The submarine's bridge fell into a hollow silence when Galit pressed the receiver button, cutting off Bianca's voice mid-sentence. The transponder snail's eyestalks drooped back into their shells, and for a moment, the only sounds were the low hum of the ancient engines and the distant creak of the dock's wooden pilings.
Galit Varuna stood at the main console, his long, flexible neck held in that loose, observant S-curve that allowed him to survey the entire bridge without moving his body. His sharp emerald eyes darted across the holographic displays, still analyzing, still calculating. His dark hair, streaked with sea-green and sticking up from running his hands through it. The twin Vipera whips at his hips—Current's Deception—were coiled and ready.
The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
Then Vesta Lavana leaped out of her seat.
"Oh! I know!"
All heads swiveled toward her. The rainbow-haired Sky Islander's violet eyes sparkled with manic energy, her long, multicolored hair bouncing as she practically vibrated with excitement. She wiped powdered sugar from her lips with the back of her hand—she had been demolishing a pastry—and beamed at the assembled council.
"We should do a concert once the Navy leaves the island!"
The Dual Flame Council—Eldon Gretok, Felice Pippas, Nola Lorn, and Rudra Soul—blinked in confused unison. Their expressions ranged from the Knowledge Keeper's weary skepticism to the Spiritual Advisor's profound bewilderment.
Eliane Anđel giggled, her small frame bouncing in her seat. The twelve-year-old Lunarian's silver hair swayed as she clapped her hands together. "That sounds like so much fun! I could make snacks! Festival snacks! Everyone loves festival snacks!"
Vesta squealed, her rainbow hair shifting through a spectrum of excited colors. "I know, right! Concerts are the best! And we need to celebrate! We just saved the council, we're about to retake the island, and—"
"Music time! Bloop! Music time!"
Jelly "Giggles" Squish bounced across the bridge, his translucent blue body wobbling with each energetic leap. His massive, starry-eyed pupils were fixed on something behind Vesta, and his permanent toothy grin stretched wider as he noticed the half-eaten pastry in her hand.
"Hey!" Vesta spun, her eyes narrowing. "You stole my snack!"
Jelly's body rippled with a giggle that sounded like bubbles popping. "Bloop! Tasty!"
He bounced past her, and Vesta lunged, her fingers grasping empty air as the gelatinous creature ricocheted off the walls.
"Get back here, you squishy snack thief!"
Jelly's laugh echoed through the bridge. "Bloop bloop bloop! Can't catch me!"
Eliane's smiling eyes and giggles joined the chaos, eyes smiling with delight as she watched the chase.
Eldon Gretok's weary baritone cut through the noise. "I do not believe I have ever witnessed such... enthusiasm in a war council." The Knowledge Keeper's sharp eyes followed Jelly's erratic path, and the ghost of a smile tugged at his weathered face. "It is... refreshing. And deeply concerning."
Felice Pippas's smooth, measured voice carried a hint of amusement. "They are children. Or close enough." The Diplomat touched her silver buffalo brooch absently, her sharp eyes tracking the chaos with the calculation of a woman who had seen far stranger things in the courts of Mary Geoise. "They have not yet learned to be afraid."
Nola Lorn's warm, gentle alto carried the weight of maternal wisdom. "Perhaps that is not such a bad thing." The Clan Mother watched Jelly bounce past her, and her hand reached out instinctively, as if to steady the gelatinous creature. "Fear is a teacher, but it is also a prison."
Rudra Soul's deep, resonant baritone carried the weight of prophecy. "There is a time for joy, and there is a time for vigilance. The spirits whisper that our moment of respite is short." The Spiritual Advisor's piercing gaze swept the bridge, his stoic expression unreadable.
Galit shook his head, his emerald eyes fixed on the console. His fingers flew across the controls, the tactical slate at his hip forgotten as he worked. "I am plotting a—"
His voice trailed off.
Halia's holographic form shimmered beside the main display, her silver-blue hair flowing as if suspended in water, her large eyes shifting from deep blue to aquamarine as she processed incoming data. The elegant robe woven from light patterns rippled with navigational charts and star maps.
"We have incoming."
Every body on the bridge froze.
Vesta's pursuit of Jelly halted mid-lunge. Eliane's giggles died in her throat. The council members exchanged sharp glances, their momentary levity evaporating like mist before the sun.
Galit's fingers never stopped moving across the console. "Define incoming."
Halia's voice carried measured cadence as she processed information. "There are several incoming vessels. Naval classification. Three frigates, one battleship. They are positioning to block the port's exit channel."
Vesta's violet eyes went wide. "Incoming as in—"
"As in, we have been located," Galit interrupted, his voice flat. "They found us."
Eldon Gretok's weathered face tightened. "Are we unable to leave the dock?"
Galit's jaw flexed. "Working on it."
The main screen flickered to life, displaying the port's exterior. Three Navy vessels dominated the narrow channel, their white sails stark against the grey sky. Their cannons were aimed at the submarine, and boarding parties were already forming on their decks.
Nola Lorn's warm voice carried a note of grim resignation. "That does not look promising."
Halia's holographic form shifted, her hair tendrils stiffening as she processed tactical data. "It is too shallow to perform the emergency dive maneuver. The water depth at the channel's entrance is insufficient for the submarine to fully submerge without risking hull breach."
