Chapter 198
Khale glides forward, commanding every eye in the arena as he moves. He stands tall, his eyes burning as bright as the molten veins still trailing across the arena floor. The golden glow in his gaze never dims, a stark contrast to the fear and uncertainty rippling through the crowd. With Tangaroa’s power coursing through his veins, he is the embodiment of something ancient and unbreakable.
Raif remains on his knees, his face ashen with disbelief and rage. He’s muttering something under his breath, words lost to the distance and the roar of my pulse in my ears. Khale fixes him with a stare that freezes even Raif’s most dedicated guards in their place.
“Raif,” Khale’s voice rings out, deep and commanding. The crowd quiets immediately. “You have committed crimes against your own people. You plotted to doom Ao to pointless war, spilling the blood of our sons and daughters for nothing but ego and power.” He moves closer, until his shadow swallows his uncle, and Raif recoils slightly. “You killed your brother to claim the throne, and in doing so, you betrayed Tangaroa and everything our ancestors built.”
Khale continues, “But the people of Ao are not yours to control. You have lost the right to call yourself their king.” He turns to the guards flanking Raif. “Arrest him.”
For a moment, the guards hesitate, glancing at each other. But then, one by one, they move forward, seizing Raif by the arms. Raif thrashes, hissing curses and threats, but his words fall flat. His eyes widen in growing panic as he’s dragged upright. “You’ll regret this, Khale!” he snarls, but the venom in his voice lacks conviction. He knows, deep down, that he’s lost.
The people in the stands begin to cheer, their voices rising in unison. They chant the name the fighters had given Khale during the tournament: “The Lost Prince! The Lost Prince!”
Cora squeezes my arm, her eyes shining with fierce pride. “He’s doing it,” she whispers. There’s awe in her voice, as if witnessing a prophecy fulfilled.
Khale waits for the crowd to quiet again before he addresses them directly. He swims higher, his posture regal but not arrogant. His voice carries with strength and warmth. “People of Ao,” he begins. “Many of you know me as Khale, the outcast son of a fallen King. I have been gone for a long time, and I will not pretend that I have all the answers or that my return alone will solve our problems. But I stand before you today as Tangaroa’s chosen Heir. I do not seek to rule you through fear or deception. I promise to be the King and Heir you deserve.”
The crowd listens intently, the tension in the water easing ever so slightly as Khale’s sincerity reaches them. I see warriors exchanging glances, their rigid stances softening. Parents clutch their children close, hope glimmering in their eyes.
“I will lead by my father’s example,” Khale continues. “I want peace for this city. I want honesty between us, because we are all sons and daughters of Tangaroa. We share this heritage, this legacy. And because of that, I believe it is my duty to warn you of the unrest brewing in the territories beyond our borders.”
Murmurs of unease ripple through the crowd. The mention of unrest stirs their fears, the horrors of the Menagerie and Raif’s tyranny still fresh in their minds. Khale lifts a hand, calming them once more.
“Do not be afraid,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. “I remain committed to keeping Ao at peace. But we must be prepared. A time may come soon when I will ask more of our warriors. Not to fight and die in an arena for sport. Not to march to war for the sake of a single man’s ambition. But to rise as Tangaroa’s chosen, to defend our home, our way of life, and our species from those who would tear us down.”
His words spark something deep within the people. Tension transforms into determination. A low, rumbling battle cry begins in the far reaches of the arena, spreading until it fills the entire space. Warriors pound their weapons against the ground or against their shields, the rhythmic sound like a stampede. The echo resonates through my very bones.
Khale’s gaze scans the crowd, and for a moment, it lands on Cora. She’s staring at him with open admiration, her pride radiating like a beacon. Their eyes lock, and Khale’s expression softens ever so slightly before he turns his attention back to the people.
“Ao,” he calls out, his voice carrying above the battle cries. “Will you stand with me? Will you accept me as your Dawn King?”
The response is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from every corner of the arena. Some people openly weep with joy, their tears mixing with the saltwater around them. Entire swaths of warriors salute Khale, crossing their arms over their chests in a gesture of solidarity and respect. Parents lift their children high above their heads to witness the moment, knowing it will be recounted in stories for generations.
“The Dawn King!” someone shouts, and soon the chant spreads. “Dawn King! Dawn King!”
Cora grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly as the crowd’s chant reverberates through the arena. “He’s done it,” she says again, her voice thick with emotion. “He’s truly done it.”
I watch Khale, my heart swelling with something I haven’t felt in a long time—hope. He stands at the center of it all, radiant and unyielding, his people’s faith lifting him higher than any throne ever could. This is no longer just about reclaiming a crown. This is about unity, about a future that’s finally within reach.
Raif’s captured gaze lingers on Khale, and I see something break in him. His defiance crumbles into something hollow—recognition that his time has ended. The guards pull him further away, and the crowd’s cheers swell even louder. In this moment, there is no room for fear. Only triumph.
Khale raises both arms high, a silent acknowledgment of the people who have placed their trust in him. His voice, though calm, carries across the water like a commandment. “Together, we will build something greater than any of us have ever known. Together, we will honor Tangaroa.”
The crowd explodes with renewed cheers. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I let myself believe that better days are coming.
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