3. Chapter Three
Chapter 3
Atlantean Quarter, Manhattan
Two weeks later—01 November 2076
Delacroix Arx—House Mneseus
“H ow long have you known?” Dante Delacroix asked the newcomer. The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor broke the silence. Only a handful of people had access to his office, even fewer could enter without an invitation. Dressed all in white, Sypha cast an angelic shadow that almost blinded him. Dante turned his attention back to the bustling city he now called home. The city had helped him build an empire. The orange and red hues of the rising sun danced along the skyline until the colors merged into one. He had spent the last three hundred years helping to shape the city. And in turn it had helped him build an empire. The city was the pinnacle of Atlantean and human ingenuity, an example of what both species could accomplish when they worked together.
“Three weeks,” Sypha said, the words curt and to the point.
“Why did you wait?”
“I was uncertain about the woman’s identity,” Sypha stated. There was no hint of emotion in their voice. They moved closer to him. Even with heels, Sypha barely reached his shoulders. “I can see potential futures,” Sypha softly reminded him. “Possibilities. I don’t dictate when they appear.”
Dante glanced down at his watch; the silver band gleamed in the emerging light. “Are you sure she is who we have been looking for?”
As his senior adviser, Sypha was privy to all the intricate details of his work. The world may view Sypha as his personal assistant, but they were so much more—perhaps even the reason he could stay one step ahead of his competitors.
“Yes,” Sypha said. They glanced at their gloved hands. “The council has denied your request to access the vault outside of the Jimourt. This was not an option until now.”
Dante did not need to be reminded of the shortcomings of the Atlantean council. The elected officials had held no genuine power in the last eight hundred years, but they still clung to some vestige of the past. “Dr. Sinha is your solution? The archaeologist we recently terminated.”
It had not been personal. The council had demanded an investigation into the accident and had wanted full accountability. As an outsider, the hybrid had been a simple choice. None of the committee had disagreed with him. If he had known it would come back to haunt him, he may have made another decision.
“Yes.” Sypha handed him the tablet. “Rieka Sinha was the only person who entered the temple.”
Dante flicked through the report. He had funded the excavation, and like every other one, it had been a dead end. He was earning a reputation for being far more like his father than any of his family and enemies had previously given him credit for. An idealist and a dreamer—it had been a fatal combination for his sire. Let the council and the elite families think he had inherited his father’s madness. It was always the same until they realized they needed him more than he needed them. He bit back a laugh. Locating Vandana’s tomb would give him enough leverage among the Houses that the small empire he was building would stand the test of time, long after he was gone. “There was nothing in the temple.”
“The excavation directors submitted the final report three days after the accident,” Sypha said.
Chaucer Delacroix. He had trusted his younger cousin with the excavation, but perhaps he had been too hasty. Dante let the silence grow between them. It was going to be a long day. “What did you see?”
Sypha blinked at him slowly, their dual-colored eyes unwavering in their intensity. One black and the other pale blue. The other Houses considered it a physical defect, a mark on an ancient Atlantean lineage. But he knew better. They were the mark of a seer.
“The tomb,” Sypha admitted, their tone tinged with hope. “And Dr. Rieka Sinha.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.” Sypha bowed their head, lost in thought. “It is dark, and I can hear the screams of animals. For weeks, I saw only a shadow. Two days ago, I saw her face. It is the same woman from the excavation.”
Dante closed his eyes. He could not demand any other answers. Sypha’s gift did not work linearly. If he pushed them too far, they would break under their fragile hold of reality. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Rieka has no known links to any of the Houses.” Sypha tapped their wrist. A hologram appeared between them. “No recent contact with her human sister or father. Her Atlantean mother is presumed dead. A plane crash, but they never recovered the body.”
“What House was the mother affiliated with?”
“None. She appears to have been nyath . We are looking through the records for any connections.”
A ghost—an Atlantean who had walked away from the Houses. Rare, but not entirely unheard of today.
“Rieka may be the reason we find the tomb, or she may play only a small part, but you need her.”
Dante stared at the awakening city beneath him as he flexed his hand. Finding the tomb and their original home would be his legacy. And it would restore his father’s reputation. “At the Jimourt ?”
“Yes.”
A hologram of a woman materialized. Standing in the middle of a desert with dusty clothes, she moved around, energy bursting out of her. “She is your ten o’clock appointment. I will meet her in the foyer. I may find a clue to help understand why she is important.”
Sypha quietly left, leaving Dante alone. He moved closer to the image.
A messy braid draped over Rieka’s shoulder; malachite-green streaks poked through the dark strands. Light brown skin glowed under the sun. Rieka was pretty, her gaze defiant and full of life, almost as if she was daring someone to challenge her. It was the gaze of someone who still found joy in the world. But that was not what held him entranced or triggered the subtle racing of his heart. Rieka’s eyes were a mixture of red and gold, the colors of a burning flame.
Forgotten by most Atlanteans, only one lineage was whispered to have had eyes the color of flames.
The lost royal house.