried letting anyone else in will have dire consequences.���

Even though she was still reeling by the Council member’s admission, Amalia’s mind locked in on one fact and refused to let it go. “Wait, ‘anyone else’?” She repeated, her eyebrows shooting to the ceiling when Nora flinched. “Nora, have you guys ever had trouble with someone before?”

But Nora refused to speak, refused to even look her in the eye. Instead, she was stubbornly averting her pink gaze, giving Amalia nothing but a view of her hood and her snowy hair waving in the breeze. She silently thanked the Great Goddess her cloak managed to conceal her hands, because her grip on the railing was so tight, her already pale skin turned even whiter around her knuckles. 

Seeing how the other girl closed herself off, Amalia considered letting her be by dropping the subject altogether. Whatever it was that had happened was clearly something she didn’t want to discuss, and the last thing she wanted was to put Nora through an unpleasant experience. Perhaps she could try asking Yugo about it?

But just as she was about to let the matter go, memories of Efrim’s barbed comments and venomous looks flashed through her mind, igniting a new burst of determination to surge through her veins. She was sent by the gods to help Eliatropes and Twelvians alike, but she would be unable to offer much assistance if she didn’t know what happened and instead kept running away from it every time she faced an obstacle. It was about time she let go of her fear of the dragon and got some actual answers, instead of throwaway comments that only served to have the doll question even more things. 

Taking a deep breath to steady her mounting nerves, Amalia leaned closer to Nora, determined to ask the question that had been plaguing her mind since their visit to Bonta. 

“Nora, why do the Twelvians consider your people outsiders?”

Her reply was quiet but blunt, “Because we’re not from this world.”

That… actually took Amalia aback. Though maybe it shouldn’t have, as she had been learning the origins of the Eliatrope race from her classes. Not to mention, it was plain to see Yugo and his people didn’t worship any of the twelve gods native to the World of Twelve, like her father, Cra, Ecaflip… Both their appearance and knack for opening portals was proof enough of that. Instead, their patron and source of their powers was the Great Goddess Eliatrope, the source of all wakfu in the universe, as well as one of the Krosmoz’s creators alongside the Great Dragon. 

And yet, for some unfathomable reason, the possibility that the Eliatropes didn’t resemble any of the Twelvian gods and were considered outsiders precisely because they weren’t native to the World of Twelve had never crossed her mind. 

Much to her chagrin, she felt her cheeks grow hot, embarrassed by her own ignorance. 

Still, sensing how Nora was about to close herself off yet again, she pushed through. She needed to know the truth. 

“Then how come you came all the way here to settle down?” When the Eliatrope refused to answer, Amalia placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to convey how she could tell her anything, as well as the fact that she would not budge on the matter. “Please, Nora, I just want to understand.”

Understand…

Nora perked up at that, at odds with herself. On the one hand, she feared she had already said too much. The last thing she wanted was to breach Efrim’s trust by revealing anything too personal. That, and deep down she couldn’t help but try to heed her twin’s warning—it would be very unwise to provide Amalia with information she could exploit in the future if it turned out Efrim’s suspicions were right and she couldn’t be trusted. 

And on the other hand, Amalia just wanted to understand. Wasn’t that why she reached out to her instead of her brother in the first place? Because Yugo had assured her that, out of the two, Amalia would be more willing to listen to her and to try to understand what Efrim was going through?

With that in mind, it would be very unfair of Nora to disrupt the doll’s day with all the heaviness she brought with her only to then deny her closure when it was no longer convenient for her. 

She slammed her head against the railing, the sudden action causing the green-haired beauty to flinch, and groaned pitifully. What was she supposed to do?

For her part, Amalia was beginning to regret ever bringing the Eliatropes’ past up. The last thing she expected was that the youngest Council member would react… Well, like that. She suppressed the urge to sigh in disappointment. Perhaps it just wasn’t the time for her to know the truth. Tentatively, she reached her hand out to gently place it on Nora’s back when—.

“You’re right. You have a right to know what happened.” Nora said completely out of the blue, straightening herself up and turning towards the doll, her pink eyes piercing through her skin until they reached her very soul. She extended an arm to the side, her palm glowing turquoise, “Come with me.”

