Atlantis — Royal Palace — Queen Atlanna's Chamber
"Mera!" Queen Atlanna rose from her bed as Mera entered the chamber, followed closely by Vulko. Relief flickered across her features before fading at the sight of their grave expressions. The royal guards announced their arrival and withdrew.
"My Queen." Mera strode forward. "Forgive the intrusion, but this cannot wait."
"What's happened?" The pit in Atlanna's stomach—the one that had gnawed at her all day—suddenly deepened.
Mera's voice was strained. "King Orm's attack on Taiwan has caused catastrophic damage across the surface world. Based on initial reports, we're looking at millions dead." She paused, her jaw clenching. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but after today, I can no longer call him my king."
She met Atlanna's gaze directly. "What he has done is unforgivable. This attack will have repercussions for all of Atlantis. We now bear the stain of his actions because Orm remains our king in name. The surface world was wary of us before, but we had earned goodwill—the Justice League vouched for us when we joined the UN. After today, that trust is crumbling. Our offer of aid was rejected by one of the affected nations. People will direct their rage toward us. Many already do."
Desperation crept into Mera's voice. "Your Majesty, I know you feel responsible for what Orm has become. I know what must be done feels like a complete betrayal of your son. But for the sake of all Atlantis, we must publicly disavow him. We must declare to the world that he is a rogue actor who does not speak for our people."
Atlanna lowered her head slightly, fists clenched at her sides. She remained silent, listening.
Vulko stepped forward, his weathered face etched with worry. "I fear we may already be too late—on both fronts. Details of what transpired today were leaked before Mera could report to you personally. It seems even among our most trusted forces, there are those loyal to Orm."
Mera's expression darkened. The moment she'd returned to Atlantis, she'd learned the entire kingdom was in uproar. Somehow the council had learned not only what transpired in the Pacific, but also the rejection and hostility she and her forces had faced. The intelligence she'd intended to deliver discreetly had been compromised. There was a traitor in her ranks.
Vulko continued, his voice heavy. "Days ago, the scientists and engineers who returned from the joint venture began spreading accusations against the surface world. They blamed the failure to modify a vessel for traversing the Unspoken Waters entirely on surface incompetence. However, we received a counter-report from Wayne Tech after we raised concerns with them. Their account paints a very different picture: our scientists were too arrogant to collaborate with their surface counterparts, who had been hospitable and patient throughout."
He paused. "Wayne Tech made their own grievances clear. They stated we should be grateful they kept our people away from the Higher Realm being's laboratory—otherwise, given that being's intolerance for arrogance, all of Atlantis might have faced dire consequences. Our scientists were simply sent away."
"Yet despite this evidence," Vulko said bitterly, "those scientists have the full support of the noble houses. In their eyes, Atlanteans are incapable of fault. And after today, three more noble houses have now declared for Orm. The Council is demanding an emergency session—they want answers about the attack, about our alliance with the surface world, about everything."
"Let me guess," Atlanna said bitterly. "They're using this as proof that surface integration was a mistake from the start."
"Worse." Vulko's voice was grave. "They're demanding you reinstate the isolation doctrine, disown Arthur, and declare that only Orm—as the pure-blooded son of Atlantis—can truly lead our people. They want him restored to the throne."
Mera's hands balled into fists, anger blazing in her eyes. "Fools! Every last one of them! Do they truly believe Orm would be content with isolation? After today, his intentions are clear—he means to wage war against the surface world. Those pompous nobles should confine themselves to their estates. They have no understanding of what we're facing. Orm has become too dangerous. He cannot be trusted. Not after this."
"Your Majesty," Vulko said quietly, "blunt as her words are, she speaks the truth. Orm has become a threat we can no longer ignore. We still haven't found a way to reach the Unspoken Waters. We need answers. Where is he? What are his full capabilities? Where will he strike next? What is his ultimate goal?"
Atlanna's expression darkened. "That's what troubles me most. This attack wasn't merely about destroying Taiwan. Orm executed it with surgical precision and demonstrated abilities I didn't think possible—even for him. The weapons documented in your logs, the scale of tidal manipulation—that level of technology shouldn't exist, not even in Atlantis's most classified archives. We suspected he had backing, but this exceeds our worst estimates."
Mera activated a holographic display, tactical data from the battle materializing in shimmering light. "Our scans detected no trace of his vessels after the attack concluded. The only logical conclusion is that Orm has withdrawn to the Unspoken Waters."
"We must find a way to reach that place," Vulko muttered, his expression troubled. "Perhaps the power he wielded wasn't gifted by an ally, but discovered within the Unspoken Waters themselves."
Atlanna frowned. "Explain."
"Your Majesty, we've operated under the assumption that Orm has a benefactor—and that may still hold true. But we shouldn't dismiss the possibility that the Unspoken Waters themselves are the source of his newfound strength. After all, we know precious little about what exists in those depths."
