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geekgirles · 3 months ago

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The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 8: Hostile Takeover

Word Count: 28,297

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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.

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geekgirles · 8 months ago

Text

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 1: Desperate Measures

Word Count: 9339

Read on AO3

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Summary: In a reality where the Eliatropes arrived at an already populated World of Twelve, their presence and the concerns it rises amongst their people have forced the twelve gods to act. After all, they too had their motives for considering the portal-making race a potential threat, especially their king, Yugo.

In an effort to placate both their visitors and worshippers, Sadida is tasked with repeating a feat from the Primitive Era: create a new Divine Doll to seduce the Eliatrope King with and bring peace to the World of Twelve. After all, he is an Eliatrope and she is a Sadida Doll; they're falling in love is inevitable.

The arrival of the Eliatropes turned their world upside down.

Until then, the inhabitants of the World of Twelve, consisting of both the followers of the twelve gods and the many other races that coexisted with them, lived in perfect harmony. Beyond a few, mostly harmless stereotypes, the Twelvians knew peace and prosperity under the six Primordial Dofus created thanks to Sadida’s intervention.

Their world was prosperous and lush, encompassing large continents filled to the brim with opportunities to settle down, make a living, or even set out on countless, unforgettable adventures. All thanks to their gods, who, despite their own mischievousness and unpredictable nature—just ask Ecaflip’s followers…—, were always looking out for their people.

Such peace and happiness couldn’t last forever, however. One day, practically out of nowhere, the horrifying sight of an enormous mechanical contraption, as big as a mountain, descended from the heavens, wreaking chaos among the Twelvians.

Nobody understood what was going on. Did something happen? Had they somehow offended the gods and now they were being punished for their insolence with certain doom? Was it really the end?

Turns out, it truly was the end. The end of an era.

The falling monstrosity they saw falling from the sky wasn’t any form of divine retribution, but the Zenith, an advanced mothership belonging to a whole different race from a whole different world: the Eliatropes.

Unlike the Twelvians, the Eliatropes did not follow any of the twelve gods, they didn’t worship any of the deities populating the World of Twelve, for that matter! No. They were actually descended from the Great Goddess herself, the creator of all life in the Krosmoz! As such, they shared her innate, intimate knowledge on wakfu and, more importantly, her portal-making ability.

Finding out wherever they went they could never be able to escape their unexpected visitors did not help soothe the Twelvians’ already frazzled nerves.

And yet, despite how eerie, how otherworldly the Eliatropes were, they were nothing compared to their leaders. The Council of Six, consisting of the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons. Indeed, not only did the Eliatropes bring six dragons with them—which were revered as some of the most powerful creatures in existence—, but they were actually semi-divine. As it were, the Eliatrope Council were demigods, and especially rare ones at that, too! Each of them was gifted with a unique ability or skill they mainly used to serve their people, but not for that were they any less formidable.

And because that wasn’t enough, they even had their own set of Dofus and their knowledge on wakfu allowed them to both manipulate those sacred artefacts to their full potential as well as develop incredibly advanced technology. Because, apparently, they needed further advantages over the Twelvians to thrive.

When the Eliatropes formally introduced themselves—by crashing an official meeting of the Council of Twelve meant precisely to discuss what to do with them, in fact—, they insisted they simply wanted a place to settle down after their homeworld had been devastated during a most ruthless war. They had been voyageing the Krosmoz for years until they finally found their world, and now all they wanted was a place they could call home and thrive in.

Unfortunately, despite swearing up and down they meant no harm and even wished to ally themselves with the world’s native nations and play by their rules, the council only became even warier of them. Especially when they proved their demigod nature when the World of Twelve’s greatest heroes and warriors—having been sent to cow their unwelcome visitors into submission—were soundly defeated by the Eliatrope King and greatest warrior himself, Yugo.

After that, most Twelvians quaked in their boots whenever they believed to see a spark of blue from the corner of their eye—more than one poor, unsuspecting Feca had found themselves subjected to a beating as a result of their hair colour. A market’s jovial if busy atmosphere became awkward and stuffy the moment anyone caught a glimpse of an Eliatrope hat or, even worse, their portals. For their part, while they genuinely wanted to have a peaceful coexistence with their new neighbours, the Eliatropes chose to try avoiding further conflict and isolate themselves in Oma Island, where they’d built their new civilisation.

Even so, the Twelvians’ paranoia only grew each passing day, and with it, their gods’ concerns. Fear and distrust reigned supreme, so much so, ever since the Eliatropes’ arrival, the only prayers the gods received from their worshippers were asking them to please do something about those outsiders. Some asked for them to be kicked out of the planet, while others begged for their gods to find a way to protect them or at least ensure the Eliatropes wouldn’t try anything to harm them.

Unbeknownst to their worshippers, however, the gods had their own reasons for being wary of the Eliatropes. So much so, it didn’t take them much convincing to decide to convene on what to do with them.

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

Far, far away, deep within Inglorium, the land of the gods themselves, the reigning divinities their followers owed their powers and appearances to were gathered within the Communal Palace. Seeing as it kept the recorded life of every single mortal, regardless of their alliance to which god, the palace was the only place where no god had greater power or influence than the rest. Thus, the reason why their war room was located there, as everyone would be forced to listen to what their fellow deities had to say while they remained seated around the same table.

And at that very moment, a very heated discussion was taking place.

“I simply do not understand why we don’t just annihilate them!” Bellowed Sram, who had grown tired of his cohorts dismissing his ideas as ‘too impulsive for an assassin god.’ “No creature has ever been known to withstand the full power of a god, not even demigods! This whole ordeal would be over already if all of us joined forces to vanquish those outsiders!”