Following the direction the Eliatrope’s arm was pointed at, Amalia’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth hung open a little as a burst of the ever-familiar bright blue energy flickered to life. Before she knew it, Nora’s magic had summoned a portal in the middle of the bridge. The doll couldn’t help but tilt her head to the side at the sight of it, intrigued. Now that she thought about it, that had to be the first time she ever saw the youngest Eliatrope make use of her magic—or, at least, really pay attention to it—; that in itself was noteworthy, given she had been living under the same roof as her for weeks. However, it was nothing compared to her surprise as she realised Nora’s wakfu manifested very differently from Yugo’s. 

Even though she’d much rather be caught dead than go through another one of the king’s portals, Amalia had seen enough of them from his daily training sessions to believe herself to be quite well acquainted with them. And Nora’s were nothing like his. 

It didn’t get to the point where, while Yugo, who usually wore blue clothing, created blue portals, Nora, unmistakable with her use of magenta garments, emanated stasis-like pink energy instead. Of course not; that would be ridiculous. But even Amalia, whose way of channelling her wakfu was completely different from any other inhabitant of Oma Island, could sense whose portals were whose from both appearance and a feeling resonating from deep in her gut, almost like how Yugo’s wakfu vision worked. 

Because while the Eliatrope King’s magic manifested in perfectly circular portals, Nora’s had four sides that converged in sharp edges. It took the Sadida Doll longer than she cared to admit—and a little bit of blinking, stupefied—to realise that her portal was actually a square, though its vertical position made it look more like a diamond. 

“Erm… What’s this”? She asked meekly, her finger pointing weakly at the portal in front of her as she finally tore her gaze from it to stare questioningly at Nora. 

Oh, dear Doll Master above, please don’t let her greatest fears come true… 

The Eliatrope just looked at her like she had grown a second head, her brow furrowed, especially when the doll kept watching the portal with as much cold disdain as if it had personally offended her. “That’s one of my portals…” She couldn’t help but state the obvious, gesturing between it and Amalia and not understanding the reason behind her apparent apprehension. “You already know that’s what we, Eliatropes, use as means of transportation… right?” She raised an eyebrow. 

Amalia just waved her off, although her posture remained stiff and the smile curling at her lips was strained. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Yugo’s always opening portals around me, and Glip and Baltazar help the children with their own powers practically every day!”

“Then what seems to be the problem?” Nora ventured. 

The doll got straight to the point. “Do you want me to go through it?”

There was a beat of silence where all Nora could do was blink, flabbergasted.

“Yes, that is the reason why I summoned a portal in the first place. To take us somewhere else quicker than we would arrive on foot.” The Eliatrope explained, although a part of her kept questioning why she even had to explain something so obvious in the first place. Especially to Amalia, who had been living there with them for weeks! Surely she would know what her people used portals for by now, right?

“Oh, I see.” Amalia said, trying to sound casual and unaffected, but she remained as tense as before. “Um, isn’t there… I don’t know, another way we can go wherever you want to take me to instead?” She asked, her voice suspiciously high-pitched. “I’ll gladly let you kidnap me, if that’s what you want!” She joked, and the white-haired girl in front of her thought to herself that the doll was clearly unaware of her attractiveness for her to say something like that so nonchalantly.

She distinctly remembered herself saying she would gladly take Amalia if Yugo didn’t want her.

Unaware of the thoughts running through Nora’s mind, the green-haired girl just went on, desperate to avoid going through another portal for as long as she lived. “But, I mean, can’t we just walk there…?”

Nora blinked once, twice, thrice as she struggled to come to grips with what the doll had just told her. She tried to find sense to her request, only to come up empty-handed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yes, it’s just, you see…” The wild beauty stammered, growing increasingly uncomfortable under the other girl’s scrutinising pink gaze. Although that was nothing compared to the building pressure that was having that thing practically right next to her. “The thing is, I don’t go through portals.” A beat. “Ever.”

“What?!” Nora couldn’t believe her ears, her eyes going as wide as the very portal she had created. “Hasn’t Yugo ever invited you to pass through one of his portals before? I could’ve sworn he did…” She muttered that last part to herself. 

