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Deep beneath the surface of the earth, in a hidden world untouched by time, lies the lost city of Atlantis. Its crystal-lit towers shimmer with ancient energy, and its waterways glow with a faint, otherworldly light. Here, surrounded by vast caverns and ruins that breathe with both mystery and memory, lives Kida Nedakh - Princess of this forgotten empire.

She is striking in presence, tall and graceful, with skin kissed by the sun and hair like a cascade of pure white silk that glimmers under the glow of Atlantean crystals. Her eyes are an arresting shade of ice-blue, bright and searching, as if they hold the reflection of the ocean itself. Tribal markings line her face and body, symbols of heritage and strength, making her look both regal and fierce - like a warrior descended from the gods of her people.

Her muscles are honed by years of survival in a kingdom half-lost, sculpted by battles fought and journeys taken across the vast ruins of her homeland. Broad shoulders and strong arms speak of a warrior’s training, yet her form flows with elegance, every motion purposeful, every step commanding. She is the embodiment of vitality - strength wrapped in beauty, beauty sharpened by strength.

To look upon her is to see more than royalty; it is to see the pulse of Atlantis itself. Her power is not hidden—it is celebrated, carved into the lines of her physique as though the gods themselves shaped her to defend what remains. Her strength is beautiful not only in how it appears but in what it represents: resilience, courage, and the unyielding will of a people who refuse to be forgotten.

But Kida is more than just the daughter of a king. She is a guardian of a dying civilization, burdened with the weight of its forgotten knowledge and desperate to preserve its fading glory. Fierce in spirit and unafraid of battle, she carries the wisdom of ages and the curiosity of youth, seeking to rediscover truths long buried with the ruins. Though a princess, she is no sheltered royal - she is a leader in waiting, a fighter, and a soul bound by love for her people, determined that Atlantis will not remain silent forever.

And then, Kida is more than just the daughter of a king. She is woman. And as a woman, in the shadows of Atlantis’s growing crystal towers, Kida Nedakh has learned to look at men with wary eyes. Her heart is strong and her spirit fierce, but her history has carved sharp edges into her trust. Her hatred is not born from prejudice - it is born of experience, stories whispered, bodies touched, and wounds she has seen etched into those she loves – including herself.

Under the shimmering glow of the great crystal, Kida sat alone at the edge of the Atlantean waters. The surface rippled like glass, reflecting her pale hair and strong frame—but her mind was far away, to a part of her life that haunted her… How she had been treated by her last fiancée, Veylan Kalthis.

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Kida remembered it with a heaviness in her chest.

Veylan.

God, he had been beautiful.

Veylan stood as if carved from the very stone of this ancient city. His skin was sun-kissed from years beneath the hidden light of subterranean waters. His build is powerful, every line of his muscular frame speaking in tongues. His face carried an undeniable sophistication, a striking regal yet raw masculinity. High cheekbones casted shadows that make his gaze all the more piercing. His eyes held the deep blue glow of Atlantean crystal, glimmering like secrets half-buried in the ruins. His hair, long and blonde, was ofted tied back in warrior’s braids. Tribal markings and etched symbols of his people may adorned his arms and chest, each a story strength.

God, he had been so seductive.

“My king,” he began, speaking to Kashekim Nedakh “Your daughter is the soul of Atlantis. To walk beside her would be to walk in service of the city itself. It would be my grandest honor, and I would treat her as such. With her hand, I do not seek to possess, but to strengthen what we might rebuild together.”

Kashekim studied him, his aged eyes narrowing. Many men before had sought Kida’s hand with greed in their hearts. But Veylan’s tone was measured, his gaze steady. He spoke not as a conqueror, but as one who knew how to cloak ambition in silk. The old king felt the tug of the man’s confidence, the dangerous pull of someone who knew how to bend words into weapons.

Veylan had successfully reduced love to conquest. He had seen Kida not as a woman, but as a prize. He had draped her in finery, love bombing her and pretending to adore her. But he never honored her beauty for what it was - he merely wanted it displayed it, as though she were nothing more than a jewel in his hoard. To him, she was to be a possession - something to conquer, to control, to show the world he had won.

Too often, she has witnessed men treat women as trophies, as objects to be claimed rather than equals to be respected. He had convinced her father – with words sweet as honey – that he could bring Atlantis back to it’s high days, with Kida by his side. And her father, Kashekim, had blessed their engagement.

Kida’s jaw tightened at the thought.

Later, beneath the softer glow of the crystal-lined waterways, Veylan found Kida herself. She stood at the edge of the water, tall and radiant, her white hair catching the light. She turned when she felt his presence. “You spoke to my father,” she said, her voice sharp with suspicion. “What do you want of me?” Veylan had not denied it. Instead, he stepped closer, slow and deliberate, letting silence stretch between them until the distance felt charged. “I want only what you already are,” he said finally, his voice low. “Strength. Fire. A woman who cannot be caged. Atlantis will not survive without you - but even fire needs someone who will not try to snuff it out. That is what I offer.”

The water shimmered around them, its glow reflecting off Kida’s pale hair and the carved strength of Veylan’s face. For a moment, neither spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with all the unspoken things that swirled between them: suspicion, curiosity, and something else she did not want to name.

