The prison cell remained a storm of tension - not from the psychic and thunder-charged bars, but from the four elemental rulers trapped within them.
The flickering lights from the magical barriers cast long shadows across their frustrated faces - the heat of resentment burning hotter than Arson's flames, the chill of bitterness sharper than Glacius's frost.
And just beyond the walls... chaos loomed.
The Dragon Tribe was still tearing through the stronghold, their roars echoing like rolling thunder. Though Psychic and Thunder Tribe forces fought back with blasts of mind-bending energy and crackling bolts of electricity, it was clear they were struggling to hold their ground.
But inside the cells?
No one was thinking about the dragons.
_ _ _
Arson's molten-red skin seemed to glow brighter, his arms crossed tightly as he leaned against the psychic-barred cage. His fiery gaze flicked from Sylvia - pressed far too close to him - to Glacius, who stood coolly beside Peggy in the other cell.
"Look at you, Glacius. Stuck in a cage like a frozen statue. Fitting." Arson's voice was a low growl.
Glacius didn't even flinch. His ice-blue skin shimmered under the pulsing lights of the prison. "Better than a caged flame. You're just as reckless in here as you are outside. No wonder your tribe loses control so easily."
The insult struck a nerve. Arson's jaw tightened.
But before he could retort -
"Can you both shut up?" Sylvia snapped, her green eyes flaring like a forest fire. "You're so caught up in your egos you can't even realize the real danger. We're not the only enemies here."
She gestured to the glowing bars, a silent reminder of their captors - the Psychic and Thunder Tribes - who, for all their scheming, clearly had their own agenda.
Arson, of course, scoffed. "Don't tell me you're scared, forest girl. I thought you could grow a tree strong enough to break us out."
Sylvia's vines curled at her fingertips - a reflex whenever she was angry - but they immediately withered the moment they touched the bars, sucked dry by the psychic magic.
"If I could, I wouldn't be stuck in here with you."
Peggy, from the other cage, flared her golden wings. "And if I had the chance, Glacius would be melted right now."
Glacius didn't even blink. "I thought fairies were graceful. You're more of a flickering candle."
Peggy's golden glow brightened at the insult, her fury radiating like a miniature sun. "And you're as lifeless as an icicle. No wonder your tribe follows you - they're just as cold-hearted."
The tension between all four of them was suffocating.
What struck Sylvia the most - as the insults flew between Arson and Glacius, Peggy and herself - was how eerily similar both rivalries had become.
She and Arson constantly clashed over destruction and regrowth - fire and nature locked in an endless cycle.
Peggy and Glacius were locked in their own battle - light and ice - warmth and cold, never bending.
The parallels were impossible to ignore.
Even Arson and Glacius, for all their hatred toward each other, seemed to recognize it.
And that only made the situation more dangerous.
Because it wasn't just their elemental powers battling - it was their personalities.
Their pride.
Their stubbornness.
And now, those rivalries were feeding off each other - like fire catching wind or ice creeping into shadows.
_ _ _
Before the argument could escalate any further, the sound of a distant explosion shook the prison walls.
The dragon tribe's raid was reaching a peak.
Sylvia's sharp hearing picked up a shout from outside - a Psychic Tribe commander ordering more defenses to block off the prison corridor.
Another voice - from the Thunder Tribe - barked orders to increase the magical charge in the cages.
The bars around them began to hum louder - a warning that any touch would now result in a harsher psychic drain or an even deadlier jolt of electricity.
Peggy's wings twitched with anxiety. "They're scared..."
Glacius's cold gaze narrowed. "Because of the dragons. They know they can't stop them."
Arson grinned, his usual arrogance creeping back. "Maybe I should thank those scaled beasts for making these cowards panic."
But Sylvia's mind was racing. She didn't trust this moment of weakness.
"No - this isn't just panic. They're securing us even more now."
She glared at the crackling bars. "We're not just prisoners. We're hostages."
The realization hit hard.
The Psychic and Thunder Tribes didn't just want to imprison them.
They were planning to use them - as bargaining chips, maybe even as weapons - in the war to come.
And despite all their rivalries...
Despite all their hatred...
They were all on the same side of the bars.
_ _ _
The prison walls trembled again - another explosion, louder this time. The unmistakable roar of a dragon echoed through the stronghold, sending a shiver down Sylvia's spine.
Even Arson, for all his bravado, shifted slightly, his embered eyes flickering toward the sound.