“Oh, he has.” She couldn’t help but flinch when Amalia’s voice took on a darker quality, a shadow passing over her features. “That’s why I categorically refuse to go through another!” She exclaimed, crossing her arms over her torso and sticking her nose up in the air almost petulantly with a huff. “No offence, Nora, but those things always do a number on my stomach, and I’m not looking forward to getting reacquainted with my lunch this afternoon. Thank you very much.”

Nora just stood there, her shoulders shagged and her posture hunched over from disbelief, gaping like a fish at the Divine Doll. She couldn't believe it… Straightening herself and bringing a hand to massage her temple as she gathered her thoughts, she had to ask, a hint of exasperation in her voice, “Wait, that’s it? You don’t like going through portals because you get dizzy?”

A stubborn nod was all the answer she got. 

She exhaled deeply through her nose, mustering up every ounce of patience she possessed. “Amalia, I’m sure whatever happened last time to make you sick was just a fluke.” She tried to reason, to no avail. 

“Oh, trust me,” the doll laughed sarcastically, “it was not a fluke.”

How many times would she have to have this conversation before it finally sank in? Her vomiting after going through a portal was as much of an elemental law as water boiling at 100º!

Seeing as the Sadida Doll would not budge in her decision, with a sigh, Nora tried a different approach—appealing to her common sense. 

“Amalia, I understand you might not like going through portals, after all, it’s not the kind of magic you’re used to. The Great Goddess knows nothing takes us quite as aback as when you make use of your powers.” She giggled, thinking back to all the times they’d been startled by vines growing in places where they shouldn’t. Then, she grew a little more serious. “But if you want to understand the reason our people are outsiders, moreover, to learn the reason we came to this world in the first place, then I really need you to come with me. And I’m afraid the fastest way is through one of my portals.”

She extended her pink-clad hand towards the doll, who peered down at it suspiciously, and smiled at her before the two locked eyes, brown meeting pink. 

“What do you say? Do you trust me?”

Eyes darting back and forth between her extended hand and back at Nora, Amalia couldn’t help but comment drily to herself how the Council of Six seemed to always be asking for her trust when they didn’t seem all that willing to extend the same courtesy to her. But, ultimately, her desire to know far outweighed her reservations. After all, if Nora was willing to share her people’s past with her, that must have meant she trusted her, right?

With a soft exhale, Amalia finally gave up, her arms falling to her sides in defeat before flashing Nora a small smile and reaching out to grasp her hand in hers. 

Before they could so much as move a step closer towards the portal, she jabbed a finger in her face, though. “I’m warning you, whatever happens when we go through the other end won’t be pretty.”

Nora couldn’t help but agree with her in private, though not for the same reasons Amalia was referring to. She really had no idea of what awaited her on the other side. Still, it seemed the two of them had made up their minds and neither would back down. 

“I’ll take my chances.”

And with that, she pulled Amalia closer towards her and motioned for her to jump into the portal, disappearing from sight as it closed behind them. And yet, weirdly enough, all Amalia could think of as she went through the portal, the familiar currents of wakfu turning her stomach upside down, was that it felt nothing like Yugo’s. She found herself missing the strange sense of comfort he seemed to imbue to his own magic as it traversed her body…

.......................................................................................................................

As Amalia had predicted, watching her heave loudly as she stood on all fours on the floor wasn’t a pretty sight. Nora couldn’t help but grimace as another loud gasp escaped the doll’s throat, feeling guilty for not taking her warning more seriously. 

Not sure what to do with herself, she mostly stood there, watching as the doll’s heaving seemed to gradually subside. With a wince, she tried reaching out a hand towards her, even though the distance between them meant she wouldn’t actually make contact with her skin. “Are… are you okay?” She asked sheepishly. 

“Well, at least now I only dry-heave.” Amalia said drily, trying to imbue her voice with an optimism she most definitely didn’t feel and her efforts falling flat. “Not that long ago, I would have thrown up all over the place…”

Oh, those poor bushes… They had seen so much horror. 

“Hey, look on the bright side.” Nora offered, her tone light yet cautious. “Before you know it, you’ll be able to go through portals no problem!”

Amalia’s answer was concise and to the point. 

“Over my dead body.”

Neither needed to point out the fact that Divine Dolls were virtually immortal for the message to be crystal clear. 