“They are not simple demigods, however. Which is exactly what turns them into such dangerous foes.” Cra reminded, her voice poised and collected, but that, much like the Great Huntress herself, belied a cunning mind and nerves of steel.

“Besides, have you already forgotten the reason why our dear Iop isn’t with us anymore?” Ecaflip added sarcastically, leaning back in his seat to jab a claw towards the empty chair the god of war used to occupy.

“Indeed. As much as it hurts my pride, there is no guarantee we will actually be victorious if we were to battle the Eliatropes.” Sacrier agreed from her chained position, letting out an almost imperceptible wince at the familiar sensation of one of her worshippers exchanging their pain with her.

However, Xelor himself was in agreement with the assassin god. “While it is a high gamble, the Eliatropes’ presence threatens the very balance of the world! Their mere existence is unlawful, who knows the kind of chaos they might unleash were they to stay?!”

Ecaflip raised an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses, using two of his arms to lean in closer to the god of time while the remaining pair filed his claws disinterestedly. “Look at you, talking about gambling! Last time I checked, that was my specialty, Cuckoo-clock.”

“Then perhaps you should start living up to your reputation and take more risks, god of chance.” Xelor fired back, sneering derisively at the feline deity.

For his part, Ecaflip couldn't help but think privately how having to look down at someone’s chest to notice their eyes narrowing in on you would never stop being weird. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

“Except Iop’s absence is precisely the reason why sparking a confrontation against the Eliatropes would lead to disaster.” Feca spoke up, her clipped tone revealing her irritation at some of her cohorts’ shortsightedness. “Iop was the physically strongest one among us. What chance do we have of beating opponents equally adept at combat without him?”

“You seem to be underestimating us, Feca. After all, while their prowess over wakfu is certainly versatile and impressive, we are still gods. Each one of us possesses a varied array of powers that go beyond human comprehension. Compared to us, they are nothing but a one-trick dragoturkey.” Eniripsa countered, looking down at her nails as if this whole conversation was beneath her. As if to prove her point, she conjured a scroll written in a long-lost language, one only she and her followers could still read, of course.

“On the contrary, my dear fairy.” Enutrof said, uncoiling his golden, serpentine body to make use of his height and rise above the rest, drawing every eye to him. “Feca is merely trying to point out that we should not underestimate our opponents. After all, there is much to lose.” His red eyes glinted menacingly when he said that. As the draconic god of fortune, there was nothing Enutrof hated more than losses.

“And why don’t we simply welcome them to our world? With enough bamboo milk, the more the merrier!” Pandawa suggested, taking a generous sip of the aforementioned beverage as if to prove her point.

As the gods kept arguing about which course of action to take, whether to face off against the Eliatropes to drive them away from their world or to try looking for a different solution, Cra’s trained eye noticed how Osamodas and Sadida had yet to say a word. What’s more, while the chimeran tamer remained composed even under all the in-fighting, not even Sadida’s mask could hide the gravely air around him, especially when the green of his skin seemed to have lost its lustre.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, the Woodland Beauty opened her mouth to force her fellow gods to confess what they were undoubtedly keeping hidden from them. “Pray tell, Osamodas, what is on your mind? Is it possible you have already drafted a plan?”

Despite her open attempt at turning the other gods against him, the Master of Beasts remained unperturbed. His tail flicking around as he stroked his long, silver beard, a wry smirk graced his features. “As a matter of fact, dearest Cra, I do have an idea that might help us keep the Eliatropes in check.”

“We expel them from our world to never return, correct?” Sram ventured, a devilish smirk stretching over his face.

Osamodas shook his goat-like head. “That course of action could bring forth unforeseen consequences, I’m afraid.”

That made Sram pout.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Sacrier asked, sharing a worried look with Pandawa.

“Same thing we did to bring peace and harmony to our world the first time.” He smirked.

This time, it was Ecaflip who chose that moment to chime in, voicing everyone’s thoughts. “Um… Last time we created the Dofus. Are you suggesting we create more to drive them off? Wouldn’t that unsettle the balance?”

As his fellow gods voiced their agreement with the King of Fortune’s summation, as well as voiced their disagreement with what they interpreted as Osamodas’ plan, Sadida broke them all out of their own thoughts when he spoke for the first time since the meeting began. His voice, while naturally rich and deep, lacked the usual vitality associated with the god of nature.

“Our goal would be to prevent them from unsettling the balance by ensuring they have no reason to use their Dofus.” He said somberly.

“And how do you propose we do that, exactly?” Xelor questioned, his eyes narrowed in suspicion—and causing Ecaflip to shudder in disgust yet again.

The smug look never left Osamodas’ face. “As I was saying, we simply must follow the same procedure as with the Primordial Dofus: we seduce them.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, almost every eye in the room settled on Cra, scanning her curvaceous body from head-to-toe. Flinching at the unexpected scrutiny she suddenly found herself in, the Master of the Bolt snapped, “What?!”

“He said we ought to seduce the Eliatropes, and since your beauty is known for bewitching anyone but your followers… I suppose that means it is up to you, my dear.” Enutrof sentenced. With a snap of his claws, he conjured up a very revealing red dress and a matching pair of heels that Ecaflip presented proudly to her with his four limbs and a winning smile on his face.

Her eye twitching at the offence, Cra’s immediate reaction was to materialise a series of light-based arrows she wasted no time firing at her fellow gods. With a yelp, Ecaflip dropped the clothes right before he and Enutrof scrambled to try in vain to avoid the goddess’ wrath.

