[A/N: Got stuck on our finals... and I somehow survived it. I'm back!]
"How long until we get there?" John asked, his face pale with discomfort. It wasn't seasickness—far from it. As meta with the ability to manipulate fire, being submerged in the crushing pressure of the ocean was beyond uncomfortable.
But what really grated on him was the amused smirk on Bobby's face across the room.
Bobby was whistling.
"Cut it out," John grumbled. "One more note and I'll light up this whole can."
"Would love to see you try down here," Bobby shot back with a grin.
Before the banter could escalate, Namor's deep voice broke in.
"We're here. Welcome to Atlantis."
With a flick of his trident against the seabed, the terrain in front of the submarine began to shift.
The once dark ocean floor came alive with light—thousands of tiny, glowing specks blinked into view, creating the illusion of a rippling, star-filled sky beneath the sea.
Massive glowing orbs—bioluminescent lanterns the size of small cars—rose from the sand in two perfect rows, illuminating a path stretching toward the horizon.
"Those tiny lights," Ethan noted, eyes tracking the gentle pulses, "they're bio-engineered jellyfish—modified to emit synchronized light patterns. And the orbs... they're probably deep-sea anglerfish fitted with Atlantean light-core implants. Efficient and elegant."
Even John, despite himself, stared in awe. The stunning underwater display temporarily distracted him from his discomfort.
But Namor's expression tightened. Something was wrong. By now, his sentries should've been out to greet them.
The tension only grew as they advanced. The glowing path ahead slowly changed—what had been soft blue hues began to pulse with a deep crimson glow.
"That's blood," Ethan muttered, his eyes narrowing.
Sure enough, the water around them had taken on a dark red tint. Injured jellyfish drifted by, some torn apart.
Several lantern fish floated lifeless, their bioluminescent glow fading. Then the submarine halted.
Blocking their way was a monstrous creature—an octopus nearly 50 meters long, its massive body unmoving.
Around it lay the corpses of dozens of sea beasts, grotesque and twisted in death.
"What the hell happened here?" Bobby asked, his earlier smugness gone.
"This isn't right," Namor growled, his eyes scanning the battlefield. "These species don't travel together. They're predators, territorial. Someone—or something—brought them together."
"So someone's controlling them," Ethan said, shifting forward.
The vector readings in his head—force lines, current patterns, water pressure disturbances—were off.
He could sense faint vector disruptions, almost like psychic echoes in the fluid dynamics of the sea.
Using his ability, Ethan subtly reshaped the flow of currents around the submarine, forming a shield-like spiral that redirected nearby pressure waves.
It wasn't just protection—it was a scanner. Every ripple fed data back to his mind. Something—or someone—had recently exerted a force over this area.
"Atlantis is under attack," he said grimly.
"No," Namor snapped, turning sharply. "That's impossible. There are no other intelligent species in the ocean. We've ruled these depths for millennia."
As if to contradict him, the two Atlantean guards who had been leading the way suddenly swam back toward the vessel. One of them was carrying an injured man, his body limp and bleeding.
Namor wasted no time. He slammed the trident into the floor of the sub, invoking his power.
A shimmering bubble of pressure formed, holding back the crushing ocean around them. With a deep metallic groan, the submarine's hatch opened—and no water poured in.
Namor rushed forward, taking the wounded man into his arms. "You're the captain of the patrol—what happened? Speak!"
The Atlantean lifted his head weakly, blood trickling from his lips. "Your Majesty... you're back..."
Hope flickered in his eyes, but it didn't last.
"We encountered a woman. She... she—"
"What woman? Did she attack? What's happening in Atlantis?" Namor pressed urgently.
But the soldier didn't answer. His body tensed, eyes bulging as if something invisible was draining him.
Ethan stepped forward, analyzing the air displacement and pressure vectors around the man's body.
"Something's siphoning his life force..."
Before their eyes, the Atlantean's skin shriveled. His muscles collapsed inward. In seconds, he had turned to a lifeless husk.
As the submarine pushed forward, a blinding light soon came into view. In the pitch-black pressure of the deep sea, it blazed like a beacon, lighting up the ocean floor around it.
This was Atlantis—Namor's kingdom beneath the waves.
As they got closer, Ethan and the others could make out the architectural marvels beneath the giant dome shielding the city.
The structures glowed with a shimmering teal-blue hue, rising like coral-carved spires, some resembling sea creatures, others twisting like kelp caught in the current.
Despite the dome protecting the city from the crushing ocean pressure, the submarine passed through effortlessly.
It was as if the outer barrier recognized Namor and permitted access without resistance.
Once inside, Ethan noticed the dome wasn't just a single layer. According to the submarine's internal sensors, the first layer had completely neutralized the surrounding water pressure.
But it wasn't the drop in pressure that caught Ethan's attention—it was the corpses floating in that area.
Dozens of them. Most were massive sea monsters, but mixed among them were Atlantean warriors.
Their bodies had the same eerie condition as the soldier they'd encountered earlier—drained of life, shriveled like husks.
Namor reached out to one of the fallen, and as his hand made contact, the corpse disintegrated into powder.
There was no longer any doubt: Atlantis had been breached.
Suddenly, the submarine passed through the second dome layer.
The seawater vanished completely, and with its buoyancy gone, the sub dropped with a loud thud onto the ground.
Everyone inside braced as the cabin rocked. They exited one by one, finally stepping into Atlantis proper.
