The throne room of Atlantica had never felt so hollow.
Queen Athena sat tall, her silhouette framed by the swaying glow of bioluminescent corals, but the grace that usually clothed her posture had faltered. Her hands trembled faintly as she read the report Helios had delivered only moments ago, its words weighing more heavily than the ocean itself.
Ariel… gone again. Returned—but barely breathing. The trident—stolen. Ursula—still at large.
Athena's lips pressed into a tight line as her eyes scanned the gathered council. Nobles, generals, scribes—all waiting on her word, yet none of them could see the storm inside her. She longed to swim to her daughter's side, to sit by her bed, brush back her hair, and whisper comfort until Ariel stirred and smiled again. But duty chained her to this room.
She had left Ariel in the care of a wet nurse and her sisters, assigning four royal guards outside the medical chamber. That would have to be enough—for now.
She turned her eyes to Helios, who hovered beside her throne. His arm was wrapped in tight bandages, blood having soaked the outer layer despite his calm appearance. Kurai stood further behind, eyes closed, breathing slow but deliberate, recovering from her own injuries in silence.
Athena inhaled deeply and spoke.
"Begin."
Helios nodded. "Ursula has the trident. With it, she holds dominion over oceanic forces—currents, marine beasts, seaquakes. Even the tides themselves will bend to her will in time. And now that she's vanished, there's no telling where or when she'll strike next."
A stunned silence blanketed the court.
"She could sink any underwater cities with a thought," Helios continued. "Split trenches. Call upon the ancient leviathans. Atlantica will not survive another encounter."
Several of Athena's advisors shifted uncomfortably.
"But we are the capital," one elder merman said, his voice rough with age. "To abandon this city is to surrender our sovereignty."
"Our ancestors built these halls before Ursula was born," another counselor added. "We cannot let the people believe we cower before a witch and her borrowed strength."
"Better sovereigns in exile than corpses in marble!" Kurai said, finally opening her eyes. Her voice sliced through the court like a spear. "Ursula doesn't need to invade your palace—she can simply collapse it from afar."
The room fell into murmuring argument. Athena remained still, observing.
"She won't attack immediately," Helios said. "That trident is no mere weapon and I'm sure she is unused to its full abilities, unlike the king. Ursula will test it first, reshape the sea subtly. I'm sure you've already felt it. On our way here we heard the people talking about how the currents have become erratic. Pressure zones are shifting. Entire coral forests have begun drifting off their anchor reefs. This is only the beginning."
A younger soldier nodded hesitantly. "Some of the city's outer neighborhoods have reported strange tremors beneath the seabed."
"Then it's begun," Athena whispered, too low for most to hear.
Suddenly, a side door burst open. A young servant swam in, flanked by a royal courier.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," the courier said hastily, bowing deeply. "The wetnurse reports that Princess Ariel has awakened. She is calling for you… she is crying."
Athena's composure cracked for a moment—just long enough for those closest to see. She closed her eyes.
"Tell the wetnurse… to soothe her," she said carefully. "I will come to her when I am able."
The servant hesitated, eyes wide with emotion, but nodded and turned to leave.
Athena opened her eyes again, colder now.
"We are evacuating."
A stunned silence settled over the court.
"Atlantica will not fall while I draw breath," she continued, "but I will not see our people buried beneath a wave of pride and stubbornness. The evacuation will be orderly, quiet, and coordinated. Every citizen will be escorted to higher ridges and caverns."
"And the army?" General Marinus asked, brows furrowed.
"I will send word to Triton's old war allies. House Thalassor, the Guardians of the South Rift, even the Isonade Pact. Call in every favor. Every blood oath. Atlantica may bend—but we will not break."
Helios nodded slowly, pleased with her resolve. "I'll oversee the movement of citizens to safe zones and create dark corridors where needed. Ursula won't expect us to regroup—she'll believe this a rout. Let her."
Athena stood, commanding once again. "Begin preparations. I want the first waves of families relocated by nightfall. Start with the outer wards."
As the court dispersed into a flurry of movement and whispered orders, Athena finally turned to Helios. Her voice dropped.
"You were right. This wasn't a war—it was a message."
Helios's expression darkened. "A demonstration of power. She wanted you to feel helpless. To look around and wonder which wall would crack first."
"And we will," Athena admitted, voice tinged with bitterness. "But we'll do it with our heads held up high."
Far beneath the seafloor, in the trenches where light never reached, Ursula reclined atop a grotesque new throne—a fusion of living coral and obsidian stone, shaped by magic and malice. The trident hovered beside her like a scepter, its golden prongs pulsing faintly in sync with her thoughts.
Her tentacles coiled lazily beneath her as she gazed into a pool of shadow-mirror water. Scenes flickered—soldiers evacuating, Athena's face filled with solemn fury, Helios giving orders.
"A queen who flees," the parasite-controlled Ursula mused. "A hero who bleeds. A girl carrying a deeper darkness than my own."
She smiled, cruel and regal, her eyes glowing with unnatural brilliance. "It seems the one beyond all overestimated them. They will break in time."
Beside her, Flotsam and Jetsam coiled protectively, their new monstrous forms flickering between solid and shadow. The parasite within her pulsed silently, satisfied. Its influence had grown, and with the trident in hand, the very shape of the ocean bent toward its will.
Already, ancient creatures stirred in the depths. Leviathans turned their eyes toward the throne. Abyssal waters shifted, unnatural tides spreading like dark roots.
Soon, Ursula would no longer be a witch.
She would be a goddess.
And the sea would worship her or drown screaming.