A somber silence filled the large bedroom of the villa in Syris. Hours had passed since Jahui's passing, and neither Yoshua, nor Kaya had moved from her bedside. Yoshua's heart was heavy with grief as he sat with the baby in his lap, still dressed in his torn clothes from his encounter with the military men in the cottage. Kaya sat on the floor behind them, staring blankly at Jahui's lifeless body. She too was still in the same dress she had worn when she left home, now disheveled and chaotic.

The silence pressed in. Kaya exhaled, slow. Grief tightened around her. Yoshua watched as it hit her—like a wave, slow then crushing. Memories flickered in her eyes. He knew that ache. The kind that never really left.

Yoshua felt it too. The gnawing grief. Aiyana was gone. She had been both mother and sister to him. An anchor. She had been there for him through the hardest times. When he and Dariq first migrated to Atlantis, their lives were nothing but uncertainty and hardship. Dariq was fifteen. Yoshua, a small pup of five, with only faint memories of their homeland. For nearly seven years, they struggled to adapt. Atlantis was foreign. Unwelcoming. Not just because they were children still learning the language. But because they were wolf halfbreeds.

The prejudice was relentless. A weight. A fight. A fact of life. Yoshua had learned early—dwelling on it wouldn't change a damn thing.

Dariq and Yoshua's lives changed for the better when they moved to Cupta. Dariq found work with a local bear halfbreed's woodworking company. Then Dariq met Aiyana, and shortly thereafter they married. She took care of Yoshua, who was barely twelve at the time. Her tribe welcomed Dariq and Yoshua without question, embracing them despite their foreign halfbreed lineage. Aiyana's nurturing presence filled the void left by Yoshua's mother, giving him the support and love he desperately needed during those formative years.

When Kaya was born, it felt like Yoshua had gained a little sister of his own. One of the happiest days of his life. He could still hear Aiyana's laughter, see the way she cradled Kaya in her arms. Her teasing voice, light and playful—"Someday soon, you'll start a family of your own."

He would give anything to hear her say it again.

The thought of Aiyana now, and the turquoise locket she had given him to place on Dariq's grave, only deepened his sorrow. It had been the last thing she asked of him. The locket had been Dariq's wedding gift to her, a cherished tradition among the Kahkati tribe, where the groom presented his bride with a locket he carved by hand. Now, it lay heavy in his pocket, a silent reminder of all he had lost—of Dariq, of Aiyana, and the home they had once shared together.

The stillness was finally broken by the soft cooing of the baby. Yoshua reached for the last bottle, offering him milk. His hands steady, though his heart felt anything but.

The silence stretched.

Then he spoke. "We're almost out of milk for... the baby—"

"Kiran," Kaya replied softly, her gaze distant. "That's his name."

"Strong name," Yoshua said, glancing down at baby Kiran with a hint of admiration.

Kaya nodded.

His gaze drifted to the window. Moonlight filtered through the delicate curtains, casting pale streaks across the room.

"I'm not sure where to start looking," he admitted, glum. "Aiyana always had answers for these things."

He felt untethered, adrift in the unknown.

Just then, Mazi burst into the room, breathless.

"We need to get on a transport to the Underworld. Right now." Urgency crackled in his words.

Kaya shook her head. "We should wait until morning. It's almost dawn."

Yoshua caught the flicker of fear in her eyes. She didn't want to leave. Didn't want to step beyond the fragile safety of the villa. He understood. Jahui's arrival had shattered any sense of security she had. His gaze flicked to Mazi, then back to Kaya.

"Let me talk to Ibris."

"No, please, don't." Mazi shook his head. "Ibris demanded we head down right now. He wasn't in a good mood." He hesitated. Then— "Esa... Esa is all over the news streams. The police are looking for him everywhere."

Yoshua's stomach tightened. He moved to the window, scanning the driveway.

"Where is Esa?"

Mazi shook his head silently again, indicating he had no idea. "But we can't wait for him here." His voice was firm now. "If Esa's face is all over the streams, it's only a matter of time before the police track him to this house.

"Okay," Yoshua agreed. "But we need breast milk for baby Kiran."

"Right," Mazi muttered, scratching his head. "Ibris sent some newborn nutri-synth." He stepped over to Jahui's bedside, grabbing a container. "Made specifically for partbreeds."

"Ibris thinks of everything," Yoshua replied gratefully.

