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King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 28: Piece of a Puzzle
🕑 Added 2025-11-30 03:03:25 +0000 UTC[Third Person Pov]
“But there’s something I don’t understand,” Mera interjected, her brows knitting together as she turned toward Vivienne with a puzzled look. “If King Atlan was excommunicated and practically banished from Atlantis, how come he’s spoken so highly of today? In our history, he’s viewed as a great figure—one who laid the foundation of our civilization. He’s recognized, celebrated, even revered as the first King of Atlantis.”
Vivienne smiled faintly, her ancient eyes reflecting both wisdom and melancholy. She gave a slow, understanding nod. “Ah, my dear, your question is a fair one—and one that has echoed throughout generations. There is an old saying among mortals that goes, ‘Time heals all wounds.’ It holds true even in the depths of the sea.” Her tone grew soft, almost wistful, as she continued, “The first generation of Atlanteans indeed despised Atlan. To them, he was the man who tore them from the sunlit world above, who forced them into the darkness of the ocean, into pressure and cold, into a realm they were not yet made for. They resented him for their suffering.”
Vivienne’s gaze turned upward as though she could see through the castle walls. “But time changes everything. The later generations—those born beneath the waves, who knew nothing but the rhythm of the tides and the whisper of the currents—did not share that resentment. They knew only the sea as their cradle, not their prison. And so, what began as hatred transformed into admiration. They came to see Atlan not as a tyrant, but as a visionary. Because of him, Atlantis survived the wrath of the gods, adapted, evolved, and became a kingdom unmatched in strength and beauty. It is all,” she said gently, “a matter of perspective.”
She then raised a delicate finger, as if punctuating her next point. “As for why he is remembered as the first King—Atlan was the first to rule the underwater city of Atlantis. He was also the first to wield the Trident of Poseidon, the symbol of divine authority and royal legitimacy. There were rulers before him, yes, but none had reshaped destiny as profoundly as he did. His reign marked a new beginning… a rebirth.”
Mera’s expression softened, understanding now dawning in her eyes. “I see…” she murmured, bowing her head slightly. “Thank you for clearing our confusion—and for helping us understand the truth about our Kingdom’s beginnings.”
Vivienne’s smile widened kindly. “Anything for you, my dear. It will always be my pleasure to aid the future monarchs of the realm I once called home.” She then shot a playful wink toward both Arthur and Mera, a hint of her old charm glimmering through her regal composure.
At that moment, Dane—who had been listening intently, eyes wide with wonder—slowly raised his hand. “If I may ask,” he began politely, “if King Atlan was excommunicated and banished… how is it that his bloodline still rules Atlantis?” His gaze shifted toward Arthur as curiosity filled his tone.
Vivienne’s expression grew serious once more. Her sea-green eyes settled on Arthur’s with a knowing glint. “It all circles back to the blood of Poseidon,” she said evenly. “That blood is divine—sacred. Its power cannot be denied, for it separates the true rulers of Atlantis from the rest of their kin. Many have tried to dethrone those blessed—or cursed—with it. And yes, on rare occasions, a usurper succeeded. But the sea itself favors its children. The bloodline of Poseidon always returns to the throne—if not in one generation, then in the next. Destiny has a way of correcting such imbalances.”
“I see…” Dane muttered in quiet awe, his scholarly fascination lighting up his face. “Truly fascinating…”
Vivienne clapped her hands softly, the sound echoing lightly through the watery halls. “Now then,” she said with renewed energy, “enough history lessons. It is time I give you something, Arthur—something that will guide you further on your journey, toward the Trident of Poseidon.”
She extended her hand gracefully. From the waterfall cascading behind her throne, a sphere of glowing air bubbled upward, swirling with light and motion. Within it was a single piece of parchment, weathered yet enchanted. The bubble drifted gently through the water and stopped before Arthur, who carefully reached out and took it.
Unfolding the paper, Arthur’s brow furrowed. It was a map—or rather, a fragment of one. Only a quarter of an image was visible, the rest missing.
Vivienne’s voice carried a weight of prophecy. “Once you gather the four essential pieces of the map, it will reveal the path to the Trident. But be warned, Crown Prince of Atlantis—many have taken this same quest.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “None have returned with the prize.”
Arthur let out a low sigh and muttered, “Thanks for the encouragement…” His tone was dry, but Vivienne’s amused chuckle quickly followed.
“It was not meant to discourage,” she replied, smiling softly. “It was a warning—to tread carefully. I have faith, Arthur. Faith that you may be the one to succeed where countless others have failed.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And why’s that?”
“Because you are different,” Vivienne answered simply. Her gaze seemed to pierce through him, as though she were reading something in his very soul. “You are not bound by the same fears or pride that defined your ancestors. There is something in you that sets you apart from all who came before.” Her tone turned mysterious, almost ethereal. “And I suspect you already know it.”
