Shadows of Atlantis

Enter the dark, seductive legacy of Atlantis.

The exciting prequel to the Shadows of Atlantis saga.

In a previous age on Earth, the empire of Atlantis is a series of island kingdoms that span the Atlantic Ocean. It is a civilization powered by crystals that allow its citizens the basic comforts of technology. But the Crystal Grid is hardwired into the many subtle realms of the planet. Atlanteans are bound by an ancient treaty to appease the elementals, and if they separate from this treaty, they will spell the doom of all life on Earth...

Part One: Tartessos

The city of Tartessos was the gateway to the sea routes of Atlantis from the eastern continent. That made it the busiest chain of island ports in the world. Minarets dotted the hilly landmasses rising from the ocean, a cascade of shimmering golden drops in every size spilling down steppes of cobbled stone terraces. From above, the view of the island chain looked like branches of gnarled fingers, the waterways between them like the ribcage of a giant beast.

D’Vinid loved Tartessos, its sinfully delicious sights and smells. It was a swirling chaos of sin tucked inside a beautiful façade. Much like himself. He smiled at the thought, engaging the devilish creases of his tanned face. Of all Atlantean cities, this was the one that held his best memories.

He leaned back on the net stretched between the bow and the extended wingsail of the aero-amphibian ship as it cut through the wind. Their journey had been no more than half a day from the ruling city of Atlantis, much quicker than it would have been following the ocean lanes. It took rich resources to operate flying ships, thus the royal airborne fleet was a novelty to those who would see them passing.

The Islands of Tartessos, referred to as the Fingers, ignited the flame of adventure in his soul. He turned his unruly head of raven curls for the wind to blow the mass from his eyes, shifting his position to include the prince in his line of sight. Bavendrick’s gold-flecked eyes were trained on their destination – the jagged cliffs flanking the mouth of the great river, the entrance to the eastern continent, a whole new world free of Atlantean regulations, but wild with random dangers.

Prince Bavendrick noticed D’Vinid’s attention. He smiled for a moment before his lips resumed their pensive default. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for the maydrian to come searching for him. “They’ll be mad that we’re on the net again,” Bavendrick said flatly.

D’Vinid shrugged, amusement gleaming in his brown eyes. “They’ll get over it.”

“Easy for you to say, D’Vinid. You aren’t a prince. You don’t have to be corralled all the time. Besides,” Bavendrick relaxed into the net with a slanted smile. “They will probably blame you.”

“Yeeeeah,” D’Vinid cradled his head in his hands with bent elbows and a wink. “Rest assured, I’ll be on my way to the Fingers as soon as we land.”

Bavendrick shook his head slowly with the same teasing smile. “I think you’ll be stuck attending the welcome reception with us.”

“We’ll see about that.” D’Vinid gave him the side-eye with a rogue twinkle. The flying fleet banked toward the skydocks.

“That’s enough, boys,” the maydrian called out. “D’Vinid, your father wants you at a post for docking. And you!” Yarrin pointed sharply at the prince who kept his eyes on D’Vinid with a confirming smirk. “You should know better.” The maydrian swallowed hard as he glanced at the potential fall. “We must have you and your brother ready for the arrival.”

“He still treats us like kids,” D’Vinid laughed, his voice pitched for the prince’s ears only.

“It’s in his nature to worry. It’s his job really.” They had spent much of their childhood playing tricks on poor Yarrin, nicknaming him the Mother Hen.

Dafni’s Delight was the high queen’s flagship. In flight, her sets of graceful wingsails spread out from the sides with the top and bottom sails acting as rudders. When the ship prepared for docking or landing on water the sails folded into the hull. The nets would then wrap around the sails to hold them in place. Even though the extended rigging held the nets in taut triangles, all the prince’s caretaker saw was them retracting.

Yarrin caught his breath when Bavendrick and D’Vinid bounced and catapulted off the net. He clutched his heart when both sets of feet landed squarely on deck.

D’Vinid calculated which task he could fulfill as the maydrian fussed over Bavendrick’s outfit. “By the way, Yarrin,” he raised his voice over the flap of sails. “We both reached our first circle of manhood a while back. Just in case you lost track of time.”