All Osamodas could do in response to that was let out a long-suffering sigh, one hand pinching the bridge of his non-existent nose in vexation.

“None of us shall seduce the Eliatropes, you fools!” He bellowed, catching their attention as he slammed his hands against the table. “Have you already forgotten what we did to create the Dofus?!”

“It has been a long time, I would know…” Xelor muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest—ehrm, face? “And, again, won’t seducing the Eliatrope dragons result in more Dofus? What about the balance then?”

“Ah, but I never said we would be seducing their dragons, now did I?” Osamodas pointed out, wagging a finger in the air.

The gods’ eyes widened. They exchanged mistified glances with each other, silently asking if anybody knew what the Master Tamer was trying to get at.

Rising from his crouched down position over his hind legs, Osamodas began circling around the others counterclockwise, his hands to his back as he finally shared his plan in full detail. “Objectively speaking, each and every one of the Eliatropes is a potential threat, especially the members of their council. However, it should be noted the biggest threat by far would be the one they call their king and greatest warrior, Yugo.

“Given his battle prowess and divine nature, it would be unwise to make an enemy out of him. As for his people and their interactions with ours… Well, it is undeniable their help could be crucial in the development of our world…”

“What are you suggesting, Osamodas?” Eniripsa queried, the fluttering of her wings betraying her genuine interest for how this would all play out.

“Much like Pandawa suggested, it would be much more beneficial for us to have the Eliatropes as our allies, instead of our enemies. All we must do is ensure they feel no need to assert their dominance over our worshippers.” He explained, though the enigmatic nature of his answer didn’t do much to dispel the other gods’ doubts.

“That’s great and all…” Sram waved a hand dismissively. “But what does that have to do with seducing their king?”

Just as the assassin god posed his question, Osamodas reached Sadida, whose forlorn gaze was fixed on the table before him. Lowering his torso slightly to speak as face-to-face as possible with the nature god, the chimaera simply said, “Would you care to do the honours, my friend?”

Sadida’s face contorted into a pained grimace. It looked as if it took every ounce of his strength not to break down right there and then. In fact, he seemed to be in so much pain, Cra was already on her feet to reach out to him and console him when he finally spoke.

“I shall craft one last Divine Doll specifically to be gifted to King Yugo.”

A series of loud gasps echoed throughout the room, though no one was as alarmed as Cra.

“You desire to create another Divine Doll, and to seduce the Eliatrope King with her?! Sadida, surely you don’t mean that...”

“It worked with most of the primordial dragons, and the boy has draconic blood running through his veins.” He retorted simply, although he didn’t seem to be able to look the goddess in the eye. “Besides, unlike dragons, men are simple creatures. And I intend to make my eleventh doll my masterpiece. If he falls for a gift we made specifically for him, then he should have no reason to ever turn against our world.”

“Conversely, upon discovering we entrusted the Eliatrope King with one of our own, our people should eventually feel more at ease. Since it would appear we do not consider them a threat.” Sacrier concluded. As the other gods spoke, she had been quietly connecting the dots.

“Is it really such a good idea, though?” Enutrof questioned, still nursing his behind, where Cra’s arrow hit. “Divine Dolls are essentially your daughters, Sadida, which makes them demigoddesses in their own right. So is Yugo, and a powerful one at that. Do we really want to risk them siring a child together?”

Away from their eyes, the masked god clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles almost turned white. “That is precisely why offering one of my dolls is the best course of action, old friend. Unlike your children, they cannot bear offspring.” Then, noticing the uneasy looks they were sending him, he added, his voice low and serious. “I will make sure of it.”

A heavy atmosphere fell over the gods after that. All they could do was exchange nervous glances. Cra in particular was trying desperately to lock eyes with Sadida, worry for her old friend overwhelming her senses. She was about to close the distance between them to try to talk some sense into him when Ecaflip clasped all four of his hands.

“Well, I like it!” He declared, smiling broadly. “We’re betting it all on love; is there a better, or riskier, game than that? Count me in!”

“Now you sound like yourself, you fleabag!” Xelor laughed, clasping the feline on the back.

One by one, each and every god eventually gave their consent, seeing as it truly was the best idea any of them had come up with since the Eliatrope issue first appeared. Eventually, seeing herself outnumbered, even Cra had to give in, but not without making the resolution of talking to the nature god about it first.

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

“I already made up my mind, Cra; so did the others. Even you cannot impose your will over a unanimous decision.” Sadida sighed, not even turning around from his table at his atelier to look his old friend in the eye. If he did, he knew the Woodland Beauty would be able to see his resolve crumble like dust.

“Technically speaking, it wasn’t unanimous. Iop wasn’t there to vote.” She said matter-of-factly, trying to relieve the tension with that wry humour they had in common. The small smirk on her face at her observation fell when not even that elicited a response from Sadida.

After the meeting, the archery goddess wasted no time following Sadida back into his lands, despite knowing she possessed no power there, and into the hutt he used for his creations, which wasn’t unlike his people’s houses on the top of the trees. Seeing as the nature god hadn’t told her to leave despite having already taken out the materials he would need to first design and then create his newest doll, Cra took her chances. With measured steps, she made her way over to the Leafy God, placing a delicate but firm hand on his shoulder to get him to look at her.

She put on her most reassuring smile. “I am simply worried about you, my friend. There is a reason why you haven’t made any more Divine Dolls ever since the end of the Primitive Era.”

“The reason being there was no need; we already had six Dofus and that was all we required to bring peace to our land.” The masked god scoffed matter-of-factly, turning his head away from the archer.

“We both know that is not the only reason…” Cra said testily, before realising her slip of the tongue.

