The hall was silent, the current tense as Marco’s words lingered in the water. King Nerios leaned back slowly in his throne, studying the young prince with eyes as sharp and crushing as the deep.

  “You speak of peace,” Nerios said at last, his voice like stone grinding beneath the tide. “But tell me, son of Gerald—what weight do your words carry? Do you even know the price your father demanded of us? The blood he spilled, the treasures he stole, the lives swallowed by fire while your kingdom feasted on the spoils?”

  Marco held his ground. “I know he took from you. I know our kingdom thrived while yours hid in the depths, wounded. I will not deny it, and I will not insult you by calling it just. You and I both know—another war will not undo the past. It will only bury both our peoples beneath it.”

  A murmur rippled through the gathered court. Calder’s hand tightened on his trident, but he said nothing. Caspian scowled, glaring daggers at Marco as if daring him to falter.

  Nerios’s eyes narrowed further. “Bold words. But boldness is cheap. Tell me, boy—what makes you think you can bridge what even Gerald himself could not? Why should I not cast you and your brothers into the abyss this very moment, and be done with Gerald’s line forever?”

  Marco straightened, his voice steady, his expression unwavering. “Because if you do, the chance for peace dies with us. And I believe—no, I know—our kingdoms can find more strength together than apart. You may not trust my father’s legacy, but judge me on my own. If the sea itself whispered for me to come, then perhaps even it believes there is another path.”

  The king’s gaze lingered on him, weighing, testing. For a long moment, the silence was suffocating. Then—Nerios’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of something not quite disdain.

  “Sharp mind,” the king said, his tone shifting from scorn to measured gravity. “Your tongue cuts as clean as your father’s sword. You do not cower, and you do not grovel. I can respect that… in time.”

  He gestured, the water shifting around his throne as the pressure in the chamber eased slightly. “You will not be cast into the abyss. Not yet. You and your brothers will remain here as my… guests. Tonight, you will dine in my hall. Tomorrow, we shall see if your words hold more than air.”

  The great hall had emptied, its currents still heavy with the weight of Nerios’s decree. Two hours remained before the dinner that would test both trust and patience.

  The king, having dismissed his court, retired to his chambers for rest. His presence was like a tide withdrawn—yet the tension he left behind still pressed on the princes like the sea itself.

  With Calder and Caspian occupied, Sapphire took Marco by the arm, guiding him out through winding coral passages. The glow of her skin cast soft light against the walls, painting the reef in shimmering blues and greens.

  “This is the heart of Coralyth,” she said, her voice more gentle now that her father’s eyes weren’t upon them. “The reefs breathe with us. Every tower, every hall… it all lives, growing as our people grow.”

  Marco touched a vein of glowing coral along the wall, feeling the faint pulse beneath it. “It’s… alive. Like the kingdom itself is one body.”

  Sapphire smiled faintly, her luminous hair drifting in the current. “Yes. That is why I love it. It is not stone and timber like your castles. It is the sea itself, shaping and protecting us. I could not imagine living above the waves… so dry, so rigid, so still.”

  Marco’s lips quirked. “And yet, here we are. A prince of stone walls walking beside a princess of the tides.”

  Her cheeks glimmered faintly, a flush hidden beneath her iridescent skin. For a moment, neither spoke, but their eyes lingered on one another longer than before.

  Meanwhile, Colby was led through the palace by two armored guards, his movements calm but deliberate. He noted every turn, every guard post, every potential weak point in the corridors. He said little, but his silence was not ignorance—it was calculation.

  The guards bowed stiffly as they left him at the entrance of his quarters, a chamber carved from pearl and lit with veins of crystal reef. Colby paused before stepping inside, casting one last glance down the hall, his mind already working through possibilities should diplomacy fail.

  Elsewhere in the palace, Atlas and Jax were not so quiet.

  They had found themselves guided toward the palace’s inner courtyard, a wide expanse of open water where coral trees twisted toward the glowing ceiling above. Waiting for them there, as if by design, stood Calder and Caspian—tridents in hand, their postures sharp, their eyes burning with challenge.

  The currents between them thickened, the silence stretched.

  Atlas grinned, rolling his shoulders. “So this is it, huh? No father, no court—just you two trying to size us up.”

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  Jax spun a knife lazily between his fingers, smirking. “Careful, Atlas. They look like they bite. And I’d hate for us to ruin dinner before it starts.”

  Calder stepped forward, trident gleaming with menace. “You should not have come here.”

  Caspian’s silver-streaked hair drifted as he leveled his weapon. “And if it were up to us… you wouldn’t leave.”

  Sapphire guided Marco through an archway of living coral that opened into a quieter chamber. Strange fish glided between glowing reefs, their scales like drifting lanterns, casting soft light around them. Here, away from the eyes of her father and brothers, her voice softened to something more personal.

  “When I was small,” she began, running her fingers along a vein of blue coral, “my mother used to read me a tale. A story of a disaster that nearly swallowed Coralyth whole. The sea itself raged, the currents turned violent, storms above and below shook the kingdom until we thought we would vanish forever.”

  Marco listened intently, his hands clasped behind his back, his mind already dissecting her words.