The Psychic and Thunder Tribes were growing frantic outside. Barked commands mixed with the crackle of energy whips as their forces scrambled to reinforce magical barriers. The glow of psychic runes along the walls pulsed erratically - a clear sign their concentration was faltering.
Inside the two small cages, though - the tension was just as fierce.
"We're hostages - not prisoners," Sylvia repeated, her voice firm.
Arson leaned against the psychic-infused bars, a cruel smirk dancing on his lips. "Speak for yourself, forest girl. I don't plan on staying here long enough to be used for anything."
His arm flared with a brief burst of flame - but the second his fire grazed the bars, the psychic energy surrounding them snatched the heat away, absorbing it like a vacuum. Arson's flame snuffed out as if it had never existed.
A flicker of frustration crossed his face.
Sylvia crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Clearly, you're escaping real soon."
The rivalry flared again. They stood almost too close - not by choice, but because the cage was small, forcing them into an uncomfortable proximity.
"Watch it, Sylvia." Arson's voice dipped lower, though his usual arrogance remained. "I'm not above burning down a tree or two."
Sylvia's green eyes burned brighter - like smoldering leaves. "And I'm not above choking a flame with roots."
The air between them grew hotter - not from fire or nature, but from sheer resentment.
In the other cage, the atmosphere was just as tense.
Glacius stood like a statue - unmoving, his ice-blue skin shimmering with an unbothered calm.
Peggy, in contrast, was a blazing beacon of gold - her skin glowing with an almost angry radiance. Her golden wings, despite their delicate appearance, buzzed with irritation.
"You're awfully quiet, ice block." Peggy broke the silence, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's the matter? Finally realized your frozen personality can't melt these bars?"
Glacius didn't even blink. "First of all, don't call me ice block. Second, there's no point in wasting energy like you are, firefly."
Peggy's golden glow flared - a reaction to the insult. "Firefly? That's rich coming from a walking snowman."
"I'm calm, not frozen. Unlike you, glowing doesn't count as power."
The icy retort hit hard.
Peggy stepped closer, her wings flaring out. "You're just mad you can't put me out."
Just then—
Another boom rattled the prison, this time so strong the psychic runes flickered, and the electric energy in the bars momentarily crackled out before recharging.
Just for a second - but long enough for all four rulers to notice.
Arson grinned. "Looks like the dragon tribe's having fun."
Glacius' eyes narrowed. "They're breaking through. Those psychic runes won't hold much longer."
Sylvia's mind raced. "Which means once they're in... the Psychic and Thunder tribes are going to use us as leverage."
Peggy's wings twitched. "Or worse - as weapons."
The truth hung between them like a dagger.
Their captors weren't just afraid of the Dragon Tribe - they were afraid of losing control over their hostages.
Because having the four elemental rulers - magma, nature, ice, and fairy- trapped in their stronghold gave them an advantage.
An advantage they wouldn't want to lose.
And if the dragons broke through, the Psychic and Thunder Tribes might do something... desperate.
The four of them were silent.
Not because their rivalries had faded - but because the threat outside was more immediate... and more dangerous.
Arson broke the silence first. "If those psychic freaks think they can use me as some weapon, they've got another thing coming."
Glacius, his voice still calm, added, "And the Thunder Tribe won't hesitate to fry us if they think we're too much trouble."
Sylvia's gaze shifted from Arson to the glowing bars. "So... we have to break out - before they decide we're easier to kill than control."
Peggy's golden glow flickered again, but this time with determination. "Let me guess - you want us to work together?"
The word together seemed to sting like a fresh wound to all of them.
Arson scoffed. "I'd rather burn this whole place down than team up."
Glacius's voice was cold. "I don't need help from anyone - especially not from you."
Sylvia's jaw clenched. "Then enjoy rotting in here when they come for us."
Peggy, rolling her eyes, muttered, "Fantastic. A team of geniuses."
The prison's final barrier-layered with psychic runes and crackling with electric pulses-shuddered violently as another thunderous roar echoed through the stronghold.
Then-BOOM.
The last barricade collapsed.
The air crackled with raw energy as a massive figure stepped through the debris-Ragnar, the Dragon Tribe's fearsome general.
His towering frame, clad in obsidian-scaled armor, radiated pure dominance. Jagged black horns twisted from his head, and his burning eyes scanned the room like a predator who had just cornered his prey.
Behind him, a small band of dragon warriors prowled into the stronghold, the ground beneath them smoldering as their heat warped the very air.
A deathly silence settled.