Then Veylan moved. Not with brash hunger, but with a certainty that drew her in before she could think to resist. His hand - broad, warm, and steady - slid gently to her arm, anchoring her without force. His eyes searched hers, asking the question without words. And Kida, to her own surprise, did not pull away. With a slow, deliberate motion, Veylan closed the distance. His lips met hers - firm yet reverent, a kiss of promise. Kida’s chest tightened. When he finally drew back, Veylan did not smirk or demand more. He only held her gaze, his voice low, steady, and almost reverent.

Veylan’s tongue had been venom.

“You are the light of Atlantis,” he whispered. “I would never dim you - I would only burn beside you… and inside you.” Kida’s breath caught, torn between doubt and the dangerous pull of belief. She had always vowed never to let a man ensnare her. And yet… her heart beat faster, betraying her resolve.

There had been something in Veylan’s tone, something in the way he did not reach for her, did not demand, but instead left the choice in her hands, that unsettled her. “You would have me,” she said. “But not as a prize?” “As a partner,” he replied. His gaze held hers unflinching. “Not above you, not beneath you - beside you.” Kida’s heart warred with her mind. The water had rippled at her feet, as though Atlantis itself had waited for her answer.

She, young and trusting, had given herself to him freely, mindlessly, lovingly…

Veylan had - soon, after the first love bombing - started slipping into every moment belittlement, silencing and mockery. He had silenced Kida’s protests, twisted her defiance into entertainment for himself, as though her voice were of no consequence. In the ruins of Atlantis, she still heard the echoes of his cruelty, dressed in kindness. Since then, she wholeheartedly despises the arrogance that tries to cut down a woman’s voice. Men, in her eyes, too often claw for control, not harmony.

Kida could almost hear those cruel tones echoing through the ruins of Atlantis, reminders of every man who had tried to cut her own voice down. And then there was the violence – Veylan’s hunger for domination spilling into threats, chains, and force. His power was not protection, as he had promised - it was terror, as he had shown.  He had sat on the throne, very soon after their engagement. And by then he raised his hand not to defend but to remind the Atlanteans – and Kida – of their captivity, and every act of aggression served only his own pride. His hunger poisoned everything it touched, fracturing harmony, turning love and loyalty into tools for ambition.

All he had ever done was abuse her trust.

Kida closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. She remembered her life, not as an insult, but as a a story - it was a warning. It was proof of all the reasons she kept her heart guarded. Men like Veylan existed in every age, in every kingdom - And Princesses’ were prone to attract them. Men who sought to dominate rather than love, to silence rather than listen, to break rather than protect. Violence has always followed men who thirst for power. Whether through war, greed, or brutality, she has watched their rage destroy more than it protects. This kind of strength - rooted not in defense, but in domination - fills her with contempt.

Kida’s hands curled into fists as she recalled it. To remember this insult rekindled her anger. And yet, even in this darkness, there was something else Kida held onto. She had endured. She had not surrendered her will, nor her spirit. And in that defiance, Kida believed deeply that women were not fragile ornaments, but unyielding forces in their own right.

As the waters of Atlantis rippled beneath her gaze, Kida whispered to herself, almost like a vow “Never again shall such poison rule. Not here. Not while I breathe.”

Still, beneath her guarded exterior, Kida is not without hope.

She knows that not all men are shackled to these flaws - there are those who listen, who respect, who fight beside rather than above. But until such strength proves itself in action, she holds herself - and her people - close, unwilling to let Atlantis suffer again at the hands of men’s destructive pride.

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From far above her city, in a world she had long since learned to view cautiously, Milo Thatch had arrived. His arrival had rippled through Atlantis, but for now – to her – he was a stranger, an outsider stepping into a world ruled by strength and tradition.

Milo was tall but lean, with a frame more suited to bending over books than lifting weapons. Slight in frame, a little awkward, with spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, he was physically unimposing - but his mind and spirit radiated a quiet determination.

His spectacles often slipped down his nose as he buried himself in tomes of forgotten lore, scribbling translations in margins with ink-stained fingers. His sandy-brown hair always seemed a little untamed, as though he had been running both through his thoughts and across the city to chase them.

To many, he seemed awkward - soft-spoken, clumsy, even a little eccentric. He stumbled over words in conversation, but when he spoke of ancient civilizations or lost worlds, his voice lit with a fire that could not be ignored. He was a scholar, a dreamer, a man convinced that myths were not mere stories but fragments of forgotten history waiting to be uncovered.

She didn’t like him.

He was unlike anyone Kida had ever encountered, and thus she liked him even less.

Milo was an explorer at heart, though not in the way most imagined. A scholar with a heart full of curiosity, his life devoted to maps, legends, and the lost languages of civilizations long forgotten. His strength was not in muscle or steel, but in language, maps, and the relentless pursuit of truth.

Though often dismissed and overlooked by his peers, Milo possessed a quiet resilience. He endured mockery, skepticism, and rejection, yet he never wavered. His determination was not fueled by greed or glory but by an unshakable belief that knowledge was worth seeking, and that forgotten cultures deserved remembrance. He had no claim to power, no ambition to dominate, he sought only knowledge – or so he said.

 "You are a scholar, are you not?”

She saw no reason for him to earn her cautious trust.

“Judging from your diminished physique… and large forehead… you are suited for nothing else.”

And yet her father had asked him to stay.

The months after Atlantis was saved brought no rest for the Princess. Kida carried the weight of leadership on her shoulders, and beside her walked a man no one had expected to remain. At first, her people had wondered why an outsider lingered in their sacred city. He was no warrior, no craftsman, no priest. He was lean where they were strong, bookish where they were practical. Yet slowly, hope grew that Milo could prove to be a bridge.