"You're right." Atlanna fell silent, her mind working through possibilities. After a long moment, she looked up, meeting first Vulko's gaze, then Mera's. "We can speculate endlessly, but without proof, that's all it will be—speculation. Let's focus on what lies ahead and what we know with certainty."
She turned to Mera. "I want you to take your forces and attack those formations Orm left behind. The surface world cannot reach them, but we can. This will also give you the chance to flush out the mole and possibly draw Orm out of hiding."
Mera's eyes brightened with understanding. "You want me to take a smaller force initially, allowing the mole to alert Orm. When he surfaces to defend the formations, we spring the trap—reinforcements that have been shadowing us move in to encircle them both."
"Precisely," Atlanna confirmed.
"It's a sound strategy, Your Majesty. But what of the Council? Won't they attempt to interfere?"
"Leave the Council to me," Atlanna said, her expression hardening to stone. "I am still the Queen Mother. I will convene an assembly of all kingdom leaders. If necessary, I will assume direct authority. Send word to your father and your allies—I may require their support when the moment comes."
She drew a deep breath. "You were right about one thing, Mera. What Orm has done crosses a line that cannot be uncrossed. But he remains a son of Atlantis and a king by right of blood. He will not be judged by the surface world—he will answer to us."
Atlanna's voice hardened. "Also, I don't know if our relationship with the surface world can be salvaged, but once you return from your mission, you will attempt to restore relations. At the same time, you will make this declaration clear: Orm has gone rogue. I am now regent in his absence. Despite everything, he is ours to capture and ours to judge." Her voice dropped, cold as the deep trenches. "And if anyone—surface or sea—disputes this, make it abundantly clear: Atlantis does not fear war."
Both Mera and Vulko visibly startled at the declaration.
"My Queen, please reconsider—" Mera began desperately.
Atlanna raised her hand, cutting her off. Their eyes met, and Mera saw nothing but unwavering resolve. "I have made my decision, Mera."
The coldness and determination in those eyes stole the words from Mera's throat. She opened her mouth, closed it, then nodded silently. Turning, she left the chamber, her shoulders bowed under the weight of what was to come.
Vulko remained, his features troubled as he processed Atlanna's words.
After watching Mera's retreating figure disappear beyond the doorway, Atlanna turned to the old vizier. "You have thoughts, old friend?"
Vulko looked up slowly. "Your Majesty... would my counsel change anything?"
They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Finally, Atlanna closed her eyes and shook her head.
"Then I ask your leave to withdraw," Vulko said quietly. He bowed and turned toward the exit.
Once the guards sealed the doors behind him, Atlanna was finally alone. She sank onto her bed, burying her face in her hands as the emotions she'd restrained came flooding through. Tears streamed down her face.
"What have you done, my son?" she whispered into the empty chamber, her voice breaking. "What have you become?"
China
By the time the massive wave reached China's eastern seaboard, coastal cities had evacuated nearly 60% of their populated zones. Military forces and local authorities worked in tandem, directing civilians inland with remarkable efficiency. The Justice League and UN emergency responders, fresh from rescue operations in the Philippines, joined Chinese forces on the ground.
Jiangsu Province
Jiangsu bore the brunt of the assault. The surge carved through everything before colliding with Huaguo Mountain—the province's highest peak, rising from an island in the East China Sea just outside Lianyungang. The forested sanctuary, home to ancient temples and wildlife, was ravaged. Temples crumbled. Lives were lost—monkeys, humans, and other creatures swept away in the deluge.
The waters crashed into a natural grotto concealed behind a towering waterfall. They seeped through fissures in the cave floor, reaching the coastal meridian ley line buried deep within the mountain's heart. Corrupted tidal energy mingled with the ley line's magic, transforming the island into a dead zone. The poison spread through the mystical pathways, disrupting the flow of energy throughout the region.
Shandong Province
While the world's eyes remained fixed on the wave's devastation, another operation unfolded in silence.
At Mount Tai's summit stood the Jade Emperor Pavilion. Five figures approached under cover of the chaos.
Clad in advanced hydro-stealth armor, the infiltration team scaled the mountain with practiced precision. They bypassed the ancient gates and slipped through the pavilion's high rafters. Inside the sacred hall, they moved with singular purpose.
The team leader gestured sharply. Two operatives took positions at the perimeter as lookouts. The remaining two dropped to their knees at the hall's exact center—directly above the Eastern Pillar Ley Line. From their gear, they produced a silent plasma-tipped drill. It hummed at frequencies beyond human hearing as it began boring through ancient stone.
The lead operative withdrew a pressurized case and opened it with care. Inside lay a sleek cylinder containing a jagged stone carved with pulsing runes. As they lowered it toward the opening, the sone inside began to faintly glow.