  Sapphire turned to face him, her hair glowing faintly in the dim water. “And in the tale, a hero came. Not a king, not a soldier, but one chosen by the tide itself. He wielded water as no one else could—not to destroy, but to bind the seas, to steady them, to calm the storm when even the gods turned away.”

  Her eyes lingered on his, wide with quiet certainty. “Most here think it a fable, a myth mothers tell their children to hush their fears. But I believe it was real. And when I see you, Marco—when I feel the tide stir around you—I believe you are that hero.”

  Marco’s throat tightened. “If that’s true… then where is the disaster? What am I meant to face?”

  Sapphire’s gaze fell, shadows crossing her expression. “That… I do not know. My mother died before she could finish the tale. Only that the sea trembled, and that the hero’s power was the only thing that saved it. Whether it lies in the past or waits in our future—I cannot say.”

  Marco turned away, staring out at the glowing reefs beyond, his mind caught between wonder and dread. Chosen by the tide… a savior… and a disaster I cannot see.

  While Atlas and Jax bristled in the courtyard and Marco walked in Sapphire’s glow, Colby moved with quiet purpose.

  The guards had left him in his quarters, assuming the surface prince would remain where he was placed. But Colby was his father’s son—trained in more than fire and swordplay. He knew when to obey… and when to move unseen.

  He slipped from the chamber, following the dim pulse of reef-lit corridors, each step measured, each breath steady. His flame could not guide him here—fire did not live in the sea—but his instincts sharpened in its absence.

  Turning a corner, Colby froze. He had reached a quieter wing of the palace, marked by heavier coral doors and guards absent from their posts. He pressed closer, finding a chamber slightly ajar.

  Inside, bioluminescent light washed over shelves carved from shell and bone. Colby slipped in, eyes scanning the room. It wasn’t just a study—it was a trove. Scrolls and tomes lined the walls, ink etched in flowing sea-scripts. Some depicted the kingdom’s history, others bore diagrams of creatures Colby had only ever heard of in whispered sailor tales.

  And then he saw them.

  A stack of books sprawled across a coral table, their pages open to elaborate illustrations: krakens with eyes like suns, serpents that coiled around mountains, leviathans with jaws wide enough to swallow fleets whole. Each text bore instructions, diagrams, and sigils—methods of summoning, binding, controlling.

  Colby’s heart sank, his hand tightening at his side. “Sea monsters… they’re not just myths.”

  He turned another page, his breath quickening. If the twins had access to these—Calder and Caspian, with their cold stares and venomous disdain—it wasn’t just his brothers who were in danger. If the twins unleashed such beasts, the entire surface… and Coralyth itself… would drown in ruin.

  The weight of Gerald’s last words—I don’t regret you four—echoed in his mind. And now Colby feared their destiny was larger, and darker, than any of them had realized.

  The courtyard’s coral trees swayed as the water stirred violently. Atlas lunged forward first, his Stormtalons flashing in arcs of speed so quick they left silver streaks in the current. Calder’s trident met them with a resounding crash, the impact rattling through the open space.

  “You think being Gerald’s whelp makes you strong?” Calder sneered, pressing harder.

  Atlas grinned, teeth bared. “No. Being me makes me strong.” He twisted, water swirling around his blades, forcing Calder to shift back a step.

  Across the yard, Jax danced in shadows of his own making, knives flashing like sparks of stone. Caspian lunged with his trident, but Jax slid past with fluid precision, his blade kissing Caspian’s armor and leaving shallow grooves.

  “Slow for someone born in the sea,” Jax taunted, flipping another knife into his palm. “Careful, or I’ll chip more than your pride.”

  Caspian’s eyes darkened, his silver-streaked hair glowing faintly with his anger. Calder, too, began to tremble with rage as Atlas pressed him harder with each strike.

  The twins exchanged a sharp glance—and suddenly their voices rose in unison, chanting in the deep tongue of Coralyth. The water around them churned, darkened, thickened. From the cracks of the coral floor, faint shapes began to stir. The distant rumble of something massive echoed.

  Atlas faltered, eyes widening. “They’re—”

  “Summoning,” Jax finished, his smirk gone as he braced himself.

  Before the sea could split open further, Colby burst into the courtyard, fire blazing faintly around his hands even in the depths, burning against the water with sheer will. His voice thundered, every ounce of Gerald’s command in it.

  “ENOUGH!”

  The twins staggered as the currents stilled. Colby’s fire didn’t burn like an attack—it burned as authority, an unshakable presence that pressed into the very marrow of the courtyard.

  “You dishonor your kingdom by summoning monsters in your own father’s halls,” Colby growled, stepping between the four. “If you want to test us, do it as warriors, not reckless children.”

  Calder’s trident lowered, his jaw tight. Caspian’s glow dimmed, his summoning fading reluctantly. Both glared, but they stepped back, forced into uneasy silence by Colby’s fire and the sheer steadiness in his eyes.

  The tense standstill lingered until light bloomed at the far end of the courtyard. Marco and Sapphire entered, their arrival halting what remained of the clash. Sapphire’s eyes widened at the scene—the strained brothers, the still-glowing weapons, the faint remnants of forbidden summoning hanging in the water.

  “What happened here?” she demanded, her voice sharp as the sea’s edge.