His unmatched knowledge of Atlantean language, glyphs, and culture proved invaluable. He wandered through ancient halls with parchment and ink, carefully decoding inscriptions even Kida could no longer read. Where once the meaning of old hymns, maps, and prophecies had been little more than fragments of memory, Milo pieced them back together, breathing life into voices long silenced.

But he did more than uncover the past. With his background in history and linguistics, Milo became a recorder of the present. He worked tirelessly to help Kida’s people organize their traditions – rituals, songs, healing practices – ensuring that their culture would never again fade into obscurity. To some, he seemed more like a monk than an explorer, but they came to respect his devotion.

And still, Atlantis was not whole. Entire sections of the city lay buried beneath centuries of stone and water. There, Milo’s curiosity made him indispensable. Where others saw only collapsed towers, he saw patterns and possibilities. With a scholar’s eye and an adventurer’s stubbornness, he led rediscovery missions, unearthing chambers no Atlantean had entered for a thousand years.

Perhaps most important of all, Milo brought caution. He had seen how greed corrupted men on the surface, and he feared the same for Atlantis. When the mysteries of crystal technology beckoned, it was Milo who urged restraint. He worked side by side with Atlantean healers and engineers, helping to integrate their ancient energy into safe, practical uses - guarding against the destructive temptations it might awaken.

In these ways, Milo became woven into the fabric of Atlantis. He had earned a place of quiet authority. Not a king, nor even truly one of their own, but something rarer: a keeper of knowledge, a guardian of memory, and - most of all - a companion who believed that Atlantis was not a prize, but a promise.

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For all his devotion to Atlantis - the city, the crystal, the riddles of its language - Milo Thatch soon realized there was another reason his heart had bound itself to this place. It was not only the wonder of discovery that held him there, but the presence of its princess, soon to be queen: Kida Nedakh.

She had captivated him from the beginning.

At first, it was her beauty that stunned him, though he had scarcely admitted it to himself - her white hair flowing like light, her powerful form sculpted by a life of survival, her eyes glowing with the brilliance of the crystal itself.

But it was more than that.

Much more.

Milo could not help but notice the way her body told its own story. Every curve of muscle was shaped not by vanity, but by necessity - the strength of a warrior who swam through deep channels, climbed ruined towers, and carried the burdens of her people with unflinching resolve. Her arms, corded with grace and power, moved like living sculptures, precise and commanding. Her shoulders bore the quiet majesty of someone who had never needed protection, only the freedom to fight as she chose. Even the lines of her legs and the tautness of her form spoke of endurance, of agility, of a beauty that was not fragile but forged.

To Milo, she was more than striking - she was awe-inspiring.

The glow of the crystal caught in the depths of her eyes and traced across her frame, illuminating the balance of strength and elegance she embodied. He admired her not as a prize, nor as a queen to be idolized from a distance, but as a living testament to survival, to resilience, to the kind of power that could not be subdued.

And though he told himself he studied her as one might admire the artistry of a statue or the elegance of a language, Milo knew the truth: she was no artifact. She was fire and life, and his fascination was not just scholarly. It was personal, and it ran deep.

It ran so much deeper.

Kida moved with a strength Milo had never seen in another. She bore the weight of a dying civilization and did not falter. Her voice carried authority, yet also a tenderness for her people that struck him deeply. Every word she spoke seemed to echo with centuries of wisdom, and every glance hinted at mysteries he could – maybe someday –  but not yet unravel.

He found himself watching her, not in the manner of a man coveting a prize, but as a scholar staring at the most profound text of his life – one that could never be fully translated, only studied with reverence. She was a living riddle, one that drew him closer with each passing day.

And so, Milo was in fact not without motive. He told himself his fascination was scholarly, that he stayed to help Atlantis rise again, that his work with its artifacts and archives justified his presence. But beneath the ink stains on his fingers and the endless notes he scrawled late into the night, he knew the princess was not merely a figure of duty or legend. To Milo, she was the embodiment of Atlantis itself - its fire, its strength, its soul.

And it was this, more than any crystal or map, that captivated him.

Unnoticed.

Or so he thought.

As Princess, Kida might value Milo’s perspective, since he comes from the outside and can see political or social challenges in ways her people cannot.

In her crystal-lit halls, she would observe him with the same scrutiny she gave all who entered her city: measuring intentions, sensing danger, and weighing whether this man might prove an ally - or a distraction she could ill afford. Milo moved differently than most outsiders; there was a nervous energy to him, a slight awkwardness in his step, yet it was paired with an intensity that caught her attention.

He lingered near the inscriptions, tracing his fingers over ancient glyphs as if trying to memorize their very essence. Kida noted how his eyes lit up at discoveries, how his brow furrowed in concentration, and how he spoke softly to the city itself, as if its stones and waters could hear him. It was not fear that he carried, nor arrogance - but fascination. Respect, too, though of a kind she rarely saw from men.

She wondered what it meant that she found herself watching him back, from a distance, even as she questioned every motive behind his presence. His curiosity was genuine, yet there was a pull about him, a persistent magnetism that neither she nor her city had encountered before.

And as the glow of the crystal danced across his features, Kida realized that whether she liked it or not, the city - and perhaps even she herself - was being subtly, irrevocably altered by the quiet determination of this outsider.

