A kiss graced his cheek, sweet and gentle though fleeting. “Good Morning, Al,” a husky voice yawned out.

  Alvalar’s heart stirred into a warm buzz like that of a busy honeybee. He turned away from the sketch that he’s been working since the sun had risen and followed his betrothed as he ambled toward the coffee maker with his eyes. Despite looking as though he had just risen out of bed in his knickers with only a vague sense of tiredness, Alvalar knew that Karollus would’ve greatly enjoyed another hour or two of sleep. He wasn’t a morning person.

  Inheriting his father’s high-born Athesanian looks of the famed Rudas clan and coupled with an stocky build that continues to get put to use in his parents’ bakery, Karollus looked like he could’ve once been a warrior-king in a former life with his toned ebony body and the fighting skills to prove it. His teal eyes were as gorgeous as the year-old Kéké tattoo that cascaded down his back, illustrating Nakoi with deer antlers and sapphire-blue scales as she protectively coiled her massive draconic body around his betrothed the same way she protected those human children of hers hundreds of lifetimes ago.

  wheek…

  Karollus rummaged through the cupboard and after he grabbed his favorite Guardian Beast mug depicting a battalion of Giant Fire Ants crawling down the trunks of trees, and poured in a sea of still warm coffee, he let out a gentle sigh. Sleepy-eyed, Karollus held the earthenware vessel snuggly between his hands, hoping that the coffee’s warmth can keep him awake. How cute, Alvalar thought with a giggle. Watching his betrothed shuffle his feet against the ground, listening to the way the engagement earrings that clung onto Karollus’s ear sang its symphony of festive jingles that accompanied the gentle shakes of his Ul’dalir beads, Alvalar couldn’t help but breathe a gentle sigh as well. He didn’t want this moment to end. It was too perfect. He would give anything to keep it like this...

  Wheek...

  With the brightest of smiles he could muster, Alvalar scooted out of his seat and met his fiancé halfway, pecking his cheek as he was too preoccupied enjoying his drink. “G’morning, mi amor,” he replied cheerily.

  Karollus finished drinking a gulp of this morning’s brew and reciprocated the smile. First, he slid a thick lock of braided hair behind his ear then reached for Alvalar’s right engagement earring, twirling its chain around his finger playfully. “My, aren’t you full of energy this morning.” He pressed his lips against Alvalar’s; his lips were bitter from the coffee-

  WHEEK!

  Alvalar groaned at Misu’s highest pitched wheek yet and pressed a pillow against his ear with hopes to block them out. If it were only that easy… No matter what he did to ignore them, it was futile. They just continually came back, each one louder than the one that preceded it like she saw the entire thing as a challenge. Now undisputedly awake, he found himself crestfallen to find that it was all a dream, but also irritated that her squeals just had to disrupt it. Couldn’t he just have this? Is that so hard? His chest suddenly felt heavy and that was the final straw; either get up like she wanted or be smothered on his eighteenth birthday.

  Seething with anger to the point of having tendrils of steam erupt from his palms, Alvalar kicked off his cover and was about to go on a scolding tirade when he looked at his caliber’s enormous leonine visage, into those big green eyes of hers, and all the irritation steam that was just brewing a second ago had simply vanished into thin air. He tried to muster his anger once more; Misu needed to be disciplined, but that disappeared too.

  This was all a part of Misu’s plan, he told himself. She was just too cute to get mad at, and she knows it. Exhaling a suspire of tiredness, he began to run his fat fingers across his calibress’ luscious chocolate coat. “You won this round, Misu. But you shouldn’t be using your size-shifting powers like that, okay? You could’ve killed me. You know this. You aren’t a cub anymore.”

  Misu didn’t even seem to be listening. She was treating his words like they were nothing but background noise as she sung a melody of low rumbling noises from the depths of her throat while she rolled her body from side to side. The noises were like that of a car engine off in the distance, steady and full of content.

  Alvalar pinched his fingertips against the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Who taught you to act this way, huh?” He crossed his arms angrily.

  As though to answer the question for him, Misu stopped her humming and rolling, stared at him and let out a grunt.

  “I know. Don’t remind me,” he answered back with slight irritation. “Just… Just don’t do it next time, okay?”