“Then act like it! Boys bounce on nets. Men attend to their duties.”

“Sounds like a quick way to reach old age before the time is right.” D’Vinid teased, exchanging a quirk of a smile with the prince. He pivoted and skipped into an agile dance of steady sea legs, maneuvering with ease along the shifting deck. For a moment he felt bad Bavendrick lacked his freedom. He shivered at the thought of having every action monitored, every social engagement planned, every outfit picked out. The only time the prince had to himself was in bed.

D’Vinid shuffled off to help the crew prepare for docking at the skyport, hopping up the curved stairs of the quarterdeck where Captain Chaldeis operated the controls. Being captain of the queen’s flagship, D’Vinid’s father was said to be at the pinnacle of his career. He had a muscular build with the typical dark Atlantean complexion. Rounded features marked a sharp contrast to D’Vinid’s chiseled face.

In fact, his own lanky build made D’Vinid wonder if he took after his mother entirely. But he couldn’t know since he had never met her when he was coherent enough to register who she was. The etchings he’d seen of her conjured a perpetual ghost image in his mind.

The royal fleet approached the skydocks. At his father’s order, D’Vinid unwound one of the ropes to take control of the aft starboard wingsail. A bark from the captain sent the crew in perfect chorus to jam the banks of sails against the wind.

The ship slowed to a crawl toward the dock workers strapped into harnesses, dangling from the edge while holding hooks to connect the hull’s docking clamps. The gentle hum of the crystal powering the ship came to a place of stillness. Dafni’s Delight went limp in its sky berth, cradled in a spiderweb of ropes.

Queen Dafni and her two sons arrived on deck and were guided down the gangplank to a courtyard where ambassadors waited to greet them. With his sail expertly stowed, D’Vinid ducked the scrutiny of his father and climbed to the crow’s nest to watch the welcoming. It was always a spectacle with the royals. The usual grandeur of nobility gathered in deliberate formations denoting some such hierarchy the meaning of which always eluded him.

Queen Dafni’s skin glowed like the sun, brightening her midnight mane of loose curls. A tightly fitted golden gown shimmered in the light. One side hung off a lean shoulder. A drape of fabric bunched at the other sent its folds cascading in a trail behind her smooth glide. Crowned in amber, she was a miracle to behold, as if she were a golden star on the face of the planet, opening a portal to another world.

Bavendrick and Kyliron stood proudly flanking their mother with faces set in stone, the perfect empty vessels to be filled with whatever inspiration was needed by their observers.

The two princes were perfect chiseled specimens of men, almost twins in dark stature and facial structure, though Bavendrick had a twinkle in his eye while Kyliron often wore a scowl. Bavendrick was taller and wore his wavy hair shoulder length while Kyliron preferred no hair touching any part of his body. Maydrian Yarrin would never let him shave it, so the younger prince compromised with a few inches of length laid flat around the shape of his head.

That was when D’Vinid saw her mingled with the ambassadors. Loressai Torbin was a dark beauty, almost as lovely as Queen Dafni in much the same way, wispy and sensual with a feline elegance. Her raven hair was braided into elaborate stacks of woven patterns, framing a face that seemed intangible as if a soft glow illuminated the golden brown of her skin. D’Vinid gazed on her with the appreciation of an artist, but he wasn’t the only one.

Prince Kyliron had also been captured by the sight of her. At least he waited until the formalities were over before he swooped in. D’Vinid watched, cringing as he studied the looks on their faces with expert analysis. He had always tried to help Kyliron become more charming, but that was not the younger prince’s strong point. What he lacked in charm, he made up for in looks and vehemence. To those who loved him, his recklessness was endearing, but it took getting to know him to appreciate it.

D’Vinid had always warned him never to lead with that aspect of himself, and it was obvious the prince had forgotten the advice. It became painful to watch when she recoiled and excused herself, stepping to the safety of the group she had arrived with.