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The throne room of Atlantis glimmered with the pale light of the city’s crystals, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. Kida stood before her father, King Kashekim Nedakh, her arms crossed, her expression defiant. Even now, the weight of responsibility pressed against her, but her will remained unyielding.

King Kashekim Nedakh stood like the living embodiment of Atlantis itself - ancient, powerful, and unyielding. His tall frame was broad and commanding, honed not for combat but for authority, the weight of centuries of rule evident in every measured movement. His skin bore the warm bronze tone of their people, stretched over strong shoulders and a posture that radiated quiet strength.

What set him apart, however, were his crystal-white eyes, luminous and almost otherworldly. They seemed to shimmer with the light of the Atlantean crystals themselves, reflecting both the wisdom of countless generations and the weight of decisions that could alter the fate of his kingdom. When he spoke, they glowed faintly in the dim halls, drawing attention to every word, lending it authority that could neither be questioned nor ignored.

His hair, silvered at the temples, framed a face marked by sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline, giving him an air of nobility and gravitas. Lines traced the edges of his eyes and mouth - not from weakness, but from decades of careful thought, leadership, and the burden of preserving a hidden civilization.

Even in stillness, Kashekim radiated presence. Every gesture was deliberate, every glance measured. Those who met his gaze often felt both awe and unease, as if the crystal-white eyes could see not only the surface of one’s actions but the intentions buried deep within. “Kida,” her father began, his voice calm but firm, echoing slightly in the vaulted chamber, “I have a task for you. One that requires your attention and discretion.”

Kida’s eyes narrowed. “What task, Father?” she asked, though she already suspected. He gestured to the figure standing silently near the edge of the hall. Milo Thatch shifted, adjusting his glasses, a thin layer of sweat on his brow from the walk through the city. He looked out of place in the grandeur of the throne room, yet there was a quiet determination in him that made Kida bristle.

“You will take Milo,” Kashekim said, his gaze steady on his daughter, “to the ruins of the old city. There are glyphs there that require translation. Knowledge that cannot wait. You will guide him, protect him, and ensure the integrity of the ruins is preserved.”

 Kida’s mouth went dry, though she fought to keep her composure. “Father… I -”

" You don’t trust him,” her father said softly, finishing her thought. “I understand. But Milo is not like the surface men who have come before. He is a scholar, a dreamer, a man devoted to knowledge rather than conquest. He will follow your lead—if you are firm. If not, the city suffers, and we lose what little of our history remains.”

Kida hesitated. The ruins had always been her domain, sacred and dangerous. Every stone and column was a memory, every glyph a story passed down through her ancestors. To take a stranger into that world felt… reckless.

“I am not his guide, Father,” she protested. “I do not need a student. I do not need an outsider meddling in the city’s secrets. The ruins are fragile. He could damage them, misinterpret them, or worse - he could be distracted, and I will not risk it.”

Kashekim’s eyes softened. “Kida, I know your hesitation. I know your fear of outsiders. But Milo’s knowledge is unique. His mind works like the intricate mechanisms of Atlantis itself: deliberate, probing, seeking to understand, and in that way, he mirrors your own approach to the world. He reads the language as few could, understands patterns we have long forgotten, and can preserve what we might lose if the city’s history remains locked away. You will not merely guard him - you will teach him, and in doing so, protect Atlantis itself.”

Kida’s jaw clenched.

“And if he makes a mistake?”

“Then you will be there to correct it,” her father replied firmly, his glowing white eyes fixed on hers. “But remember this, Kida—wounds do not heal by hiding them away. Trauma is eased only when it is met with better experiences, with the proof that not all is as it was before. The city, too, cannot survive by isolation alone. It survives by understanding, by opening itself carefully to those who honor it, and by allowing new truths to mend the scars of the past.”

She looked at Milo, who stood quietly, hands clasped in front of him, a mixture of nervousness and curiosity written on his face. His eyes met hers briefly, and she saw no arrogance, no desire for glory - only a hunger to learn, a genuine reverence for her people’s home.

Kida let out a long breath, her arms falling to her sides. “Very well,” she said reluctantly. “I will take him. But make no mistake, Father - if he endangers the ruins in any way, I will not hesitate to turn him back.” Kashekim nodded, placing a hand briefly on her shoulder. “I do not doubt your judgment, Kida. And remember - sometimes guidance is protection in itself. The city will speak to you both. Listen carefully.”

As she left the throne room with Milo trailing slightly behind her, Kida felt a mix of irritation and apprehension. She was the princess of Atlantis, a warrior, and a guardian. Yet now she carried the responsibility of showing this outsider the secrets of a civilization she had known since birth. And for the first time, she wondered - not for the first time, but more sharply than ever - what Milo might truly see in the ruins, and whether she could trust him to respect them… and her.

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The sun had long disappeared beyond the surface, leaving the crystal glow of Atlantis to bathe the ruins in a soft, ethereal light. Kida and Milo moved carefully through a half-collapsed corridor, their footsteps echoing against the carved stone walls. Moss and algae clung to the edges of fallen archways, and water pooled in shallow basins along the floor, catching the light and scattering it like scattered diamonds.

Above the water, the ruins were breathtaking. Columns rose like frozen waterfalls, etched with symbols that hummed faintly with residual energy. Milo’s eyes darted across the glyphs, his fingers tracing the carved lines as though he could pull the stories out of the stone itself.  

