A sudden clatter of armored footsteps disrupted the festive atmosphere of the Atlantean square. The light-hearted laughter and awe-filled whispers of the crowd gave way to a tense, expectant hush as ranks of guards rapidly encircled Helios, Kurai, and Skuld, their spear tips gleaming ominously.
Helios raised his hands slowly, palms open, an unwavering smile still etched on his face. Skuld mirrored him instinctively, while Kurai raised her hands with a noticeable reluctance, her expression shifting to an even colder glare as she studied their captors.
"What's the meaning of this?" Kida demanded sharply, stepping between her guards and the outsiders, her tone authoritative but strained with barely concealed frustration.
The guard captain stepped forward, his expression grim, yet filled with wary triumph. "Forgive our interruption, Princess, but these outsiders have been deceiving us. A foreign vessel approaches the city. They've clearly come ahead to scout and prepare."
A murmur of fear rippled through the crowd, spreading like wildfire until an anxious hum filled the square. Kida's gaze swung back to Helios, accusation and uncertainty warring in her eyes.
Helios held her gaze steadily, his voice gentle but firm. "Princess Kida, we are wanderers and storytellers, as I said before. These new arrivals are as unknown to us as they are to you. This is merely a coincidence."
The captain scoffed openly, his stance aggressive. "Do you truly expect us to believe such a convenient explanation?"
Helios's expression didn't falter. "Belief is your choice, Captain, but you'll soon discover the truth, one way or another. Until then, we will comply."
Kurai growled softly under her breath, "This is absurd. You should let us handle this my way, Helios."
Helios glanced at her, his smile unchanged. "Patience, Kurai. We'll resolve this misunderstanding peacefully."
"Peacefully," Kurai echoed coldly, her tone heavy with skepticism. Still, she made no move to resist.
Skuld bit her lower lip nervously, shooting a worried look between Helios and Kida. "This doesn't feel right," she murmured, but she obediently kept her stance neutral.
The captain motioned briskly, signaling his men to bind the trio. They complied without protest, the cold metal restraints clamping tightly around their wrists, a symbolic surrender to ease the mounting tension.
Kida took a step forward, her gaze hardening as she addressed the captain. "Secure them but do them no harm. I'll determine the truth myself."
"Of course, Princess," the captain responded respectfully, yet his eyes remained hard, fixed suspiciously upon the three strangers as they were led away.
Moments later, Kida stood at the city outskirts, her eyes narrowed as she peered into the shadowy caves beyond Atlantis's luminous borders. Guards flanked her closely, weapons ready. From within the darkness, strange lights flickered, casting long shadows against ancient walls as the sound of hushed voices echoed softly.
Emerging from the depths was a group unlike any Kida had ever seen: men and women garbed in unfamiliar clothes, led by a bespectacled young man clutching a worn, leather-bound journal tightly to his chest. Milo Thatch looked up in wonder, his eyes widening behind his glasses as they fell upon the breathtaking, luminous expanse of Atlantis.
"We've done it…" Milo murmured in awe, his voice barely audible as he stepped fully into the radiant glow emanating from the city. His companions followed closely, each face a mixture of astonishment and disbelief.
Commander Rourke scanned the city swiftly, calculating gaze lingering on the guards. "Stay sharp, everyone," he warned quietly. "We don't know how they'll react."
Helga Sinclair's hand rested cautiously on her holster, her gaze sharp as it swept across the ranks of Atlantean guards. The rest of the crew clustered behind Milo, their initial excitement tempered by caution.
Kida stepped forward, poised and regal, her eyes narrowed in suspicion yet open with curiosity. She spoke clearly, her voice resonating with authority. "You have entered Atlantis uninvited. State your intentions immediately."
Milo hesitated briefly, glancing anxiously at Rourke before stepping forward, journal still held protectively. "Please, we mean no harm," he began earnestly. "My name is Milo Thatch. We are explorers from the surface, guided here by this journal—an ancient Atlantean manuscript."
At Milo's fluent words, Kida's eyes widened, the shock evident on her face. "You speak our language perfectly," she said cautiously, her interest piqued despite the tension. "Where did you learn it?"
Milo raised the journal, excitement overcoming his nerves. "From this journal. It belonged to an explorer—my grandfather spent his life searching for Atlantis. He discovered this manuscript, the Shepherd's Journal. It's led us here."
Kida stepped closer, studying him intently. "May I see it?"
Rourke stiffened slightly but nodded discreetly to Milo, who hesitantly handed the precious book to Kida. Her fingers traced the worn cover reverently, recognition and awe blossoming on her face.
"This Journal," she whispered, her eyes widening with amazement and hope. "This manuscript… it contains things we thought lost forever."
A ripple of whispers spread among the Atlanteans, wonder mixing with caution as they watched their princess interact with these strangers from above.
Kida looked up, her voice now steadier and more commanding. "You must come with us. There are questions we must ask, answers we seek."
Rourke stepped forward confidently, a reassuring smile on his lips. "Of course, Princess. We have questions as well. Cooperation will benefit us both."
Unbeknownst to Kida, deeper within Atlantis's labyrinthine chambers, Helios sat calmly in the dim light of a holding cell, eyes closed as he waited. Kurai paced silently, a shadow brimming with impatience, while Skuld sat quietly, her concern evident.
"Relax, the truth will reveal itself soon," Helios finally said softly, as if sensing Kurai's tension. "We must simply be ready when it does. Until then, take a nap."
In the quiet darkness, their breaths echoed softly—a gentle, rhythmic counterpoint to the rising tension enveloping Atlantis, poised on the cusp of revelation or ruin.