“Okay…” Nora said, tapping her hands against her thighs awkwardly while Amalia got over the remainder of her affliction. When she finally found the strength to stand on two legs, though her stance was a little wobbly at first, the Eliatrope ventured, “Are you feeling better?”

Amalia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at it disdainfully before answering, “Not yet, but I’ll be.” 

Now that she was back on her feet, she spun over herself, eyes darting in every direction as she took in the scenery around her. They seemed to be in some sort of cavernous system, the only source of light coming from the numerous bulbshrooms spread all over the walls. Large stalactites and stalagmites served as columns, and blocks of white sandstone had engravings on them that forced the doll to squint her eyes at them to get a better look at what they portrayed, to no avail. 

One thing was for certain, she had no idea where they were supposed to be.

“So, what was it that you wanted to show me?”

“This.” Nora said simply in return, and instead of elaborating on the matter, she just turned around, her pink gaze staring intently at what she had in front of her. 

One sceptical eyebrow raised at her reaction, Amalia followed suit, turning her head to the direction the young Eliatrope was transfixed by… And promptly gaped at the sight, a gasp leaving her throat and her brown eyes going wide as she scanned every single detail displayed before her. 

Covering every single inch of the sandstone wall standing right in front of them was the biggest mural Amalia had ever seen in her admittedly short life. It burst with colour over its white canvas, splotches of blue, pink, black, red, white and so much more interweaving into each other through intricate strokes until it converged into one huge, unified picture. And while the technical aspects of the mural were nothing to scoff at and were definitely deserving of a good amount of the awe currently rendering her speechless, that wasn’t what Amalia’s mind had fixated on. 

The reason her eyes were glued to the mural before her was the scene it represented. 

Sprawled all over the white stone, the splotches of colour took the unmistakable forms of the Council of Six; seeing the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons painted so distinctively, she could only assume the remaining purple, yellow, and even blue patches were meant to represent the rest of their race. Despite the mural’s minimalist style, it was easy to perceive the dynamism behind the scene, clearly trying to portray movement and convey constant action. 

Indeed, nothing in the painting suggested a domestic scene taken from the day-to-day chores of the Eliatropes and their leaders. On the contrary, the image before her was something that caused a primal feeling in Amalia, a kind of fear born from the deepest, most inexplicable form of empathy, to resurface. Beyond all else, she hoped that kind of thing would never become a daily occurrence. 

Staring right back at her was a battle. 

Even with the Council’s simplistic design, the Sadida Doll had no trouble making out scenes such as Glip and Baltazar shielding small children from danger—which she was able to deduce thanks to the fact that the spots she believed represented the children were significantly smaller. In another, Qilby and Shinonomé appeared to be treating the injured, a pit forming in the doll’s stomach when she realised the heavy use of red in that corner wasn’t just because of the dragoness’ ruby-like scales; many had got hurt and needed treatment. The black splotches she associated with Chibi and Grougal were isolated from the rest, hunched over a table as they seemed to be working tirelessly in order to find a solution to their problem. The turquoise figures that represented Mina and Phaeris knelt on the floor in front of what she could only assume was a statue of the Goddess Eliatrope, praying for a miracle or begging for mercy, maybe both. Unlike their siblings, who remained by their twins’ side, Nora and Efrim stood at opposite sides of the mural, seemingly running themselves ragged as they struggled to help their people to the best of their abilities. 

But the scene that truly made Amalia’s heart sink was the one displayed at the very centre of the mural. She was so lost in her thoughts, her mind didn’t register when she brought her hands over her chest or she took a step closer. Right then all she cared about, despite her better judgement, was getting a better look; so with a swift flick of her wrist, she summoned a verdant tendril to lift her up until she was face-to-face with the image currently depriving her of breath. 

She gingerly placed a hand on the stone, her fingers delicately tracing Yugo’s figure as he rode on Adamaï, a wakfu sword in one hand and a shield in the other, and the two charged headfirst against their opponent—a monstrous mechanical contraption painted in black as dark as coal and lines redder than blood. 

A shuddering breath escaped her at the sight, causing her to snatch her hand away and tuck it closely to her chest as she wordlessly ordered her vine to put her back on the floor. 