“These,” he whispered, “these are not just records - they’re warnings. Look at the repetition of the crystal glyphs here. They mark the flow of energy, how it feeds the city. And these,” he pointed to a series of sweeping curves carved higher on the walls, “seem to indicate guardians - rituals to protect what’s sacred.”

Kida leaned closer, noting the subtle differences in the carvings. Her eyes glimmered as she translated the symbols in her mind, the language of her ancestors forming pictures she had never seen before. “This part,” she said softly, “it’s about balance. About the crystal’s power sustaining the city - but warning that misuse can destroy it. They knew surface dwellers would come one day.”

A low pool of water blocked the corridor ahead. Kida dove first, her form slicing through the water with practiced precision. Milo followed, clutching a waterproof lantern, his movements less fluid but determined. Underwater, the ruins transformed. The soft light bent through the water, illuminating carvings that had been hidden above. Fish flitted between columns, and currents stirred centuries-old silt, making the glyphs shimmer and blur as if they were alive.

They swam deeper into a submerged chamber. Here, the walls were covered in a continuous tapestry of Atlantean history: great battles, ceremonies, and the construction of towers and tunnels that now lay broken and half-buried. Milo pressed his fingers to the glyphs, his eyes wide with awe. He thought strongly to himself “These carvings… they’re teaching tools. They’re telling their own story, but also instructing anyone who comes after - how to read the energy, how to respect it. We’re uncovering pieces of their world that have been lost for centuries. Every symbol, every line… it’s a conversation across time.”

Kida hovered nearby, her hand brushing lightly against the walls. She could feel the faint hum of the crystals embedded in the stone. “Not everyone would understand this,” she murmured to herself “Even some Atlanteans could misread it… but Milo, he reads it without fear.”

Above them, the light from the crystal refracted through the water, casting shifting patterns on the walls. Milo’s voice, muffled but urgent through the water, carried a mix of reverence and excitement. They surfaced together into a shallow alcove, droplets glinting on Kida’s hair, Milo shaking water from his glasses. For a moment, they simply stared at the carvings around them, the ruins silent except for the gentle lapping of the water.

It was a moment of shared understanding: Kida, seeing her heritage anew through Milo’s eyes; Milo, humbled by the depth of what he had discovered and the living presence of its princess. The ruins were more than history - they were alive. And together, above and below the water, they were beginning to hear what Atlantis had been trying to tell them all along.

As Kida and Milo lingered in the alcove, a faint vibration ran through the walls - subtle at first, like the city itself was stirring from slumber. Kida’s eyes narrowed. “Did you feel that?” she asked, her voice low. Milo nodded, brushing water from his glasses. “Yes… almost like the crystals are… resonating. Something’s activating .”

Above them, a section of wall had shifted slightly, dislodging small stones into the pool below. Milo’s gaze followed it, and his heart skipped. “Kida… look. There’s a hidden passage.” She approached, her fingers tracing the newly revealed seam. “It’s ancient. Likely sealed for centuries. Whoever built this didn’t want it opened lightly.” She glanced at Milo. “Are you ready?”

He swallowed, a mixture of fear and exhilaration lighting his features. “After you.” The passage led to a narrow stairwell partially submerged in water. They dove together, the lantern casting long, flickering shadows across jagged walls. Milo’s excitement was palpable - every new symbol or carving he saw elicited soft murmurs of awe - but he kept his focus on Kida, trusting her movements, following the rhythm of her strength.

Deeper inside, the chamber widened, revealing a massive crystal embedded in the wall. Its glow pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat. Around it, carvings depicted a ritual: Atlanteans kneeling, energy flowing through their hands into the crystal, a protective barrier forming around the city. But there was something else - ominous figures lurking in the margins, shadows that seemed to indicate misuse or betrayal.

Milo ran his fingers over the glyphs. “This… this warns about outsiders who would take the power for themselves. It’s more than history - it’s a guide, and a warning.” Kida’s hand rested lightly on the crystal. “This is why the city survived for so long,” she murmured. “But it also shows what could happen if someone ignorant - or greedy - tries to harness it.” Her eyes met Milo’s, sharp and measuring. “Do you understand the responsibility this carries?”

“I do,” Milo said without hesitation, though his voice trembled slightly. “And I want to help. Not for glory… not for treasure… but because it matters. Because it’s right.” A low rumble echoed through the chamber. Dust and silt fell from the ceiling, and the water around them stirred as if the city itself was testing them. Kida’s grip on the crystal tightened, her posture shifting into readiness. Milo mirrored her stance, lantern raised, heart pounding - not with fear, but with an intense, almost reverent awareness of what they had uncovered.

Above and below the water, the ruins whispered secrets and threats alike. Together, Kida and Milo realized that discovery came with danger. The rumble grew louder, echoing through the chamber like the roar of a submerged sea. Milo’s lantern flickered, casting fractured light across the crystal-studded walls. Tiny fissures began to form in the stone floor, sending water bubbling up from below. Kida’s eyes narrowed, sensing the city itself responding to their presence - or perhaps warning them.

Suddenly, a section of the floor shifted, revealing a deep pit filled with swirling water and jagged rocks. Milo stumbled back, his heart hammering. “Kida! Watch out!” Without hesitation, she sprang forward, landing on the edge of the pit with perfect balance. Her gaze swept over the glyphs surrounding them. “It’s a test,” she said, her voice calm but sharp. “The city doesn’t give up its secrets easily. We move carefully, or we risk being trapped.”