Kyliron simply looked casual, his face relaxed into a blissful expression as he stepped to his brother’s side and watched her with keen interest. D’Vinid was pretty sure from the looks of the group that they were from Subterra, which could only mean one thing – they were here regarding Bavendrick’s betrothal, the reason for the royal visit.

Queen Dafni scanned the area until her emerald eyes landed on D’Vinid as if drawn to his hiding place. He knew exactly what she wanted when she squinted at him. With a sigh, he climbed down to the deck into earshot. “Come with us, Prophet Singer,” she called up from the courtyard with gentle authority, her voice a melody. “Bring your dabrina.”

D’Vinid glanced at Bavendrick’s smug look with a laugh. “If you please, Your Majesty, I had other plans.”

She scowled again. “Cancel them. I’d like you to watch after Bastia for the processional. Besides, I want to show off my favorite musician to the local mediators.” She gestured a bracelet-adorned arm to the giant panther who lay in the sun on the deck. Bastia blinked up at the sound of her name.

D’Vinid shrugged. It was difficult to turn down the queen’s requests since she rarely made them. Bavendrick was right again. As always. D’Vinid tried not to meet the prince’s smug triumph, and even went so far as to wonder if Bavendrick had somehow orchestrated it. But he rarely did. That was more Kyliron’s style.

All attention magnetically shifted to the grand entrance of King Koraxx, who had arrived on his own ship. Having attracted a swarm of dignitaries and politicians in his wake, he arrived to gather his family. The High King of Atlantis had mastered the art of larger than life. His bronzed statue of a presence always seemed to tower over those in his company. D’Vinid often found himself wondering if it was all some sort of illusion. More likely he just kept himself in the presence of short people.

King Koraxx joined his queen, lifting Dafni’s delicate hand to his lips while cupping her cheek with the other hand. His fingers slid down the line of her throat in an unspoken greeting.

D’Vinid always tried to avoid Koraxx’s attention. He knew nothing good would ever come of it. But Dafni he admired and cherished. In that, he was like everyone else in Atlantis. She had taken D’Vinid, the son of her flagship’s captain, as an honored musician of her court, and so he owed no allegiance to Koraxx, only to her.

The king, despite his terrifying presence, mostly kept to himself, his eyes always fixed with scheming intent. D’Vinid was grateful for the traditional separation of matriarchy and patriarchy in the High Courts of the ruling city.

The royal processional followed dignitaries to the skydock courtyard connected to the main road. A parade of hover carriages awaited, their open frames wrapped with strips of fabric caught up in the breeze, a cluster of fluttering colors. The Kingdom of Bascli, which laid claim to Tartessos, was known for its fabrics, among other wonders, and they wasted little effort to show off their flare.

Switchbacks cut down the mountain in a meandering zigzag pattern that followed the contours of the rocky cliffs. It ended at the shore where it connected to a network of bridges joining the Fingers.

Tartessian Citizens lined the sides hoping for a glimpse of the High Royals of Poseidia who ruled over the Ten Kingdoms of Atlantis.

King Koraxx had taken his own carriage seated next to the King of Bascli and other mediator politicians. Dafni remained with their sons, the Queen of Bascli and the Subterran dignitaries. Cheers and flowers greeted them at their passing. The dark beauty who had caught Kyliron’s eye sat across from him. Her two companions were an older man and woman dressed in simple, neutral-colored robes. Dreamclans.

D’Vinid rode his own hover-disc behind the queen’s carriage, holding the leash of Bastia’s harness. The cat, whose back came up to D’Vinid’s waist, even with the few added inches of his hover disc, padded along beside him looking like she would rather take a nap.

He had donned his nicest ensemble, a loose-sleeved tunic wrapped at the mid-section by a wide scarf, its ends dangling around the hem of a long vest hanging mid-calf. His pants were hip fitted with baggy thighs tucked at the shins into knee-high boots. The inky black case of his instrument was strapped to his back. A storm of thick black curls flew in the wind.

With the gold and black colors of his outfit, he had hoped to blend into the background. But he knew he was gathering attention. If not for the panther, then for the stark contrast of his roguish appearance among the fancy colors of the royal ensemble. He sighed knowing there was nothing he could do about it. Everyone loved a dark mystery.

