Hearken (Daughters of the Sea Series) (20 page)

             
“This is going to be epic.” Phoebe placed an enthusiastic hand over her mouth as Sebastian quickly tied our canoes to the floating dock. He was the first one out and pulled me up from the canoe before turning to Olivia. I inspected my dirty clothes and realized that not only did I have syrup in my hair and jelly on my shirt, but now I was soaking wet as well.

             
“I look like a wet dog,” Olivia voiced my thoughts out loud.

             
“Smell like one too,” Phoebe quipped. Surprisingly Olivia just pushed her lightly out of the way, but the usual frown and comeback never came to the surface. It was more than likely the undeniably ethereal structure looming above us, or it was certainly possible that the island was having an effect on her too.

             
“Olivia you’ll be in the bottom house, while Stasia will stay in the top - if you guys want to go ahead and make yourselves at home.” Sebastian nodded toward me and Olivia. “I’ll take these girls over to their house to get settled in.”

             
“Is there a key?” I asked, and then realized that was probably a stupid question.

             
“No keys,” he grinned. “We have no crime here on Atlantis. Not to mention that you have your Warrior for protection.” He winked at Olivia and she scowled back at him with obvious disdain. 

             
“Let’s meet back here in ten minutes,” I gave orders to the girls, and then followed Olivia up the winding stairs to the first tree house. Walking up the steps, I felt the tree’s acknowledgement of our presence as its energy came alive. 

             
“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Olivia smirked down at me.

             
“Not that I know of.” I peered down sheepishly at the ground far below. She laughed and strode over to the door of her house. “See you in a minute.”

             
I continued to climb the winding stairs until I saw the roof of Olivia’s house, and suddenly the ground was just a distant thought in my mind. The leaves on the trees shimmered when the sunlight hit them and swayed lightly as I climbed by, although I noticed once more that there was no wind. When I finally made it up to my door, I carefully turned the knob and stepped inside.

             
The interior was completely made of wood; reminding me of a rustic log cabin. I saw a loft above that I assumed was the bedroom, while downstairs was a lavish living room and a very odd-looking kitchen. I set down my bag on one of the leather chairs and kicked off my shoes to run my toes through the fur rug that adorned the foyer.

             
A cool essence suddenly swept over me and I realized two seconds too late that I was not alone. I twisted around to see a girl standing before me with white blonde hair and impossibly pale skin. It was the same girl I’d seen in my dreams manipulating the moon’s light! Confusion settled over my thoughts when I noticed every other part of her appearance was the same except one. Pale blue eyes held my gaze with purpose, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had imagined the shining violet hue from my dream. The mouth that had spoken an odd language that night was now set in a determined line as she spoke in a crisp, light voice.

             
“Hello, Anastasia.”

Finn

              “Menoetius.”

             
“Who?”

             
“Menoetius,” Mom repeated after taking a sip of her hot tea. “He’s the only one not accounted for.”

             
“The banished-to-Tribeca-by-Zeus Menoetius?” Ricker confirmed with disbelieving eyes. “The God-of-violence-who-desecrated-entire-civilizations Menoetius?”

             
“That’s the one.” Mom nodded again. After seeing the girls off to Atlantis, we’d made it to Mom’s house by no less than a miracle. Within the distance of a scant thirty miles, Ricker had almost sideswiped another car, been near inches from hitting a woman with a stroller, and flipped off at least ten ‘sucky drivers’. I had already devised a plan to steal his keys before we left.

             
“Well that’s great news,” Ricker coughed up with sarcasm and then eyed his watch. “I’ve been thinking it’s about time for the world to end at the hands of a crazed, banished Titan. I say we get a case of beer and watch everything go down from the light station. Who’s with me?”

             
A severe look from Mom shut him up pretty quickly, and he commenced to stacking and unstacking a Russian stacking doll Mom had gotten on one of her many trips to Europe. She took another sip of tea and met my gaze.

“It can’t be a coincidence that this is happening right before the reinstatement of the Games.”

              “But what would Atlas have to gain by bringing his deranged brother back from the Underworld?” I surmised. The story of Menoetius was widely known throughout the Leaders of the Sons as someone who had exploited and misused his power and family. He was a good example of what NOT to do.

             
“I’m not sure he’s aware of what’s transpired. He would never allow it after….” Mom’s words trailed off and she sighed.

             
“After what?” I pressed.

             
“Sit down boys,” she ordered gravely. “I have something to tell you.”

             
“Finn’s actually a girl?” Ricker snickered. He couldn’t handle it when things got deep. He was forever cracking jokes or doing something dumb when things turned serious. Mom gave him another look before he conceded and plopped down on the couch next to me. “I know, I know…not the time for jokes.”

             
“Thetis entrusted a secret to her Council many years ago. I’ve never spoken of it and had never planned on doing so, but I believe it may be time.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands in front of her deliberately. “We all know the War of the Titans resulted in their defeat at the hands of the Olympians. We all know that upon his victory, Zeus punished Atlas by forcing him to hold up the heavens for all of eternity, and then banished his brother Menoetius to Tribeca. However, there is a
reason
the Titans lost the war.”

             
“They lost the Battle of Olympus,” Ian said. “Atlas was captured, his army slaughtered, and with their leader taken, the Titans crumbled under the much more powerful armies of the Olympians.”

             
“That’s what you’ve been told to believe,” Mom countered. “But that’s not the entire truth.”

             
We sat in silence while we waited for her to explain what had really happened. Ricker was sitting entirely still, Ian tapped his foot nervously and I felt a knot form in my stomach. I had a feeling this story would not have a happy ending; it would have a disastrous one…and we may just be a part of it.