But the city didn't greet them with fanfare. There was no patrol, no guards, no civilians running in panic.
The devastation wasn't loud or chaotic. Instead, the silence was suffocating. Buildings stood tall, but lifeless.
No lights moved behind windows. No voices. Just quiet.
When they reached the main avenue, Ethan's eyes narrowed. Atlanteans—hundreds of them—were kneeling on the smooth coral pavement.
All of them faced the same direction: toward the Imperial Citadel.
Namor strode up to one man and yanked him up by the arm. "What happened here? Speak!"
The man's head wobbled, unresponsive, his blank eyes staring into nothing. Namor shook him again, but he slumped back to his knees as soon as the grip loosened.
Still, his lips moved.
Namor leaned down. "What did you say?"
The man whispered with awe, "Our king... has returned."
Namor recoiled. "I am the king of Atlantis!" he roared.
But the man didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the towering Citadel.
Ethan stepped forward, brows furrowed. "They're being controlled. This isn't trauma or grief. It's mind control. Someone's hijacked their will."
Namor clenched his fists, jaw tightening. "My family..."
He bolted toward the Citadel. The team followed.
Inside the grand halls of the palace, the same sight greeted them: more Atlanteans, kneeling and silent. Among them—Namor's own mother, wife, and younger sister. All with vacant expressions, facing the same direction.
Namor staggered back. "He's not after the palace..." His voice trailed as his eyes followed the line of sight his family shared.
Then his face turned pale. "No... He's going for Paradise Lost."
Without another word, Namor sprinted from the palace.
Ethan's stomach tightened. He turned to Bobby. "Paradise Lost...?"
Namor answered over his shoulder. "It's the resting place of our ancestors. A sacred site."
But the urgency in his voice said it wasn't just a tomb.
Ethan's vector powers flared slightly as he ran, invisible waves branching out in pulses.
He was scanning the area—checking structural integrity, detecting pressure changes, trying to find signs of lingering energy or biological movement.
That's when he felt it—an unnatural ripple, like something massive was displacing the pressure in the area behind the palace.
They rounded the last corridor and came to a wide cliff overlooking a vast field.
It wasn't just a cemetery. It was a sprawling necropolis, rows of ancient tombs, covered in glowing glyphs that pulsed with dormant energy.
"The first ancestors are buried in this cemetery. Only members of the royal family and those who have made extraordinary sacrifices for Atlantis are allowed to rest here," Namor said, his eyes scanning the solemn tombstones as he searched for the intruder.
It didn't take long before he spotted a lone figure standing at the heart of the cemetery.
She wore a flowing black cloak, her face hidden beneath a hood. The way she carried herself sent chills down Ethan's spine. She looked more like a sorceress than a soldier.
"Who are you?" Namor demanded, leveling his trident at her.
The woman slowly turned, lifting her hood to reveal a youthful face framed by long, dark hair. Her voice was soft, but each word carried weight. "I am your king."
Namor let out a harsh laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. I am the king of Atlantis. Or are you trying to make me your queen?"
He glared at her. "Did you enslave my people? Let them go, witch, or I won't hold back."
Despite the threat, the woman didn't even flinch. She turned away and gazed at the towering hero's monument at the center of the cemetery, lost in thought.
"Fine. You asked for it," Namor growled.
He launched himself forward, thrusting his trident with force. But just as he closed in, the woman casually snapped her fingers.
In an instant, Namor dropped to one knee, gasping.
His body trembled as black tendrils slithered from his own shadow, coiling around his limbs like snakes. They began pulling him downward, inch by inch, into the inky depths beneath his feet.
Namor clenched his teeth and drew blood as he slashed his palm.
Raising the blood-stained trident, he drove it into the ground. "Spirits of Atlantis, grant me your strength!"
A shockwave burst forth, golden-red energy flooding the cemetery.
The shadowy tendrils recoiled and vanished. All across the graveyard, tombstones shimmered with a blue light.
From each, tiny motes of energy began to rise, swirling through the air.
"These are... the souls and wills of the deceased," the black-haired woman muttered, visibly surprised for the first time.
Namor pointed his trident at her. "Invader or not, you chose the wrong place to wage war. Paradise Lost is sacred to my people."
As his words echoed, ghostly figures began to form. The former kings of Atlantis emerged one by one, their eyes glowing with purpose.
They were the Sea Kings, legends who once fought for their people and shaped the course of their civilization.
Even in death, they answered the call to defend their kingdom.
Then came the voice.
"Who dares summon me?"
Namor's eyes lit up with recognition and awe.
From the glowing mist stepped a towering figure, his spectral form almost solid. A regal man with a flowing beard and commanding presence. His eyes still held clarity and wisdom.
"Poseidon..." Namor whispered.
This was Atlantis' first emperor. The man who led survivors to the ocean depths after the surface world betrayed them.
The one who once brokered a pact with Apocalypse to divide their spheres of influence. The original Sea King.
Poseidon looked at the mysterious woman... and stopped.
Then, without hesitation, he dropped to one knee.
"You... you are her. The last royal princess who led the exodus after Atlantis sank... You guided the mutants back then into hiding."
The woman's eyes flickered. It had been over 8,000 years, and yet someone still remembered her.
She studied Poseidon's face for a moment, something like recognition in her gaze. "You were the boy who followed Apocalypse to find me."
Her tone softened.
"Don't call me a princess. Call me... Black Queen."