He was more interested in listening to his friends. Being closest to the carriage, he caught a few words of their conversation over the cheers of the people. He quickly found out Loressai Torbin was daughter of a Subterran Keymaster, who governed in the cities carved into the ground beneath the eastern continent. She represented her companions, who were the parents of Bavendrick’s betrothed.

Subterra was a collective of cities beneath the surface of the planet. D’Vinid’s travels were restricted to the ten island kingdoms of Atlantis, where he could see the sky. He never understood what possessed anyone to live within the hollow of the planet, out of the sun, away from the fresh air or the salty kiss of the ocean.

He knew the surface lands of the eastern continent were wrought with dangers, so it made sense to fortify, but he would never choose that life for himself. Giants still ruled the rugged, untamed land of glaciers and mountains tucked into rolling valleys and fabled legends.

He shuddered when Loressai’s eyes looked straight through Kyliron and fell on him. Their long journey down the switchbacks had him avoiding her magnetic gaze, though he couldn’t deny the sinking thrill when their eyes met. She scrutinized, formulating a story of desire that he knew could only come back to haunt him. Her eyes became a searing brand on his soul.

At the base of the switchbacks, the group was ushered into an open courtyard, decorated for the royal reception. Banners and streamers billowed in a waving mass of tendrils. The delicate scent of wildflowers enticed the gathering with Bascli’s unique spring blossoms. And then there was the food. Tables and tables of food.

D’Vinid hopped off his disc and tucked it into the wide pocket of his side-bags. Bastia watched him, her jade eyes intelligent and hungry. Together they headed straight for the food. He tossed strips of meat for the cat to catch in her powerful maw as he feasted on fruits and cheeses. Luckily, he had many pockets to store the harder snacks for later, as he had full intention of losing himself in the Fingers.

He retreated to an alcove intending to hide and feast on his stash with the cat in tow when he heard the soft sobbing of a woman. With a sigh, he followed the sound, unable to deny help to a woman in need.

The sobbing led him to its source. She was a courtier, dressed in the latest fashion, tall but slouched, graceful and yet slightly unhinged. She leaned against the wall with one arm tucked into the fold of the other, a hand cradling her forehead.

He could see the heaving of her chest beneath the silent flow of tears. Catching sight of the panther in her downturned gaze she snapped to attention. “Oh, D’Vinid!” She made to dry her face with a quick swipe of her hand.

Usually, he found himself trapped in the paradox of his notoriety, always at a disadvantage with his aloof nature, never knowing those who knew him, but in this case, he recognized her. Sulia Tierro was a regular fixture in the high courts of Poseidia.

He leaned against the wall beside her, offering a snack from his pocket. He reached his fingers to the cat who lifted her head to his touch, squinting her jade eyes with a thundering purr reverberating her giant ribs. She curled at his feet and kept her eyes on the entrance of the garden alcove, watching the chaos of those socializing beyond the scalloped stone of the arches.

“Do you like the king?” asked Sulia, her voice trembling.

He sucked in a breath, unsure how to answer without breaking the unspoken rules of propriety. “Who does?” He finally found the words. “Is the king supposed to be liked?”

“My father is obsessed with him.” She glared toward the reception. “He was so frantic about getting here, he screamed at me and my mother. I think he’s falling to the Madness.”

He drew back in overblown horror. The cat snapped her head up. “The Madness!?” He gasped with wide eyes then settled into indifference and chomped on a piece of dried fruit while watching her smolder. The word had become almost taboo in Atlantis. To accuse someone of the mysterious mental disease could lead to serious trouble. D’Vinid also felt like it was becoming cliché to accuse someone of having the Madness, a convenient excuse to undermine ones’ rivals.

“He cares more about our family’s status than our family.” She sniffed.

He handed her a handkerchief from his side pocket. “I’m not sure you can have more status than your family’s mediation. It’s pretty important on its own, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she breathed. Tears welled in her eyes and she quickly dabbed them with the square of fabric. “The king should be sucking up to us, not the other way around.”