The mountain's ambient energy sensing the strangeness started to recoil.
Just then a figure emerged from the shadows near the great altar—a temple guardian with skin like weathered granite and eyes burning with white celestial fire. The warrior monk said nothing. He simply leveled his guandao at the intruders, the heavy polearm's curved blade gleaming in the dim light.
He'd been deep in meditation moments before, but he'd felt it—a wrongness in the air, the stench of death, the taste of ocean where none should be.
The moment he lunged, three of the five intruders moved to intercept. The fourth remained with the operative installing the device.
The fight was vicious. The infiltrators moved as a unit, exploiting gaps in the monk's defense, timing their strikes between the sweeping arcs of his guandao, covering each other when the blade came too close. The monk fought with supernatural strength and centuries of skill, but even he couldn't overcome three warriors attacking in perfect synchronization.
Minutes passed. All combatants were bloodied, panting, locked in a brutal stalemate.
The monk understood now—these were no ordinary thieves. He slammed the butt of his guandao into the floor and drew a jade talisman from his belt. With a sharp twist, he crushed it.
The air fractured above him.
A massive translucent phantom erupted into being—thirty feet tall, clad in divine black and gold armor, wielding a spectral sword that thrummed with celestial power. The Heavenly Marshal of the North.
The monk bowed with reverence. "Honored Marshal, these blasphemers defile sacred ground. Strike them down!"
The phantom's silent roar pushed the intruders back several steps. It raised its blade high and swung.
A wave of pure celestial energy tore through the hall—power meant to annihilate the profane.
The three fighters exchanged a single glance. One reached behind his back and unwrapped the long weapon he'd carried throughout the mission.
A dark blue trident gleamed in the phantom's light.
The moment it was exposed, the engravings flared to life. The bearer felt his life force drain from his hand into the weapon, but he didn't hesitate. His king had entrusted him with this artifact. Failure was not an option.
Decades of life burned away in seconds. He channeled his will through the agony and roared, thrusting the trident forward.
Dark blue energy exploded outward—the power of a God-King from a dead universe meeting celestial might.
The collision lasted only a heartbeat. The celestial wave was consumed. Dark energy surged forward, engulfing both the phantom and the monk. Their forms disintegrated, reduced to ash in an instant.
The fighter collapsed to his knees, aged nearly twenty years in moments. His companions caught him before he hit the ground.
They stared at the weapon trembling in his hands, then at each other. This was the same trident their king wielded—and using it just once exacted a devastating price. What had their king endured to master such power? What sacrifices had forged him?
The aged fighter gritted his teeth and rewrapped the weapon with shaking hands. His king had trusted him to use it only in emergency and return it safely. That meant surviving. Coming home. He believed in his king with every fiber of his being. Even if he'd just burned years off his life, he wouldn't die here. He would see his king again and place this weapon back in his hands.
"Done," the installer called, snapping them back to the present.
The team moved quickly. They slid a stone slab back over the drilled hole, then the installer applied molecular fusion paste along the cracks. Within seconds, the floor looked untouched. A burst of pressurized air resettled the ancient dust, erasing any trace of their presence.
The five figures vanished, descending the mountain and returning to their ship hidden along the coast.
Beneath the sealed floor, the device activated.
Small apertures opened in the cylinder, exposing the engraved stone to the raw energy of the Eastern Pillar Ley Line. The interaction was immediate and violent. Pure golden energy swirled around the stone—then the stone pulsed. Dark corruption bled into the golden light like ink through water. The poisoned energy began seeping downward through the ley line, spreading through its network like a disease through veins.
Hours Later—Over the East China Sea
When the wave finally dissipated and rescue operations concluded, authorities assessed the damage. Property destruction was extensive, but thanks to rapid evacuation and the combined efforts of the Justice League, UN response teams, Chinese forces, and local authorities, the death toll remained remarkably low.
Exhausted but relieved, the League boarded their carrier and departed for the United States. They rested during the long flight home, unaware of the shadow operation that had unfolded in their wake.
Divine Domain of Celestial Bureaucracy - Heavenly Court
The divine domain of the Chinese Pantheon existed in a pocket dimension above the Kunlun Mountains. At its heart stood the Jade Palace—a sprawling citadel of solidified celestial light pulsing with golden radiance.
Inside the Grand Hall, an emergency assembly was underway. Nearly every deity of the Celestial Bureaucracy had answered the Jade Emperor's urgent summons—only the Great Sage and the Eight Immortals were absent. Ministers, marshals, and immortals crowded the vast chamber, their attention fixed on the Great Scroll of Earth. The enormous parchment floated suspended in mid-air, stretching nearly two kilometers. Its surface mapped and monitored the vital energy flowing through every ley line across the mortal realm.
