The Falls roared like the world was breaking open.
Water thundered down twin cliffs on either side of the basin, mist rising in dense clouds that blurred the edges of stone and sky alike. The air tasted sharp — mineral and cold — and every breath filled my lungs with the sound of impact.
Neutral ground.
Sacred ground.
A place where armies did not tread and kings did not spill blood.
But storms were not bound by politics.
And the man standing across from me was very much a storm.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
We circled instead.
Slow.
Measured.
Like predators deciding whether to fight… or test the ground first.
He watched me from the corner of his eye at first — assessing, calculating — but I could feel the agitation building beneath his stillness.
Lightning flickered harder when I stepped closer.
Not aimed.
Not controlled.
Reactive.
Confused.
He was more volatile around me.
I noticed it immediately.
And he knew I noticed.
Finally, he spoke.
"I'm surprised you came."
His voice was calm — too calm — like still water stretched over something deep and violent.
I lifted one brow slightly.
"I'm surprised you got out of the rock."
His head turned slowly then, red eyes locking onto mine.
Lightning sparked harder along his wings.
"You always did underestimate me."
I folded my arms loosely, unaffected.
"No," I said evenly. "I just assumed Willow buried you deeper."
His jaw flexed.
Good.
Still human enough to react.
We continued circling — boots sliding across wet stone, mist weaving between us like a veil neither of us was willing to cross yet.
Then his gaze sharpened.
"You're looking for the Earth Relic."
The words hit like a blade thrown without warning.
I stilled — but only for half a breath.
He noticed anyway.
Of course he did.
"You're not subtle," he added.
I tilted my head slightly.
"And you're not as mysterious as you think."
He ignored that.
"I know the prison's history," he continued. "Every myth. Every archived record. Every sealed document the Earth Kingdom has buried beneath its throne."
Lightning crackled faintly along his arms as he spoke — power rising with conviction.
"I have access to all of it now."
He stopped circling.
So did I.
"And I will be the one to find its hidden chamber," he said.
The declaration rang across the basin like a vow.
"Before you."
The mist thickened between us.
"And when I do…" his voice lowered, darkened, "…Mortimer will rule this land."
Lightning flared brighter.
"Order will replace chaos."
His wings spread wider.
"Peace will finally come into fruition."
I let the silence stretch before answering.
Because reacting too quickly would make it sound like I was arguing.
And I wasn't arguing.
I was correcting.
"That won't be peace."
His eyes narrowed.
I stepped closer.
The lightning snapped louder now — reactive, defensive — but I didn't stop.
"Peace doesn't come from fear," I said calmly. "It comes from understanding."
He didn't interrupt.
So I kept going.
"Even if Mortimer gets everything he wants…" I said quietly, "…he still won't be happy."
That landed.
I saw it.
A flicker.
Not anger.
Confusion.
"Because whatever scar he's holding onto…" I finished, "…it hasn't healed."
Silence fell.
Not the peaceful kind.
The heavy kind.
The dangerous kind.
Raiden didn't speak.
For a long moment, he just stared at me — something shifting behind his red gaze, something struggling beneath the corruption.
And then—
The air changed.
Lightning snapped violently outward.
His posture stiffened — not defensive, but overtaken.
When he spoke again—
The voice wasn't entirely his.
"Stupid… naïve girl."
The tone was deeper. Older. Laced with something cold and ancient.
I didn't move.
Didn't retreat.
Mortimer.
"You mortals always believe yourselves wiser than the divine," he continued, stepping closer through Raiden's body.
Shadow threaded through the lightning now — wrong, oily, invasive.
"We gods created this world."
The word we lingered unnaturally.
I noticed.
Of course I did.
"I know the stories," I replied evenly. "The four elemental gods—"
"THERE ARE MORE THAN FOUR!"
The roar detonated across the Falls.
Lightning exploded outward, striking the basin walls and turning mist to steam in violent bursts.
The ground beneath our feet cracked.
Mortimer's rage spiraled visibly through Raiden's body — power bleeding through cracks he couldn't fully contain.
"That is where your stories are wrong!" he snarled. "Where your histories lie!"
Lightning lashed uncontrollably now — jagged, erratic — striking stone without aim.
Behind me, I felt Muir's presence surge closer in alarm.
I ignored it.
Instead—
I walked forward.
Into the lightning.
Into the storm.