Her family line oversaw the content broadcast over the Viewer-Crystal networks, media that appeared over the ten kingdoms of Atlantis at regular intervals on public Viewer-Crystal screens. He didn’t usually pay attention to the VC broadcasts, but from what he had heard, they had been portraying Koraxx as the savior of Atlantis.

“You’re around the royals all the time, aren’t you? Is he really that great?” Her sultry voice pitched to a whine.

“I don’t pay attention to politics, Sulia.” He knew she was the heir of her lineage. “Won’t you be taking over your father’s job some day? Maybe you can fix it.”

“That’s beside the point. This is happening now. Do you know how much damage can be done with public opinion? The nature of our job is to be neutral, but I don’t think my father is.” She lowered her voice. “I think he is being bribed by the king.”

D’Vinid threw up his hands. “That’s all beyond me. I can’t say one way or the other.” He paused, studying the cat, who blinked up at him lazily. “But I can help you take your mind off it.” He smiled, leaning in to capture her gaze with a waggle of his brows. She had a round face and prominent nose which made her seem plain at some angles, but her body was long and curvaceous, and she wore clothes to accentuate each glorious crease and curve. He had often found himself staring, and this time was no different. A ghost of a smile crept onto her face.

“Dry your tears,” he thrust out an elbow. “Accompany me? Maybe we can ditch this bore-fest and hit the Fingers for a good time.”

She pressed her fingertips into her eyelids and nodded, straightening. When she stood to her full posture, they were the same height. She flipped a mass of slick dark hair over her shoulder allowing it to shiver to her waist.

She knew D’Vinid’s reputation. He was not the kind to fall in love with, and yet he was well loved as a musician and courtier. Most court ladies giggled behind their fans as he passed in the company of the most sought after kallistas. His kind were the accessories of the nobility, to be adorned like fine jewelry, and with his staggering good looks and talent, he was one of the best escorts around.

Together they emerged into the blooming reception leading the queen’s panther. At the apex of the revelry, Sulia’s father stood next to the king, hanging on every word from the sovereign’s mouth. D’Vinid gathered her focus with a weighing gaze. “I’ve seen other people do that around Koraxx. I think it comes with the territory. People want to be close to figureheads.”

She came to a stop, facing him. “This is not normal. My father does not act right. My mother has caught him muttering to himself in the corner of their bed chambers.”

D’Vinid filled his chest with a bellowing breath. “The Madness does not discriminate. No one is too important. Perhaps you should seek for help among the temple clergy…” His smile touched every corner of his sharply angled face… “rather than a scoundrel courtier like myself.”

She frowned but couldn’t help to admire the way he told her to shut up.

He pulled her closer by the hand she had hooked in the crook of his elbow, pumping his arm a few times to shake her out of the funk. “Nothing to do about it right now.”

A flicker of a smile danced in her eyes, her mouth a thin line, the corners creased in her cheeks. By now they were attracting attention as Queen Dafni kept her eyes on D’Vinid. Seated on the dais between her sons, she beckoned D’Vinid with a nod.

When they approached, Sulia stiffened as they passed the king and her father. Neither bothered to look in her direction. She meant nothing to whatever they were scheming.

“I wondered where you disappeared with my Bastia.” Dafni reached out to receive the end of the cat’s leash. Her voice was like liquid honey, casting a spell with each melodic syllable. It was a rare honor for her words to be directed toward anyone. Those in earshot paused in admiration and envy. D’Vinid bowed low, thrusting a foot forward and bending at the waist, his arm flourishing backward. Sulia bent her knees with an arm gesturing forward and toward the ground.

Their different bows were due to the nature of their different stations. While D’Vinid enjoyed the social status of being among the queen’s favored courtiers, Sulia’s bloodline was closer to the queen’s status. The noble bloodlines of the Mediator Sect were raised and trained to oversee the function of their specialties and all who shared them. The more influential the specialty, the more important the family.

“Play us a song, my Prophet Singer,” the queen implored, holding him in place with her emerald eyes.