Milo nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Then we move together.” Above the water, Kida led, leaping from one stable fragment of stone to the next, her powerful legs propelling her with ease. Milo followed, more cautiously, studying the pattern of glyphs for guidance. Each jump carried them closer to a raised platform where the heart crystal pulsed brighter, casting radiant blue light over the chamber.

Halfway across, the ground beneath Milo quaked, and he slipped, splashing into a shallow pool. Kida’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist, and with a strong pull, she hoisted him back onto solid stone. “You must trust the rhythm of the city,” she said, her eyes intense. “It gives clues, if you’re paying attention.”

They reached the platform together, breathing heavily, hearts pounding. Milo’s gaze drifted to the inscriptions surrounding the crystal. “These… these aren’t just warnings,” he murmured. “They’re instructions. Energy flow, timing… you have to synchronize with it.”

Kida nodded, moving her hands over the surface of the heart crystal. Milo mirrored her, careful to follow her movements. Light surged through the walls, illuminating glyphs that had been invisible before. The water shimmered, currents flowing in harmony with the crystal’s pulse. The chamber had awakened fully, recognizing that they were worthy explorers.

When the glow subsided, Kida glanced at Milo. “You’ve learned quickly,” she said, a rare note of approval in her voice. “Few outsiders could have done this.” Milo smiled, catching his breath. For the first time, the ruins felt less like a test and more like an ally. And as they stood side by side, surrounded by the whispering walls of Atlantis, both knew that the city would demand more of them still.

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The pulse of the crystal beneath their hands grew stronger, resonating through the walls and water alike. Milo mirrored Kida’s precise movements, careful to follow her lead as they traced the glyphs and energy conduits etched into the stone. The chamber seemed to awaken around them: faint currents stirred the still water, the carvings along the walls shimmered as if breathing, and tiny fragments of crystal vibrated with an almost musical hum.

Milo’s voice, hushed with awe, broke the reverent silence. “Every symbol, every line, is part of a system. It’s like… like the city itself is alive, and it’s responding to us.” Kida’s eyes glowed faintly as she focused on the glyphs. “It’s a safeguard. The chamber only opens fully when the energy flow is correct. It’s meant to teach, to protect… to test those who enter.” A sudden shimmer ran across the walls, revealing previously hidden carvings: Atlantean guardians, intricate energy channels, and warnings interwoven with instructions.

Milo traced a delicate line of glyphs with his fingers. “These instructions… they’re precise. They guide how to channel the crystal’s energy safely. If misread, it could collapse the entire chamber - or worse, destabilize the city.” Kida’s hands hovered over the central heart crystal. “It trusts us,” she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “It’s giving us a chance to prove ourselves. The city only opens fully to those who respect it.”

Milo nodded, his awe deepening. “And it’s… beautiful. I’ve studied lost civilizations before, but none of them felt… alive. None of them spoke back.” As they continued to move in synchronized motions - Kida’s confident, fluid guidance paired with Milo’s meticulous care - the chamber’s energy intensified. Light cascaded across the walls, refracting through the water and illuminating glyphs that had been invisible moments ago. Currents swirled around them, carrying the faint hum of Atlantis’s ancient power.

When the glow finally steadied, the chamber was fully revealed: a hidden alcove with a raised platform, walls lined with inscriptions detailing rituals, history, and the flow of energy that sustained the city. The pulse of the crystal had calmed, but the lingering resonance made the air vibrate with latent power.

Kida looked at Milo, her expression a mixture of approval and quiet amazement. Few outsiders could follow this pattern without error—or without causing damage.” Milo, breathless and exhilarated, smiled. “I had a good teacher. And… I think the city chose well to let us in.” For a moment, the ruins were silent except for the gentle ripple of water and the faint hum of the heart crystal. Above and below the water, light and shadow danced across the walls, as if the chamber itself were observing them.

Kida realized that discovery here was not just about knowledge—it was about trust. The city had tested them, and for now, they had passed. But both Kida and Milo understood that the real trials had only just begun. As the chamber settled into silence, the pulse of the heart crystal remained steady beneath their hands. But then, a subtle shift occurred.

Kida felt it first—a gentle tug at the core of her being, a warmth spreading through her chest, as if the crystal were calling to her. She stumbled slightly, eyes widening. “Milo…” she murmured, voice trembling. “I… I feel something… like it’s pulling me.” Milo’s gaze narrowed, his hands hovering over the crystal, but unable to feel what she felt.

She had felt it once, years ago, the first time she had touched the city’s heart. “It’s choosing,” she said softly, almost reverently. “The crystal doesn’t just protect Atlantis - it chooses its guardians. I felt it with me, and now… it's claiming me.” Milo swallowed, overwhelmed by the implication of losing her.

A gentle, humming energy threaded through her body, like liquid light flowing along his veins, drawing her closer to the crystal’s core. The glyphs around them glimmered brighter, responding to his presence, and the currents in the water seemed to swirl specifically around her. “It’s… incredible,” Kida whispered, awe-struck.

“I’ve studied lost civilizations all my life… but I never imagined anything like this.” Milo stepped closer, his voice firm but calm. “It won’t harm you, Kida. It only reaches for those it senses will honor its power. You must trust it - and trust yourself.” He nodded slowly, closing his eyes as the crystal’s pull on Kida intensified. A warmth spread through her, not frightening but electrifying, filling her with a connection he could barely comprehend.