“Nora,” her voice was barely above a whisper, and she was genuinely surprised she was actually able to utter a single word. “What is this?”

Her answer came immediately afterwards, resigned acceptance mixed with something unreadable tinged the Eliatrope’s voice, almost as she had already been expecting that reaction from the doll and had been bracing herself to answer. 

“This is the reason why we came to the World of Twelve, Amalia.” She said calmly as she walked over to the startled doll, her own gaze fixed on the mural. Had Amalia been looking in her direction, she would have noticed the unmistakable glimmer of sadness and pain glinting in her pink irises. “This is why we’re considered outsiders by this world’s inhabitants. Because we lost our own world.”

“Do the... Do the Twelvians know about it?”

A scoff. 

“Even if they did, I highly doubt it would change anything.”

Amalia was almost too afraid to ask. “What… what happened?”

Though she heaved a mirthless chuckle, Nora’s tone was solemn. 

“To this day, we still don’t know.”

The doll’s previous suspicions were only proven right the more Nora spoke, and the more Nora spoke, the more her heart broke for the Eliatropes. 

According to Nora, their people had lived in perfect peace and harmony for millennia thanks both to their mother, the Great Goddess Eliatrope, for giving her children a safe place they could call home, and the Council of Six, who dedicated their lives, throughout countless lifetimes, to ensuring their subjects never wanted for anything. As they had never known true misery and corruption, the Eliatropes weren’t like the Twelvians, whose distrusting and prejudiced nature was apparent, but they desired to reach out to other races and expand their little world a bit nonetheless. 

Naturally, the Mechasms’ arrival felt like a blessing, and for many years, it was. The otherworldly species that seemed to operate on rules of their own soon formed a quasi-symbiotic relationship with the Eliatropes. Before they knew it, their homeworld was as much of the Mechasms’ as it was theirs. Nothing could break their bond.

Or so they thought. 

Amalia was so engrossed in Nora’s story she failed to even realise the loud gasp she heard echoing around the palace’s walls—as Nora had explained to her they were actually in the palace’s underground levels, which were still under construction and heavy revision from Chibi and Grougal—was actually her own. But Nora paid her no mind, her eyes distant as she revisited the past, seemingly staring right through the doll and into a reality that was only kept alive in her mind.

One day, without warning, the Mechasms, led by their young prince Orgonax, stabbed them in the back and declared war on the Eliatropes. At first, they were naïve enough to believe all could be easily resolved if Mina and Phaeris just led a diplomatic meeting to get to the bottom of the matter and assuage their beloved neighbours. But for the first time in history, the Ochre Dofus twins failed to diffuse the situation, their pleas falling on deaf ears; the Eliatropes and Mechasms would go to war with each other.

The Council of Six immediately took charge, mobilising soldiers and civilians alike in hopes of assuring either victory, or, at the very least, their well-being. The battles spammed over the course of weeks, depleting them of their resources at an alarming rate; and their once lush and prosperous world soon descended into mayhem and madness, blood seeping deep into the very ground. 

Yugo and Adamaï, as their people’s greatest warriors, fought valiantly and with everything they had, but after a while it became apparent they were only postponing the inevitable. If they didn’t find a solution, and soon, the entirety of the Eliatrope race would fall. 

In light of those odds, everything seemed bleak, and their subjects’ morale took a heavy blow; it truly seemed that it would be the end. And yet, right as they were about to succumb to the darkness around them and within, Qilby and Shinonomé offered what seemed to be their only possible saving grace. 

They were to leave their world and travel the Krosmoz in search of another place to call home. 

“And that’s what we did.” Nora continued. Amalia couldn’t help but flinch in surprise when she turned to look her in the eye; truth be told, she came to believe the other girl had forgotten all about her, lost in her memories. “We hopped on the Zenit and travelled the Krosmoz, in search of our new home. After decades where we came up empty-handed, we were about to throw in the towel—.”

“When you found the World of Twelve.” Amalia finished for her, having heard enough to connect the dots on her own. “So that’s why you need help with earning the Twelvians’ trust, because, much like the Mechasms, to them you’re outsiders who might wish them harm?”