Galit cursed, a sharp, frustrated sound. His neck knotted into a complex tangle—a stress response that his father would have recognized. "I could try to—"
"It would not be advisable to use explosives at this range," Halia continued, her voice flat and precise. "The blast radius would encompass the dock and the surrounding structures. Collateral damage to civilian infrastructure would be... significant."
Rudra Soul's deep voice cut through the tension. "It appears we are blocked in. The Navy has us trapped."
Galit glanced over his shoulder at the Spiritual Advisor, then back to Halia. "I could lock out the controls. Set the systems to require biometric verification for any operational changes."
Halia's holographic form nodded, her silver-blue hair rippling. "Affirmative. Only the biometric scans of the assigned crew will be accepted for operations."
Galit replied with a curt nod. "Do it."
He was about to stand when Halia's voice cut through the tension again.
"We have an incoming transmission. Visual and audio."
Galit's brow furrowed. "From whom?"
Halia's holographic form flickered. "Rear Admiral Petra Ven and Rear Admiral Topiaris Tidaltuff. They are broadcasting from the dock."
The screen flickered again, and the image resolved into two figures standing at the edge of the port, flanked by a large group of Navy soldiers. Petra Ven's unkempt dark hair was piled haphazardly atop her head with a single chopstick, her heavy-lidded dark eyes half-closed in that perpetual expression of weary observation. Her oversized Justice coat hung loosely over her shoulders, and her rough, pebbled skin caught the harsh light of the overcast sky. The 13 dorsal spines along her spine lay flat beneath her clothing, invisible but always ready.
Beside her, Topiaris Tidaltuff stood with the measured grace of a man who had never taken an uncalculated step. His voluminous silver-white pompadour was immaculate, his polished silver cufflinks gleaming, his form-fitting white trousers tucked into knee-high black leather riding boots. His light blue eyes swept the dock with the condescending assessment of a man who found everything beneath his notice.
Between them, kneeling on the rough wooden planks, was a group of children. Bound and gagged, their eyes wide with terror, their small bodies trembling.
Eldon Gretok's face went pale. "No."
Felice Pippas's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Those are the children from the eastern village. I recognize the girl with the braids. She is the herbalist's daughter."
Nola Lorn's hands flew to her mouth. "The spirits protect them. The spirits—"
Rudra Soul's stoic mask cracked. His eyes burned with cold fury. "This is beyond treachery. This is—"
Vesta pointed at the screen, her rainbow hair flickering with distress. "Is that... is that outside? Right now?"
Eliane's small fists balled up, her olive-toned skin flushing with anger. The white Lunarian wings flickered behind her, a brief flash of light that she quickly suppressed. "They are so mean! How can they—how can they use children like that!"
Jelly's bouncing stopped. The translucent blue creature hovered near the screen, his massive starry eyes fixed on the bound children. For once, he was utterly silent. His gelatinous body rippled with a tremor that might have been rage, might have been sorrow.
Topiaris Tidaltuff's voice emerged from the screen, crisp and theatrical, carrying that refined cadence that made even threats sound like a performance.
"Come out and surrender," he announced, his light blue eyes gleaming with triumph. "Or the children will be sacrificed. You have my word that their deaths will be... cinematic."
The children squirmed, attempting to yell through their gags. A tear rolled down the cheek of the youngest—a boy no older than five—and his muffled pleas cut through the bridge like a blade.
Felice Pippas rose to her feet, her sharp eyes blazing with a fury that stripped away her diplomatic mask. "We cannot allow this. We have to—"
She looked at her fellow council members, her voice cracking with desperation. "We have to surrender. We cannot let them—"
Galit stood.
All heads snapped in his direction.
The young lieutenant's emerald eyes were hard, his jaw set with determination. His long neck straightened into a combat coil, and his fingers twitched toward the Vipera whips at his hips.
"They do not know for certain you are here."
Eldon Gretok's eyes narrowed. "Where else would they assume we would be? The submarine is the only vessel—"
Galit shook his head, cutting the Knowledge Keeper off. "I don't know. But we do not need to verify their assumptions." His voice was flat, unyielding. "You are the key to the warriors retaking the island. If you return to the hands of the Navy, then all of this—everything we have done, everything we have risked—is lost."
Nola Lorn's voice carried a note of desperate pleading. "What are you suggesting?"
Galit's gaze swept the bridge, landing on Vesta, Eliane, and Jelly. "We deal with the Navy." He turned back to the council, his emerald eyes blazing. "This is a big submarine. Find someplace to hide. The controls will be locked out, and Halia and Telchines will ensure no one can access them without proper clearance."
Eldon Gretok's weathered face tightened. "And if they find us?"
"They won't." Galit's voice was flat, certain. "If we can draw the Navy away from the ship, then you find another place to hide until we have the island. The warriors are already free. They are already pushing back. All we need is time."
Rudra Soul's deep voice carried the weight of prophecy. "I do not like it. It is too risky. The spirits whisper of danger—"
Petra Ven's voice crackled over the coms, cutting through the debate. "You have until the count of ten to get out here, or we—"
Galit's head snapped around, his emerald eyes blazing. "We don't have time for a debate. This is the plan."
He began to move toward the bridge's hatch, his long neck coiling with restless energy. He looked over his shoulder at the council, his voice carrying the weight of command.
"You hide." His head swiveled to Vesta, Jelly, and Eliane. "You three, with me."
Vesta's rainbow hair flickered with excitement and nerves. "Wait, what are we doing?"
Galit's smirk was sharp, predatory. "We're giving them a show."
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