Mortimer's power snapped around me, striking the ground inches from my feet, scorching stone — but I didn't stop.
I kept walking until I stood directly in front of him.
Close enough to see both eyes clearly.
One red.
One flickering beneath.
I held his gaze — not Raiden's.
Mortimer's.
And I let him see my face fully.
No fear.
No hatred.
Just truth.
"I'm so sorry the world forgot…"
The words weren't loud.
But they cut deeper than any weapon.
Mortimer froze.
Lightning stuttered.
For a split second, something ancient and wounded flickered behind the rage.
And Raiden surged forward through the fracture.
The lightning stopped.
Abruptly.
Silence slammed down across the basin.
He blinked — once — like someone surfacing from deep water.
I softened slightly — but only slightly.
"I know the stories too, of the prison," I said quietly.
His eyes locked onto mine fully now.
"And nothing will stop me from doing the right thing."
I held his gaze.
"From protecting this world."
Then added—
"From Mortimer… and from you."
The words were not cruel.
But they were firm.
Necessary.
He didn't respond immediately.
But when he did, it was no more than a whisper.
"We'll see."
The words ghosted across the mist between us — quiet, certain, dangerous in their restraint.
His mouth curved slowly.
And this time—
The smile was truly wicked.
Not the sharp, taunting smirk he wore in battle.
Not the cold amusement he used to provoke.
This one was slower.
More intimate.
Like he knew something I didn't.
"I am nothing if not a man of my word," he said softly.
The mist curled between us as he stepped closer — not enough to crowd me, but enough that I could feel the shift in air around him. Lightning flickered faintly along the edges of his wings, the glow reflecting in the spray drifting down from the Falls.
His hand lifted.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Every instinct in my body tensed — not fear exactly, but awareness sharpened to a blade's edge.
I could have stepped back.
Should have stepped back.
But I didn't.
His fingers caught a loose strand of my hair where the mist had pulled it free from my braid.
The touch was light.
Almost careful.
"I promised you a gift," he murmured.
My pulse kicked hard against my ribs.
"And a gift you will receive."
He lifted the strand slowly, his gaze never leaving mine — watching, measuring, studying every flicker of reaction I tried to hide.
Then he brought it to his lips.
The kiss he pressed to it was soft.
Too soft.
A contrast so stark to the corruption coiled beneath his skin that it sent a ripple of heat up my spine before I could stop it.
The thread between us pulsed.
Sharp.
Alive.
Recognition flared through it — not words, not thoughts — just sensation.
Heat.
Memory.
The echo of lightning cracking through mist and hands gripping my waist—
I crushed the thought instantly.
His eyes locked onto mine again.
And the tonal shift was immediate.
Predatory.
Amused.
Dangerous.
Like he'd felt the thread react too.
Like he knew exactly what had just flickered between us.
I straightened slightly, forcing my shoulders back, refusing to let him see the way my heartbeat had quickened.
Behind his eyes — deep beneath the lightning glow — something darker stirred.
Not fully Mortimer.
But not fully Raiden either.
A shadow pressing at the edges of his control.
"You're staring," he murmured.
His voice dropped lower — softer, but edged.
"Am I making you nervous, little dragon?"
I held his gaze, refusing to give ground.
"You're making yourself obvious," I replied evenly.
His brow lifted faintly — intrigued.
"Oh?"
"You're trying to get a reaction," I said. "Which means you need one."
For half a second, the air tightened.
Lightning snapped faintly along his wings — sharper this time.
Agitation.
Confusion.
There it was again.
The effect I had on him.
He stepped closer.
Close enough now that the mist clung to both of us equally — cold droplets sliding down his jaw, catching on his lashes.
"And if I said I simply enjoy watching you try not to react?" he murmured.
The thread pulsed again — slower this time.
Not heat.
Ache.
I ignored it.
"You've always enjoyed games," I said quietly. "Even before the corruption."
His eyes flickered — not quite anger, not quite denial.
Memory.
Then it was gone.
His hand lowered slowly, the strand of my hair slipping free from his fingers as he stepped past me — not retreating, but circling.
Predator pacing prey.
Or perhaps predator unsure if prey had teeth.
The mist swallowed him for half a breath before he reappeared at my shoulder, voice low near my ear.
"Careful," he murmured. "You're acting as if you know me."
I didn't turn immediately.
