Thank you, everyone who favourited, reviewed, and followed! Here's the first chapter from Samn's perspective!

Chapter 3 - Samn

"Swords up, ready, fight!" the knight calls, and I snap into action.

Duss launches himself at me the same instant I throw my whole body left, and it leaves him to stumble off balance and land flat on his face in… well, in the dust. We're scuffling in a wooden pen, the floor beaten into packed sand over the course of many sparring sessions.

The sword in my hand forgotten, I thrust my hand forward, my brow scrunching up in concentration. This time. This is the time it'll work.

The ground before me quivers and a thin strand of sand raises itself, coiling like a snake about to strike, but then Sir Strommer's yell makes me lose focus and the sand-snake crumbles back into nothing.

"Samn! We're fighting with swords!" he snaps, his tone unusually sharp. "Life-force will only get you so far; you need to be able to defend yourself with these weapons!"

I clench my fists in frustration. It's not fair! I can use the life-force, so I should practice it! Swords are practically useless; if I ever got into a fight with someone with a gift like Sir Cawle's or Sir Hartef's, I'd be burnt toast without life-force!

Seeing the unyielding expression of my slender, white-haired mentor, I sigh and drop my sword to the ground with a resounding metal clatter.

"Pick it up and try again," he encourages and Duss stumbles to his feet, slapping the dirt and dust out of his training uniform.

I stifle a snicker at his rumpled appearance. My own strawberry-blonde hair is still well in place, and gleaming in the sunshine.

"Swords up!" Whit Strommer repeats and I fall into the battle stance I've been practicing since I was old enough to hold a stick and pretend it was a sword. "Ready, fight!"

This time, it's me that throws myself forwards first. Duss twists away just like I did, but I'm ready for it, and my sword is in my other hand—cutting out in a wide arc towards his left side.

I stop the momentum just short of his side and tap him lightly with the flat of the blade. He makes a familiar, frustrated sound at my easy victory.

"Good, Samn," Whit praises and I give Duss a smug smile. "Duss, you have to be thinking ahead. You can't expect every dodge to be successful; you must always be in movement. Especially if you end up fighting someone like Samn."

My partner wipes his shining forehead and runs his hand through the tousled brown spiky mess on his head. As he shoots me an irritated look, I shrug nonchalantly. Not my fault, I mouth at him as Sir Strommer continues.

Duss scowls at me. He's just sour he lost, I think. My sword switches hands again to subtly remind him of my talents. Ambidex, the court calls me. Annoying, Duss says. Annoying, 'cause I win all the time, I think.

"So, Duss, how could you improve your technique to adapt to Samn's abilities?" Sir Strommer asks patiently.

"Trip him?" he suggests, eyeing me thoughtfully.

I snort in amusement. "Good job, genius. You just told me your best strategy."

"Doesn't mean you can counter it!" he snaps, and he dives forwards with one leg sweeping out in an attempt to execute said strategy.

I spring into the air, tucking my legs up to twist mid-air, so that my boot makes contact against his thin training shirt.

He wheezes as the air is forcibly pushed out of his lungs and he staggers backwards, panting.

I land lightly, like the panther that my mother, Brindellia Faise, summoned once. Not in battle, of course. She doesn't fight, despite having some of the strongest life-force Thundria's ever seen.

Duss glares at me, and Sir Strommer holds up his hand to stop the match.

"Duss, I thought Sir Tayle would have taught you better than that," Whit says, frowning.

"He did. I'm just tired," Duss snaps, looking intensely defensive of his mentor.

Yeah, there's no way my father is anything less than the best knight in the world, I think, looking challengingly at my own mentor. He's the captain of the guard and advisor to the queen! How could he not be?

"Well, I'll have a word with him when he returns from the battle with Rivier," Whit says with an air of finality.

Duss is probably just being a stubborn mule, I think optimistically. I'm sure my father trained him properly. I can't wait to hear all about the fight!

I sheath my sword. The simple steel glitters in the afternoon sun and glances off the little engraving etched into the blade by the hilt. Bolt. I run my fingers over the shallow lettering.. I named it for Thundria.

Duss sheathes his as well. I don't need to see the letters to know that Storm is carefully written on it. I like the name he chose—almost better than my own—and sometimes I wish I'd thought of it first.

