Before the great, mist- woven gates of the palace, the group assembled for departure. The king and queen of Paragon came to bid a final farewell, their regal poise strained by a parent's naked concern.
Tears tracked silently down the cheeks of Tristan and Emerald as their eyes met those of King Herman and his wife Queen Jochebed.
" We are going to miss you." King Herman said, the words thick with an emotion his kingly composure could not fully hide.
" We'll miss you too." The twins replied in unison, a harmonic echo of their bond. "Mom. Dad. We're going but we are not leaving you. Whenever you miss us our memories will guide you." The twins said.
King Herman turned and looked at Tristan, with low but heavy voice he said.
" Tristan. Protect your sister." His gaze shifted as he held Emerald.
" Take care of your brother for me." He said. Emerald nodded as the words sounded in her ears, not just a responsibility but obligatory.
" These are the times you will need what you've been taught from childhood. Let it be your bible." Queen Jochebed said, moving closer to the twins. " Remember. A genius is the one who is more patient in solving problems, finding a way in the troubled sea." She continued, " my lullaby, is my presence whenever you feel lonely." She added, trying to stop the tears. The family shared what seemed their last reunion by embracing each other.
"Jean will escort you back to the main entrance." King Herman said looking at Persie, his gaze fell upon a small, cloth- wrapped bundle held by a servant. " And these are small supplies to help you in your journey. Consider it a gift, " he added.
Aerians lined the avenue in silent, respectful ranks, their gliding stilled. It was not a raucous farewell, but a solemn procession of honour, the only sound the sigh of the wind and the soft chime of crystals hanging from the arches. "Persie!" King Herman exclaimed,
" they're in your hands now. Bring them back safely." He added.
" Tristan. Emerald. We love you!..." " We're going to miss you....." King Herman exclaimed with hands in the air, trying to get a glimpse from them once more.
Delvin held his sword, with the hope in mind never to disappoint these people.
" A course is laid, the journey is set. Aquamaria a kingdom that holds mystery itself." Persie said.
Outside the walls, the group came around Jean, gave him a warm hug and Persie said.
" We will miss you. We will never forget your support. I wish you will join us, but protecting one's homeland is the call of duty one should never abandon."
With a final solemn nod to the distant figures of the king and queen still framed in the gateway, Persie turned. The group followed, their backs to the floating city, their faces toward the uncertain horizon where sea met sky. Before a stone arch at the city's edge, light shimmered as Persie muttered Schmeichel's key.
The thin, cold air of the heights vanished, replaced by a warm, damp breath that tasted of salt and distant storms. Before them lay not another land platform, but an endless expanse of ocean, upon which a glittering civilization floated like a scattering of jewels on a blue velvet cloth. Their portal had deposited them on a small, glass-like pathway with a pearlescent white coating.
Delvin's mind reeled as he tried to take in the impossible geometry: a vast central city formed the heart, surrounded by seven other landmasses. Three sat together on the surface, but four more were under the ocean: two inverted, two facing each other, all connected by glowing canals that pulsed with inner light.
" By the storm and sea...." Cid breathed, his usual bravado silenced by pure wonder.
Emerald, used to floating islands, simply said, " This is different. This is.... alive."
" How will we get to king Fritz?" Delvin asked.
" Through the canals and cities. And only one person holds dominion." Persie said, his gaze shifting meaningfully toward Penelope.
" The way is yours. Guide us through to your father." Persie said, with a smile on his face.
She was touching the interior of the glass and looking at the canals. Then the large city in the middle, before she fully registered what Persie was saying.
" Stay closer to me. The canals are confusing, and the guards are strict." She said, looking at the group with concern.
The pathway hummed faintly beneath their feet, a vibration that spoke of immense, submerged energies. Penelope led them forward, her steps sure on the strange, glassy substance. As they approached the edge of the platform, a section of the pearlescent coating slid away, revealing a shimmering staircase that descended not into water, but into a tube of crystalline light—one of the glowing canals.
"Stay close," Penelope repeated, her voice taking on a new, authoritative timbre.
