After Prince Trallod's shocking departure, King Vallios had retreated to his chambers and had not emerged since. The throne remained vacant, an unclaimed seat of power that once seemed destined for Trallod. The kingdom grew restless with each passing day, for the question of succession remained unresolved. Among the brothers, however, the atmosphere was far more volatile.
In the days following Trallod's unexpected exit from the race for the throne, Prince Helard became consumed with bitter thoughts. His fiery nature, already prone to explosive anger, simmered dangerously as he brooded over his younger brother's words. He replayed the scene in his mind, Trallod walking away as if the crown meant nothing to him, as if he didn't even consider his brothers worthy rivals.
"How dare he," Helard muttered to himself, his fists clenched, his ember eyes flickering with rage. "He walks away, not because he doesn't want the throne, but because he sees us as nothing—mere insects beneath his feet!"
The more Helard thought about it, the more convinced he became that Trallod had not forfeited the race out of a desire for freedom. No, to Helard, it was an insult, a clear message that Trallod believed his brothers to be unworthy. It was as though Trallod had already crowned himself in his distant realm, a kingdom far from the influence of their father's court. And to Helard, that was the ultimate affront.
"He doesn't see us as competition," Helard growled. "He believes he's already won."
Helard's frustration and envy boiled over, manifesting in the form of flames that began to ripple across his skin. His long red hair, usually flowing gracefully, now seemed to dance in the heat of his rage. His signature outfit—a red armband, bare chest, and tight pants—was soon surrounded by the heat he radiated. The temperature around him rose, and the very air shimmered with the intensity of his fiery aura.
Helard's mind raced with one thought: proving Trallod wrong. The kingdom Trallod had built, the peace he had found, the respect he had earned from his realm—it meant nothing in the face of raw power. And if there was one thing Helard knew he possessed, it was power. The flames he controlled, capable of reducing entire lands to ash, had always set him apart from his brothers. He would show Trallod—no, he would remind him—of just how strong he truly was.
Helard's body became engulfed in a terrifying flame as his rage reached its peak. His thoughts were consumed by one singular desire: to attack Trallod's realm and prove that, in terms of sheer power, no one—not even the so-called Calamity—could stand against him.
"I'll burn it all," Helard vowed. "I'll raze his precious kingdom to the ground. Let him see that his freedom is nothing but a fleeting illusion before the might of fire."
Without hesitation, Helard stormed from his chambers, his very steps scorching the floor beneath him. He began to prepare himself for an assault on Trallod's realm, a fiery invasion that would force his brother to acknowledge his superiority. Helard's soldiers, loyal and fierce, rallied to his side, sensing the storm of battle that their prince was about to unleash.
Meanwhile, far away in the Realm of the Thundering Wolves, Prince Trallod remained blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing in his older brother's heart. Trallod had returned to his kingdom, where peace and order reigned under his rule. The Thundering Wolves roamed freely across the land, and his stone golems stood as vigilant sentinels over the city he had built.
Trallod, standing atop his stone castle, gazed out over the horizon, feeling the calm energy of his land. His thoughts were far from his brothers and the throne he had left behind. He had found what he had always sought—freedom and a realm of his own. For him, the race for the throne had never been about power; it had always been about independence, about ruling on his terms without the weight of royal politics or family rivalries.
But as the calm winds swept across his realm, there was no way for Trallod to sense the danger that was fast approaching. Prince Helard, consumed by his burning desire for vengeance and recognition, was preparing to unleash a fiery onslaught that could threaten everything Trallod had built.
The storm of flames was coming.
And Trallod, the ruler of stone and earth, would soon be forced to face his brother's fury.