We leave the wooden pen and walk across the training outpost, a vast clearing that the Thundrian court has been using for generations to train squires. The buildings host spare training swords, bandages, and training rations—Not to be eaten without strict permission from the knights! Sir Strommer's voice echoes in my head, drilled into me since I was made a squire—and around them are a few other wooden pens like the one Duss and I were just fighting in for sparring.

I shield my eyes from the sun until we're back into the cover of the trees. It's a nice day—that is, it would be if we weren't supposed to be jumping around and swinging swords at each other all day long. There isn't a single cloud in the sky to spare us from the heat of the sun.

Would be nicer if we could have gone over to Cumulus, I think grouchily, glancing at Sir Strommer and trying to assess the likelihood of him permitting us to get something to eat there. There's an orchard not far from here, just on the other side of the village, and the thought of one of their peaches is enough to make me forget how limp with exertion my arms are.

Unfortunately, Sir Strommer's been short with us and distracted all day. More likely he'll bite my head off for daring to wish for a peach, I decide, sighing. I'll get something from the kitchens when we get back to the castle.

I do have to wonder what exactly is going on with him though. He usually has enough patience to put up with Duss; the only knight in the court that can do it. I don't exactly blame the others though. Duss does have his moments, but... They tend to be few and far between.

As we walk back to the castle, my legs begin to ache. I'm grateful I don't have a heavy true-steel sword to carry around yet. Whit's is bouncing on his hip and I know it must hurt, even if he puts on a brave front. He didn't bother taking his horse out today since Duss and I haven't gotten our mounts yet; supposedly we're waiting for Ravne and Graie to get their swords so we can all get the full squire equipment at the same time. I think it's stupid since Duss and I are already ahead of them in training and trying to even it out now is just going to force us to slow down.

Whitestorm is carved into Sir Strommer's steel. He's showed us numerous times. Proud as a peacock, I think disdainfully, but envy twinges inside me. I wonder what my full name'll be… I hope it's something cool. Mother's sword has a silly name. I don't want it to be Sandface or something. Then again… she doesn't exactly use her sword.

Another drop of guilt falls into my rapidly growing pool. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks I am. Girl, guy, dragon, I'm still going to be the best knight Thundria's ever seen.

"Good fight today, Duss," I say, unable to refrain from rubbing his multiple defeats in. Picking a fight with him is preferable to meditating on my situation.

"Shove off," he says, scowling and shoving my draping arm off his shoulder.

I can't help a girlish giggle that escapes, and I quickly cover it with a macho grunt. Duss gives me an odd look. I smile widely to cover my uneasiness.

"It isn't very sportsmanlike to gloat, Samn," Whit says reprimandingly.

"But it sure is fun!" I say with a gleeful grin.

Sir Strommer looks like he's fighting to keep a chiding look on his face and is restraining a chuckle or two, then suddenly he freezes with a guilty look. "Oops."

"What?" I question, worried by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Er, Queen Bluelianna wanted me to... do something," Sir Strommer mutters, looking like a scolded child. He runs a hand through his hair and tugs on it, making the white hairs stand up straight. "I've gotta go… you both head back to the castle. Don't stray off the path; if anything happens to you, the queen'll chop off my hands…"

I make a face at the gory mental image that brings, and Whit shifts like ants have crawled into his training armor, then gives us a quick nod and turns. He rushes off, his pace quick and his strides long.

"It's not like him to forget stuff like that," I comment uneasily. "It must be something pretty important for him to be so worried about it…"

"Who cares?" Duss yawns with characteristic sensitivity and fine-tuned understanding of others.

Sarcasm, sarcasm, I think.

We walk through the forest in companionable silence. "Root." I break it to warn him and he avoids it. See, I'm a good friend. Even on the paths, the forest is tough to navigate. Helps during an invasion, or so the history books say, but it's less useful when I'm trying to get through the forest without getting a faceful of dirt.

The ladder comes into view through the trees. The trees cluster closer to the path, their branches reaching out across it. I pull back a branch and let go. It smacks Duss across the face. A great friend, I think, stifling another giggle.

"Ouch!" Duss squeals like a slapped mouse.

I snicker to myself and launch into a run. "Race you there!"

"No fair!" he snaps, but his short little legs are already pumping as he tries to gain on my longer, loping strides.