“I won’t deny it hurts to be on the receiving end,” Nora admitted. “But given what we went through, I’d be lying if I said I don’t understand where they’re coming from either.” She glanced back at the mural. “Maybe if we’d been half as wary of the Mechasms as the Twelvians are of us, the war wouldn't have happened and we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Even though Amalia understood—now more than ever—Nora was speaking from a place of pain, she still couldn’t help the painful thud that resonated in her ribcage at her words. If the Eliatropes had never arrived at the World of Twelve, then she would have never met them. She would have never met Yugo… 

Wait, if the Eliatropes had never settled on their world, then the gods would have had no reason to give them their blessing and try to ensure they maintained a positive relationship with their followers. Without the Eliatropes, she would have never existed…

The realisation hit her like a lightning strike, causing her pulse to spike up while, paradoxical as it was, the flow of the blood in her veins slowed down dramatically. In that state where she toed the line between anxious and numb, Amalia’s jumbled thoughts drowned out Nora’s voice, whatever she was saying then amounting to nothing but white noise. 

The doll buried her hands in her emerald locks, her brown eyes frantic as a million thoughts ran through her mind. She had never given it much thought until now, but suddenly, the very idea of not having been born at all terrified her to her core. 

Could it be that she served no purpose without—?

“My, my, my. What do we have here?” A chillingly cold voice rumbled. “Is it not enough that you have seduced our king, that now you must dig into our past as well?” 

The sound of that voice broke Amalia out of her stupor, while the sheer venom dripping from it froze her to her core. She didn’t even need to turn around to know whom it belonged to. 

“Efrim!” Nora gasped, as taken aback as the petrified doll. 

Slowly, no doubt afraid of what she might encounter, Amalia turned around, flinching when she locked eyes with the dragon, a cold fury making those pools of dark blue come alive as they narrowed in on her. The sapphires turned into ice shards. 

Nora soon came to her rescue, coming to stand between the two with her palms raised up in a placating manner. “It’s not what it looks like, Efrim. Amalia didn’t go digging for anything, I took her here on my own volition; she didn’t even know what I’d be showing her!”

“You needn’t come to her defence, Sister.” Efrim told her gravelly. Even though he was talking to his twin, his eyes looked past her and straight at the doll. “There is no doubt in my mind she manipulated you into telling her exactly what she wanted to hear.”

“That’s not true!” Amalia found herself exclaiming. Once she was past the initial surprise she felt for having stood up to the dragon, she steeled her resolve and pushed through. “Efrim, I understand what happened with the Mechasms probably left a deep scar but—.”

“You know nothing!” Efrim bellowed, his voice booming around the caverns of the palace. Aggravation, fury, and hatred took hold of his body; his shackles raised, his tail thumped against the floor almost rhythmically, and his crystalline wings unfolded over his form. 

Amalia barely had time to marvel at their beauty as they glinted under the bulbshroom light when he snarled, his fangs bared. “You do not know what it is like to be betrayed by someone you trusted with your life! You do not know what it is like to see your loved ones get hurt and feel powerless to stop their suffering! You do not know what it is like to lose everything you have ever known and loved!”

With every word he spouted, he slithered closer and closer to the doll, who, much to her chagrin, couldn’t do much besides stick closer to Nora, who still stood between the two, acting like a wall as she tried to protect Amalia. Deep down, she knew she could use her powers to protect herself, but the fact that it would only confirm Efrim’s suspicions if she attacked him, even if it was in self-defence, kept her from simply ensnaring him with one of her vines. 

And even if she didn’t care about proving Efrim right, she found she couldn’t move at all. A deep, primal fear taking hold of her whole body as the dragon advanced menacingly.

Nora’s startled gasp was all the warning she got. Before she knew it, Efrim had lunged himself towards her, his claws outstretched. She could only watch as Nora opened a portal right in the middle of her twin’s trajectory, only for the dragon to manoeuvre around it at the last possible second and collide right into the Divine Doll, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. Her heart clamouring in her ears, she tried to squirm out of Efrim’s grasp, but it was all for naught; he had her pinned against the floor with his tail, while he immobilised her hands by grabbing her by her wrists and over her head. 