Kaya took the package from Mazi. "I've got it," she said, carefully lifting baby Kiran from Yoshua's arms.

Yoshua nodded, turning toward the door. "Let's prepare the transport."

"Wait." Mazi's voice was tight with nerves. "I need your tablet, Yoshua."

Yoshua paused, eyes narrowing.

"Why?"

Mazi shifted uneasily. "It was being tracked by several agencies."

"You're telling me this now?" Yoshua glanced at his device with deep concern.

"Sorry, there was a lot going on earlier," Mazi said, fidgeting. "Ibris said his guys removed the trackers, but it's just a matter of time until they lock in again."

That was the last thing they needed.

Yoshua glanced down at his tablet, its screen cracked but still functional, and handed it over to Mazi. "But I can't access anything in the south without this. How am I supposed to buy food without access to credits—"

Before he could finish, Mazi pulled out a pulsating crystal and pressed it against the tablet.

A sharp buzz. Wisps of smoke curled from the device.

"It's scrambled now," Mazi said.

That was fast. Yoshua did not much care for technology.

Immediately, Mazi handed him a new tablet, its glass surface gleaming in the dim light. Sleek. Powerful. Far beyond what Yoshua had before. He tapped the screen. His grip tightened around the tablet. More credits than he could earn in a decade. His eyes widened.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ibris." Mazi's tone was matter-of-fact. He turned to Kaya, pulling out another tablet. "He sent one for you too." He handed it over.

Kaya turned the tablet over in her hands, her brow furrowing. Yoshua watched her, noting the hesitation in her grip. The device looked foreign in her hands. Smooth. Cold. She had never held one before. The Kahkati tribe regarded tablets as evil sky god technology.

Mazi eyed Kaya, his brow tightening, mouth set in a hard line. He studied her for a moment. "You haven't used a tablet before, have you?"

Kaya shook her head, still turning the device over in her hands. "No, I haven't. No one in my tribe has them." She looked to Yoshua, confusion flickering across her face. "I didn't even know Uncle Yoshua had one."

Yoshua caught the confusion in Mazi's eyes.

"How is that even possible?" Mazi muttered, shaking his head. "Tablets are everywhere."

Yoshua turned to Mazi, his gaze steady but gentle. "The Kahkati people believe this technology brings a sickness to the soul," he said. "They say the Great Mother wants us to connect with each other and the land directly—that direct connection is what keeps us whole, well, and strong."

Mazi's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of surprise. "Oh," he murmured.

Yoshua understood the reaction. Most of Atlantis was tablet-bound now. Credits. Livelihoods. Identity. Everything was tied to them.

"The North and South are the only places in Atlantis that still use local currency," Yoshua explained. "In the North, we call it the silver Kupi." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin. Its surface gleamed under the dim light.

"I get it. I used to live in the South," Mazi said, nodding. "They used to have something similar called the zurash." His smirk was light, almost amused. "Pretty sure they won't accept those in the Underworld."

Yoshua met Mazi's gaze, not amused in the slightest. "Why don't you show Kaya how to use it?"

Kaya handed the tablet back to Mazi, her shoulders sagging. "Please tell Ibris thank you," she said quietly. She turned to Yoshua, fatigue thick in her voice. "But, Uncle, I just can't." Her eyes flickered with something raw. "Ma, Jahui... it's too much. I can't think about this right now."

"You rest. I'll start loading our things," Yoshua said, already moving to gather their belongings. He paused, glancing at Mazi. A flicker of something lighter crossed his face—excitement. "Which transport should we take?"

For a brief moment, the weight of their losses faded. Yoshua had always loved transports.

Mazi followed his gaze out the window, then pointed. "The big black one. It's open."

Without a word, Yoshua grabbed an armful of their things and headed for the door. He returned, moving fast. Packing with practiced ease. Then he noticed Mazi. Slower. Hesitant. Eyes scanning the villa like he was trying to etch it into his memory.

"Goodbye, home," Mazi said, quietly. "I've never had a home like you. I'll miss you."

Yoshua paused, then placed a firm hand on Mazi's shoulder.

Kaya cradled baby Kiran in her arms, gently feeding him the newborn nutri-synth. She caught the look of distress on Mazi's face, her gaze shifting to the villa around them. "How long have you lived here?" she asked, taking in the grand living room—the elegant furnishings, the rich decor.

"Just under a year," Mazi said, dismay clear in his voice.