I laugh, feeling carefree suddenly as the cool breeze takes off the strain of my legs. Suddenly, my foot catches on a branch and I fly forwards in a clumsy somersault, my legs groaning their protest.

"Head over heels for me already?" Duss jokes as he whips past. "Don't fall for me so quickly!"

I growl in frustration and vault to my feet, already in motion once more.

"Eat my dust, sweetheart," I retort, past him before he can even say another word.

He laughs out loud, and my stomach dips a little. He doesn't know; he was just joking around, I remind myself. Duss would never fall for me like that, regardless of if I really was a boy or not. Which he thinks I am. They all do…

We reach the castle, and I scale a tree quickly, only showing off a little. Okay, maybe showing off a lot. But I can do it, so why shouldn't I?

The thing is, Thundria's castle isn't anything like the outdated sketches we have of Wynnd's or Shodawa's. Because yeah, it's got the turrets and towers and stones and all the other castle things.

It's just a more than a hundred feet off the ground.

"Show-off!" Duss calls up to me.

I kick the tree and make bark sprinkle down on him.

"Hey!" he snaps.

Take the ladder, little boy, I think with a private grin.

With the castle being situated on top of the canopy of trees, you'd have to either fly or be able to climb trees to reach it. Of course, many years ago, a ladder was installed on a tree to allow little children and young squires to ascend to the castle. Technically, I guess I should be taking the ladder too. There's also a hidden patch of grass just a bit further into the trees that some long-gone monarch put a lasting Blessing on to allow horses and wagons to move from the forest floor to the tree-tops and vice versa, but it's a waste of life-force to use it when the ladder is right there.

I can climb better than any squire he's ever seen, Sir Strommer told me. And practice makes perfect, so why should I use the ladder? I emerge out of the hole in the foliage and haul myself up onto the stones that lay across the topmost leaves. I hurry across the pavilion out front, bypassing where a couple members of the court are sitting on the benches and chatting—They get to enjoy the sunlight, I think with a sigh—and run toward the arching, heavy oak doors. The castle is backlit by the sun and it's difficult to look straight at it—the stone walls and towers look almost menacingly dark when contrasted so dramatically with the sun, but I feel comfort. And hungry.

Getting the doors open takes some effort, but Duss's bristly brown hair hasn't popped up from the hole the ladder makes yet. Hopefully my lead will be enough. I dash into the throne room, Duss hot on my heels.

Suddenly, I stop dead.

Most of the court is assembled in the throne room, the whole stone floor from wall to wall is taken up by knights and squires. The banners with Thundria's emblem that hang on the walls, lit in the torchlight, are almost completely obscured by the heads of nearly every member of the court. The dais at the far side of the room is also hidden from my view by the crowd.

Not quite hidden enough though, because Queen Bluelianna's gaze cuts right through the court and immediately pins itself to me and Duss.

If the oak doors of the castle weren't an entire roomful of people away from the hall into the squires' wing, I would already be hiding under my bed with my copy of Lieting Teil's Ancient Thundrian Texts on Fighting and trying to forget I'd ever seen her give me that reproachful look.

My heart jumps in my throat and I sweep into a clumsy bow. Beside me, I catch Duss doing the same.

"Rise, squires Duss and Samn," she calls, only drawing more attention to our awkward arrival, but there's a note of worry in her voice that I don't like. "Come, sit, we were just waiting for the arrival of Sir Hartef and Sir Strommer."

"He's not coming, ma'am," I say before I can help myself. "He's on a special mission for the queen… er, I suppose you'd know that. Being the queen and all. Shutting up now." I add another flustered bow.

Queen Bluelianna laughs graciously, but to her left I see Brindellia Faise shooting me a death glare. I give my mother a sheepish smile.

Duss straightens out of his bow and we squeeze into the crowd to cross the throne room quickly. I manage to stumble on the carpet all of three times on my way, and each time Duss steadies me with a touch of his arm. I stand by my mother on the left side of the room, near the dais. And so close to the kitchens...

"Don't embarrass us in front of the queen," Brindellia murmurs under her breath with a frown directed at me. "Foolish child! After all she's done for you."

Duss cocks his head curiously, and this time it's my turn to shoot my mother a shut up right now look.

Lady Faise inclines her head the tiniest bit, pursing her lips.