In an instant, Sadida had swirled around to face her with the most furious expression she had seen from him in centuries, not even his mask was enough to hide the depth of his anger. However, even without her prodigious sight, she knew deep down he was more hurt than angry. Still, knowing he was a few seconds away from kicking her out of his workshop—an order she would have no way to refuse, seeing as these were indeed his domains—, Cra was quick to act.

“My deepest apologies, my friend. I should have known better than to reopen old wounds.” She said placatingly, though not any less sincerely. “I…I just… I merely worry about you. I do not wish to see you get hurt.”

With a glance at her genuinely remorseful face, obscured by fallen locks of her long, golden hair, Sadida’s own expression softened considerably. With a heavy sigh, he hung his head, before bringing a hand to his mask as he reprimanded himself for his callous treatment of his friend.

His earthy fingers taking hold of her gloved hand startled the archer out of her thoughts. “Please, forgive me, my dear Cra. It is not you I am angry with, but myself.”

Understanding the reason for his anger without words, only the long-lasting bond they shared, Cra ventured. “Then why give in to Osamodas’ request? We found a way to make Eliatrope pay for her crimes, we can find a way to deal with her people too!”

“Because her people are not any more at fault for what happened than ours, Cra.” Sadida’s solemn declaration made the goddess gasp in surprise. “It would not be right to punish them for a crime they did not commit. Just as it would not be just of them to vent any residual fury they might be feeling towards our actions against our followers.”

He let go of the Great Huntress’ hand, his eyes fixed on the floor as he reflected. “As much as it pains me to admit it, Osamodas and Pandawa are right. The best way to protect our people is by not giving the Eliatropes reasons to attack them. And if creating an eleventh Divine Doll is the way to achieve that…” He shrugged, although the action wasn’t enough to dispel the burden he carried over his shoulders. “Then so be it.”

“If you have truly come to terms with what needs to be done, then why do you look so troubled by it?” Cra challenged.

Sadida’s answer broke her heart, especially because she knew nothing she could say or do could dissuade him.

“Because I will still be sending my youngest daughter elsewhere shortly after being born with no guarantee of her ever returning.”

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At first, everything was dark. A black abyss presented itself before her and, despite having the feeling she would not be harmed, the fact that she didn’t know how to navigate the darkness was still alarming. However, those fears were slowly but surely disappearing the more her newly acquired senses developed.

First came touch. She could feel herself being seated over something smooth, yet porous. Sturdy, but light. The more she connected with her sense of touch, the more she awakened other, more refined abilities. After a while of marvelling at the sensations, a startling realisation materialised itself in her mind, unbidden: wood; she was sitting on something made out of wood. But why did that wood feel like a part of herself?

Then came the sense of smell. Taking a deep breath, soon she was enveloped by a myriad of aromas that immediately put her mind at ease. On the one hand, she perceived a waft of something rich and earthy, and she immediately gained a deep understanding of concepts like blades of fresh grass or wet, fertile soil after a delicate spring shower. But on the other hand, her nose was assaulted by far more delicate, though not any less pleasant, fragrances; a flower’s perfume, the aroma of fruits and vegetables, aromatic herbs and plants she couldn’t quite identify but had a feeling she would soon.

When sound finally arrived, the first thing she registered, even before opening her eyes, was the cacophony of warm, loving voices echoing all around her.

“Oh, she truly is marvellous, Father!”

“I really like her overall shape; it’s really cute.”

“Says the doll that could be mistaken for a loaf of bread…” Another voice said, her tone somewhat derisive.

“Not all of us can be shaped after adorable bears like you, Lophapharo.” The second voice countered with a hmph!

“Personally, I believe she could use some more mushrooms in her overall design, but the end result is quite pretty as well.” This voice was prim and proper, though the tiniest bit judgemental.

“Oh, hush, Razeriana! She is not for you, but for the Eliatrope King. It is him whom she must please.”

“In that case, I don’t think her lack of mushrooms will matter. Eliatropes are essentially humans; they are far shallower than dragons and our sister looks… like this.”

“Ibago! Are you suggesting Father’s creation is imperfect?!”

“Oh, don’t get your stitches into a twist, Sallydally.” A scoff. “I’m merely trying to look out for our sister’s well-being; as she is right now, she will be lucky if the Eliatrope King takes her in as a pet.”

“Ibago!” All voices exclaimed in unison, scandalised.

“Now, now, my dolls. I assure you, your sister is as gifted as all of you. After all, she is mine.” A deep, rich, masculine voice—how did she know that?—cut through the others. Just then, she could feel herself be scooped up in two mossy hands and raised high above. Whoever was talking to her used his thumb to rub gentle caresses on her cheek. “Come now, Amalia. Try opening your eyes slowly.”

Amalia… Is that my name? The little doll couldn’t help but ask herself. Still, compelled by her creator’s encouraging tones, she did as she was told. With slight difficulty, she unglued her eyelids, wincing at the burning sensation caused by the unfiltered light making contact with her retinas. Thanks to a few slow blinks, she finally regained her senses, only for them to be flooded again at the explosion of colour that greeted her upon setting her gaze on the figures in front of her.

Wherever she looked, she was assaulted by wide, curious eyes. Some of them belonged to three beautiful humanoid women with plant-like features, be it the colour of their skin and hair or the clothes they wore. Others she found on the faces of six nature-inspired… dolls? They certainly looked like dolls —and the masculine voice had described them as such—, even if she couldn’t understand how she even knew what those were; with their small, stumpy bodies, that somehow didn’t detract from their own unique beauty. And yet, as dissimilar as the nine creatures before her were, they all had something in common: they all proudly displayed a series of stitches going up and down their skin.