Finely dressed bodies parted into a semi-circle. Sulia put her hands together and encouraged a chorus of clapping approval while joining the new formation of the revelry.

King Koraxx and Fellick Tierro noticed the shift and slipped outside the circle to retreat out of earshot. A train of mediators and dignitaries followed the king, splitting the revelry. D’Vinid had never given it much thought when Koraxx walked away from music. He was always relieved to be rid of the palpable tension that lifted at the absence of the king’s overbearing presence. That was when the fun could begin.

D’Vinid slid the dabrina from his back and made quick work of freeing it from its case. Its sleek body and spidery limbs splayed out with eleven strings where there should be twelve, now tuning beneath his fingers while he turned the pegs. He always kept eleven strings on his dabrina. It was a quirk he was known for.

Striking with his fingers he produced a series of chords that rang through the courtyard in celestial harmony. Once the tuning exercises were complete, he wasted no time stumbling into a musical progression, soft and mournful with a swaying rhythm. His voice wove a dancing melody where the instrument’s resonance couldn’t reach.

He closed his eyes and that familiar feeling washed over his skin, like water flowing upward in a bubbling frenzy. The words spilled from his mouth, a song he had never sung before.

“Clever trickster Watchers touch the souls of someone else.

They wait for that alignment,

they are breaching their confinement,

breaking all the rules,

while Atlantis harbors fools.

Perhaps we’ll find transcendence

as we lose our independence.

And there we’ll find the answers

if we look where blindness tells.

And then perhaps we’ll find it

in the eyes of someone else.”

The crowd fell silent after the last chord faded into stillness.

“My Prophet Singer,” Dafni’s voice rang out, uncharacteristically loud. “Perhaps the words will come to have meaning as time moves on.”

D’Vinid stood into his low bow. The revelry erupted into uncertain approval and broke again into the din of scattered conversations. Sulia sauntered toward him with hands clasped behind her back. “My father asked me to come up with a project. To create a legend out of someone.”

D’Vinid paused his task of tucking his dabrina back into its case and focused on her with heavy lids, pressing his lips together with a squint.

“You, D’Vinid. I want you to be my project.”

He puffed through loose lips. “I don’t know what that would do for Atlantis. Nothing good. I can promise you that.”

“On the contrary.” She scanned him with a sly assessment. “The people need to know stories of commoners risen to status. It inspires them.”

“Oh, I promise you, I am anything but common,” he chuckled.

A shadow fell over them and they both turned to greet Prince Kyliron. He glanced between them with a spark of mischief. “I don’t suppose you two want to help me with something.” Kyliron’s eyes darted around in conspiracy.

D’Vinid finished his task and slung the dabrina over his shoulders, shifting his attention to the prince.

Sulia bowed, a shallow version of the greeting she gave the queen. “Your Highness,” she deferred.

Kyliron waved in dismissal. “Save your bows and highnesses, Sulia Tierro. In this task we are equals. I want both of you to come and help me win the attention of a fair maiden.”

“Let me guess, the dignitary from Subterra.”

Kyliron gasped and stared at D’Vinid. “How did you…”

“Prophet Singer, remember? I know all.”

The prince put his hands on his hips with a scowl. “Are you spying on me, D’Vinid?”

“How can I not?” the singer turned his palms forward with a shrug. “You’re the center of attention.” He laid his hands over the young prince’s shoulders. “And you’re far too obvious all the time, my brother. The art of subtlety, remember? We talked about this?”

Kyliron shrugged free of D’Vinid’s weight, chewing on his lip. “Of course, I remember. Maybe I’m just not any good at it.”

“Well, it’s good to know your own weaknesses, isn’t it?” D’Vinid let out a heaving breath of a laugh and gestured with an open palm for Kyliron to lead the way. “Practice makes perfect.”

Kyliron’s face melted into a smile when he realized D’Vinid was granting his request. Sulia accepted D’Vinid’s bent arm again and together they followed the prince in search of Loressai Torbin.

~*~

D’Vinid faced Loressai with his usual disarming openness, though he had been trying to forget their ride down the cliffs. Her beautiful, upturned eyes drilled into him as the prince made introductions.