I twist my ring nervously, feeling the well-worn sandstone band and running my fingertip across the cloudy yellow seaglass. I can't wait until it's an actual gemstone. Pyrite, ametrine, amber, yellow quartz, yellow jade, aragonite, calcite, yellow agate, citrine. My brain runs through the well-worn pattern of listing all the yellow gemstones that the Lunar Crystal uses for rings. Someday I'll have my knighting ceremony and I'll kneel in front of the queen. She'll tap her sceptre on the stone and that mist will come over my hand just like it did for Liang Teyl last week. And I'll have a proper sword and a proper ring and a room in the knights' wing and—

"Samn!" My mother shakes my shoulder vigorously. "Pay attention!"

I look up quickly and catch my breath.

The heavy doors to the castle have been thrown open. It's Sir Strommer and Sir Hartef, but they're not alone. Beside them cowers a young boy that I'm sure I've never laid eyes on.

The torches that line the walls of the throne room illuminate his delicate, boyish features as he looks with giant, curious green eyes into the throne room. The wind that blows heavily outside the castle ruffles the tufts of ginger hair that stick out from under a weird hat. What is he?

"Who's that?" I mutter to my mother.

"I—I don't know," she admits softly.

"Welcome," Queen Bluelianna greets Sir Strommer and the newcomer imperiously. "I didn't think you would come."

Then why's he here? The queen's always right, I think, still staring at the new boy.

"Well, I'm here," he says quietly. Almost defiance. Who is he?

"Thundria!" Queen Bluelianna calls suddenly. "Gather!"

The command is pretty pointless, since we're almost all gathered already, but still a few extra people filter in from the hallway that leads to the knights' wing and the elders' wing. Spottalia Lief comes to stand in the entrance of the healer's wing.

The new boy watches all. I catch a glimpse of his eyes and blink. When he first came in, I guess I just assumed they were hazel or something, but no… they're a remarkably bright shade of green. He looks starstruck by the whole ordeal.

"My dear friends," the queen begins with a flourish of one gloved hand, "in past years, Thundria has suffered from a great lack of young squires. The ones we have, of course, are exceptional." At that, she sends a warm look at me. I feel like I'm floating, and she continues, "However, I have decided that the best thing to do for the kingdom is to take in an outsider and train him as one of our own."

Shock races through me. This newcomer is going to be a squire with me? Whaaaat? My head spins. Where'd the queen find this kid?

"Where'd he come from?" someone challenges. I recognize the outcry as coming from Liang Teyl, a new knight who can't keep his mouth shut for more than thirty seconds at a time. I thank the Starlaxi every day that I wasn't born just a bit earlier and forced to share any training with him.

But I guess it's a valid question, I think grudgingly, shutting my eyes and tapping into the Trace as Sir Strommer taught me. He says that when I become a full knight, it'll become a second nature, but right now it's giving me a headache.

Still, I push forth and I reach the fifth dimension. The familiar feelings of the other members of the court's life-force flood me, but I pick through them carefully, searching for the newcomer—ack!

A dry, tongue-curling feeling washes over me and my nose waters. God trace... but why does his trace feel like a god's? He's human, I thought… oh no.

This newcomer is…

"A god-toy!" Liang shouts with laughter and tosses his head, his long black and white braid that he's way too proud of swings over his shoulder as he laughs harder until he's only shaking silently.

Unfortunately, the rest of the court doesn't seem to be quite so amused. Brindellia's expression is uncharacteristically disapproving. She purses her lips again and shakes her head slightly. "Blessed Starlaxi, what's the queen thinking?"

"Silence!" The queen's blue eyes flash. "Yes, he was a god-toy. But he has chosen to leave his… employers… and join our kingdom."

Employers? More like owners, I think, snorting. Everyone and their mother knows that working for the gods isn't a real life.

"His hat'll bring the gods down on our kingdom faster than you can say 'spirit-clipped'!" Liang calls, still fighting another bout of derisive laughter. The queen is staring him down with a cold look, but he pays her no mind, somehow.

I see the new boy curl his hands into fists and I realize he's wearing a jester's costume and that strange hat is part of it. He's an acrobat? I think, eyeing him with new interest. If we have to let him join, that'll make fighting him interesting at least.

Liyon Hartef leans down to whisper something into the kid's ear.

