While the Magma and Ice Tribes retreated from the Nature Tribe's lands — their ambitions momentarily halted by the arrival of the Sand Tribe — the rest of the world were not sitting idle.
Deep beneath a churning ocean, glowing with bioluminescent plants and coral structures.
The Aqua Tribe, with their fluid, ever-changing forms, was caught in an internal struggle.
At the center of the royal court stood Queen Veyra, her flowing hair shimmering like water itself, her blue skin rippling like the ocean's surface. She embodied balance, seeking to protect the seas rather than conquer the world.
But her brother, Prince Kairo, was a storm in blue skin. His elegant features told of his desire to drown the land, to expand their kingdom above the water's surface.
"We should flood more lands.," Kairo argued, his voice a crashing wave. "The Magma Tribe burns the forests — the Ice Tribe freezes the land — yet why do you hesitate? Let the water rise, and the world will be ours."
Veyra's gaze remained calm, but firm. "We are protectors of the sea, not destroyers of the land."
Kairo sneered. "And while you 'protect,' others conquer." His eyes darkened. "I will not stand idle."
And so, even the Aqua Tribe threatened to split — one half seeking to drown the world, the other determined to preserve its waters.
And in the dense jungles and hidden crevices of the world, the Bug Tribe stirred — a hive of ceaseless movement.
Queen Mystra, with her chitinous armor and gleaming wings, spoke to her swarm in a voice like a thousand skittering legs.
"The land belongs to us," she hissed. "When the forests burn, when the ice melts... we shall infest what remains."
Her people buzzed in unison, an army ready to spread like a plague across whatever was left of the planet.
And in the distance, the Dragon Tribe remained a looming storm.
Unlike the others, the dragons did not whisper in shadows or plot from behind closed doors.
Their leader, King Hax, stood atop a mountain peak, his massive, scaled form catching the light of a distant sun. His horns gleamed, and his thunderous voice echoed through the heavens.
"Let them come," he roared to his kin — a legion of dragonkin warriors, their wings folded, their eyes burning like molten gold. "Let them challenge us!"
The Dragon Tribe would not scheme. They would dominate — openly, without fear.
And so, while the Nature and Sand Tribes found uneasy solidarity, the other tribes schemed, plotted, and prepared.
_ _ _
Far from the clashing flames and biting frost, nestled deep within an enchanted forest untouched by war, the Fairy Tribe thrived — for now.
Glowing flora illuminated the ethereal realm of Lumoria, a place where magic hummed in the air like a gentle lullaby.
The trees shimmered with soft golden leaves, and flowers glowed faintly in every hue imaginable.
Fireflies danced through the air, trailing stardust-like light, while delicate streams of magic flowed like rivers through the land.
At the heart of Lumoria, soaring towards a balcony made of woven vines and glowing petals, was Princess Peggy.
She was young — just a year younger than Princess Sylvia — with golden wings, yellow dress and almost light yellow skin. Though petite, her presence commanded attention, for she was both gentle and sharp — a blend of kindness and caution.
After a few more minutes of soaring, she finally landed on the balcony.
Behind her, the Fairy Council murmured, their delicate wings beating softly as they debated.
"The world burns and freezes," said Elder Faye, a stern fairy. "The Magma Tribe destroys forests, and the Ice Tribe seeks to turn the land into unyielding frost. How long until they come for us?"
"They would not dare enter Lumoria," replied Sir Glint, the head of the Fairy Guard. "Our magic would repel them."
But Peggy's voice, soft yet certain, cut through the council's bickering. "Magic won't stop a war if the whole world falls apart around us."
Silence.
She stepped down from the balcony, wings folding behind her as she faced the council. "The Nature Tribe stands alone, caught between the flames of Arson and the frost of Glacius. And now the Sand Tribe has joined them."
"Then let the Sand Tribe protect them," muttered one fairy elder. "We must protect ourselves."
Peggy's golden eyes hardened. "And when the flames reach our borders? When the ice freezes our rivers? We can't hide behind magic forever."
Despite her youth, Peggy understood the fragile balance they walked. The Fairy Tribe was seen as a peaceful force, protectors of light and harmony — but even within Lumoria, not all fairies shared that vision.
Whispers flitted through the crowd, not all of them kind.
Not all fairies believed in preserving balance.
Some wanted power.
Some saw war as a chance to rise above the other tribes.
Peggy knew this.
The council wasn't as unified as it once was.
A soft breeze carried a low voice from the shadows. "Perhaps... if we sided with the Ice Tribe, we could freeze the flames before they ever reached us."
All eyes turned to Prince Thorn — a dark-winged fairy with an aura of danger. His magic felt like a cold wind, beautiful but biting.
Peggy's jaw tightened. "We are not aligning with Glacius."
Thorn smirked. "Why not? He offers protection. Better to freeze the world than watch it burn."
Elder Faye quickly stepped in. "That is not our way, Thorn."
But the prince merely shrugged, his dark gaze lingering on Peggy. "You speak of war, Princess, but you offer no plan. If you wish to stand with Nature, then what will you do when fire and ice come for Lumoria?"
Peggy's wings flickered, glowing faintly. "I will do what I must — not by joining those who seek to destroy, but by defending what we are."
The council murmured again, the divide clear — those who wished to remain neutral, those who sought alliances, and those who saw war as an opportunity.
As the meeting ended, Peggy stood alone by Lumoria's glowing rivers, her thoughts swirling like the magic in the air.
The Fairy Tribe was no longer unified.
Even light, she realized, casts shadows.