Didn't give him the satisfaction.
"I remember exactly who you were," I said.
A pause.
Then—
"And I know exactly what you've become. And yet I'm still here, doesn't that make you wonder why?"
The lightning around him flared — not explosive, but sharp enough to hiss through the falling water.
The prison had made him violent.
But this—
This agitation was different.
Conflicted.
He stepped back into my line of sight, studying me again — slower this time.
More carefully.
As if trying to solve something.
As if the thread between us irritated him simply by existing.
Mortimer's presence flickered faintly beneath his skin — a dark pressure, watching through him without fully surfacing.
Interested.
Listening.
But not interrupting.
Not yet.
Raiden tilted his head slightly.
"You're trembling," he observed.
I hadn't realized I was — not visibly, just the faintest tension in my fingers.
"From the cold," I replied.
His gaze dropped briefly to my hand — then back to my eyes.
"No," he said softly. "Not the cold."
For one dangerous second, neither of us moved.
Mist.
Lightning.
Water roaring around us.
The world narrowed to the space between our breaths.
Then his mouth curved again — slower this time, sharper.
Truly wicked.
"Relax, Lyra," he murmured.
"I wouldn't waste the gift on fear."
The way he said gift again made the thread pulse once more — uneasy this time.
A warning.
Or anticipation.
He stepped back fully then, wings flexing slightly behind him as distance reasserted itself.
But the air between us remained charged.
Like the storm hadn't passed.
Just shifted shape.
And I knew—
Whatever gift he'd promised…
I wasn't going to like it.
He began circling again — but slower now, deliberate.
"I found some… interesting people," he murmured.
"From the Water Kingdom."
I didn't react outwardly.
But my attention sharpened.
"Interesting conversation," he continued.
"Shadows are everywhere, little flame."
He stepped closer.
"They listen."
Another step.
"They watch."
He circled behind me before I could pivot — lightning flickering close enough to prickle my skin.
"And they overheard something…"
His voice dropped to a whisper beside my ear.
"…about cargo."
My pulse ticked once.
I kept my breathing steady.
He leaned closer still.
"Very specific cargo."
I stayed silent.
He smiled faintly against the mist.
"You've taken quite the interest in it since arriving in the Water Kingdom."
I turned slightly — not fully — forcing him to keep talking instead of confronting.
He did.
Because he wanted to.
"Children," he murmured.
The word hit like ice.
My jaw tightened — but I didn't speak.
He stepped fully behind me then — close enough that I felt the shift of air before I felt him.
His presence pressed at my back without touching, heat bleeding through the mist-chilled space between us.
His voice brushed my ear like a blade wrapped in velvet.
"The one who started it all…"
A pause.
Deliberate.
Measured.
Like he was savoring the moment before impact.
"He's been standing in front of you the whole time."
The words slid down my spine like ice water.
I turned sharply.
Too fast to be composed.
Too fast to be unaffected.
Our eyes met — my breath catching as I realized just how close he was.
Our noses were inches apart.
Mist clung to his lashes, lightning reflecting faintly in the droplets caught on his skin.
He leaned down slightly — not enough to invade fully, but enough to make the height difference obvious. Enough to make it feel like the space between us belonged to him.
His smile widened.
Slow.
Satisfied.
Predatory.
He got what he wanted out of me.
A reaction.
Even if it was only the brief widening of my eyes… the hitch of breath I hadn't managed to hide.
And then he said it.
"The Water King."
The world went very, very still.
The Falls roared around us — thunderous, endless — but I didn't hear them.
Didn't feel the mist.
Didn't feel the cold.
All I felt was the weight of those words sinking like stone into my chest.
The Water King.
The smiling welcome.
The open arms.
The careful neutrality.
The subtle tension Tadewi had noticed.
The unease the gods had whispered.
Still waters hide sharp things beneath.
My stomach dropped.
And Raiden watched it happen.
Watched the realization settle.
Watched the trust fracture.
He stepped back slowly, giving the truth space to land — not out of mercy, but so he could study the fallout.
Lightning danced lazily along the edges of his wings as they began to unfurl, the mist catching in the crackling arcs like stormlight trapped in water.
"We'll see who reaches the relic first," he said calmly.
Not a threat.
A promise.
He lifted into the mist with a powerful beat of his wings — spray exploding outward in a spiral.
"Do enjoy your gift."