The boy nods, looking determined, and then he's suddenly sprinting at Liang. The new knight is suddenly thrown over from behind as the ginger-haired god-toy flings himself into Liang.

"Oof!" Sir Teyl puffs, and whips around to face the younger boy, but he's already twisting around and doing some kind of spin-kick I've never seen in my life.

Wow, I think admiringly, watching his twist and kick. He looks less like a squire and more like a cat as he whirls through the air.

"That's it," Liang growls, yanking out his new true-steel blade, Longtail. I saw it when he was a squire; he had named it Backbiter.

He's not going to actually hurt him, is he? I wonder, nervous for the new boy. This carrot guy might have some fancy moves but… Sir Teyl has a sword. Not to mention his life-force; don't gods do something to get rid of god-toys' life-force? 'Spirit-clipping' or something?

But I guess my worry was unfounded, because the ginger-haired kid flicks his wrist and two little silver knives that look like they were pilfered from a god's dinner table slide out. Are god-toys allowed weapons? I can't help wondering again, Where'd the queen find this kid?

Liang grins, taking on a predatory stance. His weapon glints in the torchlight, and he raises it to engage the boy, but this acrobat is already behind him once more. Liang's ready this time, though, and he twists to grab hold of the boy's jester cap.

God-charm, I realize, my breath catching in my throat. It'll be stuck to his head.

The boy howls in pain, like his scalp is being torn off. Which, come to think of it, it might be, I think sympathetically.

Then I realize the howl isn't just from pain. He's… his life-force! Excitement swamps me. What kind of life-force will he have? How does he have it? Did he not get spirit-clipped?

The howl gets louder and then it's Liang's face twisting in pain. Smoke rises from the hat, then suddenly the jester hat is engulfed in flames. The torches flare brighter than ever, and the ginger god-toy's body is wrapped in flames.

Fire elementalist! My breath catches in my throat. Oh man, that's so cool! It's not even singeing his clothes! Incredible… I watch, breathless.

Liang springs away from the boy, and then suddenly the fire goes out as the boy looks down at himself and his unharmed clothes with utter shock. Liang's still standing stock-still though, and the god-toy whips around him, the knives still in each hand, and then half of Liang's precious braid drops to the floor.

The god-toy sliced off Liang's hair.

I burst into laughter, not caring that the whole hall is practically silent. I can't help myself. Liang's precious, beautiful hair, all gone. The more I try to stifle it, the harder I laugh.

I hear chuckles from around me and I know I'm not the only one who finds this terribly funny. Most of the court is just watching in amazement. Nobody expected a god-toy to hold his own against a knight.

Liang stiffens, and turns slowly, the uneven, hacked-off end of his blonde and black-streaked hair swinging behind him. His eyes lock onto the sad, dead braid that is splayed across the stone floor like a corpse.

He looks like he's about to burst into tears, and I'm fighting another fit of hysteria.

The god-toy's expression is incredibly smug, and he slides the knives back into his sleeves. I want to clap, but I know better. I'm not sure if I'm imagining it, but Queen Bluelianna looks smug too. She stands from her seat on the throne and walks to the god-toy. He looks up at her with a reverent expression, and she graces him with a slight smile and an inclination of her head.

"Does any other member of the court wish to challenge our newest squire?" Queen Bluelianna asks, sounding terribly amused. "No? Very well. He has shown himself to possess life-force and is thusly accepted by the Starlaxi and recognized as the newest member of our court."

The young boy suddenly seems to sober, and knelt in front of Queen Bluelianna. He already knows what to do, I think, impressed.

The queen pulls out her glimmering true-steel blade. Even though I'm too far to see it, I know Winter's Wrath is carved into it. I love the name she came up with. I heard a rumour that as a squire, she called her practice sword Icicle. I suppose her knight-sword must have been Bluefur, which isn't that awesome, but Icicle's a good name. Especially since she's an ice elementalist. Maybe I should've done something about sand… I ponder. But… sand's not as cool as ice.

I snicker at my own pun and Brindellia gives me a chiding look.

"I call upon the Starlaxi to recognize this young boy. He wishes to learn the way of the knight and one day join your noble rank," Queen Bluelianna speaks quietly but powerfully, and the hall is quiet enough that her words reach every ear. "His old life is no more. Under the influence of Sir Liyon Hartef and Sir Tigre Cawle, may he learn the way of the knight and grow strong. Today, he displayed courage in fighting valiantly an opponent older and stronger than himself, and unleashed his life-force for the… for the first time. I name you Fiyr, for your remarkable fire life-force."