But what truly got her blinking in amazement was the imposing yet oddly loving figure right in front of her. The same one that had scooped her up in his palms and commanded her to open her eyes.

He radiated unmistakable power, a kind of power that, weirdly enough, she could feel herself responding to, resonating from her very core. His body was lean, yet his muscles firm, not unlike tree bark; the ebony tone of his skin coursing through his shape until it reached a loincloth, hiding what lay beneath; or his hands, covered by moss and fungi, and a lighter shade of the same bark comprising his body; and his head…

Despite her limited understanding of the world around her, Amalia was sure she could not see his face. All she could see was a large, green and orange wooden mask with both ends donning completely different decorations. The lower end gave way to a white, scruffy goatee; while the upper end was adorned with rows of palm leaves and even luminescent mushrooms that ended in brownish leaves hanging from matching golden rings on each side of his head. Truth be told, the holes in both eyes and mouth made it a very impressive mask, but it still wasn’t an actual face.

For a second, Amalia couldn’t help but wonder if she too had a mask instead of a face and that was why—what was her name…? Oh, that’s right!—Ibago found her ugly before. She gulped in horror at the mere thought.

The figure chuckled, the sound reverberating from his throat with fondness and mirth. “Worry not, my dear. I can assure you, soon you will be one of the most beautiful creatures to walk the World of Twelve. If your suitor isn’t careful, he might find himself having to fight off hordes of young men and women vying for your affection.” Even though she could tell that it was meant to be a light-hearted joke, his tone darkened slightly at the mention of her ‘suitor.’

Speaking of which…

“What is a ‘suitor’?” She found herself asking and, goodness! Was that her voice? Was that really how she sounded?

“Someone who wishes to sweep you off your feet.” The figure explained. Then realising it might be too soon for her to understand metaphors, he corrected himself. “Someone who wishes to make you fall in love with them. Although in your case, your own suitor has yet to realise that…”

“How is that possible?” She questioned, not sure she understood the strange new rules the world she was in seemed to be run by.

“Uh… I shall explain it all in due time, my dear, but first, let me introduce myself and your sisters.” Carefully passing her from both his open hands to just one, he used his new free hand to gesture at himself. “I am Sadida. God of nature and patron of the tree people inhabiting the World of Twelve. And these are your sisters: Maminala, Lophapharo, Belladona, Peparava, Yopo, Razeriana, Ladysally, Ibago, and Dathura;” he gestured to each and every one of them as he listed them off, “they’re all Divine Dolls, such as yourself, my dear.”

“A ‘Divine Doll’?” She tilted her head in confusion. “What is that?”

“My creations.” He responded simply. “I am your father and you, my dear, are my masterpiece. And you were created with a very specific purpose. But before going into detail, allow me to tell you all about the wondrous world you’re about to discover…”

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Despite the relatively short amount of time their race had inhabited Oma Island, their history, their culture, their very essence as people have already been engraved onto each and every nook and cranny composing the area. The inside of their rulers’ place of residence was no exception; the corridors inside the Eliatrope palace were an architectural marvel. Covering the expanse of the tall, sturdy walls were murals depicting their people’s history, with the Council of Six and their dragon siblings front and centre.

In that very moment, walking down the path connecting the council room with the throne room were four figures; three of them looked quite similar and humanoid, while the fourth one stood out thanks to his reptilian, if still bipedal, appearance. What they all had in common, however, was the brisk pace at which they marched, although one of them, the one leading their little group, was visibly more ruffled than the others.

“This is unbelievable. Just… unbelievable! The natives treat us like monsters for months on end, the gods don’t even acknowledge our presence—”

“Which we must not forget might be for the best.” The voice belonging to the reptilian silhouette cautioned wisely.

“—and now, out of the blue, they send us—no, scratch that—they send me something called a ‘Divine Doll’ to take as my bride?! Just, who does that?!” The agitated voice belonged to none other than King Yugo of the Eliatropes, whom anyone would be able to tell was at the verge of losing it from just one look at his face.

The reason for his ire and disbelief was simple. Shortly after arriving at the World of Twelve and choosing the distant Oma Island to settle down and restart their civilisation, the Council of Six, composed by him and his siblings—Adamaï, Qilby, Shinonomé, Nora, Efrim, Glip, Baltazar, Chibi, Grougaloragran, Mina, and Phaeris—, had come to the decision that they needed to introduce themselves to the other races populating this world and show them they meant no harm.

Originally, they simply wanted to establish a mutually beneficial relationship between them all in order for their respective civilisations to thrive. However, their hopes of fostering positive relationships were dashed when the natives immediately responded to them with nothing but scorn and distrust. No matter their attempts at proving they only wished for a peaceful coexistence, the Twelvians regarded them as outsiders. Even worse, as invaders just waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

They kept trying to reach out to them for months on end, to no avail. The fact that the Twelvians sent their finest warriors specifically to drive them out only cemented what they already knew.

They were not welcomed.

Unfortunately, even if it would have been better to just leave this world and look for another place they could call home, the Council knew it would not be possible. Their people had already spent decades navigating the Krosmoz, looking for the perfect substitute for their own world, and in all that time the only planet that met all their requirements and would be able to satisfy their needs was the World of Twelve. Who knew how long it would be until they found their next candidate? And what if they couldn’t stay there either?

No, it was better to remain where they were and limit themselves to only interact with the outside world when strictly necessary.

Considering the uprise and unrest their arrival caused, the Yugo and his siblings were fully expecting this world’s gods to intervene, probably even cast them out or at least force them to fight for their right to have a place to belong. They even dared hope the deities might intervene in their favour and convince their followers to give them a chance. But it was all for naught. No one came.

