Unspoken Grief

Upon hearing the shattering news of her father's death, Sheu is instantly speechless, her breath caught in her throat as tears well in her eyes. The sheer weight of the moment suffocates her, drowning out every voice in the room.

Moto breaks the heavy silence, his voice calm but firm. "What was the cause of death?"

Aritri, the King's guard, responds without hesitation. "The house he was using burned down. With no evidence of a culprit, it's suspected suicide."

Sheu's tears halt abruptly at the mention of self-harm. Her father was a meticulously cautious man, one who intimately understood the dangers of his work. He had told her himself, countless times—he would never take his own life. She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "When will we be able to bury him?"

Drake's mother recoils at the question, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why are you trying to bury him so quickly?"

Aritri sighs, her gaze distant. "Everything was burned down. There's nothing to bury."

The words slice through Sheu like a cold blade. Without another thought, she runs. She bursts from the house, a desperate, frantic escape. Moto moves to follow her, but Drake stops him, a firm hand on his shoulder. "Give her space to think," he says, his own face grim. Moto pauses, understanding the unspoken wisdom. He watches the door for a long moment before nodding slowly.

Meanwhile, Drake's mother nudges her husband, who jolts upright. "Shelton... did he leave a will?" he asks nervously.

Aritri replies, her voice flat, "Everything he owned now belongs to his daughter."

Moto glances at Drake. "How are your parents related to Sheu?"

Drake answers without hesitation. "My father is Uncle Shelton's brother."

Drake's parents rise to their feet. "The girl left, so we'll be going too. It's late anyway. Let's go, Drake."

Drake refuses, his gaze fixed on the door. "I won't leave until I know she's okay." His parents exchange a disgusted glance, then begrudgingly leave. It's clear to Moto and Najo they were only ever here to profit from the tragedy.

Aritri turns to Moto. "I need to leave as well. Make sure Sheu receives the King's sincere condolences." She pauses at the door, then adds, "And don't miss tomorrow's assembly."

By the River

Sheu runs, her chest tightening with every desperate stride, a suffocating band around her lungs. She struggles to believe her father is truly gone, but her mind is a whirlwind of grief, unable to grasp clear thought. She kneels beside the river, splashing handfuls of cold water over her face as if to physically erase her tears. But they refuse to stop. They spill over, uncontrollable, until she finally lets go, collapsing into racking sobs against the stillness of the water.

Her father was everything to her—strong, quiet, a man who loved in ways that didn't need words. He showed his care more than he spoke it, but she had always understood him. They understood each other. Memories flood her mind: how, on her first day of school, when other kids laughed at her hair, he went to everyone he knew to learn how to style it properly. How, despite not having a mother, she never truly felt her absence because her father was always there. He taught her to bake, to defend herself, to navigate the world with quiet confidence. There was no one she loved or cherished more. He had even been the reason she and Moto became so close. The memories bring more tears, a fresh wave of sorrow.

She weeps until Moto finds her.

She doesn't look at him. Instead, she whispers, her voice raw and broken, "Don't speak to me. Not for a while." It's a silent vow, a plea for space in her unbearable grief. She feels a growing, insidious suspicion: her father's nature was exploited. He wasn't supposed to go on such a short-notice mission. Something isn't right. She pulls out the last picture they took together—her father, a faint smile on his lips, wearing his favorite blue poncho. She smiles briefly, remembering how she hated it and told him to throw it away, so he only wore it when he went on missions. But the memory only deepens her sorrow. Her father wouldn't have done this to himself.

Moto doesn't say a word. He simply sits beside her, a silent, comforting presence.

A New Day, A New Challenge

Najo excuses himself, returning to the Lightning Village. Ginimbi's guards wait for him, ready to escort him back and ensure he rests for rigorous training. Najo makes a silent promise: he will grow stronger, to make up for leaving his friends in such a dire time.

The next morning, Moto prepares for school. Today's assembly is crucial; it will reveal the King's chosen candidates for the Succession Trials. Before leaving, he finds Sheu, her face still streaked with fresh tears, desperately trying to wash them away. He steps forward and embraces her, holding her tightly.

"I know how you feel," he says softly, his voice full of empathy. "It'll be okay, I promise."

For a while, they remain in her old home, the quiet space filled with the lingering echoes of her father.

The next morning, Sheu wakes Moto up early. He asks if she's okay. She shakes her head. "I need more time," she admits, her voice fragile. "But you shouldn't miss the assembly." Moto nods, understanding the weight of her words. She stays behind, while Najo, determined to work harder than ever, prepares for the next phase of his training, vowing to finish early so he can rejoin Moto and Sheu.

The Assembly Begins

When Moto arrives at school, some of his usual bullies approach him, but Mukai, a silent, protective presence, signals for them to leave Moto alone. He doesn't say anything to Moto, merely a curt nod.

The royal trumpet blows, its clear call echoing across the vast school grounds, summoning everyone to the assembly. Students divide themselves by their elemental affiliations: Fire and Water at the front, Earth and Wind at the rear. The Lightning students, a separate, elite contingent, stand apart, already training to join Ginimbi's formidable army.

The teachers stand proudly on the podium, facing their assembled students. The trumpet blows again, its majestic notes joined by other instruments playing the soaring tune of the national anthem. King Douglas steps onto the podium with his personal guards.

Zed, the imposing Master of Earth, steps forward, raising his powerful fist into the air. With a collective grunt, the earth students exert their will, raising the very platform they stand upon, a stunning display of their mastery and strength. Zed roars proudly, a sound that vibrates through the earth, before taking his designated position.

The Master of Wind follows. At his silent signal, the wind students conjure a towering, swirling tornado, its ethereal form twisting high above them.

The Master of Water directs his clansmen, their presence calm yet commanding, the air around them rippling with unseen power.

Lastly, Gwen, the Master of Fire, steps up. An annoyed expression mars his face; he's dressed more like a no-nonsense sports coach than a traditional master. He blows a sharp whistle, and the fire students respond, chanting as they scorch the air with controlled bursts of flame.

Aritri, the King's guard, remains silently at Douglas's side until he approaches the podium. The students, in a unified motion, bow respectfully.

"Greetings, children," King Douglas begins, his voice carrying clearly across the multitude. "You may rise. I wish I could give my usual speech, but I have another pressing matter to attend to, so I shall get straight to the point." He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the sea of expectant, eager faces.

"The principal, Mr. Jumbo, submitted candidates for consideration. After much deliberation, the students who will participate in this year's Succession Trials are Mukai, Albert, Hawa, Moto, and Sheu."

A collective murmur, a wave of surprise and disbelief, ripples through the vast crowd.

"That is all," King Douglas concludes. "Take this time to prepare. I will see you at the arena next week."