Yoshua noticed Kaya's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He'd be surprised too, if he didn't know Ibris.

No mistaking it. This place belonged to Ibris Mansa.

The villa was expansive, full of furniture, decorations, and items that screamed well-lived. Yoshua scanned the room, her eyes catching the vibrant art on the walls and the intricately carved wooden pieces scattered around.

Without another word, Mazi bolted toward the villa's A.I. security system panel. His fingers flew over the controls. The interface lit up with a soft glow.

The A.I.'s voice chimed in, smooth and authoritative. "Welcome, Mazi. How can I help?"

"Activate the Ava Nori sequence," Mazi commanded. "Set for one hour."

"Ava Nori sequence initiated," the A.I. responded. "Countdown commencing. Please vacate the premises immediately."

Yoshua watched Mazi intently, visibly concerned. "How long do we have?" he asked, moving with urgency.

"About an hour until this entire place and all those beauties outside go up in flames," Mazi replied, frowning at the transports lined up outside the villa's grand entrance.

Yoshua's gaze shifted to the transports, their polished surfaces gleaming in the light. "What a waste," he murmured, and then with a hint of childlike enthusiasm asked: "Are you sure we can't take two?"

Mazi laughed but said nothing. He was focused on gathering what they needed.

Well, that's too bad.

Kaya watched Yoshua, noticing how he lingered on the vehicles. "Didn't know you liked transports so much."

He smiled, a soft laugh escaping. "Well, there aren't many in the North."

Yoshua loaded the last of their things into the vehicle, then went back into the villa to find Kaya.

She was staring at Jahui's body. "What about... Jahui?" Her voice trembled.

"We take her with us," Mazi said, walking into the room.

Kaya's unease crept through. "What do you mean, take her with us?"

Yoshua's stomach tightened. He knew what that meant.

"Dr. Dubay needs to run an autopsy at the Clinic," Mazi said, avoiding eye contact.

"Help me," Yoshua said quietly. With solemnity, the men wrapped Jahui's body and carefully placed her in the back of the transport. There was something eerie and profoundly sad about having a dead body in the car with them as they made their way to the Underworld for the next four hours.

Yoshua watched as Kaya shifted beside baby Kiran, her body tense with exhaustion. Slowly, she finally drifted off.

He listened as Mazi shared animated stories about his time with Esa in Monika City.

Then, suddenly, Kaya woke. Her chest seemed to collapse under some unseen weight. She gasped, struggling for air.

"You okay, Kaya?" Yoshua asked, concerned.

"Yeah, all good," she mumbled, still half asleep.

The transport rolled on, but then an unexpected odor filled the air.

"Ava Nori," Mazi groaned, waving his hand in front of his nose. "What is that smell?"

Yoshua burst into laughter, and after a moment, Mazi joined him.

From the back, Kaya mumbled sleepily, "It's baby Kiran."

Grinning, Yoshua nudged Mazi. "I took care of his last change. This one's all yours."

"I have no experience with that!" Mazi protested, looking genuinely alarmed.

Kaya rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she sat up. "Fine, I've got it," she sighed, moving to scoop up the little troublemaker.

The transport rolled down the winding road, the sunrise casting golden light over the highway. Moments later, Yoshua watched as Kaya caught her first glimpse of the floating islands. Three vast landmasses hung in the sky, surrounded by waterfalls cascading from their edges. The rushing water shimmered, casting a dark shadow below—like a curtain draped over the earth. It was a breathtaking marvel of ancient technology, whose origin had faded from collective Atlantean memory.

"Oh, Great Mother!" Kaya gasped in disbelief, staring at the floating islands. "They're beautiful. How can they just hang in the air like that?"

The islands hung majestically amidst the clouds, their lush greenery and towering ancient structures stark against the endless blue sky.

Yoshua glanced out the windshield, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. "They are a wonder of the world. I'll never get used to the sight of them."

Mazi sat beside them, scowling. "They're the homes of the wretched sky gods," he muttered, his anger palpable. "Scum of the earth."

Kaya turned to Mazi, curiously. "Have you been up there?"

"Yeah," Mazi replied, darkly, recollecting the past. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Kaya said nothing, but she offered Mazi a sympathetic smile. Yoshua placed a reassuring hand on Mazi's shoulder.

"Esa and I—I..." Mazi hesitated, shaking his head as if dispelling the memories. "I lived there for a few years. I worked for a noble family. It was horrible." He turned his gaze back to the islands, frowning as he recalled the unsettling experiences.