Arthur didn’t respond immediately. He let out a faint sigh and looked away, as though unwilling to dwell on her words. Mera, however, continued to study him quietly, her expression thoughtful—perhaps even concerned. But Arthur didn’t seem to notice her gaze. His attention was already fixed on the fragment of the map.
He flipped the piece of the Map over and wondered aloud, “And where exactly is the next piece of the map? Do we get some clue or riddle we could—?”
Before he could finish, glowing letters began to form across the aged surface. Words seemed to be written by an unseen hand, shimmering faintly with the faint blue glow of ancient magic. Arthur’s brows furrowed as the words etched themselves into the material, the energy pulsing for a brief moment before fading away, leaving behind an elegant script.
“Not all that’s lost lies under wave,
Some treasures rest where mortals crave.
A city shares your kingdom’s name,
Yet basks in sun, not ocean’s claim.
Within its halls of art and lore,
The trident’s path awaits once more.”
Arthur’s eyes scanned the lines carefully.
“Well, the first part of the riddle is clearly saying that the next piece of the map is with land dwellers,” Mera said, crossing her arms as she leaned closer to inspect the text. Her sharp eyes glimmered with curiosity as she continued, “‘A city that shares your kingdom’s name’… Is there actually another city called Atlantis?”
“I don’t think so…” Arthur replied, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. He stared at the map, his expression turning contemplative. “But there is one called Atlanta. Kinda close in name, don’t you think? Maybe it’s referring to that?”
Mera tilted her head, uncertain. “I’m not sure, wouldn’t the name have to be exactly the same? Atlantis and Atlanta aren’t identical.”
Arthur shook his head slightly. “No, it only says that the city shares the name with Atlantis, not that it is Atlantis. So, yeah… I’m pretty confident it’s talking about Atlanta.” His voice carried a hint of certainty now, the kind that came from gut instinct more than logic.
“And where exactly is this Atlanta?” Mera asked, arching a brow.
Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s in America… on the complete opposite side of the world from where we are.”
Mera exhaled softly, glancing back down at the riddle. “And what about the last line?”
Arthur read aloud, “‘Within its halls of art and lore, the trident’s path awaits once more.’” He nodded to himself, piecing it together. “That probably means the next piece of the map is inside some kind of museum—one filled with history or art. So yeah, that confirms it. The next piece is in Atlanta.”
Mera gave a satisfied nod. “Then we know where our journey leads next.”
Just then, Vivienne stepped forward, her ethereal form surrounded by a faint halo of blue-green light. The waters around her began to stir, rippling as if responding to her emotions. “Since you have chosen your path,” she said in her calm, melodic tone, “I will lend you my assistance for the last time in this quest of yours. I understand your time is short and the ocean’s currents will not wait.”
With a graceful motion of her hand, the pool around them began to churn violently. Streams of water rose from its surface, spiraling together until they formed a swirling vortex of light and mist. The sound was like that of a roaring tide trapped in a storm.
“Although I cannot send you directly to Atlanta itself,” Vivienne continued, “the closest I can place you is a location known as Central Park, in America. From there, your journey will resume on land.”
Arthur inclined his head respectfully. “Much appreciated. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”
“Yes,” Mera added, bowing her head in unison, “your assistance has been invaluable. You have our gratitude.”
Vivienne smiled faintly and extended her arms, the vortex growing brighter as it began to hum with power. “Then go, and may the tides favor your course.”
As the swirling waters opened wider, Arthur and Mera turned toward Dane. Arthur called out, “Well? You joining us, or what?”
Dane chuckled softly, his tone warm yet wistful. “I’m afraid not, my friend. This isn’t a quest meant for me. My path lies elsewhere.”
Arthur’s expression dimmed slightly with disappointment. He had grown to like Dane’s company more than he expected. “A shame,” he said, stepping forward and offering his hand. “You would’ve made a fine addition to our expedition. It’s been an honor traveling beside you, Dane Whitman.”
Dane clasped his forearm firmly, giving a respectful nod. “The feeling is mutual, Arthur Curry. I hope you find success in all that you pursue.” He turned toward Mera and offered her the same courteous gesture, which she returned with a gracious smile.
Then, with a mischievous grin creeping across his face, Dane added, “Although I won’t be joining you, I do hope I get an invitation to your ‘coronation.’” He emphasized the word playfully and gave Mera a knowing wink.
Arthur groaned, already regretting the emotional goodbye. “You know what? I’m glad we’re leaving you. Let’s go, Mera.”
Mera chuckled softly under her breath as Arthur stalked toward the vortex. Behind them, Dane broke into laughter, holding his stomach as tears welled at the corners of his eyes. “Safe travels, King of Atlantis!” he called out between laughs.
And with that, the light of the vortex engulfed Arthur and Mera, pulling them from Vivienne’s domain. The sound of rushing water faded, and in the blink of an eye—they were gone, whisked away toward the next leg of their journey.
