5. The Long Rode Home | Lyra #2
The contempt she felt looking at Atlantis now made her want to burn it down. Light the match herself and set it ablaze until the palace was only a pile of ash. Something that wouldn’t be possible beneath the surface.
Lyra decided right then and there she would carry the fire within her and would unleash it when it was possible to destroy it all.
She missed fire, missed its heat, and the way it danced as it consumed.
She missed Daisy, Maelys, Ridge, and Otto.
She missed Wilder.
Lyra blinked hard to keep the emotions at bay.
Drystan swam ahead, taking the lead of their group and smiling with pride at the kingdom he had claimed.
But something in the distance caught her eye as well as the guards stationed beside her. Several more wooden tridents were planted in the seabed, but one looked odd.
Angler swam towards the display and ripped the odd one out of the ground before throwing it down. With slow movements, he picked something up and hurled it into the distance.
Lyra realized it had been a Venus shell.
Drystan whistled and then nodded to Angler when he returned, but no words or explanation were shared.
It was odd, and she struggled to put the pieces together.
Drystan had said that Atlantis had changed.
Did that have something to do with it?
She shifted, and a dull throbbing through her chest and fins was all that remained of the soreness she had felt before.
They swam closer and closer to the city, and it felt familiar, yet foreign.
Anxiety pulsed with each pump of her heart, and she could hear it pounding in her ears.
Lyra had seen several of her father’s parades when he returned from tours of the outer territories.
She could remember the roar of the crowd, the blasting of the horns, and the cheers that were screamed with the waving of her father’s banners.
It was the only time the kingdom seemed joyful outside the palace walls.
Usually, there was a mundane toiling of lengthy existences when she swam through the streets on her way to markets or the reef. But during parades, there was excitement, pride in their kingdom, and reveling in the power of their mighty king.
The blood pounding in her ears at the memory drowned out everything around her, and she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.
Lyra needed to break the Tidal Tithe, and then she could return to the land. She would not have to live out her life trapped here any longer.
Each thrust of her tail brought her closer, the city gate looming like a maw about to swallow her whole.
The urge to run again slithered down her muscles like a snake coiling to strike. But it was too late to turn back now.
They swam through the gleaming silver archway that marked the perimeter of Atlantis.
Lyra held her breath.
Silence greeted them.
There was no roar of a crowd or blast of a horn. There wasn’t even chatter coming from the markets.
A dull hum resonated throughout the kingdom. It almost sounded like a prayer.
It was faint but ominous, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
Lyra turned her attention to the banners that undulated in the current.
She expected to see her father’s banners of crisp navy emblazoned with white waves and his golden trident. But in their place were the black ones of Ithicais.
An emerald eel wrapped around a barracuda in an atrocious shade of green.
Lyra blinked, and the changes pelted her like tiny stones.
Pathways she had traveled every day of her life before were different too. It wasn’t obvious why at first. The concentric rings of houses and shops remained untouched as they cut through the canals that led directly to the palace.
A muted shimmer still gleamed from the golden stone of the buildings, but a cloud had been cast over the kingdom, and more wooden tridents appeared planted in the seabed.
The city had once appeared to be channels of a pearly nautilus shell. It circled in on itself until you reached the magnificent center—the palace. Everything glimmered pearlescent or shimmered in gold.
But it wasn’t that way now, as if the creature inside had died. Leaving the shell to wither away to sand.
The city smelled of stale water in the lazy-moving current, like something rotting on the seabed.
It was similar to the scent of Ithicais, but not as strong.
When she noticed the small crowd that had gathered along their path, her chest constricted.
Children did not wave tiny flags at their presence. There wasn’t even happiness in their eyes as they took in their king and princess.
Mermaids floated languidly, their tails moving with a forced slowness that matched their slow, unimpressed blinks.
It was abysmal at best.
Mermen stood at their sides, grim-faced and arms crossed.
This was not a welcoming from loyal subjects but a silent witness forced upon citizens.
What had happened in her absence that her people looked so broken?
Drystan either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he smiled and waved from his position in front of Lyra. He hoisted the trident up for all to see as they swam past. Throwing it around like a well-earned trophy and not the stolen artifact it was.
She couldn’t help the glare that snarled her features, nor did she want to.
Eyes raked across her flesh, and she met those stares head-on. A few looked surprised, while others looked displeased at her arrival. They bowed their heads not out of reverence, but almost as if they were praying.
Their procession swam through canal after canal, and the closer they got to the palace, the larger the crowds became.
Fish darted through the spectators, and anemones waved in the current.
But the city still smelled—off.
“They don’t seem particularly happy to see you,” Lyra said when Drystan had slowed enough that he swam beside her.
He turned his cheek, and the scratches she had given him were now white lines marring his tanned skin.
“It’s not happiness I require from them. It’s loyalty.”
Drystan raised the trident again, and the crowd bowed.
Lyra rolled her eyes. “They’re not loyal to you. They fear you. It’s very different.”