In the middle of the night, beneath a large, ancient tree blanketed by snow, a teenage boy stood whistling softly. The air was cold and crisp. Soon, a teenage girl emerged from the shadows, walking toward him.

As soon as he saw her, his face lit up with joy. He ran to her and planted a quick peck on her cheek.

Azuu: “What took you so long? Don’t you know it’s snowing out here?”

Esther: “What does snow have to do with the Ice Prince? Doesn’t it make you feel cooler? Take off your coat, and don’t force me to use fire—or do you want me to alert the guards?”

Azuu: (laughing, he removes his coat, wraps it around her, and pulls her close. He guides her through a secret tunnel leading into his chambers.) “Are you sure… you want to give up your virginity tonight?”

Esther: “If you don’t want to, leave me be. And don’t you dare kiss me if you don’t plan to marry me.”

He embraced her so tightly she could hardly breathe, then sealed her lips with his. She opened her mouth, welcoming him. Their tongues danced as desire flared. One of his hands caressed her breast; the other found her curves. His leg subtly helped remove her undergarments.

Suddenly, Esther pulled away, surprised. She looked down—she was already naked.

Esther: “Did you use magic to undress me?”

Before she could finish her sentence, she felt warmth on her thigh. Her hand reached down and touched him. Blushing, she whispered, “Sorry for stopping…”

Without hesitation, she used her fire magic to turn his clothes to ash—without burning his skin. Before he could protest, she smirked and teased, “So this is the famous royal blade? Can it really be this long?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She took him into her mouth, gently at first, then with boldness and skill. He moaned loudly—so loudly that one of the guards almost heard him. She kept going until he burst into her mouth. Startled, she swallowed by accident and quickly pulled away, still holding him.

Azuu: “P-please forgive me. I didn’t know I was about to—”

Esther: (laughing) “Why are you apologizing? Now, who’s the boss?”

Azuu: “We’ll see.”

He kissed her from her forehead down to her navel, then between her thighs. While his tongue worked magic below, his hands caressed her body. She moaned louder and louder. He devoured her like a starved wolf, and soon she climaxed, her body trembling with the intensity of her first release.

Azuu: “Who’s the boss now?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stroked him again and kissed his length gently. Seeing her eagerness, he flipped her onto her stomach, kissing and licking her back before slowly entering her from behind.

She screamed, not from pain but from surprise and passion.

Azuu: “Do you want me to stop?”

Esther: “Don’t you dare.”

He moved slowly at first, letting her body adjust. Once her moans turned to cries of pleasure, he increased his pace. They made love as though nothing else existed—two flames burning in the snow. Exhausted and breathless, they collapsed into each other’s arms and drifted off to sleep.

---

The next morning, a maid came to summon Azuu. He dressed quickly and tiptoed out, not wanting to wake Esther.

When he entered the royal chamber, his father’s face was dark with anger.

King Azuu the First: “So, what’s this I hear about you and the fire woman? Have I not told you—you will marry from the Dark Tribe to seal the treaty?”

Prince Azuu: “Father, I love her. Even if I must marry from the Dark Tribe, no one will stop me from claiming my joy. I do

n’t mind having two wives—for the love of my kingdom.”

Thanks for subscribing I don't know ice prince and protector of mythbborrn which one you prefer let me know.

I also wanna remind am freelancer _Ghostwriter , editor and proofreading, great with making logos and cover image but I usually use to tell my client "nice working with you"

Hi there,

Thanks so much for subscribing to The Mythmaker’s Quill! I’m truly grateful to have you here.

I'm currently sharing two stories — Ice Prince and Protector of Mythborn. I’d love to know which one you’re enjoying more or which one you'd prefer to see continue first. Your feedback means a lot to me!

Also, outside of writing, I’m a freelancer offering:

✍ Ghostwriting

📘 Editing & Proofreading

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Warmly,

Azubuike C. Obiora

The Mythmaker 🪶🔥

📧 Email: ikechris56@gmail.com

📱 WhatsApp: wa.me/2348169280060

Once, Nezo was a place of peace.