Moments ago, the impossible had occurred. A drop of black ink appeared over the symbol marking Mount Tai—the Eastern Pillar. Now, as they watched, the corruption spread outward like poison through veins, creeping across the golden tracings of the ley line network.
Seated upon the Celestial Throne, the Jade Emperor observed in silence. His expression was cold, his golden eyes reflecting the spreading darkness below. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of cosmic authority.
"The Eastern Pillar has been defiled. Someone has breached sacred ground and planted corruption within the Dragon Veins themselves."
Erlang Shen stepped forward, his third eye glowing with agitation. "Your Majesty, I sense foreign power within this corruption. Ancient... almost primordial. This magic doesn't belong to our world—it carries the stench of death and the ocean."
A swirl of saltwater suddenly materialized in the hall, coalescing into Ao Guang, Dragon King of the East Sea. His regal robes dripped seawater, his expression dark with fury.
"I believe I know the source." Ao Guang's claws tightened around his jade staff. "This corruption bears the signature of ocean magic—the same energy I sensed during the Great Tide that struck our coasts and my domain. Given the timing and unprecedented scale of that attack, there is only one who could orchestrate such a scheme, Orm of Atlantis."
Lei Gong, Minister of Thunder, stepped forward with violet lightning crackling around his form. "So the mortal used that massive wave as cover? While the world watched coastal cities drown, his agents infiltrated Mount Tai and poisoned the ley line?"
"Precisely," Ao Guang confirmed.
Erlang Shen frowned, his third eye pulsing with concern. "The temple guardian stationed at the Jade Emperor Pavilion was no ordinary monk. He carried a protection talisman blessed by the North Marshal himself—one capable of summoning a celestial projection. For mortals to overcome such defenses..." He paused, his expression darkening. "The power required to annihilate divine protection of that caliber and destroy a celestial summons suggests something far more troubling. This Orm cannot be acting alone."
The Jade Emperor's gaze locked with Erlang Shen's. "You suspect another pantheon backs him."
"Yes, Your Majesty. No mortal—no matter how powerful—could breach those defenses without divine support. The nature of the magic employed suggests significant resources and careful planning."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled deities. The implications were troubling.
The Jade Emperor raised his hand. Silence fell instantly. "This is not merely an attack on a sacred site. This is an act of war against the natural order itself. The ley lines sustain the balance between the mortal and divine realms. If this corruption spreads unchecked, it will destabilize the entire network—not just in China, but across all of Asia and beyond. Countless mortals will suffer, and their patron deities will be drawn into conflict."
He paused, his golden eyes sweeping across the hall. "With Zeus dead and Poseidon missing, the Olympian pantheon is in disarray. Yet this attack serves no obvious purpose—it harms all pantheons in the long run. Tell me, my ministers: what does this mortal, and whoever backs him, hope to gain?"
Ao Guang spoke first. "He may be taking our worshippers hostage, Your Majesty."
"Explain."
"We are bound by the Mandate of Heaven to protect our followers. Moreover, we depend on their faith for our strength. By corrupting the ley lines and poisoning the land, he forces us to expend vast amounts of divine power simply to keep the mortals alive—to filter the corruption and maintain the balance. This weakens us without him ever raising a weapon against us directly. And when we are sufficiently drained, he or the pantheon behind him can strike to plunder this divine domain."
Guan Yu, the God of War, stepped forward—a massive figure with a long flowing beard, his presence radiating killing intent. "Would a mortal truly dare such blasphemy?"
"A bold mortal with divine backing might," Ao Guang replied grimly.
Erlang Shen spoke again. "Your Majesty, while Ao Guang's theory has merit, I believe there may be another explanation. Perhaps he doesn't want China itself—perhaps China is merely a means to an end."
The Emperor gestured for him to continue.
"Consider the magnitude of the Great Tide and the sinking of Taiwan. He may be attempting to reshape the very resonance of the continent—to make the surface world uninhabitable for our believers. By corrupting the ley lines and disrupting the natural order, he could be preparing to drag entire landmasses beneath the sea, transforming them into extensions of his oceanic domain."
He met the Emperor's gaze steadily. "Whether Ao Guang's scenario or mine proves true, the result is the same: we are forced to expend massive amounts of divine power to protect the continent and our followers. Every pantheon with worshippers in Asia faces the same dilemma. In essence, he's holding us all hostage."
Murmurs erupted once more, louder this time. The Jade Emperor's expression grew colder.
A calm voice cut through the noise, drawing every eye in the hall. The speaker was young—a boy with a fierce look, red ribbons wrapped around his arms and fire flickering beneath his feet. Nezha, the Third Lotus Prince, had been leaning against a pillar with crossed arms, simply listening. Now he pushed off and stepped forward.
