Proven (Daughters of the Sea #1)

by Kristen Day

  Achilles Sebastian Theophanides

  Anastasia Nemertes Theophanides

  STASIA

  As I convinced my feet to follow Maera up one of the seven bridges toward the Games Metropolis, I felt as if I was stepping into another century; a time entangled with the luxuries of sectarian opulence, bloody battles waged in the name of jealous Gods, and extravagant rites of passage. The weathered stones shimmered gold under the relentless rays of the sun, causing me to squint. Looming in the distance stood one of seven ominous arches, announcing the end of the bridge and the entrance to the city. Chiseled stone showcased colorful mosaics that streamed up its sides with hand-carved sculptures adorning its curved length.

  Drawing closer, I realized the mosaics and sculptures bore the likenesses of ancient Greek warriors - men and women - clad in armor or traditional robes, wielding swords or bow and arrows; their figures swimming and manipulating massive waves as they crashed upon doomed opponents and toppled walls. Overlooking the fighting figures were startling sculptures of indicative Gods and Goddesses cheering them on with flowing robes and laurel wreaths.

  I sensed their wayward gazes on me as we paraded beneath the arch, crossing the threshold and stepping onto the main stone path. It splintered into a myriad of side streets and alleyways, showering warm hues of honey and sunshine onto the surrounding buildings. Their gaping windows lined the walkways, watching over the barren Metropolis. The distinguished past of the Metropolis could be felt as it radiated from the seasoned walls of every structure and echoed up from the smooth beaten paths. This could have been the abandoned streets of Pompeii or Cyprus. Even though it was built many, many centuries ago, I couldn't help but marvel at how well preserved it was. I supposed hibernating beneath an enchanted lagoon could provide that kind of protection.

  "This is unbelievable," I gushed. "When was it built?"

  "It is as old as Atlantis itself." Maera's words weighed heavily in the air amidst a cloud of reverence and nostalgia. "Atlas himself oversaw the construction and harped on even the most tedious of details." She smiled at a surfacing memory before continuing, "He is a dreamer with a perfectionist complex."

  "It's a work of art in itself," I raved, taking in the gold, silver, and bronze hues.

  "Every building is dedicated to housing Game participants except for the Citrine, the Arena..." she swept her left hand dramatically towards a wide path leading to an ostentatious sterling structure, "...and the Baths."

  "The Baths?" I pushed, realizing it was the only building that didn't seem to contain even a fleck of gold. Its stark white color contrasted with the whole of the city, disclosing it as unprecedented and separate.

  "In ancient times, the Baths were much more than the small porcelain tubs you see today," she said with a chuckle. "They were a gathering place - a community pool and fountains where gossip was started, bets were placed, lovers found, lovers lost, and on more than one occasion, fights spurred by the ego."

  "I have a feeling this year won't be any different," I surmised with a knowing grin. The closer we got, the larger the Baths complex became. At least six prominent domes punctuated its roof and imbibed it with an air of abundance and prestige that gave me chills. A grand staircase provided a slow procession to the entrance, allowing ample time to appreciate the architectural work of art that was as large as ten city blocks.

  Upon entering a sprawling circular foyer, I was immediately impressed by the decorative floors depicting grand sea monsters, Gods, Goddesses, beasts of the deep, and even figures doing the unmentionable with voluptuous, unclothed bodies. We continued on until we reached the entryway of the first of the grand Baths.

  The size of a football field, the crystalline waters were made that much more ethereal by the sprinklings of fountains within and emerging from every wall. The glass dome above flashed brilliant colors across the water's surface and I easily pictured hundreds of descendants swimming together, laughing and joking. A smile lifted the corners of my mouth and I closed my eyes before taking a deep breath. The entire place felt...healing. The fierce cooling energy of the water immediately spoke to me and I realized it was...enhanced. Replenishing. Invigorating.

  "The competitions are quite trying on participants," Maera informed me as if reading my mind. "The Baths provide somewhat of a filter; pulling the fatigue from muscles and healing the deepest of wounds."