"What did you do for them?" Kaya asked.

"I had many duties. The last one was to guard to their children's quarters." He said, bitterly.

"Why would you want to work for the sky gods?" Kaya asked, visibly disgusted.

Mazi swallowed hard, as if bracing himself for something difficult to say.

Yoshua noticed the struggle and cut in, "We don't have to talk about it."

"No, no. I don't mind," Mazi said, shaking his head. "I was born in a desert village in Kemp, not far from the Southern River City."

"Kemp! Ma and our tribe's wise women used to tell us stories about the great Houses of Kemp," Kaya interrupted, enthusiastically.

Mazi smiled weakly, then continued, "My family needed money, you see. The sky gods often gather people from exotic places, luring them to their floating islands with promises of work and prosperity. My father sent me off when I was barely seven. The sky gods paid him a handsome sum, and just like that, I was taken from everything I knew." He trembled slightly.

Kaya placed her hand on Mazi's, offering a gentle, compassionate smile. "That is terrible."

Yoshua shifted, uneasy. Eyeing their hands. He was unsure of his role in Kaya's life now. She was grown. Her choices were hers.

What would Aiyana have said? Done?

Mazi looked back at Kaya, warmth filling his gaze, a tear glistening in his eye.

"Where is your family now?" Kaya asked.

That seems innocent enough. Yoshua took a deep breath.

"My mother died giving birth to me," Mazi said softly.

Kaya squeezed his hand again, a tender gesture, her warmth offering him solace.

Yoshua felt a connection between them. Their eyes locked, both glistening with tears and sadness. He looked away quickly, extreme uncomfortable.

What time was it? How much farther until the Clinic?

"I don't know what happened to the rest of my family," Mazi continued, his gaze drifting into the distance. "I didn't have enough money to find out when I cared, and now... too much time has passed. I'm not sure I could ever go back."

Kaya's expression softening with a deep sadness for Mazi. Yoshua could see it in the way she looked at him—the pain of his lost mother, his home, everything he had once known, mirroring her own.

Mazi turned to Yoshua, who deliberately looked away again from both of them. "Ibris says that you're from out East, north of Kemp. Where exactly are you from?" Mazi asked.

Yoshua's expression shifted to sadness, but he remained silent.

He felt Kaya's gaze on him, the weight of Mazi's question hanging between them. It became painfully clear to Yoshua how much Kaya wanted to know about her own lineage.

He wasn't ready to talk about it. Not yet.

Then he cleared his throat. "I've been trying to reach Ibris for a while," he said, glancing down at his tablet. "But he has not responded. How long do you think it'll be until we reach the Underworld?"

Mazi glanced at the road ahead, squinting, his forehead slightly furrowed. He then turned his attention to the transport's A.I. navigation system. "The northern tunnel into the Underworld is about fifteen minutes away," he said, pointing to the map.

Under his breath, he added, "I really hate this place."

Yoshua nodded in agreement. "I've lost so much to this city," he whispered.

Yoshua watched Kaya sit in silence, her hand slipping from Mazi's. He saw the shift in her—her face tightening, lips pursed. "Pa..." he heard her whisper, barely audible.

This was where Yoshua had lost his older brother, Dariq. Kaya's father. The weight of that realization felt sharper, more real somehow, as the waterfalls concealing the Underworld closed in around them.

Yoshua watched Kaya lean closer to the window, her eyes now wide with wonder as their transport approached the wall of water cascading down from the floating islands. The waterfalls shimmered in the sunlight, a breathtaking display of antigravity technology. Water rushed down with powerful grace, splashing into the wide river below. The sound it made was a symphony, filling the air around them.

Yoshua watched Kaya, her finger pointing at the waterfalls. "How—how is water falling and rising at the same time?"

He exhaled, a quiet sigh. Here we are again.

On the outside, the waterfalls cascaded down towards the earth, while on the inside, the waters rose back up, defying the laws of nature like they were pulled by some magical force.

Mazi glanced at Kaya, smiling weakly. "It really is a marvel, isn't it?" he said, softly, as the transport neared the entrance to the northern tunnel.

Kaya nodded, captivated. "It's like a dream."

Just then, baby Kiran began to cry, his wails piercing the air. Yoshua and Mazi exchanged glances, fully aware that they were about to enter the city of their nightmares.