"It could be what Ao Guang and Erlang Shen said. But there's another possibility—something far more reckless."
The Jade Emperor's gaze settled on him. "Speak freely, Third Prince."
"He might be trying to provoke a divine war. By attacking sacred sites and angering multiple pantheons at once, he could be baiting us into breaking the Divine Accord—forcing us to descend en masse to the mortal realm. The resulting devastation would give him cover to strike with whatever power his divine backers have granted him."
"That's madness," Erlang Shen muttered.
Ao Guang's claws tightened on his staff. "Complete madness. The last Battle of the Gods reshaped entire continents. And this time, the stakes are even higher—there's the mad being in the Indian subcontinent, and that Higher Realm entity currently walking the mortal world. If either is drawn into the conflict, the consequences would be apocalyptic."
"Could anyone truly be so reckless?" Lei Gong said quietly.
The Jade Emperor fell silent, his golden eyes distant as he weighed each theory. The hall waited. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, measured. "If that is his strategy, then he has gravely miscalculated."
Nezha's voice was quiet, almost hesitant—but in the stillness of the hall, every word carried. "Your Majesty, there is another option. We could withdraw our protection from the corrupted regions."
The hall went dead silent. Every deity understood what he was suggesting.
Nezha met the Emperor's gaze and continued. "He assumes we'll exhaust ourselves defending while he waits to strike. But if we abandon the ley lines and let the corruption run its course, the mortals in those regions would perish—and so would his leverage. He's betting we won't sacrifice our followers. But if we called his bluff..."
The suggestion hung in the air, met with uncomfortable silence. Several deities shifted uneasily.
The Jade Emperor studied Nezha for a long moment. "You understand the implications of what you're suggesting, Third Prince?"
Nezha bowed his head respectfully. "I do, Your Majesty. I'm not advocating for it—I'm merely illustrating how deeply this trap cuts. From a purely tactical standpoint, abandonment would shatter his strategy. But..."
"But the Mandate of Heaven is not a tactical convenience to be discarded when it suits us." The Jade Emperor's voice hardened. "It is the foundation of our authority. The covenant we made with the mortal realm. If we abandon our worshippers now, we forsake the very principle that grants us the right to rule. We would lose far more than divine power—we would lose legitimacy itself."
He rose from the Celestial Throne. The hall darkened under the weight of his presence, as if the heavens themselves were drawing closer. "We will not abandon our people. But neither will we allow this affront to go unanswered."
He turned to Erlang Shen, his voice sharp and commanding. "Descend to Mount Tai immediately. Contain the corruption before it reaches the secondary nodes. I will use the power of this domain to mask your presence during your descent—that way, the other pantheons will not detect you and the Divine Accord will remain unbroken. Use whatever means necessary, but do not let the blight spread beyond the Eastern Pillar."
"It will be done, Your Majesty." Erlang Shen bowed deeply.
The Emperor's gaze shifted to Lei Gong. "Alert all temple guardians across the provinces. Double the wards on every sacred site. If Orm has struck once, he will strike again. I want no more surprises."
"At once, Your Majesty." Lightning crackled around Lei Gong as he bowed.
Ao Guang stepped forward, barely restraining his fury. "And what of Atlantis itself, Your Majesty? Do we retaliate?"
The Jade Emperor's expression was unreadable. "Not yet. We do not know if this action was sanctioned by Atlantis as a nation, or if Orm acts independently. More importantly, we do not know which pantheon backs him—and striking blindly could trigger the very divine war he may be trying to provoke."
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped to a whisper that somehow filled every corner of the vast hall. "But make no mistake: if the corruption is not cleansed, if our sacred places continue to be violated, if our people continue to suffer... then we will respond in full. And when we do, the oceans themselves will learn to fear the Heavens."
The assembled deities bowed in solemn acknowledgment, the weight of the declaration settling over them like a coming storm.
As the gods dispersed to carry out their orders, the Jade Emperor returned to the Great Scroll, watching the black stain creep slowly across the golden tracings of the ley line network.
"You have made a grave miscalculation, little mortal," he murmured, his golden eyes reflecting the spreading darkness. "The patience of Heaven is vast... but it is not infinite."
Next Day - Dawn - Central City
Golden morning light streamed through the windows of their Central City apartment. Barry Allen stirred as his alarm rang, cutting through the comfortable silence. He reached out instinctively to silence it, then slowly opened his eyes.
Yesterday's memories crashed over him—the devastation, the lives lost, the feeling of not being fast enough. But as his gaze settled on the woman sleeping peacefully beside him, a small smile tugged at his lips.
Caitlin Snow lay curled beneath the sheets, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her face serene in sleep. The events of the previous night played through his mind—how she'd held him when he returned exhausted and grief-stricken, how she'd stopped the others from asking for more details, insisting he didn't need to relive those horrors. She'd taken him home and simply been there for him. What had started as comfort had turned into something more, something intimate and healing. Her love had been exactly what he needed to anchor himself.
