The sky above the horizon blazed crimson as the ancient Atlantean war galley sliced through the silver-tipped waves. Sirens screamed from the distant breakwaters, their haunting wails distorted by the wind. Captain Nerya Saranis stood on the prow, her black silken robes rippling in rhythmic defiance to the ocean’s breath. She clutched the hilt of her curved ceremonial dagger in one hand, her knuckles white with pressure. The voice of betrayal echoed in her ears, a serpentine hiss that had splintered her life only hours ago.
“They’re coming,” she muttered under her breath, her azure eyes scanning the waters under the waning sunlight. The faint lights of the Atlantean capital flickered on the horizon, their beauty marred now by treachery. Nerya’s dark hair spilled down her back, braided with obsidian beads that shimmered faintly, resembling the stars that would rise soon overhead. Her robes were black, adorned with gilded trim and a lattice of intricate lacing across her shoulders and down her arms, evoking the form of the defensive netting used on Atlantean war vessels. The fabric clung to her athletic frame in the sea’s damp embrace, a symbol of mourning and defiance both.
Klaros, her chief helmsman, approached hesitantly from behind, his weathered face revealing the same unease that gnawed at the rest of the crew. “Captain,” he said, his voice low and coarse-handed in the Atlantean tongue, “the Queen’s vanguard will intercept us within the hour. We must decide quickly—fight, surrender, or take the ship into the undercurrents.”
“The undercurrents.” Nerya chuckled darkly but did not glance back. “A coward’s route, Klaros. And tell me, would you rather drown in the void or betray your oaths to follow me to death itself?”
He hesitated. She could hear his heavy breath, thick with suppressed fear. “You would fight them?”
Her hand flipped the dagger absentmindedly, and she finally turned to face him, her sapphire gaze ignited with something molten and ancient. “Yes. Because I know something she doesn’t.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “Treason isn’t born in the dark, helmsman. It’s carried on the tongues of those who you break bread alongside.”
The galley lurched as the undercurrents began to roil, seething with preternatural activity. The Queen’s advance guard had summoned tidal constructs—translucent leviathans formed of water and churning shadow. The crew whispered fearful prayers, but Nerya had no time for reverence. She spun to address them, her voice sharp as the blade she held aloft.
“Brothers and sisters!” she shouted, the wind whipping her hair like a banner. “This night is no different than any other. We have faced the black tide and won before; we shall do so again. But tonight, you fight for freedom, not for the throne!” She stepped onto the railing of the prow, balancing easily despite the swell below. “You fight not for Atlantis, but for her soul. Will the waters remember cowards? Or will they sing of the people who defied their queen and lived to change the tides of history?”
The crew raised their fists, a roar springing forth as courage was birthed from desperation. Nerya turned back toward the glowing forms cutting through the gloom ahead, vowing silently that her name would be carved on the monuments of the future—etched not in stone, but in legend.
Hours earlier, Nerya had stood in the gilded hall of the Atlantean palace, the scent of lotus blooms clinging to the stagnant air. Queen Liraea lounged on her throne of polished coral, her gaze colder than the crystal clarity of the water outside their submerged city.
“You overstep, Captain,” the Queen murmured, her voice deadly soft. It drew one’s attention the way a predator’s coiled body promised motion. “To seek forbidden knowledge was dangerous enough. But to try and wield it…” She trailed off, her painted crimson lips curling in disdain. The lace-like hem of her midnight-indigo gown shimmered faintly, refracting the bioluminescent lights that peaked through the arched temple windows.
“Majesty,” Nerya replied, deliberately stripped of honorifics. Her own sashes of status had already been wrested from her. Nevertheless, the fire in her eyes had not dimmed. “You would rather this empire rot in ignorance than face what stirs in the deep.” She stepped forward, keeping her posture unbowed.
The Queen smiled a predator’s grin. “Perfectly.” She rose, her form imperious and unyielding. The room darkened as a shadow swept across the ceiling—a glimmer of the great leviathan her guard had summoned for judgment. “Atlantis has no room for traitors.”
The next moments had been chaos—a swift plunge into betrayal. Nerya barely escaped with her life, her closest allies rushing her to safety on a stolen vessel. Now, she stood defiant against the Queen’s forces, whispering silent thanks for the choice she had made to seize the Sun Dagger—an artifact that pulsed now with warmth against her hip.
The first strike came fast. The vanguard surrounded the galley with unnatural speed, their amphibious hulls and elemental constructs cresting across the waves. Nerya’s crew secured the ballistae, launching explosive harpoons that cracked through the watery leviathans with a hiss of steam and shadow. Despite the ferocity of her sailors, Nerya understood the futility of outlasting the Queen’s forces. She needed something more—something the Sun Dagger had promised but not yet delivered.
Drawing the blade, Nerya whispered the incantation she had stolen from forbidden tomes in the Forgotten Caverns. The blade ignited in her hand, radiating a light so fierce it burned away the nearest nether-wrought constructs. The vanguard hesitated, their courage faltering. It was a crack in their resolve, and Nerya pushed through it like a hunter through closing jaws.
“For Atlantis!” she cried, her voice ringing against the onslaught. With the dagger in hand, she surged toward the enemy ship, carving through constructs and defenses with wild precision. Lightning lashed the seas as though summoned by her growing strength, and Nerya laughed—sharp and defiant.
Only when she stood drenched in seawater and the wispy remnants of shadow did the realization settle: she had forced them to withdraw. But even as the crew cheered behind her, she felt the chill of a larger battle still to come. The Queen would bring her wrath, and Atlantis would erupt in war.
As Nerya gazed over the battered horizon, the Sun Dagger dimmed to a quiet pulse at her side. She had won tonight, but the tide had only begun to turn.
In the stillness that followed, the black water whispered secrets to her, secrets she was not yet sure she wanted to hear.
Genre: Fantasy/Mythological Adventure
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Black Lace-Up High-Waisted Bikini with Halter Top for Rooftop Sunset Glam Style
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