Which made the fact that one of their guards was forced to interrupt a council meeting to inform their king something called ‘a Divine Doll’ had been sent directly from Inglorium as his bride-to-be all the more infuriating.

“And what’s more!” The Eliatrope went on to say. “How can they just assume I need a bride? How do they know I’m not already married, or betrothed?!”

Adamaï perfectly understood where Yugo was coming from. He was his very own dragon twin brother, after all. As with most council meetings taking place indoors, he was making use of his humanoid yet draconic form to walk beside his brother inside the palace. Even if he understood how his brother felt, however, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a sigh at his words.

“Yugo, they are the gods of this world. They probably oversee everything that happens here.” He was quick to remind his king. “Meaning, they’re most likely aware you are very much single.”

“Have been in all your past lives, as a matter of fact. A few, several-years-long flings here and there, but you have never taken a queen in the entirety of our history.” Another voice chimed in, sounding somewhat amused.

Said infuriatingly smug voice belonged to an older-looking Eliatrope clad in a long, white tunic over brown pants and shoes, its hood resembling a pair of horns that ended in a tuft of dark fur at the back. He had a long face that culminated in a braided beard the same hue as his long, dirty blond hair. A small pair of round glasses over his nose only amplified the sharp intellect reflected in his hazel eyes.

“Thank you, Qilby.” Yugo groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes in frustration at his brother’s need to remind him of every single event that had ever taken place in the course of their many lifetimes. “My point is, whatever it is they’re trying to do, it won’t work. The only reason we’re not sending that thing packing is because Mina and Phaeris advised us against it.”

“As much as I agree with you, brother, Mina and Phaeris believe doing so will only be worse, as it could be taken as a declaration of war against the gods themselves. And I’m afraid they’re probably right.” Nora spoke, her pink eyes trained on the path ahead of them.

Her hair as pale as her porcelain skin, it was mostly covered by a long, magenta cloak that reached down her knees. Whenever her movements would force the cloak to open and reveal what lay behind, a matching magenta, form-fitting, sleeveless suit and fingerless gloves up to her forearms appeared. Despite their initial role as their people’s joy-bringers, the war against the Mechasms had hardened both her and her dragon brother Efrim into capable warriors in their own right.

“Nora, is right, Yugo.” Adamaï said, putting a claw over his brother’s shoulder. “You don’t have to take the Divine Doll as your bride, but it would not be wise to rudely reject a gift from the gods, either.” Then, a small gasp leaving his throat as he came to a realisation, he added, much more enthused. “What if this ends up being the chance we were waiting for? What if this is the key to convince the Twelvians we are not a threat?”

“Not even them would be able to reject our presence for much longer if they learned we have their gods’ blessing.” Qilby pointed out.

“I know, I know.” Their king said, running a hand through his hair from under his own hood in frustration.” You’re all probably right, I just… I don’t know… I mean, what even is a Divine Doll?!” Yugo wondered aloud, his mind racing.

Without even having to look at him, Yugo could just feel Qilby perk up in excitement at the prospect of explaining something. And then Glip was supposed to be the teacher…

“According to my research on this world and its lore,” the bespectacled Eliatrope began, “Divine Dolls, also known as Sadida Dolls, for that is their creator, the god of nature; were created for the sole purpose of making this world’s primordial dragons fall in love with them to get them to produce Dofus.

“Apparently, there are ten dolls and ten dragons, but only six of them succeeded in their mission. Meaning, much like us, there are only six Dofus native to this world.” Although he finished his retelling, Qilby was clearly not quite done, for he pushed his glasses up with one finger before adding, “Considering they were created by Sadida himself, despite the unconventional means behind their conception, they are regarded as demigoddesses in their own right. In fact, they are said to be the only ones besides the gods themselves that get to live in Inglorium.” At his siblings’ astonished expressions at that piece of information, all he could do was shrug. “Yes, it appears they’re that special.”

“So all the more reason not to be disrespectful towards our guest. Just wonderful…” Yugo let out a tired sigh.

“Look on the bright side,” Nora said, a wry smile dancing at her lips, “that means you at least won’t have to worry about your different lifespans. All demigods are virtually immortal, after all.”

Knowing his sister and her love for messing with him, Yugo only narrowed his eyes at her, unamused. As terrible a thought as it was, this doll living for as long as he did only meant he would not be able to rid himself of her until he died, when normally, he would have only had to wait a few decades before being free. Again, just wonderful.

“I don’t understand, however.” Adamaï said, his chin caught in between his thumb and index finger pensively. “You said Sadida Dolls were meant to seduce dragons.” A nod from Qilby. “Then why would they send one to Yugo, instead of one of us, Eliatrope dragons? I don’t like this…”

Nora’s expression sobered up at the grim reminder. “All the more reason to keep our eyes peeled for anything.”

Right as she said this, they reached the door leading them into the throne room, where they had been informed the doll would be waiting for them. Taking a deep breath in a feeble attempt to reign his thunderous emotions in lest they came out in full force and risked offending their uninvited guest, Yugo sent a nod towards the guards positioned at either side, silently signalling for them to open up the doors.

As the gates creaked open, the three Primordial Eliatropes and the dragon accompanying them could finally take a good look at the creature waiting for them inside. As his eyes registered her form, all Yugo could think of was how this… wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting.