Barry reached out gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He watched her for a long moment, grateful beyond words to have her in his life.
His phone alarm went off again. He quickly grabbed it and shut it off, not wanting to wake her. Carefully, he slipped out of bed, finding his boxers and pajama bottoms scattered on the floor. As he dressed, he glanced back at the bed and noticed the dampness of the sheets.
A flicker of concern crossed his mind. Last night had been a blur of passion and emotion. They hadn't used protection—but Caitlin had said it was a safe day. He trusted her, of course he did. Still, a part of him wondered if they should talk about it. He'd always wanted to be a father, to have a family, and their relationship was heading in that direction. But he wanted it to be a decision they made together, not something that just happened.
He pushed the thought aside for now and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.
The smell of fresh pancakes, eggs, and bacon gradually filled the apartment. In the bedroom, another phone alarm went off.
Caitlin's hand emerged from beneath the covers, fumbling to silence it. She stirred, stretching lazily, then winced slightly at the pleasant ache in her back and hips—a reminder of the night before.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she noticed Barry's side of the bed was empty. The delicious aroma drifting in from the kitchen made her smile. He was cooking breakfast for them.
As she sat up and stretched again, memories of last night came flooding back. Her smile faltered. She pulled the sheets back and looked down, her expression shifting from contentment to concern.
In the heat of the moment, driven by emotions and her desire to comfort him, she'd told Barry it was a safe day. But now, in the clarity of morning, she realized with a jolt that it might not have been. The timing was... uncertain.
Her mind raced through the implications. What if she got pregnant? They hadn't planned for this. They weren't ready—or were they? She loved Barry more than anything, and she knew he loved her. But this wasn't how she'd imagined it happening.
Yet as she sat there, another feeling crept in beneath the worry—a strange, almost guilty longing. Would it really be so terrible?
"Cait? You awake?"
She looked up to see Barry leaning against the doorway, a warm smile on his face. The sight of him—happy, alive, here with her—made her doubts dissolve.
"Yeah," she said softly, returning his smile. "I'll be right out."
"Take your time. Breakfast is ready whenever you are."
He disappeared back into the kitchen. Caitlin shook her head, pushing her concerns away. Whatever happened, they'd face it together.
Twenty minutes later, they sat together at the small dining table, both freshened up and dressed casually. Barry had made an impressive spread—pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and coffee.
"This looks amazing," Caitlin said, squeezing his hand across the table.
"You deserve it," Barry replied. "After everything yesterday... I just wanted to do something nice."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, exchanging small smiles and touches. When they finished, Barry stood and turned on the TV in the living room.
The news coverage immediately showed aerial footage of the devastation along China's eastern coast. The reporter's voice was somber as she described the ongoing recovery efforts and the staggering death toll. Communities around the world were coming together to support the displaced and mourn the millions lost in Taiwan.
Caitlin moved to Barry's side, taking his hand. He squeezed it gratefully, his eyes fixed on the screen.
The coverage shifted to political fallout. Critics and politicians were blaming the Justice League and UN responders for being too slow. But more concerning were the growing accusations against Atlantis.
"Breaking news," the anchor said. "Anonymous sources have leaked classified imagery from yesterday's attack and a classified UN Security Council report suggesting that the catastrophic wave may have originated from an Atlantean weapon. The leak, which came through Middle Eastern channels overnight, has sparked international outrage and calls for accountability."
Barry's expression darkened. His jaw tightened.
"Barry?" Caitlin asked quietly.
His mind raced. People were suffering, angry, looking for someone to blame. This situation was a powder keg. If it wasn't handled carefully, if misinformation spread, if emotions overrode reason...
He remembered what Dinah—Black Canary—had said yesterday. He thought about the complex web of interests at play, the potential for everything to spiral out of control.
And then, unbidden, a memory surfaced. Flashpoint. The timeline he'd created in his grief, the one Orach had to fix. In that twisted reality, Atlantis's armies had ravaged the world. He'd seen firsthand what happened when Atlantis went to war.
His thoughts deepened, and suddenly another memory broke through—something buried, something he'd dismissed at the time because he hadn't understood its significance.
The Time Vault. The articles. The fluctuating headlines.
Barry's eyes widened. His face went pale.
"Barry, what is it?" Caitlin gripped his arm, her voice urgent. "What's wrong?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it. How could he explain? How could he even put it into words?
"I—" He hesitated, his mind reeling.
"Barry." She turned him to face her, her expression fierce with determination. "Whatever it is, tell me. Or better yet—show me."
"Cait, I don't think—"
"Take me with you," she said firmly. "Wherever it is, whatever you're thinking about. We face this together. Always."