She had watched him sing. The song still haunted her. She tried not to tremble as she extended a hand to him, attempting to feign casual interest. The woman at his side, though somewhat plain in appearance, possessed an enviable elegance and eyes that shimmered with a keen intelligence.

“Shall we explore, perhaps?” Kyliron suggested, his eyes wide with innocence.

Loressai agreed, accepting his elbow with her attention fixed on the singer. Despite the woman D’Vinid escorted or the prince at her side, Loressai made little attempt to mask her interest in the courtier. She cloaked it in fascination with his music. Prince Kyliron was extremely attractive, but there was a desperation in his actions, as though he was accustomed to being overlooked. She settled into a sense of pity and allowed the prince to bribe her with his friend’s company.

The courtyard emptied into sprawling grounds with paths weaving through gardens, over footbridges and under floral arcades. The four of them chatted lightly, D’Vinid’s laugh punctuating his wit. She melted into every word he spoke. In the center of the gardens a spire reached into the sky. They decided to climb the steps wrapping around the exterior, catching their breath at the top before examining what they saw in the square pavilion crowning the tower.

Kyliron leapt into the seat beneath the apex of the pyramid-shaped roof. “This is one of the ancient Fulcrum points,” he claimed, hovering his hands over the arms of the cracked and weathered interface. “The kings of old were able to access the Archives Nexes from these stations. They could tap into the entire Crystal Grid and control the works of the city. They have these in all the kingdoms of Atlantis. I’m afraid they’ve been deactivated in this age though. They’re just relics of the Golden Age now.” He rested his hands on the arms.

Sulia lifted her arm and showed D’Vinid the thin hairs standing on edge. Before anyone could say anything, a burst of power arched between them.

Liquid silver lights webbed through the seat, stretching like veins over its surface and up the walls of the pyramid. The floor glowed with the same silver veins, and a pulsing sound hummed in the air. Kyliron threw his head back as a network of light pierced through the spaces between them, joining, magnifying.

Silver lightning shot from the capstone of the pyramid rooftop, and into the sky. Those far and wide saw the gridwork illuminated momentarily in the arch of a dome. Kyliron slouched in the chair. The lights faded.

The others collapsed to the ground.

A priest charged up the stairs, winded and panicked, the green hem of his white temple robes bunched in his hand so he could run. His eyes were wide as they landed on the prince and his companions. Other priests arrived, all in green robes, experts in the elementals, and caretakers of the sacred gardens of Tartessos. At the order of their high priest they all assisted the victims of the Fulcrum’s sudden and entirely unexpected activation.

~*~

With Dafni at his side, silent and aloof, King Koraxx kept his eyes on his younger son while the priests explained what happened.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, the high priest of the order weighed his words with careful importance. “Your son is the first in seven generations to activate the Fulcrum. I would suggest testing him further, perhaps with consideration as heir to the high throne. This kind of power must be nurtured, Your Majesties.”

Their attention landed on Kyliron, who kept his eyes on Loressai. As conversations continued in hushed tones, he stepped to her side, piercing into her with his dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

She was still in a daze. Something had touched the corners of her psyche, activating a twitch in her head. The glow and strange patterns of the liquid silver light etched into her vision, blinding her.

“I felt like you were the one who activated me back there,” he spoke closer to her ear with breathless disbelief. “I was drawn to you when we met, but… there could be something deeper.”

She couldn’t explain how she was feeling. There was no choice but to hear him out. “Your Highness,” she breathed.

“Call me Kyliron.” The heaviness of his attraction summoned her, unable to accept no, needing to possess.

She bent her knees in a swift curtsy. “Kyliron.” When she looked at him, his face was covered with the silver webbing now seared into her vision. She tried to blink. It remained in the darkness even behind closed eyes.

“I will hear no more of it!” King Koraxx proclaimed. “When we return to Poseidia I will take my son to the Temple Sect. The Fulcrum of the Great Crystal will have to be our judge.” He cast his heavy gaze on Sulia Tierro and D’Vinid who had been there to witness it but said nothing more.