Spring spilled over the lake, painting the waters with golden reflections that found no echo in Carya's heart. The bedroom door opened at the same instant the light touched her face.
— Forgive me for waking you, my lady — said Damalis, the handmaiden. — Amara has returned. She says she brings urgent information.
Carya's voice was calm, but it carried the weight of centuries.
— Ask her to wait for me in the visiting hall. And, Lis... our jasmine tea.
When the handmaiden left, Carya extended her left arm. A grey patch, cold and dead, spread from the ring on her finger, a spiderweb of decay climbing her forearm. With a soft touch and a concentration that cost her a breath, she wove an illusion over the imperfection, feeling the energy drain from her. She dressed in a long-sleeved mantle of pearlescent blue and her tiara of braided jasmine. A daily reminder of her responsibilities.
She reached the hall just in time to see Amara emerge from the opening in the glass floor, her greenish skin shimmering.
— Amara! — Carya greeted her with a hug. — How good it is to see you!
— And you, my lady. — Amara's voice was tired. — The rivers are choking. Everywhere, the bodies of mortals rot.
Carya served the tea, her steady hand hiding her turmoil. The chaos in the world of men was a dissonance she felt in her own blood.
— Were you able to reach Thebes?
— Yes, but with difficulty. The Spartan fleet occupies the waters. Their commander, Anchises, has established a base at the fortress of Gla. He acts with an unexpected brutality, executing his own men.
Anchises. An ancient name, heavy with the echoes of blood. Carya's hand burned. She looked down. The grey patch had returned, darker, reaching her elbow. It's getting faster, she thought. The cruelty of the world fed her disease.
— The people of Thebes resist — Amara continued. — Groups of peasants, allied with the goat-men, attack their caravans.
— Did you hear what happened to Demosthenes's mission in Samos?
Amara's face darkened.
— I'm afraid so. He was successful. And... he brought the Spartan to Athens.
Carya froze. At that instant, a flower vase on a shelf trembled and fell, shattering. The sound echoed like thunder. From the spilled water, a purple flower floated to her feet. She bent down, and the flower whispered with the voice of the promised one:
Even the dead need their rest...
The pain in her arm became unbearable.
— Amara — Carya's voice was a breath. — Wait. I need... a moment.
She ran back to her room, her arm burning with a mortal cold. She went to a heavy black book. With trembling hands, she lit a candle and placed her stained hand over the flame. The fire turned azure, licking at her arm in a purifying pain. Exhausted, she closed her eyes.
Dark corridor. Oak door. "PRISON." She opened it. Abyss. A mirror. Her reflection smiled, but it was not her smile. It was a smile of triumph. The reflection raised its left arm, displaying the ring. The prisoner.
In an act of fury, Carya threw a red cloth over the mirror in her mind. The sound of shattering glass.
— My lady?
She awoke, gasping.
Damalis was at the door. Carya felt weak. She opened a drawer and drank a sip of a viscous liquid from a small bottle. The strength returned.
— Bring Amara back. Now.
When Amara entered, her gaze fell on Carya's ring, which now lay on the table.
— I need you to go to Lalaia — Carya said, urgency hardening her voice. — Tell Dione that…
— My lady… — Amara hesitated. — I have already been to Lalaia. Dione summoned me. Her advisor… he wanted to know about the woman you dreamed of.
— Why? — Carya's voice was a restrained thunder.
— I do not know. But… on the way, I met the serpent. She said Dione is no longer there. She has left for Themyscira, to meet with Hippolyta and the Amazons.
— Typical of Dione.
— And she said more — Amara continued, reluctant. — She said Dione has invoked an ancient law. She wishes to send the Furies after her. The woman from your vision.
— By what right?!
— Because of a prophecy from the oracle. "'When the mortal flame finds the exiled wolf, the balance will be broken and the mirror will shatter.'" Dione believes the woman is the flame. And that she must be extinguished.
The mirror will shatter.
Carya looked at her arm. The prisoner was smiling in her mind.
— Enough. — Carya raised a hand. — Thank you, Amara. I need to think.
Alone, Carya walked to the window. Outside, the once-calm lake crashed in waves against the palace walls. The rebellious shells in the depths of her being began to whisper the truth: that even the sirens feared the day when the queen beneath the lake would stop balancing between two worlds… and choose to sink into one to save the other.