The air in the prison cell was stifling-thick with a fear none of the captured rulers dared to acknowledge out loud.
Ragnar stood just outside the cages now, his eyes glowing like twin suns, a cruel smile still etched across his crimson face. His dragon warriors lingered behind him, their hulking forms radiating heat, every breath a low rumble like distant thunder.
The psychic and electric bars still hummed softly-yet they felt useless now.
Ragnar hadn't needed to break the cages. He didn't have to. His mere presence felt like a prison on its own.
"Well, well..." Ragnar's voice rumbled like magma shifting beneath the earth. "What do we have here?"
He paced slowly, his clawed hand trailing along the crackling bars of Arson and Sylvia's cage-sparks jumping at his touch but fizzling away like they were nothing.
"You're the mighty Fire Prince, aren't you?" he sneered at Arson, whose burning red skin looked a little less vibrant now. "The one who wants to scorch the world and rule over the ashes."
Arson's jaw tightened. "You-"
Before he could finish, Ragnar slammed his hand against the psychic bars-BOOM-causing the whole cage to shake violently.
Sylvia yelped, instinctively grabbing Arson's arm for balance as the cage trembled. They were still too close in the cramped space, but neither pulled away.
Ragnar chuckled darkly. "Careful, Prince. You're already shaking... and I haven't even touched you."
Arson gritted his teeth. His pride was boiling, but his fear kept the flames at bay.
Then, Ragnar turned to the other cage, his smile widening as his glowing gaze fell upon Glacius.
"And you..." he mused. "The Ice Prince-the one who wants to freeze the world solid... so you can sit on a frozen throne."
Peggy, still pressed against Glacius, flicked her golden wings uncomfortably. "What do you want, beast?" she snapped, but her voice wavered just enough for Ragnar to notice.
He leaned closer, his horns almost grazing the electric bars. "What do I want?" His voice was a low growl. "I want you all to understand..."
His gaze flicked between them-all four trapped rulers, now silently staring back.
"...that you're nothing compared to us."
Ragnar straightened, turning to his warriors. "Get the leaders," he ordered, motioning to the unconscious forms of Zephyr and Raiden. "Tie them up, let them watch."
Two dragon warriors grabbed the psychic and thunder leaders, dragging their limp bodies into the center of the chamber.
The sight made Sylvia's heart clench-they were powerful leaders, and yet, here they were-bruised, broken, and barely breathing.
The message was clear.
Ragnar wanted them to see what happened to those who opposed him.
But he wasn't done yet.
He walked back to the cages and smirked. "We dragons don't need psychic tricks," Ragnar growled at Zephyr's unconscious form. "And we don't need sparks and bolts like your pathetic Thunder Tribe." He glanced at Raiden. "Strength is all that matters."
Then he leaned against the bars of Arson and Sylvia's cage again, his burning eyes fixed on the Fire Prince.
"And you, Prince of Flames... you really thought you were powerful?" Ragnar's smile twisted. "Tell me, did it hurtnhaving your fire put out by some psychic tricks?"
Arson's fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. His fire had always made him feel invincible. But now... now he felt small.
Sylvia, still sitting awkwardly beside him, refused to show the same fear. "If you're so powerful," she said, voice firm despite the dread swirling inside her, "then why are we still alive?"
Arson blinked, surprised by her boldness.
Even Glacius and Peggy-still huddled together in their cage-stared at Sylvia with faint shock.
Ragnar's grin faltered for the briefest moment.
But then-he laughed.
A booming, fiery laugh that echoed through the chamber like an explosion.
"Alive? Oh, little plant princess..." he chuckled. "We don't kill yet. Not when there's more... fun to be had."
His grin darkened. "After all, what's the point of destroying you now when we can break you first?"
The cages suddenly felt even smaller.
For the first time since being thrown into their cramped cells, the rival rulers shared a single, terrifying thought:
They were facing trouble.
Sylvia's hand still hovered near Arson's arm as an unspoken truce. If they didn't stand together now, they would be crushed like Zephyr and Raiden.
In the other cage, Peggy's golden wings remained half-folded against Glacius, but there was no more banter, no mocking insults. Just tense silence.
_ _ _
The sound of cracking echoed through the prison chamber - not from the trembling of the cages or the hum of electric and psychic bars, but from Ragnar's fist slamming into the barriers.
With a single, devastating blow, both cages shattered into twisted metal and dying sparks. Pieces of electrified steel and psychic-infused shards clattered to the stone floor like the remnants of broken pride.
The rulers were finally free.
But none of them looked like leaders anymore.
Sylvia stumbled forward as the shattered bars collapsed, her legs still unsteady from days without rest or proper healing.
Her breathing was heavy, her green skin pale, and her energy felt more like a flickering candle than the vibrant force of life it once was.
But the worst part?
Her vines - still half-alive and clinging to Arson's arm.
The small tendrils, having grown and intertwined during their cramped confinement, had somehow absorbed a faint trace of his lingering flames - the adrenaline-fueled embers that always danced around his skin when his emotions flared.
Now, the scorched vines clung to Arson's bicep, glowing faintly like tiny whips of fire-coated greenery.
"Seriously?" Arson growled, trying to shake them off. The more he moved, the tighter they clung - the heat had almost fused them to his skin.
Sylvia's face burned a deeper green in embarrassment. "It's-It's not like I did it on purpose!" she snapped. "Your flames ignited them!"
"Then control your stupid plants," Arson barked.
"You control your fire first!"
Ragnar snorted. "Pathetic."
Meanwhile, in the other broken cage, Glacius took a step forward, his usual icy composure cracked both figuratively and literally.
Because part of Peggy's golden wing was stuck to his back.
The static electricity from their time imprisoned together - the same chaotic, uncontrolled charge left behind by Raiden's electric bars - had bonded a few delicate feathers to Glacius's dark blue cloak and icy skin.
"Get... this... off me," Glacius hissed, his voice as cold as a winter storm. He twisted his arm awkwardly, trying to unstick the shimmering feathers, but they clung stubbornly.
Peggy folded her arms, her golden wings fluttering irritably. "Maybe if you weren't so cold and stiff all the time, they wouldn't have gotten stuck in the first place."
Glacius shot her a dark glare. "Your wing is clearly defective."
Peggy gasped. "Defective?!"
"You heard me."
"You-frostbitten brute!"
Their bickering only seemed to amuse Ragnar further.