  His caliber took a longer time to respond, like she was contemplating whether she was going to actually listen to his plea. After what felt like a century, Misu finally rose and ran her massive sand-paper tongue across her owner’s face. Alvalar laughed and when he was done wiping off her slobber, he opened his eyes and saw that she shrunk down into her false form; about the size of a male hare and as sleek and agile as a cat, Misu leaped onto her owner’s shoulder and clung onto his shirt with the help of her claws. She even wrapped her tail around his neck for good measure. She hasn’t done that since she was a cub… Feeling a wave of nostalgic, Alvalar patted her side and began to stretch out his own sore muscles as best as he could, especially the ones in his right hand. The sorer it is, the harder it is to draw up concept designs for his father’s clients.

  Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew in and the clatter of paper echoed throughout his room. When he turned, Alvalar’s eyes widened in pure horror. His window was open wide and the pieces of concept art that he had just finished this morning, sitting underneath a stack of books, were just blowing in the wind as though they were trying to wiggle themselves free. The concept sketches might’ve held down by five of the most sturdiest Mugiwara volumes he had in his collection, but that wasn’t enough. He spent all morning to get them just right, but most importantly, they had Misu’s approval licks, assuring him that the designs had great promise. Those licks were what gave him confidence and quelled his self-doubt; he was not going to be taking any chances.

  Sliding his Idro and Ezra beads onto his wrist after kissing them, Alvalar rushed out of his bed and secured the sketches. With the designs now in his grasp, he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Idro and Ezra, he thought. Out from the corner of his eye, he noticed Misu’s short, rounded ears focus in on the open window curiously. Her speckled nose wiggled some, taking in the aroma of something she found not only juicy, but also of high-quality.

  “What is it, mi nina?” he asked his calibress.

Silently, Misu jumped onto the windowsill and peered out. Alvalar followed her line of sight, albeit a little puzzled. Situated on a field of sun-burned grass and a great distance behind his house sat a heavy cluster of stalls, huddling near the local Zahrah jungle that bordered his rural Navasarian town of Esperanza, and an overwhelming amount of people were stalking its grounds - families, business owners from the other side of town, even old classmates and teachers that Alvalar had once seen on a regular basis had all seemed to be enjoying themselves as they took in the sights, smells, tastes and sounds of everything that were on offer with much glee. Their excitement suited the constantly hot, summer-like climate that made the Kingdom of Navasar famous as a popular tourist spot, especially in the middle of winter like it is now.

  As Alvalar watched the merriment of others, he quickly found himself preoccupied with thoughts of Karollus. No doubt he’ll would be out there, helping his family’s business… Letting out a sigh and running his fingers through his hair, feeling his long tight curls against the shaved down sides of his undercut didn’t stop his heart from aching, but the sudden realization that today was the Coronation Day for the next Navasarian Weapon Wielder, his Tio Alejandro’s successor and reincarnation, did make the pain lighten slightly as he scurried about his room, preoccupying himself.

  Misu hopped down from her perch atop the windowsill and watched as her owner traded his sweats for more proper clothes while cursing himself for being so absent-minded. How could he have forgotten? Today was the day that his father was constantly reminding him of and yet he still had forgotten? Considering the fact that the Weapon Wielders could easily outlast any regular human, this is once and a life-time event! When his Tio Alejandro was announced to be the 74th Weapon Wielder of Navasar on Coronation Day and given Inferno, the sword that every other Navasarian Weapon Wielder before him wielded and could amplify their already innate fire-manipulating abilities, people still doubted him, saying that he was a thief or an imposter all because he was born a Navi. “You were born a slave and you’ll die as one, but you won’t live as the Weapon Wielder of Navasar,” they said, but Alejandro didn’t listen. He was ambitious and confident and as stubborn as a mule, but that only made Alvalar admire his uncle even more. He was the man that abolished the slavery of all Navi throughout the four realms with the help of the other three Weapon Wielders and his little brother Smoke, Alvalar’s father-figure.

  Whoever ends up being recognized as Tio’s successor tonight, Alvalar thought, I only asked that they don’t taint his great legacy.

  After buttoning up the fireball-like golden studs of his work jerkin, red with a black striped trim, over an amber long-sleeved shirt, and adjusting his brown breeches for a final time, Alvalar finally threw on his cloak. Now all he needed was his boots. He took a seat at the edge of his bed and carefully folded up the sketches before stashing them in his pocket. “Misu,” he whistled. “Bring me my boots. The one that Papi brought me a couple of years back– si, eso. Venga aqui, mi ninita.” Having shifted back into her true form, Misu held the pair of boots with the help of her massive teeth and brought them over to him. “Muy bien.”