  "Similar to..." I began wistfully.

  "The Gods and Goddesses inherent gifts," she concluded for me. "It is the closest many will get to immortality. We want to reward their bravery and chivalry, if only for a short time."

  I was suddenly overcome by a debilitating wave of ineptness and fear. I could sense the legacy that preceded me bearing down on my conscience, demanding perfection. I knew the expectations. I understood the life my mother created for herself and that of the Tydes. I knew what I had to live up to, but I was unsure of how to make that happen.

  "The fine for trespassing before the gates have officially opened is punishable by the Queen herself," a gruff voice threatened in a thick British accent from behind an unassuming column. "Or perhaps I should consider feeding you two phillies to my sharks. Dexter hasn't eaten today, and I think he'd love a nice, tall order of Goddess steak."

  "I happen to know Dexter enjoys a more...delicate cuisine." The Queen giggled and I glanced between the two of them with bemusement.

  "Blimey, Queenie, I was hoping to intimidate our newest guest of honor!" the man chuckled before finally revealing himself in the light of the dome. A mass of silver hair faded into white as it hugged his ears and met beneath his chin in the form of a lavish beard. The etched lines of his face and neck were made more so by his sun-weathered skin.

  "I wouldn't advise testing the daughter of Thetis," Maera's exhalation lilted up into a laugh. "When she's done, we'll be feeding you to Dexter and Dallas."

  "The daughter of Thetis, eh?" Cyrus's nose pinched with scrutiny and his inquisitive gaze swept over me.

  "Anastasia, I'd like you to meet Cyrus, the Lead Game Herald."

  "Mighty nice to meet you, ma'am." He gently took my hand and kissed it before kneeling carefully and bowing his head. "The resemblance to your mother is startling."

  "Thank you." I nodded to him. His genuine smile and calm demeanor instantly put me at ease and I felt his essence rush over me. It was warm and earthy, similar to Maera's yet...different. It held a steady undertone of truth and stability. I felt as if I could trust my life to him with no questions asked. His focus was steady and even, hinting at a man of integrity.

  "Cyrus has lived on Atlantis as long as I," Maera explained. "He has a special ability to discern a lie from the truth immediately. He is also gifted with the ability of judgment. He can feel a person's intentions and purity of soul; making him especially important in ruling an island nation, as well as managing the Games."

  "Do you..." I mused with confusion, "live in the Metropolis?" I couldn't figure out how this man had appeared out of nowhere when we only pulled it from the lagoon half an hour ago. A boisterous laugh rocked his shoulders as his eyes twinkled appreciatively.

  "No dear, only my sharks. I live in town. A little birdy sent word of the Metropolis rising today." He winked at Maera. "I wanted to be the first to begin preparations."

  "The heralds are similar to judges," Maera expounded. "They keep the peace and ensure integrity and sportsmanship among all participants."

  "We have a knack for knowing when someone is being less than honorable," Cyrus eluded proudly.

  With the lead Herald now accompanying us on my tour of the Baths, we perused five more inviting pools, three expansive steam rooms, and multiple lush gardens already bursting with flowers, herbs, and fruit trees. When I asked how it was possible for them to exist, considering the entire Metropolis was just raised from a slumber beneath the lagoon, Maera only offered a vague explanation with a suspicious wink, telling me, "This is Atlantis, dear."

  As we abandoned the Baths to explore more of the Metrop
olis, voices of the past echoed from the ancient buildings, calling to me and inviting me into their secrets of antiquity. Row upon row of ambiguous buildings passed us by as we continued toward the one structure dwarfing the rest of the city: the Arena.

  Its imperial outer shell greatly resembled the coliseum of Rome; the multiple stacked levels encompassing a similar array of arches and hand carved statues. The curved rim punctured the sky in a statement of regality and persistence, setting my pulse on fire and eliciting a blanket of goose bumps on my arms at the same time.

