D’Rai glided away from the dais, trailing her hand over the ancient inscriptions, watching with impassive eyes as they glowed bright red.
“The sea has been awaiting him,” she intoned, looking at her sister.
D’Marci nodded, stick-straight hair sliding over her shoulder. “It has. Our brothers are foolish to have waited this long for his return.”
“Yes, they were. But they must have known, otherwise they wouldn’t have sunk the ship that the mortal was on.”
D’Marci followed after her sister, also trailing her fingers along the black marble. The path was hot from her sister’s hand, but a sign that she was speaking with the earth. Atlantis was the heart of the world, the heart of every living thing. Without it, everything would be no more.
No humans.
No animals.
No substance.
And most importantly, no gods.
“Was that not too much, though? All of the humans on that ship died except Mari.”
“It was what was planned, sister. We do not question our brothers, and they do not question us. It is the way of our pantheon and you would do wise to remember that.”
D’Marci focused on her sister, touching her shoulder. D’Rai stopped moving and turned to look at the blonde god.
They were twins, two of the same stone, and one of the same soul. They were bound together by fate, guided by simplicity, and driven with a cunning instinct. There had not been a time in history when they weren’t together, which was the same for their brothers.
D’Marci had the same long, straight, blonde hair that D’Rai had. She had the same blood-red eyes, the same thin stature, the same elegant gate, and the same impassive voice. The only way to tell them a part was by their gestures and actions. D’Rai was stern, her sister was compassionate.
While they were, by creed and by nature, emotionless, that did not stop them from striving to experience things at a humane level.
“Maybe it is time for change,” D’Marci murmured.
“Why would we change when our ways have carried on an entire society for thousands of years? It would be dangerous, and our brothers would never approve.” They could never change the ways of society; it would be the ultimate destruction, worse than what Ceto had done.
“The woman. You picked her out of all of the humans on that ship to be the one to survive. Can you lie to me by saying you did not expect Ambrose to react to her? We know what he is thinking, what he is planning. Taking over Atlantis for her and instilling new law for her is not change? A new government that he is basing off of her own people is not the change that you felt we needed, when you chose her?”
The black marble swirled into a deep gray beneath their hands. The temple followed it’s route, the large pillars surrounding them filled with the gray that reflected their turmoil. The sisters’ temple was great and spacious. Four pillars were placed at each corner of the room, holding up the ceiling. In the center of the ceiling were four stripes of silk that crossed the room. Two were black, symbolizing their status, and the other two were red, for their power. They were the fates of Atlantis while their brothers, who were pale in coloring, the same as them, were the structure of Atlantis.
D’Rai ignored here sister’s question, letting her eyes close. She thought to herself, blocking out her sister’s invasion of her mind, and whispered, “He could be prosecuted for turning the mortal into an Atlantean breed.”
“If that were to happen, we would intervene. Do not deny it.”
She didn’t. What her sister said was true. Ambrose was the heir of the ocean. He had gone through a torture that many men had not been, and the gods had let it happen. Up until recently, they had never realized it had been Ceto.
The minor goddess stayed hidden in the shadows and drew no attention to herself. She had the ability to go off the grid, and on rare occasions, even the gods could not find her. Her hidden lair, a small cave hidden deep in the pacific, had been found by chance—and thank the sea for that.
Ambrose had disappeared after the trial. The gods hadn’t been able to trace him, and they hadn’t cared. To them, he had wronged their people and that was all there was to it. Rationality, to the gods, was simplicity. It was what they ruled by. The simple thing to do was get rid of the threat, and rationality said to let him go.
The rules they lived by were twisted, but it had worked. No one in Atlantis wanted to face the gods wrath, so they followed the rules and did their duty, which was to keep the race surviving.
“What did you mean by the mortal coming upon Ambrose,” D’Marci asked. In truth, the whole scheme with the mortal had been up to D’Rai. C’Xarion had been the one to sink the ship, but D’Rai had chosen the female. He left such matters to the sisters, as always.
Except, this time, D’Rai had not involved her sister. And for the first time in a millennia, a rift had been caused between them. D’Marci had only found out moments ago what they had done, happening upon her sister as she had stood over the portal that gave the gods view into the mortal, and Atlanean, plane.
“I feel as if...” She stopped. Stared back at the portal. “After what we have done to Ambrose, he may have a chance to be happy and regain the throne. Without him, Atlantis will perish. It has been much too long for our city to be without its main power, but we cannot have a tainted being representing us.
“If Ambrose were to go back now, alone, he would be bitter and malicious. He might be a changed man, but he still has the heart of a warrior. And a warrior will always keep his enemies close with acrimony and disdain. It is impossible to tell if he will want to decimate the people who wronged him. But with the mortal, this Mari, I heard his laugh.”
D’Marci showed no reaction, even though the dead yet pulsing organ in her chest filled.
“Ambrose is like the child I never had,” D’Rai whispered, becoming completely still. “When his mother died, he looked to us, to me. He looked for affection and guidance. And we, sister… We gave it to him. We listened to his prayers, his tormented cries. For the first time since my beginning, I felt something. For Ambrose. It was the closest I could ever get to feeling like a real mother."
D'Marci stood silently as the softness of D'Rai's words rang around the black temple. The one time Ambrose had come to their temple, she had seen it for herself, but after that—never again.
The small spark of joy, the tenderness, the soft laughter that she had heard from her sister. It had been as real as Ambrose's desolation was, and as painful for D'Marci to watch as witnessing his destruction.
The gods were unfeeling...to anything but the cry of their people. It was their hidden curse, the only thing that kept them going. They did not sleep, they did not eat, and they did not feel happiness.
They wandered the temples like a ghost, knowing that their time with the Atlanteans was short. The new generation was losing interest, technology advancing at an alarming rate. It gave the new Atlanteans reason to replace the gods that had created them.
"What do we do?" she breathed, feeling the weight of Atlantis on her shoulders. D'Marci knew her sister could read the route her thoughts had taken.
"We wait. The fight has yet to come...But maybe we can send him some help."
D'Marci looked at her sister levelly. "We cannot send him. He is not ready to be out in the world yet-"
"Sister. He has been kept hidden for too long. Revealing him now, and to the future king no less, would be dangerous. Deimos is not ready for this yet-"
"No matter that. Where is he now?"
D'Marci's eyes flared. She would not win this battle. When D'Rai wanted something, she got it.
"He is safe," she said. Her sister could not really mean to unleash one of the most dangerous beings in the sea, could she? Deimos had no bearings of friend or enemy. He was a mindless animal with only one thing on his mind—destruction.
"Tell me, sister, where our pet lies." Her voice, and the set of her mind, broke no argument. Desperate times called for desperate measures, D'Rai thought, before letting out a soft breath, searching for Deimos.
His presence was barely perceptible, but he couldn't be far from them. He roamed the temples aimlessly, his only loyalty to the gods. Sweet Atlantis, the creature could barely speak.
D'Marci had been the one to find him, nearly twelve thousand years ago. And as a creature of intense loyalty, he had bonded with the young goddess. Only she could sense him, could tame him. The thought of sending Deimos out into the open world where he could—and would—easily wreak destruction, caused a rift to form in her chest.
"He is with C'Xarion," she said upon sensing him. Her eyes opened to see D'Rai's eyes red eyes turn a glowing, neon red. D'Marci stepped back, knowing this was a terrible idea.
"Send him to Ambrose."
"Are we not going to warn him?"
D'Rai's lips curled at the corners in the form of a smile. "What kind of gods would we be if we didn't enjoy watching the show?"