The skies over the North Atlantic were an endless blanket of gray. Below, the cold sea swelled with quiet unrest, its waves lapping hungrily against the rusted sides of a whaling fleet. Four vessels cut through the water like blunt knives, their engines rumbling low — the kind of sound you'd hear from a dying beast.
On the main harpoon boat, the Typhon, the crew were all business. Cigarettes dangled from wind-chapped lips, greasy gloves rubbed at fogged goggles, and the stench of blood and diesel clung to everything.
"Third breach starboard! She's massive—target's wounded but not diving!"
shouted the spotter from the tower, his voice crackling through the comm.
Below deck, Captain Royce Harland, a square-jawed, sun-scorched man in his 50s, leaned over a sonar monitor pulsing with bright blue echoes.
"She knows she's dying," he muttered, smirking.
"Bleed 'er out. Harpoon team, make it count."
On the deck, Luca, one of the younger harpooners, gritted his teeth.
"Don't feel right, Captain. Feels like we're pushing it."
Royce didn't even look back.
"That's not a whale. It's product. You want a paycheck or a conscience?"
Before Luca could answer, the sea beneath the secondary cutter screamed.
That's the only way they could describe it — a screech of metal shearing, ocean roaring, and something ancient waking up.
The boat rose—no, was launched—into the air like a toy kicked by a giant.
Then it exploded.
Water and fire sprayed skyward as men screamed. One sailor was flung from the flames and snatched mid-air by a blur of blue and silver.
"Holy sh—!" one crewman gasped, watching the shape arc above them — a humanoid figure, glowing, trailing vapor and salt, its wings slicing the air like razors.
Kaius, now known to the world as Tidebreaker, descended like a vengeful comet, his ankle-wings flaring. As he struck the deck of The Typhon, metal buckled and screamed. Saltwater steamed off his armor, eyes burning with the fury of the deep.
His trident whirled in a sweeping arc, slicing the harpoon cannon clean in half before it could fire.
"This sea is under my protection," he growled, voice resonating like thunder through the hull.
---
Panic set in.
One crewman raised a shotgun — Tidebreaker hurled his trident, the weapon spinning like a turbine. It struck the weapon's barrel, snapping it and sending the man flying overboard from the force of the ricochet.
Two more men came at him with blades and welding tools. Tidebreaker kicked off the deck, wings flaring open, and shot upward like a spear, then dropped into them like a falling star.
The deck splintered under his impact. One man was knocked unconscious by the shockwave; the other tried to crawl away, only to be dragged to the edge and tossed overboard.
Another ship tried to turn away — too late.
Tidebreaker sprinted across a steel beam, leapt across the water, and smashed through the pilot tower window like a missile. He ripped out the control panel, grabbed the wheel, and forced the ship to crash into its sister vessel, creating a wall of flame and debris.
From a distance, it looked like the sea had caught fire.
Only one boat remained, limping. The crew inside didn't even fight back — they leapt into the ocean, screaming prayers and curses, some swimming for life rafts, others disappearing beneath the waves.
The sea fell quiet again. Bits of wreckage floated like broken bones. Oil and blood formed a slick black mirror.
And above it all, he hovered.
Wings folded, trident gleaming with water and blood, Tidebreaker stood in the air as if the ocean itself held him aloft. The sky cracked with distant thunder. His eyes scanned the wreckage, not for survivors, but for witnesses.
Let them see.
Let them remember.
"The ocean is not yours to harvest. You are not its kings... I am."
With that, he turned. In a blur of blue, he dove backward into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves like he was never there.
---
The deeper Kaius swam, the colder and darker the ocean became.
Up above, the light filtered down in scattered beams, but as he descended into the Abyssal Trench, even those rays were devoured. Only the glow of his bioluminescent markings and the flickering currents of underwater wildlife accompanied him now.
His wings — long, blade-like fins styled after flying fish — folded close as he streamlined through the water. Each beat of those iridescent fins sent him shooting past coral ridges, sunken warships, and bioluminescent predators that fled the moment they sensed his pressure wake.
And then...
Atlantis revealed itself.
---
It began as a faint light beneath the silt and blackness — but as he approached, the darkness peeled back to unveil a colossal dome of shimmering energy, nested in a massive undersea canyon. Through the barrier, towers of sea-glass, coralstone, and pearlescent alloy spiraled skyward, crowned with spires glowing in hues of azure, jade, and silver.
Whole schools of fish darted between the buildings, merging with fluid transportation channels that carried Atlantean citizens through archways and sky-bridges. Bioluminescent flora lit every walkway. The city pulsed like a living organism, vast and ancient and utterly alien.
Guards at the outer reef saluted as Kaius approached — each one armed with hydrolances and armored in plated kelp-steel. They recognized him instantly, bowing as he passed through the shimmering gate.
"Prince Kaius," one rumbled in a low, guttural voice. "The Queen awaits."
The palace was a marvel: a spiraling fortress of coral fused with molten obsidian and translucent sapphire shells. It stood at the center of Atlantis like a crown jewel — regal and unyielding. Sea dragons coiled along the outer rings, basking lazily in glowing thermal vents.
As Kaius entered, attendants bowed, and water parted from the grand throne chamber. A pressure seal engaged, allowing speech in open air — a tradition for all diplomatic meetings in the palace.
And there she sat, resplendent on a throne made of black coral and swirling seashells: Queen Aquiria.
[Image]
She was the image of Atlantean grace: tall and regal, with glistening teal scales, flowing finned hair like living kelp, and a shimmering cape that resembled ocean waves. Her face was sharp yet elegant, framed by gill-frills that flexed as she breathed. Though anthro-fish in form, she radiated intelligence and strength.
"Nephew," she said, voice cool and composed. "I smelled blood in the northern current. Yours?"
Kaius knelt respectfully, his trident across his back. "None of it mine, Your Majesty. The whalers have been repelled. Their fleet is scattered."
"And the humans?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Did they learn?"
"If they didn't today... they will. I made certain of that."
A moment passed. Then the Queen nodded, gesturing for him to rise.
"You do your father proud, Kaius. Your strength echoes his — and your loyalty surpasses even his. You are of the royal blood, hybrid or not... and Atlantis knows this."
Kaius lifted his head, his expression firm. "I do not seek the crown."
"Good," Aquiria said. "Neither did your uncle. And yet here we are, constantly guarding it."
She rose from her throne, fins unfurling with dignity.
"The surface world has its Guardian. But Atlantis has you. You are our blade in the depths, Kaius. Our tidebreaker. Remember this."
He bowed again, and as he stood, attendants entered bearing scrolls and reports — signs that royal matters never ceased.
As the Queen turned to attend to state matters, Kaius cast one last look toward the throne, then turned and walked back toward the sea.
The world above might be crumbling.
But beneath the waves, a prince kept watch.
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