Nestled between silver rivers and whispering pines, the town lay hidden like a secret jewel in the Netherlands. Its people lived simple lives—bakers, teachers, children playing hopscotch on cobbled streets. They never questioned why the night air sometimes shimmered, or why the moon over Nezo was always full.

Because long ago, before maps named it, Nezo was a sanctuary. A cradle for the mystical.

Witches brewed cider in hidden groves. Werewolves patrolled the forests like silent guardians. Vampires kept to the shadows, bound by sacred law. And the rarest of all—the Hieds, protectors immune to darkness—watched from afar, pretending to be nothing more than myth.

It worked... for a while.

But peace is a fragile thing. And in the 1970s, it shattered.

It began with blood.

The Vampire Prince—young, hungry, arrogant—sank his fangs into the wrong throat: the Luna of the werewolf clan. Her death cracked open an ancient grudge, and what followed was chaos.

The werewolf king, grieving and enraged, broke the Pact of Shadows and declared war on the vampire houses. Some wolves blamed him for loving a human, believing her blood had weakened their line. But pride and pain are louder than reason.

The vampires retaliated.

They came in waves—elegant, brutal, merciless.

They stopped hiding.

And humans?

They were caught in between. Terrified. Helpless.

Some chose sides.

They took the blood, ripped their hearts from their chests, and rose again—one as wolf, one as vampire.

Others fled to the witches, begging for spells, for protection.

The witches answered with two ancient leaves:

Cider—deadly to vampires.

Vider—to burn werewolves from the inside out.

And for a while, humans fought back.

Silver bullets dipped in witch magic.

Wooden stakes buried in vampire hearts.

Their enemies fell... and rose again.

But there were deeper shadows.

Creatures warped by rage and magic.

Beings that should not exist.

They were called the Corrupted—monsters twisted from once-pure bloodlines.

No one knew where they came from.

Only that they followed an unseen force...

A Devourer.

Some say he was once a Hied—one of the last.

Others believe he was born from the grave of a murdered myth.

What is certain is this:

He feeds on power. And he never truly left.

The war left Nezo bleeding.

Its streets charred, its people broken.

Supernaturals disappeared into legend.

Humans forgot—or pretended to.

And so, the town grew quiet again.

But myths never die.

They sleep.

Present day

At Nezo High, it was just another Monday. The bell rang too early, the halls buzzed with teenage drama, and teachers pretended not to notice when students dozed off mid-lecture.

In the corner of the hallway, Gordon adjusted his hoodie and kept his head down. He hated mornings almost as much as he hated attention. At sixteen, he was invisible by choice—average grades, no sports, no clubs. Just another face in a school full of louder people.

That didn’t stop the bullies.

“Hey, watch it, silver boy,” one sneered, slamming Gordon’s locker shut just as he reached for his books. “Forgot your leash again?”

Laughter erupted behind him. Gordon said nothing. His fists clenched, but he didn’t move.

Then came the voice.

“Touch him again, and I’ll break your wrist.”

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t have to be.

Angela.

She stood just behind Gordon, arms crossed, eyes blazing with smirk mixed fury. Her long braid swung like a whip behind her, and her stance radiated calm threat. She wasn’t too tall but slim and elegant, very pretty but she was all confident—the kind of girl who didn’t need backup.

The bully raised a brow. “You gonna fight for your boyfriend now?”

She stepped forward.

“No,” she said sweetly. “I’ll fight for fun.”

Something in her smile made them back off. They always did.

Once the hallway cleared, Gordon turned to her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Angela shrugged. “Yeah, well… I hate seeing people cornered.”

She looked at him then, truly looked. “You’ve got something, you know. Some kind of quiet fire.”

Gordon flushed, eyes dropping. “I’m just… normal.”

Her gaze lingered. “If you say so.”

They walked toward class together in silence, but something between them had shifted. Angela’s steps were steady. Gordon’s heart wasn’t.

He’d never told anyone what happened that night a year ago—the fall down the stairs that should’ve shattered bones but didn’t. How he’d landed weightless, as if the air had caught him.

Not even Cynthia, his sister.

but only his best friend Sam who would believe anything, but never asked the right questions.

No one else knew, and he planned to keep it that way. Because being different in Nezo was dangerous.