Her brown gaze widened in terror at the close proximity of his fangs, glinting dangerously as he smirked down at her. “Some demigoddess you are.” He sneered disdainfully. “For all your flashy moves and fancy dolls, you can’t even use your powers to protect yourself. Yugo won’t always be there to protect you, you know?”

“Efrim, stop!” Nora pleaded, horrified by the lengths her twin was willing to go. But he just ignored her. 

“And to think you have the gall to say you understand.” He scoffed, his dark blue eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear. “You’ll never understand what it's like to suffer, Little Doll. And I’ll make sure you don’t get to hurt anybody else!”

Amalia gasped, letting out a strangled sound as tears ran down her cheeks when Efrim loosened her grip on her to raise one claw high in the air, ready to strike her down. Paralysed by more than just Efrim’s grip on her, she could only brace herself for the worst. She closed her eyes shut, praying to Sadida that it would at least be over soon, begging him not to punish Yugo and his people for the mistakes of one single Council member. 

When after what felt like an eternity nothing happened, she tentatively opened one eye, the scene unfolding right in front of her tearing another gasp from her throat. 

Efrim had indeed brought his claw down, but instead of tearing right through her as she feared, it was stuck in the ground, in the space right beside her head. Even when all she could hear was her frantic heartbeat in her ears, she could still distinctly feel the way her heart sputtered and constricted in her ribcage, fear and relief clashing against each other in a frenetic dance.

Her breath hitched when Efrim carefully lifted his arm back up and he leaned closer to her once more, his voice, raspy and unforgiving, barely above a whisper. “The only reason I don’t finish this right here and now is because, as of now, your demise would do more harm than good to my people. And only because of that. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Just as the dragon leaned back to look down at the terrified doll scornfully, a blue wakfu tendril shot forward and gripped his wrist tightly, holding Efrim’s claw back, while another wrapped itself around his torso and pulled him away from the Sadida Doll, eliciting a surprised yelp from the dragon. As Amalia scrambled to straighten herself and crawled as further away from him as possible, she took notice of Nora using her magic to hold her brother back.

“Efrim, that’s enough!” She screeched, grunting as she used every ounce of her strength to pull her twin back and away from Amalia. 

Her eyes widened when, rather than resist, Efrim just replied calmly, “Fear not, Sister. As long as she is of use to our people, no harm will befall the doll.” He flashed Amalia a side-glance that froze her to the core, the unspoken threat hanging heavily between them. “You have my word.”

Having said his piece, the young dragon wasted no time in wriggling out of his sister’s constraints, breaking the wakfu binds with as much ease as if they had been made out of mere paper. Before either of them could so much as call out to him and tell him to wait, Efrim had already spread out his crystalline wings and taken flight, a cloud of dust picking up after him. And just like that, he was gone, his silhouette shrinking more and more with each flap of his wings.

Nora remained unresponsive for a spell, her pink eyes fixed on her twin’s retreating form, before everything that happened finally caught up to her and she hurried to help Amalia up, frantically looking her all over to make sure she was alright. But even as Nora apologised profusely on her twin’s behalf and assured her she would take care of it, and begged her to, please, don’t say anything to Yugo because things had been tense between Efrim and their older brother and she didn’t want to make things worse, Amalia was only half-listening. In fact, not unlike Nora a few seconds ago, she, too, had yet to tear her brown gaze away from the direction the young dragon had left.

Her heart still echoing in her ears as she stared at the space Efrim occupied just a mere minutes before, her mind was elsewhere. Her run-in with him and his harsh words and even harsher truths replaying in her mind over and over. 

[kerubimcrepin]

All the times Kerubim references the show&movie in Dofus MMO [PART 1]

While all of this is shown in my Crepinlore archive on YouTube, I thought it'd be useful to make a post explaining and exploring all of this dialogue.

This includes both his dialogues from when you show him various objects — and the things he says independently of that.

KERUBIM TALKING ABOUT THE EVENTS OF THE MOVIE

As is known, Dofus MMO happens approximately 200 years after the movie. It's cute and sad, that even after all this time, Kerubim still thinks about Bakara and Jahash. (And just sad that he still thinks about Julith. Man...)

RIKIKI WAND

This is a reference to the Episode 15, Teeny Keke

There's a small error in the official translation: Pretty-Calves Fifi is not an "amazon", but a man with a silly nickname.

