A few days later, deep beneath the waters of Atlantis, in the darkest depths of the city, Mel rolled up his sleeves with a determined gleam in his eyes. He stretched, the muscles in his arms rippling as he cracked his neck. “I’m getting us out of here,” he said, his voice steady with resolve.

  Shieka, ever the skeptic, tucked the array of legendary weapons back into her pants, which somehow fit with an absurd perfection, like something straight out of a cartoon. She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she sat down. “And how exactly are you planning to do that?” she asked, her tone both curious and unimpressed.

  “Because I can fly!” Mel grinned widely, giving Shieka a thumbs up as if his declaration was the most obvious thing in the world. Shieka growled, rolling her eyes in disbelief.

  With a confident leap, Mel shot upwards—only to plummet right back down to the ground. “Uh, that doesn’t usually happen…” he muttered, glancing at his ankles. He focused, trying to activate the cloud magic symbol that would usually allow him to soar. He tried again—only to crash back onto his butt.

  Shieka’s patience wore thin as she placed a hand gently under his chin, lifting his face. “So you can’t swim or be affected by the ocean at all, because of that curse Triton put on you?” She read his soul and saw the truth in his eyes, and Mel nodded in response.

  Shieka purred softly, her gaze narrowing in curiosity. “Your life is so… interesting.”

  Mel cracked his neck, the weight of his situation sinking in. “Looks like we’ll have to climb,” he said. He pressed one foot against the wall and began walking up it, defying gravity with ease.

  Shieka, smirking as she followed him, purred again. “You wizards are so fascinating—walking on walls, casting spells, wielding wands.”

  Mel chuckled, his mood lightening. “Mark taught me this one pirate song.” As he walked, his voice began to sing a rhythmic tune, filling the air as Shieka moved swiftly beside him on the wall.

  “Raise the sails and drink the rum,

  The ocean calls, the journey’s begun!

  With a map in hand and a heart so bold,

  We’ll find the riches, the pirate’s gold!”

  Mel chanted the verse for six relentless hours, his voice growing hoarse as exhaustion overtook him. “Raise… the rum… and call the ocean…” he gasped, dragging himself up the rocky edge. “We’ll… find the map… and eat the pirate’s gold!” He collapsed onto the cliffside, chest heaving with effort.

  “Atlantis,” he wheezed, staring at the horizon. “We’re here.” His voice was barely audible, but his mind raced. I can’t let the Atlanteans know I’m alive. If Liam finds out, he’ll call Goldman again. He hired him to capture Elowen, but he clearly wanted me dead too.

  As he mulled over his thoughts, Shieka perched lightly on his chest, her weight barely noticeable. She knelt down, her glowing eyes filled with concern.

  “You made it,” she said softly, stepping off him. As her gaze traveled over his battered form, a wave of emotion struck her. She saw his pain, his victories, his failures, and the bond he shared with his friends. Somehow, inexplicably, she was part of that circle. A single tear escaped her eye, and she quickly wiped it away.

  “Bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What did I do this time?” Mel groaned, trying to sit up.

  “Shut up,” she replied, shaking her head. “Where to next?”

  Mel forced himself to his feet, flexing his black and gold-plated hand. “I’m starving,” he said, scanning his surroundings to make sure no one saw him. “There’s a spell in the book that might help. My body’s too weak to use the full symbol, but…” He muttered an incantation, his form dissolving into a swirling cloud of purple mist.

  The cloud shot out over the ocean, drifting through the open window of a grand castle. There, Princess Rue sat on her bed, engrossed in a book, her delicate hands adorned with his black gauntlets. It had been so long since he’d seen her, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply admire her.

  He floated through the window and reformed just behind her.

  “What is that?!” Rue gasped, jumping to her feet.

  “Boo,” Mel said with a grin.

  Her reaction was immediate and violent. She screamed and punched him with the gauntlets. “ZOMBIE!”

  “OW! WAIT—I’M NOT A ZOMBIE!” Mel cried, stumbling back.

  “A ghost?!” she accused, grabbing a nearby broomstick and whacking him repeatedly.