  "The Arena itself is actually something of an amphitheater," Maera detailed. I gawked at the marvel of architecture that stood silently before us and waited patiently for her to continue, questions teeming in my wide eyes. "Its shape is a semi-circle that encases the field and running track, and then it opens up to the lagoon beyond for viewing of the water competitions."

  We passed under one of the many arches littering the foundation and arrived in the underbelly of the Arena. Out of the sun's limitless reach, our surroundings darkened considerably and the temperature dropped several degrees. I followed my tour guides as we wound through countless passageways and bare rooms of stone. Finally reaching an unassuming staircase, we climbed higher to a third level. Scalloped windows lined the concave wall, which I quickly realized was anything but. It was actually a divider, stopping me from tumbling down into the Arena seating that swept downward at a dizzying distance. Being on the third level, I wasn't expecting such a drop, but it quickly became apparent that the Arena seating and floor were partially sunken into the ground. The view from each window provided an unobstructed, panoramic picture of the grass field below, as well as the sparkling lagoon beyond. It greatly reminded me of the arena Finn fought in to become leader of the Sons. The one glaring difference was that this was an amphitheater, a half circle, and there weren't two men at its center trying to kill each other.

  "This is the Captain's level," Maera interrupted my memory. "It's an exclusive level for the participants to watch the Games and spend time resting. We provide them food, water, and any other comforts they request." I strode forward and rested my hands on one of the bottom sills; gazing out over the Arena with awe. Its expansive seating wrapped around each side of the field in a perfect semi-circle, while the awning stretching out from above the window told me additional seating stretched above us as well.

  The serenity of the Arena was suddenly blown away as a screeching pain radiated within my temples, spreading to my eyes and filling my vision with spots of blackness. I cradled my head in my hands in an effort to thwart the pain, but it only increased with intensity. The whisper of an agonizing wail drifted against my eardrums before quickly dissipating; taking with it the debilitating headache.

  "Are you alright, dear?" Maera placed a concerned hand on my shaking shoulder. As if nothing had happened, my vision returned and there was no trace of pain or discomfort. I shook my head to clear my mind and met her gaze.

  "I'm not sure what that was," I admitted with a reassuring smile. "But I'm okay. I'm fine now."

  It wasn't until I glanced back at Maera that I registered the elaborate drawings and mosaics adorning every wall of the VIP level. I took my time committing to memory the intricate fighting scenes, bloody battles, and chariot races cascading onto the floor and up the adjoining walls. One particular character could be seen in more battles than any other; a giant of a man with beautiful armor, two giant horses, and the tips of blond hair peeking out from beneath his helmet. His facial features were strong and intense, yet there was a certain familiarity there I couldn't quite place.

  "Achilles," Maera murmured so softly I almost didn't hear. She observed me from several feet away with a careful reservation. "The competitions were much more than simple games to Achilles. They were a breeding ground for his armies, as well as a place to showcase his particular skills. I believe he secretly reveled in the attention, as well as the many admirers it produced." Her lips pulled up in a tender smile as she remembered.

  "He sounds like quite the entertainer." I knelt down to inspect one in particular in an attempt to hide the shock I felt at seeing my brother's likeness spread across a centuries-old Arena. I had the sudden realization that everyone had known my brother except me. There was an intense unfairness in that truth that I wasn't sure how to reconcile. He was clearly admired by countless armies of men willing to sacrifice their lives for him, yet I couldn't help but wonder who the real Achilles was. Were we anything alike? Would he be proud of how far I'd come? All the things I had done so far?

  "When he tired of the attention, he would go into seclusion to train the most fierce, strongest descendants; molding them into fighting machines who approached their opponents with only respect and appreciation, never hatred or resentment."

  "Did you know him well?"

  "Yes, I knew him," she echoed with a guarded smile. "I saw in him a fierce, calculated warrior, but also as a man with a brave heart that he followed first and foremost. He deserved the titles he won and the respect he received."

  "I would have liked to know him, if even for a short time."

  "There may still be time," she offered quietly.