"The light isn't just a guide; it's the current. Step into it wrongly, and you'll be sent to a different district. Or worse, ejected into the open sea."
One by one, they followed her into the canal. The sensation was like stepping into a river of warm, weightless air. Delvin felt a gentle tug, and the world outside the tube blurred into streaks of azure and aquamarine. They moved, not by walking, but by gliding, borne aloft by the pulse of the light. They passed intersections where other luminous streams crossed, a dizzying lattice of traffic. Through the walls, they glimpsed the impossible: districts built on the underside of the upper islands, people walking on what looked like ceilings, gardens of bioluminescent flora glowing in the deep-blue gloom of the lower realms.
"The four submerged cities," Penelope explained, her voice echoing slightly in the conduit. "The Inverted Crown, where our scholars and historians reside. The Twin Mirrors, facing one another—artists in one, engineers in the other. And the Deep Root, our agricultural heart. All sustained by the Breath of the Abyss."
"Which is?" Tristan asked, his analytical mind grappling with the physics of it all.
"A mystery," Penelope said simply. "A gift from the ocean depths that keeps our waters fresh, our cities buoyant, and our canals alive. It is the source of Aquamaria's power… and its secrecy."
Their journey ended as smoothly as it began, the canal depositing them onto a wide, open plaza at the heart of the central city. Here, the architecture was grander, towers spiraling like seashells, walls adorned with mosaics of coral and mother-of-pearl. Guards stood at regular intervals, clad in armor that seemed forged from living crustacean shell, iridescent and formidable. Their eyes, visible through slender helms, tracked the new arrivals with cold assessment but softened minutely upon recognizing Penelope.
She led them through vast, echoing halls until they stood before doors that reached towards a vaulted ceiling, carved from a single, enormous piece of blue-veined white stone. Two guards crossed their spear-like tridents.
"Princess Penelope. Your return was not announced."
The guard's voice was respectful but firm, the protocol of the deep.
"It was not meant to be," Penelope replied, her chin lifting. "My companions and I have urgent need of the king. The matter is of the Seven Courses."
The guards exchanged a glance. One gave a sharp nod. The massive doors, moving with a silence that belied their weight, swung inward.
The throne room of Aquamaria was a masterpiece of submerged grandeur. Light did not stream from windows, but emanated from the walls themselves, from veins of glowing crystal that pulsed with a slow, rhythmic light, like the heartbeat of the ocean. The air smelled of salt, ozone, and ancient parchment. At the far end, on a dais of polished black stone, sat King Fritz.
He was not as Delvin had imagined. He was not a towering, bearded patriarch of the deep, but a man of lean build and sharp, intelligent features. His hair was the colour of winter sea foam, and his eyes, a startling, penetrating blue, missed nothing. He wore no heavy crown, only a simple circlet of braided platinum and sapphire. He was studying a large, unfurled scroll, but as the doors opened, his gaze lifted.
His eyes found Penelope first. A flicker of surprise, then profound relief, then a careful, kingly composure settled over his face.
"Father," Penelope said, her voice catching slightly. She strode forward, the group following in her wake.
"Penelope." King Fritz's voice was calm, deep, and carried easily in the resonant chamber. "Your journey from Paragon was swift. I trust your mother and Herman are well?" His eyes were already sweeping over her companions, pausing on Persie's lotus tattoo, lingering on the strange, red-edged sword at Delvin's hip, and finally resting on the twins with a look of curious recognition.
"They are, Your Majesty," Persie answered, stepping forward and bowing. "And they send their regards. But we come bearing more than greetings. The Silent Forest has stirred. A demon's ear was found. And Delvin," he gestured, "has been chosen by an artifact of… profound lineage."
King Fritz's brow furrowed. He set the scroll aside and stood, descending the dais steps with a quiet grace. He stopped before Delvin. "That sword. May I see it?"
Delvin, after a hesitant glance at Persie, drew Justice. The blade seemed to hum in the throne room's energy, its red edges gleaming faintly. King Fritz did not reach to take it. He simply observed, his keen eyes tracing the fuller where the words had appeared.