Myths had a way of coming back to life.

And Gordon?

He wasn’t ready to believe he was part of one.

Not yet.

Long before the fall of Aethelgard—before betrayal rode on the wind—there were two brothers: Azuu and Jacob, sons of the great King Azuu the First.

They were born of different mothers but shared the blood of kings. Azuu, the firstborn, was a child of brilliance and balance. His mother, the Fire Princess of Emberis, passed on to him the blazing passion of her people. From his father, ruler of the Water Kingdom, he inherited serenity and strength. Two opposing elements lived in harmony within him—fire and water. He was a miracle child, a symbol of unity in a land divided by power.

Jacob, the younger, was born of mystery and shadows. His mother came from the Dark Tribe of Nocthollow—a people feared, powerful, and proud. She loved her son deeply, but the magic within her clashed with the legacy of water that Jacob carried from his father. The result was a silent struggle—his power lay dormant, unable to manifest.

In a realm where magic defined worth, Jacob was treated as if he had none.

"You do not belong among warriors."

"You are not fit for the royal guard."

"An abomination born of contradiction."

Even when lips were sealed, the whispers behind closed doors echoed louder than words.

King Azuu, ever kind, treated his son with compassion. He gave Jacob a place as royal advisor, trusting his wisdom even when his power remained hidden. But to Jacob, the title felt like a cruel jest. And when the king declared Azuu’s bloodline as the future of Aethelgard, something inside Jacob shattered.

On that fateful day, Jacob confronted his mother in the palace courtyard. His hands trembled with rage as he seized her by the neck.

"Why?" he cried, voice raw. "Why did you bring me into this world… broken?"

When King Azuu stepped in to stop him, Jacob’s fury surged. In that moment, his power—long buried—erupted. A single blow hurled the king back. His magic had awakened, born in wrath.

Guards swarmed him, chaining him in bonds of ice and fire.

He was released days later, silent but burning inside. Without a word, he disappeared into the night.

---

The Rise of Darkness

Jacob fled to Nocthollow—his mother’s homeland, where darkness thrived and power flowed in silence. Unlike Aethelgard, Nocthollow welcomed him.

They had been waiting.

The seers of the Dark Tribe had spoken long ago of a child born from water and shadow. A rare vessel. A key. With rituals and forbidden spells, they awakened the force within Jacob. The darkness did not fight the water—it consumed it, reshaped it, and made it obey.

Jacob returned not as a prince, but as a storm.

In one night, he struck the Water Kingdom. His brother, Azuu, was dethroned and thrown into the very dungeon that once held him. But Jacob did not grant death—he called it mercy. And mercy was a gift he never gave again.

He seized the throne. He ruled not with justice, but with fear.

When he heard his father had gone into hiding, he scoffed.

“He retired like a god,” he sneered. “Let him fade in silence. I will leave these waters and carve my name into the shadow. My legacy will command the kingdom he abandoned.”

But the shadows could not conceal every secret.

Jacob soon discovered that Azuu had fathered two children in secret—a boy and a girl—with a woman of the Earth Tribe. The children were powerful—more than they knew. A threat.

Eric.

Jacob summoned his men. “Find the boy. There’s no need for the girl. Girls are nothing. Once the boy is gone, the girl will live in fear forever.”

But they were too late.

Old Azuu, knowing what was coming, had warned his wives: “Protect the children. Hide them before the storm breaks.” And so, guided by ancient wisdom,Esther—a woman of flame, the Fire Queen, wife of Azuu the First, mother to Azuu the Second, and grandmother to Eric—acted.

She stood tall, her age-lined face glowing in the portal’s flickering light. Though the years had silvered her hair, the fire in her spirit burned as fiercely as ever. Cradling her grandson, her heart heavy with sorrow and hope, she whispered ancient words—incantations of the Fire Tribe, passed down through queens and guardians.

“You will rise where they cast you down.

You will return when your name is nearly forgotten.

You are more than your blood…

You are the balance.”

And with that final, trembling breath, she cast Eric through the portal—into Tryzo, the green world between stars. Far from the reach of Jacob's wrath, yet forever bound to the destiny of Aethelgard.