  Hearing words of praise, Misu dropped them at his feet and was waiting for a pat with much excitement. Alvalar reached for his furred boots that his father brought back from a business trip to the Northern Kingdom of Athesan but he was nearly swatted at by Misu’s hand-sized paw and razor-sharp claws. Pat first then boots, Misu seemed to order as she hissed at him, ears back.

  Alvalar relented and gave the pat that his caliberess so adamantly demanded for, to which Misu promptly let out a content-filled roar then sprawled her body out on the floor, beginning to lick at her paws and stomach. Now that the beast was quelled, Alvalar grabbed the boots and began to ease up the laces. Right after he had just finished sliding in his right foot, his door let out a sudden thump.

  Misu stopped her licking and growled cautiously at the noise while Alvalar jumped. The door slowly creaked open and revealed his mother, Mérida, dressed in her usual long, deep red dress. Her Eridesi beads, the Patron Ancestor to Parents and Family that provided his mother with advice whenever she was in need of it, were a band of pink and white that bound themselves snuggly round her wrist while her fingers were bejeweled with levitación rings; the filled clothing hamper, radiating the same green glow as her rings, hovered above the ground beside her.

  Alvalar had his mother’s smile and her tight brown curls, but aside from that, he barely resembled her in the slightest. He was lighter-skinned in comparison and his large, upturned eyes were of chestnut – traits that he possibly inherited from his bastard of a biological father. Any man that abandons their partner at the revelation of pregnancy is worse than trash, and his biological father was no better. Thankfully, he had Smoke in his life, however Alvalar would’ve much preferred to have his mother’s complexion as well as her spindly frame, that way people wouldn’t have given his mother a hard time when he was younger and he wouldn’t have to deal being heavyset anymore; everyone told him that he is skinny now, that he looked good and was handsomer, but they were nothing more than lies...

  Having descended from Athesanians who settled in Navasar long ago when it was once a colony of the Athesanian Empire and having married the local Navasarian men and women over many generations, Mérida sported sienna-brown complexion and almond-shaped blue eyes that always had the sense of knowing all things, but they didn’t sparkle like beautiful sapphires against the noon sun like they usually did. Behind her thickly rimmed spectacles, they seemed to only flare with anger instead. “¡Álvalar Ignacio Leal, yo siempre te estoy diciendo que limpies tu cuarto, pero siempre lo dejas regado!” Gesturing the hamper to float toward his bed in one hand, she picked up two mismatched socks with the other and waved them about, displaying “the mess” she so firmly hated.

  He wasn’t ready for this storm of complaining. Not today. With the quick smack of his lips, Alvalar growled, “Coño, tú eres pesa. Muy dramática. Callate.”

  Almost as though she was able to smell the sudden shift in tension, Misu rose and quickly rubbed her enormous body against Mérida and then Alvalar. Her soft fur tickled his arm as it went back and forth, trying to ease the foulness, but her owner didn’t budge and neither did his mother.

  Mérida’s eyes narrowed, and her voice went even higher. “¿Que que?” With her head and palm raised slightly, she took a step closer. “¿Hay algo que tú quieres decir? ¡Dale, dimelo! Si eres hombre, dimelo, pero, que no te sorprenda si te doy un cocotazo!”

  Hearing his mother’s words, Alvalar suddenly regretted voicing his thoughts and cursed himself for being such an idiot as his arms quickly flail about. “¡N-no!” he exclaimed, stuttering. “Nada. Ay, Nada. P-perdóname, mamá.”

  Glaring into her son’s eyes for a moment or two, Mérida eventually huffed out a grunt and trailed over to his bed without another word. Her fingers fluttered like a bird’s wings, leaving the hamper to fall and make a simple bounce onto his mattress. Alvalar exhaled a sigh of relief as he heard her begin to organize his clothes. Crisis adverted, he thought and slid his left foot into the other boot.

  He leaned over and began to tie his laces, gripping the latchet tightly. By the time he was done and began to work on the other boot, his mother raised her voice once again; this time, it was much her usual calmer and gentler tone. Her temper always fizzled out quite quickly, almost like she felt guilty for getting mad. “So, how was your nap? Was it good?”

  Alvalar didn’t answer. His grip around the boot’s laces tighten once more.

  “Was it about Karollus again?”