  “OW! NO, NOT A GHOST EITHER!”

  Shieka appeared at his side, sighing as she watched Rue’s assault. “Mel, I can’t be the only one who doesn’t want to die again, right?”

  Mel grabbed the broomstick mid-swing, snapping it in half. “Stop it!” he shouted, breathing heavily.

  Rue wasn’t deterred. She stepped back, holding her hands out dramatically. “Stand back! My fire can melt an island… probably!”

  Mel raised his hands in surrender.

  “You could be a shape-shifter. What’s my middle name? The one I only told you?” Rue demanded, green fire swirling above her gloves.

  “Percy,” he answered with a sigh.

  Rue hesitated, biting her lip. “You could’ve looked that up!” she accused.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What’s my favorite color?”

  “Purple,” Mel replied without hesitation.

  Rue froze, her face turning pink. It was purple because of his eyes… she thought. “Lucky guess!” she huffed, still ready to strike.

  Mel groaned. “You created your tech because you thought magic was cool,” he said, his voice heavy with weariness.

  That did it. Rue’s defenses crumbled as she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. “MEL, IT IS YOU!” she cried.

  “Yes, so stop attacking me!” he begged.

  She flipped him onto the bed, her emotions swinging wildly. “How did you come back? Why did you fight Goldman without a plan? You just ran in headfirst and died!” Her voice cracked as she placed a hand on the black and gold plating on his face.

  Mel sat up with a wince. “I know, Rue. I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything, just… please get me some food.” His eyes pleaded with hers.

  Rue nodded, her heart softening at the pain in his expression. “Of course,” she whispered, heading toward the door.

  “And… maybe some new clothes?” he called after her.

  A few moments later, Mel sat in a chair near Rue’s bed, dressed in a sleek silver suit she had laid out for him. He twirled a forkful of spaghetti and raised an eyebrow at the outfit. “Thanks for the suit. It’s… a little extravagant, isn’t it?”

  Rue shrugged, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “I originally picked it out for your funeral, but the Steel Pact insisted you wear Atlantean gear instead.”

  Mel nearly choked on the sip of orange juice he was drinking. He glanced at her attire—blue high-waisted shorts, a matching button-up shirt, and an Atlantean necklace resting against her collarbone. “Why are you wearing Atlantean gear?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

  Rue bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Because I’m not a princess anymore. I’m an Atlantean now,” she said softly.

  The words hit Mel like a hammer. He coughed and patted his chest. “What?! Why?!” he managed to say, quickly wiping his mouth.

  Rue hugged her knees to her chest, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the black gauntlets she wore. “My father hasn’t been himself for a long time. He was willing to let Elowen get kidnapped without lifting a finger to stop it. What kind of king does that? I can’t stand by and watch him fail our people.” She paused, her voice growing quieter. “I’d rather let you be my king.”

  She placed a hand on Mel’s arm, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of Mel swallowing hard. The memory of Goldman killing him and kidnapping Elowen resurfaced, the pain still raw.

  “Now I see why you like this girl,” Shieka commented dryly from where she sat beside Mel, her tone laced with faint amusement.

  Rue rubbed her eyes and sniffled, trying to compose herself. “Anyway,” she began, changing the subject, “so you’re immortal because of whoever gave you the black lightning. When you die, you go into your book. Oh, and you share your body with the Wild Storm Spider, who’s also immortal?”

  Mel nodded, impressed at how neatly she summarized everything. “That’s… pretty much it. Well, partially,” he admitted.

  Rue tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “What else?”

  Mel took a deep breath. “Donatello—the Renaissance King and Goldman’s brother—is alive. I met him after Arid, Renita, and Lincoln started attending the school. He claimed he knew things about my father and promised to reveal the locations of the Seven Deadly Kingdoms. Apparently, those kingdoms hold answers about both my parents. He also said he’d tell me what the Magisterium knows about them—if I asked.