He searched her eyes and saw only resolve. After a moment, he nodded.
"Okay. But we need to go to STAR Labs."
"Then let's go."
She grabbed a protective bag containing an extra pair of clothes—she'd learned from experience that traveling at super-speed had certain wardrobe consequences.
Barry scooped her into his arms, and in a flash of lightning, they were gone. The apartment door swung shut and locked behind them.
Moments later, they arrived at STAR Labs. Caitlin's shoes had held up, but her blouse was singed at the edges. She quickly changed into the spare she'd brought while Barry moved toward a seemingly ordinary section of wall in the Cortex.
He placed his hand against it. The wall blocks shifted and parted, revealing a hidden entrance.
"The Time Vault," Caitlin murmured, following him inside. "Barry, why are we here?"
The chamber was dimly lit, with a central control terminal dominating the space. As they entered, the wall sealed itself behind them.
"There's something I have to see, Cait," Barry muttered as he activated the terminal. A holographic face materialized above it—a female visage with cool, composed features.
"Good morning, Mr. Allen. Dr. Snow," the AI said smoothly. "How may I assist you?"
"Gideon," Barry said, his voice tight. "Show me the future articles. The ones from Thawne's database."
"Of course."
The AI's face vanished, replaced by a holographic screen displaying newspaper articles. But the titles weren't stable—they flickered and shifted, glitching as if the system couldn't settle on a single version of events.
Caitlin stepped closer, her eyes widening as she read the fluctuating headlines:
"Eternal Eclipse: Justice League Vanishes Amid Crisis"
"Tides of War: Atlantis Declares War"
"Flash Missing: Vanishes in Crisis"
"Madness of Gotham Spreads to Metropolis"
"Justice League Disbands: CADMUS Security Force Takes Charge"
"War of Gods Devastates Australia"
"The Fall of Supergirl: Dies in Crisis"
"Saiyan God Vanishes with Three-Headed Dragon"
"Barry..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Why are we looking at this again?"
"When we first found this place," Barry said quietly, "none of it made sense. We thought these were just glitches—errors in Thawne's system." He gestured at the flickering articles. "But now, after everything that's happened..." He paused, his jaw tightening. "Orach coming back. The gods revealing themselves. And now this attack that swallowed Taiwan and devastated the Philippines and China's coast..." His expression grew solemn. "I don't think these are glitches anymore, Cait. I think these are possibilities. Potential futures that could happen depending on the choices we make from this point forward."
Caitlin's gaze locked on one headline in particular: "Tides of War: Atlantis Declares War."
"You think yesterday's attack could lead to this," she said softly.
"I don't just think it—I'm terrified of it." Barry ran a hand through his hair. "If people believe Atlantis is responsible, if governments demand retaliation, if Atlantis feels cornered... we could be heading straight toward a war that destroys everything."
"But we can change it," Caitlin said urgently. "That's what this means, right? The timeline isn't fixed. We can stop this from happening."
"I hope so," Barry said, his voice heavy. "But look at the rest of these headlines... they're all troubling. A crisis that makes the Justice League vanish. Me disappearing." He gestured at the flickering screen. "Some kind of madness spreading from Gotham to Metropolis—I don't even know what that means. The League disbanding. A war between gods. Kara dying." His throat tightened. "Orach vanishing with some three-headed dragon. It feels connected somehow, like dominoes lined up waiting to fall. And I have no idea how to stop something when I don't even understand what's coming."
Caitlin stared at the flickering articles, her scientific mind racing. "Gideon, can you provide any additional context about these articles? Dates? Sources?"
"I am afraid the data is incomplete and unstable," Gideon replied. "The timeline appears to be in flux. Multiple divergent possibilities are overlapping, preventing a clear resolution."
"Because the future isn't written yet," Barry said quietly. "At least, not anymore. Orach fixed my mistakes, and with his control over time... his very presence might be why our futures are in flux. It's both good and bad—every choice we make now determines which of these becomes real."
Caitlin turned to him, her expression determined. "Then we make sure the right choices get made. We tell the team. We tell the League. We make sure cooler heads prevail and that this doesn't spiral into war."
Barry nodded slowly. "You're right. We need to act fast. If these articles are any indication, we're already on a dangerous path."
He looked back at the screen, at the headline about Atlantis declaring war, and felt a chill run down his spine.
The fuse had been lit yesterday. Now it was a race against time to put it out before the world burned.
Hall of Justice - Two Hours Later
Tension hung thick in the Hall of Justice's primary conference chamber. Earth's greatest champions sat around the circular table, yet the weight of recent events pressed down on them all. The team that had ventured into the Unspoken Waters—Batman, Cheetah, Aquaman, John Constantine, and Hal Jordan—had just returned, along with Laira, who'd been patrolling Sector 2814. Wonder Woman and the Titans remained the only notable absences, still off-world on their mission in the Vega System.
