Fluid Dynamics
T he subterranean bioluminescent lake far below Eden II was vast and serene. Its glassy surface mirrored the cavern’s ceiling.
Soft, undulating light pulsed from the water in flickering azure, emerald, and violet hues.
Droplets fell in rhythmic harmony from stalactites into the reservoir, their patterns forming a symphony of ripples spreading in delicate rings.
From beneath the glowing depths, a figure emerged.
She broke through the fluid with effortless grace, tilting her head back and sending cascades of liquid falling from her radiant black hair.
Her tresses shimmered like obsidian, woven with blue and diamond-white starlight threads, radiating behind her as she floated.
The lake’s luminescence danced across her skin, a blend of deep bronze and pearl-like shimmer, the marks of her aquatic heritage.
Her eyes, a startling silver with flecks of sea green and gold, opened to the cavern’s dim light.
She sighed, sadness clouding their brilliance for a moment.
She levitated, suspended, her lithe and lean form moving with the rhythm of the stream. She exhaled, the bubbles rising and popping against the surface.
As if awakening from a dream, she began to move.
The lagoon appeared to answer her unspoken call.
The flow shifted, rolling in sync with the undulations of her arms and legs.
She twirled, her form cutting through the liquid, each movement fluid and precise.
Water spirals lifted from the lake, twisting and arcing above her head before collapsing in gentle splashes.
She leaped, her figure suspended midair for a heartbeat, encircled by floating droplets that caught and refracted the cavern’s illumination.
Her people called it fluidic kinesis , the ability to manipulate water as though it were an extension of themselves.
It was not an unlimited meta force like the powers of others she had seen.
Her gift only worked with water’s inherent power, coaxing it to flow with its natural tendencies. Solid substances—stone, metal, earth—remained impervious to her abilities. But here, engulfed by liquid energy, she was untouchable.
She spun again, her movements becoming a choreography.
Her feet skimmed the lagoon’s surface as a fluid column rose to support her. It lifted her higher, forming a pillar that dissolved when she leaped.
She twisted midair, her arms commanding patterns into the ripples across the lake. The water obeyed, swirling in response to her silent exhortations, creating shapes that disintegrated as fast as they appeared.
Every movement carried a purpose.
Her dance was not mere artistry but an expression of grief and longing. With each leap and dive, memories of her dying home filled her mind.
Her world—at one time a paradise of verdant fountain scapes, cascading waterfalls, and limitless blue horizons—had been reduced to a desolate husk.
The enemy had drained the surface lakes and seas, seeking the gem reservoirs hidden beneath, the sanctuaries of her people.
Her people, the Vaelorii of Orilia XIV, had scattered, and their once vibrant society had diminished to isolated pockets of survivors.
She paused, floating on the lake’s top, her eyes closing as her heart ached.
Whenever she shut her eyes, she was consumed with images of endless fields of cracked earth where there were once lush wetlands, the desiccated bones of creatures that had thrived in her world’s waters.
Crowding her thoughts were the visages of her family, their faces lined with worry as they whispered of survival and retaliation.
Now, so far from her home, she carried the burden of her people’s hopes and quiet despair.
Her mission was clear: bring back the one thing she hoped would save what remained.
Her hand skimmed the water’s surface, sending ripples outward as her mind raced.
She had seen him earlier, on the streets of Eden II, during the unmitigated attack scene on Saturn Street.
His towering frame, standing well over six and a half feet, had been sculpted with sinewed muscles. They rippled with barely contained energy, a testament to years spent in battle and rigorous training.
His shoulders were broad, his chest expansive, tapering to a narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs anchoring his formidable presence.
His ebony boots, reinforced with subtle, high-tech enhancements, thudded with each purposeful step.
Hair, jet black and wavy, fell just past his collarbone, framing a chiseled face with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw.
A scar cut across his left eyebrow, a memento of countless skirmishes.
His almost ethereal, luminous green eyes glowed with the meta-energy coursing through him.
They also expressed a depth of sorrow, as if he were forever searching for redemption in a world that offered little forgiveness.
Over his skin, meta-black and glowing emerald tattoos snaked and shifted as though alive.
The ink formed intricate, otherworldly patterns that pulsed with a force she sensed, moving in subtle rhythm with his emotions and bio-vitality.
She’d marveled at how they’d flowed like a slow tide, yet at the same time crackling with electricity, like living circuitry etched onto his skin.
They were both a testament to his past and a visible reminder of his connection to the meta-energy, which made him more than human.
Small pieces of black, obsidian-like jewelry were also embedded in his dermis, artfully shifting in kinetic patterns along his chest, shoulders, and arms.
These elements had caught the light in subtle ways, giving him an armored appearance even without additional gear.
She’d even noted the two onyx jewel stud earrings adorned his ears, simple yet striking against the dark tone of his features. They added a piratical edge to his already brutal and menacing outward manifestation.
His power was unlike any she had encountered before.
Towering and brooding, his every movement carried a lethal precision. He had leaped into the fray with a vibrating energy.
His potency—kinetic, raw, unyielding—had captivated her.
She had observed, hidden in the shadows, as he subdued his enemies with a terrifying grace.
He was dangerous—she had no doubt.
However, he was likewise compelling, his presence pulling at her like the moon tugging at the tide.
Beneath his control, she had sensed a shadow of guilt. A weariness hung over him like a storm cloud.
She swirled the water around her again, this time with intention.
It rose, twisting into the form of a man—a towering figure with broad shoulders and glowing viridescent eyes.
She studied the shape, her movements slowing as her mind filled with questions.
What kind of man wielded such dominance? What pain had carved those lines into his face? Would he see her as a threat or be drawn to her as she was to him?
Her moon-dust-flecked eyes flicked upward to the cavern’s ceiling.
She couldn’t afford to waste time on fascination, so she let her liquid sculpture crash to the surface, flinging waves and drops of water into the air.
She paid the surge no mind, refocusing her thoughts.
Her mission was everything, and her people’s survival depended on her success.
There was no time for longing, no space for distraction.
Yet one question lingered: Would her dance mesmerize him as his power had enticed her?
The image of him lingered, etched into her thoughts like ripples refusing to fade.
She pushed herself upright, her feet finding the smooth stone at the lake’s edge. Droplets clung to her skin as she stepped out, the bioluminescent water highlighting the lean contours of her frame.
Her hair hung to her back, shimmering as she shook it loose.
She gathered her belongings from a small locked alcove carved into the cavern wall.
Her straightforward, form-fitting attire of dark blue shimmered in the dim light, designed for the duality of land-based and aquatic life.
She wrapped herself in a lightweight cloak, concealing her face and heritage as best she could.
If Eden II had taught her anything, ‘twas that strangers were welcome, sometimes too much, and the locals’ curiosity was a security risk.
The only person who’d paid her any attention was Ma’Shella - the woman she’d compensated to take an extended holiday on the pleasure planet of Zanyria. While she took over her apartment, life, and job.
As she made her way back through the winding tunnels leading to the surface, she touched the walls with a damp hand, sending kinetic pulses along the rare waterways of the moon rock.
Her mind raced, thoughts still lingering on the Rider. On his strength, his rawness, his kineticism, all of which called to her.
Perhaps it was foolish to trust he was the answer she’d been searching for, but she had no choice. Her people and her loved ones sought hope.
They needed faith.
They required him .
Deep down, she desired him too, more than she cared to admit to anyone.