Standing in the middle of the room was the tiniest thing he had ever seen in his life—a thought he kept to himself in case Qilby felt like correcting him on how a baby singing whale he saw back in their 3215th reincarnation was actually the smallest thing he had ever seen, or something. Looking back at him with wide, brown eyes—he thought they were brown; it was hard to tell with her size and the distance between them— was a simple, dark brown rag doll. Her shape could not have been any more complex than a figure with a body, four limbs with no discernible fingers or toes, and a big round head with a small mouth shaped like an ‘o’, the aforementioned pair of brown eyes, and a leafy tuft of green hair on her head.

As his siblings exchanged confused glances and he heard Adamaï muttering ‘This are the famed Divine Dolls that made dragons fall in love with them?’, despite himself and his best attempts at being cordial towards the poor thing, a disbelieving Yugo could only blurt out, “If this is supposed to be my bride, then I don’t think the gods know much about our anatomy…”

His words broke her out of her trance, an embarrassed blush making its way over to her cheeks. She really had intended to present herself in the same elegant, refined manner her sisters had suggested, to display her divine heritage in its full splendour. In fact, ever since she was guided to the throne room to await her suitor—as Father called the Eliatrope King—, she had been discreetly rehearsing what she would say and how she would present herself.

But the moment the large, beautifully detailed doors opened to reveal the Eliatrope King, her mind skidded to a halt at the same time as her little heart skipped a beat. Walking towards her was the most handsome man she had ever seen—granted, she hadn’t really met that many, but there was still something very special about him. Even if he wore a long, blue cloak and his head was covered by a wabbit-shaped hood, his chiselled body was easily discernible underneath. His every curve and muscle was only accentuated by a dark blue, tight, fingerless body-suit with golden detailing.

What little she could see of his face didn’t disappoint either. Despite his chiselled features, he had this boyish quality to him, something that made him extremely endearing. Only hammering this fact were his sharp and alert, yet big and kind dark brown eyes and his short, messy dirty blond hair.

But when his words registered in her mind—why did his voice have to be attractive, too?!— Amalia couldn’t help but feel slightly self-conscious about her body. For a moment, she feared Ibago’s warning against humans, especially men, had been right and her appearance would pose a problem. But just then, her eyes glinted determinedly as she remembered both Father and Dathura’s teachings: as the eleventh Divine Doll, she was not as restricted by her physical form as her older sisters.

Moreover, she had an ace up her sleeve.

But first things first.

“Greetings, Your Majesty and members of the Council of Six. It is a great honour to be here.” She bowed politely, her body bending ninety degrees. “My name is Amalia. I am Sadida’s eleventh Divine Doll. The gods send me as proof of good will between their followers and your people.”

Just as Yugo’s mind scrambled to understand what she meant by ‘eleventh doll’ and the implications behind it, the doll in question—Amalia—interrupted his train of thought. “It appears my current physical form is disconcerting. Please, allow me to rectify that.”

Before anyone present could even utter a word, a veritable hurricane of pink flower petals came to surround the little doll, swirling around her and hiding her from view. Despite himself, the breeze that originated from it was so strong, Yugo couldn’t help but avert his eyes as he covered his face with his forearm, his siblings following his lead.

When he finally felt the wind dying down, the Eliatrope tentatively lowered his arm. Blinking slowly, he finally allowed his gaze to settle on Amalia and, eyes widening at the sight, promptly lost all ability to form a single coherent thought.

The first thing he noticed was that her eyes were indeed a warm, chocolate brown, as well as big and doe-like, luring him in with their siren song. The second most eye-catching thing about her was her hair, elegantly framing her face. It was almost paradoxical, how such an untamed, forest-green mane could also look so silky, which also created a wonderful contrast with her smooth mahogany skin, not a single blemish in sight. Her green locks were pulled back in a high ponytail by a wooden, forked headband that circled around her head only to then rise up beyond her forehead, emulating two antlers or even the branches of a tree.

Yugo couldn’t understand why then, but at the sight of it, his hands itched to just reach out to her hair and touch it. To see for himself if it was truly as silky as it looked. Then, almost as if drawn to it, his eyes couldn’t help sweeping down her body and taking it all in, drinking her in.

She was clad in what at first glance looked like a dress but that, upon closer inspection, the copious amount of skin it showed proved it was actually a two-piece joined together at the front and with several straps on her thighs and back. The upper half consisted of a top made from orange leaves adorned by a rather large white daisy in the very middle. Said daisy was then connected to a leaf the same colour of her hair that went down her equally orange leaf skirt, the same as the one covering her posterior. She was adorned in matching green anklets and armlets that reached up to her shins and forearms, respectively.

At the sight of her silhouette, Yugo, the Eliatrope King and greatest warrior his people had ever known, could only gulp with slight difficulty. Her exposed legs were long and toned, going all the way up to her invitingly mouthwatering hourglass hips. Despite her modest bosom, her petite frame managed to imbue her alluring figure with a certain sweetness that somehow only highlighted her undeniable beauty. Just as sweet was her round, symmetrical doll-like face, which he assumed was to be expected since she was a doll, only now he was beginning to understand just how truly divine she truly was.

As he stood there, drinking her in, all his admittedly short-circuited mind could think was that she was the loveliest flower he had ever seen. He had a feeling not even Qilby would be able to correct him on that.

Adamaï could only blink blankly at what had just happened, astonished. Sure, as a dragon, he was no stranger to shapeshifting, but seeing an unassuming rag doll turn herself into a wild beauty with only the help of a torrent of flower petals was a stretch even for him!

He was about to comment on the change with his brother, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, when he had to do a double take at the state his twin was in, his own mouth hanging open in silent shock.

Yugo was staring intently at Amalia, his whole expression speaking louder than a thousand words. He stood there, slack-jawed, eyes wide and unblinking, and the most furious blush Adamaï had ever seen on his brother’s face had erupted all over his skin.