Even 200 years later, he's still afraid of someone from Fifi's bloodline coming to get him XD

ARACHELMET

This is a reference to the Episode 11, The Hairy Arachelmet

BONTARIAN POLICE BADGE

This is a reference to the Episode 50, Deadly Charm

Cute and sad that even 200 years later, Kerubim is still thinking about his experiences with Indie. Also, I love Kerubim's shittiness. Never stop being shitty, catman.

BALLET SHOES

This is a reference to the Episode 6, Dance against the Boowolves

He misses Lou a lot :(

KING'S UNDERPANTS

This is likely a reference to the Episodes 27-29, Ecaflip City

:(

CHICHALA

This is a reference to the Episode 8, Pandala’s Chichala

"commander de la chichala à zato / order chichala from zato"

Also, Joris is canonically a fellow enjoyer of this drink.

CRASHBANG STAFF

This is a reference to the Episode 31, The Break

GLUCID BRANCH

This is a reference to the Episode 12, The Great Glucid

He's very proud of being good at baking. :)

IOP WIG

This is a reference to the Episode 40, The Beginning

Even 200 years later, he still reminisces on his childhood in the temple...

KOALAK CHEST

This is a reference to the Episode 14, Koalak Quack

NINE TAILS SWORD

This is a reference to the Episode 41, The Sword of Nine Tails

NOFFOUB FOUNTAIN WATER

This is a reference to the Episode 33, Noffoub's Fountain

PINK QUACOIF

This is a reference to the Episode 48, Role Plays

He's still haunted by what happened, even though it's been centuries. XD

PYROFUEGO

This is a reference to the Episode 18, The Pyrofuego

SEA KNIFE

This is a reference to the Episode 23, Like a Snapper in the Water

SNAPPER À LA KERUBIM

This is a reference to the Episode 20, My Friend Bashi

It is extremely likely that the friend that he is referencing is Bashi, both because he uses the word "pote", and because Kerubim did not have friends at the temple of Ecaflip itself.

UNIKRON HORN

This is a reference to the Episode 9, The Legendary Unikron

KERUBIM'S DICE

This doesn't seem to explicitly reference any episode, except for Episodes 27-29, Ecaflip City

LOU'S GAVEL

This is a reference to the Episode 42, The Trial

BLACK HORNETS GANG

*No in-game screenshot of the dialogue available to me, only transcription of the official translation.

This is a reference to the Episode 25, SOS Adventures

DRAGOTURKEY RACE TROPHY

*No in-game screenshot of the dialogue available to me, only transcription of the official translation.

This is a reference to the Episode 38, Dragokart Race

WABBIT PAW

This is a reference to the Wabbit Paw that he gives to Bob de Bonta, which is later returned to Kerubim in the last episode. There is a translation error here: the translator assumed that "Bob from Bonta" is a saying, and not a literal person Kerubim used to know that he is referencing.

[shadow-coolness]

*Its a nice and beautiful day in the Sadida Kingdom*

Amelia waking up: *inhales then exhales* What a nice day.

*She gets out of bed,eats breakfast,gets dressed and goes outside to find guards running around in a panic*

Amelia: Hold on, whats happening?

Random Sadida guard #283: Someone attacked the royal stables your highness.

Amelia: What do you mean “attacked”?

RSG 283: I think its better if you see for yourself.

*Amelia goes to the stables to find it completely trashed and that most of the Dragoturkeys have escaped and that one of them is badly injured and being treated by Enripsas*

Amelia: What the? How? Why-

*Amelia notices claw and burn marks all over the stables and comes to a realization*

Amelia: GrooouuuGAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

*meanwhile at Emelka*

*Yugo,Adamai,Chibi and Grougal are chilling*

Amelia distantly: -AAAAAAAAAAAALLLL!!

Chibi: Did you hear that?

Adamai: Yeah. What was it?

Yugo: Hold on i recognized that voice anywhere. Thats Amelia!

Adamai: That…raises more questions.

Chibi: Yeah like whats shes screaming abou-aaaand Grougals gone.

*Yugo and Adamai see that Grougal is in fact gone*

Yugo: And just like that all the questions are answered.