  "I wish," I sighed, a lump forming in my throat. "But he's gone. Dead."

  "Indeed," she agreed; her tone weighted with meaning. "He is not of the living anymore."

  OLIVIA

  I don't hike. I don't go camping. I've never peered up at a mountain and thought to myself, I must abandon all human comforts and climb up a steep hill fraught with dirt, roots, trees, and animals that would like nothing more than to maul, sting, or bite me. Not to mention, the only reward for making it to the top of that hellish pile of earth would be an equally miserable hike back down. I belonged inside, amidst indoor plumbing, air conditioning, and salon quality hair products.

  So you could imagine my intense loathing of the situation I found myself in after those witches dropped me off in a random cave, on an island with no roads, signs, or cars. There would be no calling a taxi or asking for directions. I was alone. I was hungry. I was lost.

  After traipsing through endless caves that merely led to endless tunnels, just to spend the night in a hostile forest full of weird sounds and tiny creatures with too many legs, I was left depleted and extremely pissed off. The second day of misery began with a chorus of birds screeching above my head in an octave I didn't know existed. Abandoning any further hope of sleep, I climbed to my feet and cursed under my breath as a rogue root grabbed my ankle and sent me tumbling forward.

  I floundered right on top of the book that weighed as much as a small horse and the impenetrable silver box as they patiently waited for me on the ground. I leaned against one of the hundreds of trees surrounding me, rubbed my newly opened wound, and eyed the two objects that had become the bane of my existence. I didn't want to carry them even one more inch, especially since I seemed to be walking in circles. I held up my hand and squinted at my palm. If Stasia was going to get herself into a bind, this would be the most opportune time. Without her being in trouble, I had no way of finding which way could possibly lead me to her, the tree houses, or a warm shower. My all-seeing eye trace was almost invisible as it lay irritatingly dormant. I took a deep breath and glanced upward as the leaves above my head rustled in the wind.

  By the time I realized the wind wasn't actually blowing, the storm of leaves was already making its way down towards my head. They engulfed my body; sticking precariously in my hair and finding themselves lodged down the front of my shirt.

  "Seriously?" I scowled and shook the remaining leaves from my clothes before shooting the tree a warning look. "You are not helping."

  It would suffice to say that my history with the trees of Atlantis was not a pleasant one. I was pretty sure at some point they had a tree pow-wow or something and decided I was their play toy, thereby making my life a living hell. With the Book and Key once again in my arms, I looked to the sky. The sun hung low to my left, which I deduced meant that direct
ion had to be west. Girl Scout I was not, but I did have some basic common sense. I could figure this out.

  "We arrived on the west side of the island," I spoke to no one in particular. "So that would mean I need to head east. Which is that way." I pointed in the opposite direction of the sun. The only thing I had going for me was that Atlantis was an island. I couldn't get too far in any one direction without hitting water or civilization. What could possibly go wrong?

  I heard another rustling of leaves and sharply glared at the trees in my vicinity, which happened to be a lot of them. "Don't even think about it." The stirring halted at my threat and I set out walking. What I didn't intend on doing was spending another night out there. I had to find Stasia by sundown. Which, by the look of the sun, wasn't too far away. I ran a finger over my new arm emblem and groaned. The rest of my body seemed to be regaining its energy, but I could still feel the aftereffects of Selene's message for Stasia.

  After another hour or more of tripping over roots and stepping in mud, I noticed a clearing in the distance. That had to be a good sign, right? I couldn't have been more wrong. Upon closer inspection, what could technically be called a clearing was really just nature's version of a death trap. The colossal fissure slicing through the island's dense ground plunged hundreds of feet to meet its destroyer below - a thin line of water more powerful than the earth it chewed away at. The twenty feet of open air that hung between my feet and the other side promised a harrowing fall, topped off with the bone-crunching agony of mangled body parts. That would be one instance where immortality would not have been a saving grace. A quick death at the bottom of the ravine would be a much more desirable fate.