"Uphold Justice, My Friend," the king read softly, his voice barely a whisper. A profound silence filled the hall. When he looked up at Delvin, his blue eyes were stormy with memory. "The legends of Luminous and Umber are not bedtime stories here, boy. They are our oldest histories. The fall of Micha-el and the shattering of the Princes… it shaped the very boundaries of our realms." He turned his piercing gaze to Persie. "You believe the stirrings are connected to the old war."
"We do," Persie said. "And we believe the organizing of the Seven Nature Courses is not just a political task. It is a preparation."
King Fritz nodded slowly, returning to his throne but not sitting. He looked weary, the weight of knowledge heavy on his shoulders. "You are correct. It is more than preparation. It is an awakening." He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "You seek the next Course. But you must first understand why they must be united. Come."
He led them to a side chamber, a circular room whose domed ceiling was a single, massive crystal showing a real-time view of the ocean above, sunlight filtering down in shimmering columns. In the center of the room, on a pedestal of wave-smoothed stone, lay an object covered in a cloth of deep indigo.
"The prophecy of Aquamaria is not written on parchment," King Fritz said. "It is felt in the tides, heard in the whale-song of the deep, and seen in the Heartstone."
With a reverent hand, he pulled away the cloth.
Beneath it was not a stone, but a conch shell of immense size and impossible perfection. It swirled with colors that had no name—the violet of the midnight abyss, the green of sunlit shallows, the blue of eternal ice.
"This is the Tidal Conch," the king said. "It does not speak of the future. It reveals the state of the Balance. Listen."
He lifted the conch, and though he did not blow into it, a sound emanated from its depths. It was not a single note, but a symphony of echoes: the crash of waves, the crack of glaciers, the whisper of rain, the roar of a river. And beneath it all, a discordant, growing strain—a deep, grinding vibration that felt like teeth on bone, like stone cracking under immense pressure.
Abigail gasped, her hands flying to her ears. "It's… hurting. The water is afraid."
"The Balance is failing," King Fritz said, his voice grim. "The natural orders are fraying. The demon in the Silent Forest was not an isolated monster. It is a symptom. A crack through which the darkness of that ancient war is beginning to seep back into our world."
He placed the conch back on its pedestal, the dreadful sound fading. "The Seven Nature Courses—Earth, Fire, Water, Air, Flora, Fauna, and Spirit—are not just kingdoms or disciplines. They are the seven pillars of reality's order, created by Luminous after the banishment. Each was entrusted to a lineage, a people, to steward. For millennia, we have stewarded in isolation. But the Conch reveals the truth: the pillars must now be braced together, or they will all fall."
He looked at each of them, his gaze finally landing on the twins, Tristan and Emerald. "Your presence is no accident. Paragon, the Sky-Course, represents Air and Spirit—the realm of mind and ascension. Aquamaria is the Water-Course. The union has begun with your journey."
Then he looked at Delvin, and his expression was one of awe and dreadful pity. "And you, boy with the commander's sword. The legends say that when the Princes stir in their abyss, a hand will be found to wield Justice once more. Not Micha-el returned, but a new spirit to bear the old burden. The prophecy does not call you a savior. It calls you the Keystone. The one upon whom the weight of the realigning world will rest."
The word hung in the crystal-lit chamber.
Keystone.
Delvin felt the weight of Justice in his hand, no longer just a weapon, but a dreadful, inevitable responsibility. The journey for weapons had become a journey for the fate of everything.
King Fritz's face was solemn. "The next Course you must seek is Ignis, the Kingdom of the Fire-Walkers. But be warned. Their king, Pyre, is proud and isolationist. He will not listen to words of prophecy. He will only respect strength. You must pass through the Sea of Glass to reach his shores. And that sea… is now watched by things that heed the grinding discord in the deep." He paused, his piercing gaze moving from Delvin to rest, with immense gravity upon Abigail.
" Remember this. The keystone holds the arch. But she carries the saviour of the worlds within her. The true Chosen One." He added.
The prophecy was no longer a vague legend. It was a map of their doom, and their only hope. The call to arms had been given. Now, the true journey into fire and shadow began.