In that moment, Milo understood: the crystal was not merely energy or stone—it was a living force, a consciousness, and it had recognized something in her. Milo watched silently, his heart quickening — not with fear, but with recognition of what this meant. The bond the crystal forged was profound. It did not choose lightly, and it did not make mistakes. It would claim her... And then what of her would possibly be left?

The chamber pulsed with light, the heart crystal at its center vibrating with a power that seemed alive. Kida stepped forward, drawn irresistibly, her fingers brushing the crystal’s surface. For a moment, the energy felt like warmth, like a heartbeat resonating in her chest. Then, without warning, the pull intensified—sudden, unrelenting, as if the crystal itself had reached into her very being.

A shock ran through her limbs. Her knees buckled, but the crystal’s force lifted her effortlessly, pulling her upward into the air. Water swirled violently around her as currents stirred by the crystal’s awakening tossed her hair and clothes. Her arms flailed, trying to grasp the walls, the floor, anything solid, but it was useless—the crystal’s hold was absolute.

Pain shot through her shoulders and back, sharp and searing, as though the city were testing every fiber of her body. The energy coursed through her spine and chest, leaving her gasping. Milo lunged toward her, his hands outstretched, but Kida could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears. Her own voice came out as a strained cry, swallowed almost instantly by the chamber’s humming roar.

The walls shimmered with glyphs, light streaking across them in arcs that left trails in her vision. She felt as if she were being pulled not only upward but inward, into the crystal itself. Memories, instincts, the very essence of her soul seemed to stretch and compress under the force, as the crystal measured, judged, and finally claimed her.

Her body arched, muscles trembling under the strain. It was exquisite and agonizing at once—the power of Atlantis itself flowing through her, bending her to its will. When at last the pull slowed, Kida hung suspended above the water, every limb trembling, sweat and tears streaking her face. Her chest heaved, lungs burning, her skin tingling from the crystal’s lingering energy.

She dropped onto the stone floor in a heap, water splashing around her, every movement painful as though the city itself were reminding her of the ordeal she had survived. Her vision swam, the crystal’s glow still echoing in her eyes. The chamber seemed to breathe around her, the light pulsing in quiet rhythm with her own faltering heartbeat.

When the glow finally subsided, Kida opened her eyes, breathless. “I… I think it’s bonded with me,” she said finally, awe and wonder mingling in her voice. Kida nodded, a rare, approving smile touching her lips. She looked down at her hands, still tingling from the crystal’s touch, and realized that she had finally been claimed by her world. And alongside her people, she would have to learn how to protect it, understand it, and ultimately, share in its power.

Milo knelt beside her, hands trembling as he reached for her. “Kida… are you—?”

She shook her head, too spent to speak. The city had marked her, claimed her, and though she was alive, the experience had left her body screaming in protest. Every muscle felt strained, every nerve raw, yet in the back of her mind, a spark of awe remained.

The crystal had accepted her.

It had chosen her.

Chapter Text

Kida’s legs trembled beneath her as she tried to rise from the chamber floor, every muscle screaming in protest. Milo knelt beside her, worry etched across his face. “Kida… you have to let me help you” he said softly, scanning the labyrinthine corridors ahead. The crystal-lit ruins stretched out before them, some passages dry and jagged, others submerged in pools of deep, swirling water. “I… I can do it” Kida muttered, gritting her teeth, her pride warring with her exhaustion.

Milo’s hands were steady as he lifted her into his arms. She was heavier than she looked, her muscles solid and taut even when weakened, and he felt the strain almost immediately. But he held her close, careful not to jostle her injured back or shoulders. “Let me carry you,” he said firmly. “Only for as long as I have to.”

He navigated the corridors with painstaking care, balancing her weight and avoiding the sharp edges of broken columns. When the passage widened enough for her to support herself, Milo lowered her to her feet. “Come on, Kida. Use the strength you have left. I’ll guide you, but you have to keep moving.”

Kida groaned, pain radiating through her back and legs, yet she forced herself to step forward. Milo stayed close, his hand pressing gently on her lower back for support. When the floor sloped downward into shallow water, he gave her a small, encouraging smile. “Swim with me. One stroke at a time. You’ve done this before - just follow my rhythm.”

She nodded, her pride flaring alongside her determination, and kicked carefully through the water, Milo beside her, occasionally pulling her when fatigue threatened to overwhelm her. The current tugged at them, the water cold and unrelenting, but Milo’s presence was steady, a constant anchor against the exhaustion.

When the passage narrowed again, forcing her to climb jagged stone ledges, Milo shifted her weight onto his back, supporting her arms as she heaved herself upward. “You can do this, Kida. I know it hurts, but you’re stronger than this chamber ever was,” he said, his voice steady, coaxing courage from her when her own body refused.

They moved in alternating rhythms—sometimes he carried her, sometimes she swam or climbed, Milo’s hands always ready to catch her, guide her, or motivate her forward. Sweat and water streaked their faces, and the faint glow of the crystals above lit their path in shifting patterns that seemed almost alive, reflecting Kida’s struggle and Milo’s unwavering determination.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the familiar glow of the upper city appeared ahead, the halls of Atlantis stretching before them. Milo gently lowered Kida to the stone floor, letting her feet touch solid ground. She sagged against him for support, gasping for breath, her chest heaving.