The newly named Fiyr blinks and looks at the queen in confusion; it doesn't look like he realized this would involve getting a new name. I suppose that would be normal for someone who doesn't know the customs of the court, but I frown at little at the queen's choice of words. The first time he 'unleashed' his life-force? Like, since he demonstrated? I've never seen a demonstration, but the way my mother described them, I don't think that was a demonstration. But if he's demonstrated before, why was he so surprised when he controlled the fire? Something doesn't add up, but the queen is already moving forward with the ceremony.

"I call upon the Lunar Crystal to give this boy his life-force ring!" Her call rings through the hall, and she slams her sceptre down to the ground.

Where it connects with the ground, a pearly white mist rises and flies towards Fiyr. His right hand is tugged forwards and wrapped in the mist, then it drops back to his side and the mist dissipates.

The hall is silent.

Then one, young boy's voice rises. Graie, I think disdainfully. My fellow squire cheers loudly.

"Fiyr! Fiyr!"

Fiyr smiles, and stands to shake Graie's hand, but Graie tackles him with a bear-hug. I stifle a derisive snort. He has no restraint.

Then the whole throne room erupts into cheers. I add a few greetings of my own to the mix, before falling silent. I edge closer to the pair to catch the words of the newest member of Thundria.

"Good fight!" Graie exclaims childishly. "Spoiled Liang's good looks, that's for sure!"

"He put up a good fight," Fiyr mumbles, ducking his head in embarrassment.

I smile slightly. At least he's not stuck-up.

"He's probably heading to Spottalia's room," Graie snorts. "Don't see why he needs to. You cut off his hair, not his head."
"Who's Spottalia?" Fiyr asks, cocking his head.

"Spottalia Lief is Thundria's healer," Graie explains, grinning widely. "She's super nice and really pretty. You'll like her. Everyone does."

Suddenly, a taller guy pushes past me. I curl my lip when I see it's Darriek Styrp, Thundria's resident slimeball.

"Welcome to Thundria, god-toy," Darriek says, a greasy smile failing to cover his mocking look. "Enjoy your stay. You won't be here long. If only we were all so lucky as to somehow beat someone twice our size and intelligence… too bad your luck won't last."

Fiyr looks like he's about to give Darriek more than a haircut, but the older guy smooths back his slicked-back gray and black hair and pushes away through the crowd.

"That's Darriek Styrp. Now he is neither nice, nor pretty," Graie mutters under his breath.

Fiyr nods, still scowling as Darriek's sashaying back. "Also, um, is this my name forever?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't it be?" Graie blinks, confused. Fiyr nods slowly and shrugs.

I'm fighting a giggle at his befuddlement when suddenly one of the elders, Samal Eyre calls,

"Someone's coming!"

The people crowded around Fiyr scatter, with the exception of Graie. I quickly hurry back with the ebbing flow of the crowd.

One of the oak doors creaks open and a dark figure steps through.

I brace myself, my hand on my wooden sword, ready to defend my home. What if it's Braukkiniaum Star and a legion of Shodawes knights? Fear curdles my stomach, but I shove it off.

What was coming was much, much worse, though I have no way of knowing it in this moment. A young boy I recognize as one of my fellow squires, Ravne, stumbles through. He's holding his face with one hand and blood trickles through his fingers.

His long braid of black hair tipped with white has been almost completely severed like Liang's, although instead of one, clean stroke it appeared to have been hacked at multiple, random points in time.

"P—p—please," he chokes, stumbling forwards. His stammer is bad enough at the best of times, but whatever's put him in such a state is obviously traumatic enough to have thoroughly twisted his tongue.

The queen moves forwards to help him, but he staggers forwards, limping heavily. Every eye is on him. I don't think a single person in the room is breathing.

He makes it to the other end of the throne room, and whirls around dramatically, his hand outstretched with the rusty copper band with a single amber jewel set into it. My father's ring. He's panicked and breathing hard, but still manages to get out the words as he shouts.

"Sir Redde Tayle is… d—d—d... is d—dead!"

Thanks for reading chapter 3! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!

~Akila