Chapter 171
The city gates of Ao loom ahead, towering coral-encrusted structures glowing faintly in the murky water.
The warriors who led us from the eel’s corpse swim with purpose, their movements smooth and disciplined despite the wounds and fatigue still visible from the battle. As we approach, more guards materialize from the shadows of the gates, their weapons glinting menacingly in the filtered light.
“Keep your heads down and let me do the talking,” Cora murmurs. Her tone is calm, but I can hear the edge of tension beneath it. She adjusts her posture, adopting an air of confidence and ease that looks effortless, even underwater.
The guards at the gates intercept us, their gazes sharp as they assess the group. One of them steps forward, his ornate armor marking him as a leader. His presence radiates authority, and his voice is no less commanding. “State your purpose.”
Cora swims forward, a disarming smile spreading across her face. “We come in friendship,” she says smoothly. “Our presence here is not to disrupt but to honor the Eternal Sunrise. We bring news and seek an audience with those who guide this great city.”
The guard’s expression softens slightly, his posture relaxing. He nods and signals to the other guards, who part to allow us passage. The gates begin to open, revealing the sprawling city of Ao beyond.
The glow of bioluminescent structures reflects off the water, creating a kaleidoscope of shifting colors. The sheer scale and beauty of the city take my breath away. Buildings carved directly into the rock rise like coral spires, and schools of glowing fish dart through the open waterways that serve as streets.
“Welcome to Ao,” the lead guard says, his tone almost warm. “You have proven yourselves capable warriors. This city honors strength and resolve.”
Cora dips her head graciously. “You are most kind.”
We’re about to swim forward when another guard’s voice cuts through the moment. “Hold!”
My heart stutters as the guard’s sharp eyes focus on Khale. His expression darkens as he points to the intricate tattoos on Khale’s arms and chest, which glow faintly in the water’s light. “Those markings…” the guard says, his voice tinged with recognition and suspicion. He turns to the others, his voice rising. “The exiled Price. He’s a traitor!”
In an instant, the mood shifts. Weapons are drawn, and the guards’ gazes harden.
“Stand down,” one guard snaps, his spear leveling at Khale.
“No,” Wake growls, stepping forward with his own blade at the ready.
Chaos erupts as the guards surge toward us. I reach for my power instinctively, the cold, biting energy within me stirring, but before I can release it, Khale turns to me, his voice a low hiss. “Don’t. Not here. Not now.”
“Khale—” I start, but his sharp gaze silences me.
“Stand down,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Cora’s hand closes over my wrist, and she shakes her head. “Let them handle it,” she says softly. “This isn’t our fight.”
Every instinct in me screams to intervene, but I force myself to listen. My hands tremble at my sides as I watch, feeling helpless. Useless.
Khale fights with precision, his strikes calculated and efficient, but he’s clearly holding back. Wake, on the other hand, is relentless. His movements are almost too fast for the eye to follow, and each blow he lands sends ripples through the water. The guards are skilled, but Khale and Wake together are nearly unstoppable.
The guards’ weapons gleam as they strike, their discipline evident in every coordinated movement. One manages to graze Khale’s side, drawing a faint plume of blood into the water. He doesn’t flinch, countering with a strike that sends the guard’s weapon spinning from his hand.
Another guard charges Wake, but the Abyssinian warrior moves like a predator, sidestepping the attack and slamming the hilt of his blade into his opponent’s helmet with a bone-jarring crack.
The turning point comes when one of the guards sneers, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Your mother would be sick if she could see you now.”
Wake’s blade flashes, poised for a killing blow, but Khale’s voice rings out, commanding and fierce. “Stop!”
Wake freezes, his blade inches from the guard’s neck. His chest heaves with exertion, and his eyes blaze with rage, but he doesn’t strike.
Khale turns to the guard, his voice cold and steady. “What’s become of my mother?”
The guard’s lip curls, his contempt palpable. “The queen is of no concern to outsiders.”
A shadow of pain crosses Khale’s face, and for a moment, he seems to falter. Then, with deliberate slowness, he drops his weapon. His hands rise in surrender, the motion calm but heavy with resignation. The water around him stills, the weight of his gesture rippling through the scene.
Cora mirrors him immediately, her expression unreadable. She turns her gaze to Wake, who stands rigid, his knuckles white around the hilt of his blade.
“Wake,” I say quietly, my voice trembling. He doesn’t move.
“Wake,” Cora says, firmer this time. “Stand down.”
Wake’s teeth grit audibly, his entire body tense with barely restrained fury. For a moment, I think he might ignore her, but then he exhales sharply and lowers his weapon. His hands rise slowly, the muscles in his arms taut with frustration.
I follow suit, my heart pounding as the guards close in around us. The water feels colder and heavier as their weapons stay trained on us, their expressions cold and merciless.
Without warning, one of the guards swims forward and presses something against my neck. A sharp acrid smell fills my nose, and the world tilts. My limbs grow heavy, my vision blurring as unconsciousness drags me down.
The last thing I see is Khale’s pained expression, his obsidian eyes dark with anger before everything fades to black.
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