             
“Although Atlas loved his brother, he knew he was bad. Atlas knew of his conquests, the violence, the mindless torture he had placed upon so many. He knew Menoetius was inherently evil, but he still believed he could change him. He still believed there was a way to turn him around. That was, until Menoetius betrayed Atlas in the worst way.”

             
“As everyone knows, Menoetius became obsessed with power and would stop at nothing to obtain it. But before the War, he found out about something Atlas had been keeping for centuries. Something a long lost love had gifted him centuries before. Even though he broke her heart, she allowed him possession of the crystal. He decided to keep it within the depths of Atlantis.”

             
“I knew it!” I jumped up and started pacing the house with excitement. “I knew it was true!”

             
“Finnegan, sit down before you pop an artery,” Mom scorned me. Reluctantly I did as she said, and waited eagerly for her to continue. “As I was saying, the crystal was hidden deep in the depths of Atlantis and was used to power the island. The enchanted crystal had the ability to collect light; charging itself naturally and providing endless energy to the Atlanteans. That is - until Menoetius found out about it.”

             
“After searching for the crystal for years, he finally found it. He quickly misused its power for his own advances, causing it to overcharge and destroy the very island in which it was housed.”

             
“The fall of Atlantis was Menoetius’s fault,” I stated in awe.

             
“That’s right. His insatiable need for power precluded anything he felt for his brother or Atlas’s descendants.”

             
“So how did that affect the outcome of the war?” Ian asked.

             
“Atlas was not captured by Zeus and the Olympians,” Mom began with suspense. “He surrendered.”

             
“What?!” Ricker gasped.

             
“Atlas decided to sacrifice himself in order to protect the Titans and all of his descendants from not only more war, but from the hands of his own brother.”

             
“Whoa.”

             
“Atlas made a deal with Zeus. He set a trap for his own brother, causing him to be killed by Zeus and forever banished to Tribeca.”

             
“So Atlas ratted out his own brother,” Ricker scoffed.

             
“Indeed.” Mom nodded and stared right into my soul. “To protect the ones he loved. With leadership comes difficult choices that must be made. Sacrifices, punishments and forgiveness cannot be handed out freely. They each come with a price. A true leader is willing to accept that price to do what he or she knows is right.”

             
“And now Menoetius has been freed,” Ian commented.

“I have a feeling forgiveness isn’t in his master plan,” Ricker finished for him.

              “I’m afraid you are correct, Ricker,” Mom agreed. 

             
“And maybe the long lost love has come back to reclaim her crystal from the one who broke her heart. Maybe freeing Menoetius was the best way to do that.”

             
“So whose heart did he break?” I asked. “Who gave Atlas the crystal?”

             
“Luna.”

Olivia

             
Before leaving the tree house – no, mansion - that would be my home for the next several weeks, I scanned the interior one last time. I’d never been immersed in such an opulent, yet arcane house that spoke to my soul in the way this structure of wood teetering in a lofty tree did. It belonged in a stately castle, not in a tree. The crimson silk lining the walls of the living room was made even more regal by the wrought iron sconces perched along its perimeter. Each one held a rustic flickering oil lamp that sent natural, dancing light throughout the house. In particular, it enhanced the foreboding beauty of the mural hanging on the wall above the black velvet couch. 

             
The painting drew me in and roused the inner strength I held within. Two ravens kept watch upon a rustic, stone wall covered with decay and worn with time. In the distance stood a magnificent medieval castle perched on a hill and surrounded by the cool arms of fog. It was a simple painting, yet incredibly powerful and inspiring. It almost made up for the wardrobe I’d been forced to choose from, although the word ‘choose’ was a gross overstatement. My choice had been between white and more white. 

             
Once I’d made my way to the ornate bedroom at the back of the house, I’d found a closet filled to the brim with clothes of every size and style; all white. No blues to add a little contrast, no reds to bring out the color in my hair, no accessories to add a little something extra. Just white. I was, however, thankful to have clean clothes, and despite their mundane color they were incredibly comfortable. The fabric was a smooth, breathable linen; not too different from the white pants Sebastian had been wearing. I’d chosen a long flowing gypsy skirt that hung just at the right spot on my hips, and a tight tank top that ended a couple inches short of the skirt’s hem; revealing just enough skin to give the drab outfit a little spark of sexy.

             
I pulled the wooden door closed and stepped out onto the sturdy, clapboard porch. I peered up at Stasia’s tree house looming silently above me. Although my palm wasn’t remotely itching or burning, I had an odd feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I shook out my hand and wondered if it was possible for my new abilities to switch on and off. That would be a monumental disaster. I saw the other girls congregating below, being held captive by one of Sebastian’s tall tales, so I took an opportunity to decide what to do. I rested a hand on the scraggly bark of a branch next to me and felt the current of energy running through it; streaking down the trunk and into the ground. I sensed the electrical pulses shooting out from its roots as they searched for nutrients and hydration.

             
Something in the rooted security of the tree’s foundation and raw nature of its life force gave me a deep seated feeling of empowerment, and I took a deep, cleansing breath. I grazed a finger over my trace on the side of my body peeking out from under the white tank top. My identifying trace may seem menacing to some, but to me it was a representation of who I was, who I was meant to be, and who I had yet to become. It reminded me that shedding our skin and emotional baggage is sometimes necessary to stay strong. It whispered to me the words of my ancestors, the life lessons, the Paladin traditions, and the will to survive. And plus, it just looked pretty cool.