“You made it,” Milo said, voice thick with relief. “I… I told you we’d get back. One step at a time.” Kida’s lips curved into a tired, faint smile. “Thanks… Milo,” she whispered.

He gave her a reassuring squeeze, letting her lean against him as they made their slow, careful way through the final halls. The bond between them had shifted, deepened—not just by shared awe and discovery, but by endurance, trust, and the quiet knowledge that in the trials of Atlantis, they could rely on each other when the city itself seemed intent on testing them.

---

The days after their return from the ruins had brought a fragile calm to Atlantis, but the strain of the chamber’s power had left Kida vulnerable. At first, it was subtle: a chill that ran through her limbs despite the warm crystal-lit halls, a fatigue that clung to her muscles like heavy water. By the second day, the signs were undeniable—her skin burned with fever, her breathing shallow, and her normally vibrant eyes clouded with discomfort.

Milo was the first to notice, lingering outside her private chambers. He had insisted on staying close, bringing blankets, water, and herbs from the city’s stores, yet Kida had protested at first, stubborn as ever. But now, as she shivered beneath the covers, he acted with the precision of a physician.

“Lie still, Kida,” he instructed gently, brushing damp hair from her forehead. His hands were careful, practiced, as he checked her pulse. “Your temperature is high. You need fluids, rest, and careful care. I’ve seen this before—fever like this can be dangerous if ignored.”

Kida tried to protest, to rise and push him away, but her strength failed her. “I… can’t be—weak,” she murmured, her voice hoarse, “the city… needs me.” Milo shook his head, firm but compassionate. “And the city will still need you if you live. Right now, you need to fight this. I’ll make sure you do.”

Over the next days, Milo became a constant presence. He brewed herbal teas to cool her fever, crushed leaves into pastes to ease her aching muscles, and applied compresses to her temples with the careful touch of a healer who had long studied human anatomy. He measured her pulse, observed her breathing, and adjusted blankets to maintain comfort, muttering under his breath about hydration, electrolyte balance, and rest.

At night, he stayed by her side, whispering reminders to drink, repositioning her gently when the fever made her toss and turn. He monitored her closely, never leaving her for long, while she drifted in fevered dreams of shimmering ruins and pulsing crystals.

“You’re stubborn,” he said one evening, brushing sweat from her brow. “But even the strongest warrior can’t fight illness alone. You have to let someone help.” Kida’s eyes fluttered open, glassy but aware, and she gave a faint, tired smile. “You… really care, don’t you?” Milo hesitated, then nodded, his gaze softening. “Of course. You’re the guardian of Atlantis… and I won’t let it lose you.”

In the following days, her strength slowly returned, aided by Milo’s constant care. He tended to her as a doctor would, with attention, patience, and a steady hand, combining logic and knowledge with genuine concern. And through it all, Kida began to see another side of him—not just a scholar, not just an outsider, but someone she could rely on, someone who could protect and nurture, even when she herself could not.

By the time her fever broke, and her color returned, she realized that Milo’s devotion had done more than restore her body—it had quietly begun to bridge the gap between their worlds, drawing her trust and, perhaps, something deeper, toward him.

Chapter Text

Kida sat at the edge of her bed, the morning light filtering through the crystal windows and casting soft patterns across the floor. Her body was still recovering, muscles sore from both the chamber’s strain and the lingering weakness of her recent fever. For the first time in days, she felt a stillness that was not imposed by duty, but by necessity—an unfamiliar pause in the constant rhythm of responsibility.

Milo moved quietly around the room, arranging fresh water, preparing a simple breakfast, and checking the herbs he had steeped overnight. He glanced at her once, eyes warm but careful, as if gauging how much of her energy had truly returned. “You’re looking better,” he said, voice steady. “Still weak, but better.”

Kida watched him, noting the deliberate care in every movement. He was precise and methodical, yet there was an underlying gentleness that spoke of genuine concern. Her father’s lessons about trust and the city’s need for allies echoed in her mind, and she realized that Milo’s devotion had been more than duty—it had been personal, unwavering, and quietly heroic.

She let out a soft sigh. “I didn’t expect… anyone to care for me like this,” she admitted, her voice low. “Not like this.”

Milo paused, meeting her gaze. “You’ve carried more weight than anyone should. It wasn’t about me caring, it was about you surviving. Atlantis needs its queen… but you need yourself too.”

The words struck her in a way she had not anticipated. For so long, she had been the strong one—the protector, the warrior, the unyielding guardian of her people. Vulnerability had been a luxury she could not afford. Yet Milo’s presence, his care, had made that vulnerability safe, even powerful in a quiet, unseen way.

She realized then that the bond between them had shifted. It was no longer only about discovery, the ruins, or the city’s secrets. It was about trust, reliance, and the unspoken understanding that came from seeing each other at their weakest—and choosing to stay.

Kida let herself lean back against the pillows, exhaustion still heavy but tempered by clarity. Milo moved closer, offering a cup of tea, and she took it, feeling the warmth spread through her hands and up her arms. She met his eyes, and for the first time, she allowed herself to acknowledge the truth: this man, this outsider, had earned a place not only in Atlantis, but in her own life.

The city hummed softly outside, the crystal light pulsing like a heartbeat in sync with her own. And for the first time in a long while, Kida felt a tentative peace—not because the trials of Atlantis had ended, but because she no longer had to face them entirely alone.