  “Donatello made me an offer: if I take down the Kingdom of Gluttony, he’ll give me something that belonged to Merlin. But here’s the thing—I don’t trust him. He’s the reason King Liam came after me in the first place. He stole the Lady of the Lake artifact, and whatever he’s planning, it’s bound to be bad. I can’t let him know I’m alive—not yet. Not before I figure out his endgame.”

  Rue listened carefully, her brows furrowed in concern. When he finished, she let out a long sigh. “You really need to start telling me this stuff sooner, Mel,” she said, exasperation in her tone but warmth in her eyes.

  Mel nodded and continued eating, savoring the meal. “How are the boys?” he asked, referring to Lance and Clyde.

  Rue sighed, leaning back in her chair. “There was some trouble. They tried to organize a festival to showcase your martial arts, but it didn’t exactly go as planned. Two guys showed up and started a fight with the Steel Pact. Don’t worry—they’re fine. All they seem to do is train these days.” She paused, counting on her fingers. “Arid’s been meditating in the forest like some monk. Lincoln’s back too. He claims he’s stronger now—and he’s got tattoos to prove it. Must be a werewolf thing. As for me? I’ve been training in the dragon arts. It’s been… intense.”

  Mel exhaled in relief, a small smile breaking through. “That’s amazing,” he said softly, pride in his voice.

  Rue wasn’t having it. She leaned forward and gently grabbed his chin, her emerald eyes locking onto his. “You’re smiling—but don’t.” Her tone was firm, yet laced with understanding. “I know what it’s like to smile while you’re breaking apart inside. I’ve been doing it ever since you left.”

  Her words hit him like a wave. Before he could respond, she added, “I bet you’re thinking, ‘Why hasn’t anyone been trying to get Elowen back,’ aren’t you?”

  Mel looked down, the smile fading from his face. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, his voice heavy. “I have been.”

  “But I’ve also been thinking… I want to get Dorian back too,” Mel admitted, his voice steady, almost proud.

  Rue’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you didn’t care about him anymore, not after he turned into a dictator.”

  Mel nodded, a hint of sadness crossing his face. “At first, I didn’t. I was angry—furious, even. But then I started to think about everything he’s been through. His father was murdered by Goldman. And now he’s putting on this act, trying to look like a strong leader determined to unite the kingdoms against the Seven Deadly Kingdoms. But underneath it all, he’s just… a scared boy, lost and overwhelmed, trying to figure out what to do.”

  Rue studied his expression, her brows furrowing as she listened.

  “I can’t ignore that,” Mel continued. “No matter what he’s done, he’s still my friend. For a while, he was like a brother to me. And brothers… brothers don’t give up on each other, even when things fall apart.”

  Rue’s gaze softened, the tension in her shoulders easing as she took in his words. “You’re a better person than most, Mel,” she said quietly, though her tone carried a tinge of admiration.

  King Percival burst into Rue’s room wielding a wooden bat, his pajamas rumpled and his hair a mess. Rue flinched and let out a startled scream, instinctively backing up. Mel, quick on his feet, dove under her bed without hesitation.

  “I heard a scream!” Percival declared, gripping the bat as if he were preparing to fend off a burglar.

  “No, you didn’t!” Rue replied, her voice high-pitched with panic.

  “Yes, I did!” Percival insisted, narrowing his eyes.

  “No, you didn’t, old man! Now get out of my room!” she shot back, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

  Percival sighed deeply, lowering the bat but keeping his stern demeanor. “Teenage rebellion. I get it. But please, if you’re going to wear the Atlantean jewelry, at least clean it first,” he muttered, clearly exasperated.

  Rue groaned loudly, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not a phase!” she yelled as he turned to leave.

  “It’s always a phase,” Percival grumbled under his breath, closing the door behind him.

  The moment he was gone, Mel let out a low chuckle from his hiding spot. “Rebellious phase, huh?”

  Rue’s face turned red with frustration. “Shut up,” she muttered, shifting her bed in irritation—and inadvertently banging the frame against Mel’s head.

  “Ow!” Mel groaned, rubbing his head as he scooted out from under the bed. “What was that for?!”

  “For being annoying,” Rue said, though a smirk tugged at her lips.