The sea did not announce itself.
There was no crashing surf, no roar of waves against stone. Instead, the land simply thinned, soil dissolving into pale sand until the ground beneath Kael's boots grew cool and damp. The horizon flattened, the sky reflecting itself so perfectly on the water's surface that it became difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.
"This is Downys territory," Lysa said quietly. "They don't mark borders."
Roth squinted toward the endless expanse. "That's unsettling."
"That's intentional," Sir Bren replied.
Kael felt it immediately.
The sword did not glow. It did not hum.
It listened.
Each step closer to the shore sent faint tremors through the hilt, like a heartbeat syncing with something vast and unseen.
"They know we're here," Kael said.
The water responded.
The surface rippled outward in perfect circles, though no wind touched it. Slowly, shapes rose from beneath—figures formed of water and flesh, translucent skin reflecting the sky like polished glass. Their eyes were dark, deep, and impossibly calm.
Downys.
They did not carry weapons.
They did not need to.
"You walk loudly for surface-dwellers," one of them said, voice echoing as if spoken from far below. "And you carry a blade that disturbs the tides."
Kael stepped forward. "We didn't come to fight."
"No one ever does," the Downys replied. "Yet conflict always arrives first."
---
The Kingdom That Waits
The Downys city did not sit in the ocean.
It existed with it.
Kael struggled to comprehend it as they descended through a corridor of liquid light, breathing easily though fully submerged. Structures of coral and crystal curved upward like living architecture, glowing faintly with bioluminescent patterns. Schools of silver fish scattered at their passing, reforming seconds later.
"This place shouldn't exist," Roth muttered.
"It exists because it chooses to," Lysa answered.
They were led to a central chamber where the water deepened into an endless well. There, a council waited—elders whose forms shifted subtly with each breath, their outlines blurring like reflections disturbed by unseen currents.
"You carry the Cycle's echo," one elder said, focusing on Kael. "We felt it long before you reached our shores."
Kael inclined his head. "Then you know why we're here."
"Yes," another elder replied. "And we know why the princess was taken."
Silence fell heavily.
"You know?" Sir Bren demanded.
The elder's gaze was patient. "The kidnapper seeks imbalance—not destruction. That is the lie others believe."
Kael felt his chest tighten. "Then tell us the truth."
The elders exchanged glances that rippled like waves colliding.
"The Cycle was never meant to be broken," the first elder said. "It was meant to be answered."
---
The Lie of Peace
They were shown memories.
Not visions.
Truths preserved in water itself.
Kael saw the five kingdoms at their beginning—Humans, Elfs, Pandoras, Dwarves, and Downys—bound by a single agreement after a war that nearly unmade the world. Magic was sealed, power divided, and the Cycle was set to reset influence every age to prevent dominance.
But Humans cheated.
Not through force.
Through silence.
"They buried their role," the elder said. "They claimed neutrality while subtly guiding outcomes."
Kael shook his head. "That was centuries ago."
"Yes," the elder replied. "And lies age like poison."
Roth clenched his jaw. "So the kidnapper wants revenge."
"No," the elder corrected. "They want correction."
The word echoed painfully.
---
The First Strike
The truth did not have time to settle.
A violent tremor tore through the chamber.
Alarms—low, resonant pulses—rippled through the water. Downys guards surged into motion, their calm shattered into controlled urgency.
"Pandoran forces," a scout reported. "They've breached the upper currents."
Sir Bren cursed. "They followed us."
Kael felt the sword ignite, a sharp, painful surge of heat. Images flooded his mind—mountain peaks cracking, lightning splitting stone, war banners unfurled beneath storm-dark skies.
"They're not here for us," Kael realized. "They're here because someone told them the Downys were hiding something."
The elder's expression darkened. "The kidnapper speaks faster than we anticipated."
---
War Beneath the Surface
Pandoran warriors descended like falling stars, their armor disrupting the water itself, sending shockwaves through the city. Spears of lightning tore through coral spires, boiling water in their wake.
Kael moved without thinking.
The sword sliced through water and energy alike, parting lightning as if it were cloth. Each swing felt heavier than before, as though the blade demanded more with every use.
Roth fought beside him, blades flashing. Lysa wove spells that bent water into shields and snares. Sir Bren held the line, unyielding.
Still, the Pandorans pressed forward.
"They think we're hoarding truth," one of them shouted. "That we chose sides!"
Kael met the warrior's gaze mid-clash. "You were lied to!"
"So were you," the Pandoran snarled.
The words struck deeper than the spear.
---
The Kidnapper's Hand Revealed
Far away, in a chamber untouched by war, the kidnapper watched the battle unfold through fractured reflections.
"Good," they whispered. "They fight without knowing why. That's when belief is weakest."
A shadow stirred nearby.
"The princess questions you," the shadow said.
The kidnapper smiled. "As she should."
---
The Price of Intervention
The battle ended not with victory, but withdrawal.
Pandoran forces retreated, leaving scars in the city that would take generations to heal.
The Downys elders gathered once more, their forms dimmer now.
"This was inevitable," one said. "And it will happen again."
Kael stepped forward, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. "Then help us stop it."
The elders studied him carefully.
"You are not the hero of this story," one said gently.
Kael stiffened.
"You are the pivot," the elder continued. "What you choose will determine who bleeds next."
The sword pulsed—slow, heavy, undeniable.
---
A Truth Kael Cannot Ignore
That night, Kael stood alone at the city's edge, gazing upward through layers of water toward a distant moon.
Lysa joined him. "You're quieter than usual."
"They're right," Kael said. "This isn't about saving one person."
"But you still want to save her," Lysa said.
"Yes," Kael admitted. "Because if I don't… then the kidnapper wins something even worse than war."
"What?"
"My silence."
---
The World Tilts
As they prepared to leave the Downys realm, messengers arrived from every direction.
Elf factions mobilizing.
Dwarves sealing their gates.
Human nobles demanding the king act—or abdicate.
And above it all, whispered in every corner of the world, one question grew louder:
What if the kidnapper is right?
Kael tightened his grip on the sword.
The Cycle was no longer a legend.
It was a storm.
And Chapter 6 ended