He looked more like a hormonal teenager seeing his crush naked than a centuries-old king.

Remembering Yugo’s comment right before Amalia literally stole his breath away—seriously, he didn’t look like he was even breathing—, Adamaï couldn’t help himself and leaned in closer to whisper to Nora. “I’d say the gods certainly know what they’re doing…”

“If he doesn’t want her, I’ll gladly take her.” Nora whispered right back.

Qilby simply raised an intrigued eyebrow at this development.

Their whispering, coupled with Amalia’s face contorting in the slightest confusion, was enough to finally break Yugo out of his trance. Clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant, and failing miserably, the king stepped closer to his guest to say, “It…It is an honour to have you here with us as well, Amalia. Although I believe you can imagine how unexpected this all is…”

“Oh, yes. Father did warn me you were not originally aware of my imminent arrival.”

Nora refrained herself from saying something rude about a god, especially in front of what was essentially his daughter. Everyone else in the room could already tell what she was thinking, after all. Efrim in particular must have felt it from all the way over to the opposite end of the palace.

“Nevertheless, I trust your stay with us will be a pleasant experience for you.” Yugo went on, trying very hard not to lose himself in those brown eyes of hers for what he had to say next was very important. “Amalia, if you don’t mind my asking, what exactly were you told you are to do here?”

The question seemed to take her aback for a moment, her cheeks colouring as she gathered her thoughts. Shyly tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, she answered. “I was told I am to remain by your side for as long as you permit me, Your Majesty. Hopefully, that will result in you falling in love with me.”

Adamaï almost choked.

Before Yugo had time to get his heart pumping blood again, Amalia added, a little bashfully. “Though, truth be told, I do not even fully understand what ‘falling in love’ is, let alone how I am supposed to achieve it. Father calls you my suitor, but I still don’t fully understand what it means, let alone what it means that I am to be your bride.”

Oh, so she had no idea what she was even supposed to do here. That made things easier somehow.

Yugo panicked when Qilby began to speak.

“Well, you see, my dear, a bride is a woman who is either married or about to be—.”

“Thank you, Qilby.” Yugo said loudly through gritted teeth, at the same time as both Nora and Adamaï clamped their hands over the eldest Eliatrope mouth to get him to shut up. Turning back to Amalia, he willed the heat to leave his cheeks. “Um, yes, brides and marriages usually go hand-in-hand.” Then, grabbing her hands to get her to look him in the eye, his voice turned serious. “However, Amalia, there is no guarantee you and I will get married.”

Her brow furrowing in confusion had no business being so cute. “Why not? Is it my appearance? Is it not to your liking?”

Yugo’s heart stopped. That was definitely not the problem. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He hated how strangled his voice sounded, and he especially hated his siblings chortling at his expense. What was the point in being king if it didn’t save you from brotherly teasing?

“Then what is it?” She pressed on. At the same time, she stepped a little closer to him, and suddenly all the Eliatrope could see was her beautiful face.

Oh, what did he do to deserve such sweet torture?!

Mustering every ounce of strength he possessed, he took one deep breath before looking her straight in the eye. But seeing her big, doe-like eyes staring back at him in wonder deflated his resolve somewhat. With a sigh, he settled for explaining things from a different angle.

“It’s got to do with what you said about making me fall in love with you.” He settled on. “Love is a very complicated thing; there’s no guarantee that will ever happen, therefore, it would be foolish to marry only to be miserable.”

Eyes widening slightly in realisation, Amalia had the strange feeling something inside her broke. Weird. She had been born recently and Father was a master craftsman. She should be in perfect condition. She shook her head and with that those wayward thoughts; now it wasn’t the time for that.

She looked back at the king. There really was something magnetic about him, even if she couldn’t tell what it was.

“Then I suppose I should make my way back to Inglorium and explain the reason for my return to Father. You have my deepest gratitude for your time.”

Just as the Divine Doll let go of his hands and bowed down to them yet again, turning around to abandon the Eliatropes’ territory, Yugo and his siblings panicked, terrified at the prospect of the twelve gods taking their fury out on them.

While Adamaï and Nora sent him pointed looks and gestured wildly at Amalia’s retreating form (Qilby just shrugged), Yugo acted without thinking. He pointed one hand at the floor beneath him, creating a portal underneath his feet that immediately transported him right in front of the Sadida Doll, who could only take one startled step back in response.

Eyes glimmering in fascination, looking him up and down, all Amalia could say was, “Incredible…”

Taking advantage of her stupefied state, Yugo reached out for her hand again—was it weird how much he’d been doing it in the sparse few moments he had known her? Should he be worried?—; with her attention back on him, he rushed to say. “However, even though there is no guarantee love will ever blossom between us, I meant it when I say we are honoured to have you here. And if the gods expect us to spend our time together, then it will be my pleasure to be your friend, Amalia.” Then, he added. “Oh, and if we’re going to be friends, you can just call me Yugo. I was never good with formalities.”

“You have my thanks, Yugo.”

Her smile was so blinding, Yugo had the feeling his subsequent reaction to it was not a good sign for a perfectly platonic relationship.

After that, he formally introduced his siblings, with promises of letting her meet the remaining members of the Council and tours around the palace, and maybe even the island. They had to part ways relatively soon since Yugo and the rest still had some urgent matters to attend to, but he instructed some of his guards to guide Amalia to what would be her room from then on.

As he walked back to the council room, flashes of Amalia’s smiling face materialising in his mind, Yugo couldn’t help but wonder what awaited him now that the Sadida Doll was here to stay.

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