The moment everyone assembled—including Team Flash joining via remote link—Batman cut straight to the point.
"What happened while we were gone?"
Somber glances passed between those who'd remained on Earth. During their journey from the Antarctic base back to Gotham, the returning team had caught fragmented reports about a catastrophic tidal wave in the Pacific. But they hadn't heard the full scope of the devastation.
Superman nodded to Cyborg, who immediately activated the holographic displays. Multiple screens materialized above the conference table—a world map overlaid with damage assessments, satellite imagery, and recorded footage of the wave itself.
"Here's what we know," Cyborg began, his voice heavy. "Yesterday, a massive wave—unprecedented in scale—originated from deep in the Pacific. By the time we detected it and mobilized, we had less than thirty minutes before impact."
The holographic display shifted to show the League's response: Superman, John Stewart, Shazam, and others racing against time, attempting to break apart the wave, divert its course—anything to buy evacuation time.
"We evacuated approximately eight million people from Taiwan," Cyborg continued, jaw tight. "UN responders coordinated with us on the ground. But Taiwan's population was between twenty-three and twenty-four million." He paused. The silence became deafening. "Roughly ten million are confirmed dead or missing. The rest remain unaccounted for."
Aquaman's fists clenched on the table. Hal's face went pale. Laira leaned back in her chair, stunned.
"There's more," Superman said quietly. He replayed the footage and zoomed in on the water. "The wave itself was corrupted—it had the same properties as Orm's previous attacks. We believe this was a mass harvesting operation designed to collect souls on an unprecedented scale."
The holographic footage shifted again, showing the horrifying moment Taiwan was consumed. The wave rose like a living mountain, its crest impossibly high, before crashing down and swallowing the island in seconds. Buildings, mountains, entire cities—gone in an instant.
Beneath the table, Cheetah's hand found Batman's, gripping it tightly.
"We had more warning with the Philippines and China's eastern coast," Cyborg added, his tone slightly less grim. "We minimized casualties there—but the destruction remains extensive. Millions displaced. Infrastructure obliterated."
The footage stopped. Silence filled the room.
"I can't believe this happened," Laira finally whispered. Beneath the table, Hal reached out and squeezed her hand. She returned the gesture, fingers trembling.
"We failed so many," Cheetah said quietly, voice strained. "How could anyone do such a thing?"
"If only we'd been stronger," Aquaman muttered, guilt thick in his tone. "We were there. In the Unspoken Waters. We saw Orm's fleet. We knew he was planning something—and we still couldn't stop this attack."
"Arthur, we couldn't have stopped this even if we'd tried," Hal said firmly. "We were weakened in those waters. Both of us. Hell, even Barbara had trouble down there, and she's got nature-based powers. If she hadn't been with us, we wouldn't have made it out alive."
"Lantern's right, mate," Constantine added. "We barely survived as it is. And let's not forget—Bats and I got captured by that bastard. Orm's far more dangerous than any of us imagined."
"Constantine's right," Batman said, voice calm but firm. "Hal. Arthur. Barbara. None of this is your fault. The only one responsible is Orm." His eyes narrowed. "And he will pay for what he's done."
"We have to make sure he does," Cheetah said, squeezing Batman's hand as she met his gaze. Her expression turned fierce. "He must answer for this."
Batman nodded, returning her grip.
"Damn right," Aquaman agreed, voice edged with barely restrained fury. "He's not just dragging himself down—he's taking all of Atlantis with him. I won't allow it. Atlantis has only just begun integrating with the surface world. I can't let him jeopardize everything we've built."
Green Arrow leaned forward, arms folded. "Sounds like you guys had a hell of a time down there yourselves. What did you find?"
The rest of the League nodded, eager to hear what the team had discovered.
Batman recounted their mission in precise detail. He described their journey into the depths, discovering Orm's fleet, the army of soldiers loading weapons and equipment onto warships. He explained how they'd infiltrated Orm's flagship, witnessed the massive arsenal aboard, and downloaded partial data from the ship's control systems.
As he spoke, Batman fed the extracted data into the League's systems. Holographic images materialized above the table—fragmented schematics of Orm's ships, weapon inventories, troop movements, and partial communications logs.
"Before we could gather everything and sabotage the fleet, we were discovered," Batman continued. "Constantine and I were captured. Orm himself led the response team."
"Wait—you were captured?" Flash asked, eyes wide.
"As in, actually captured?" Green Arrow added incredulously. "Not just pretending?"
"Orm was expecting us," Batman said flatly. "Or at least, prepared for the possibility of infiltration. His security measures were extensive." He paused. "And there's something else. Orm and his soldiers are no longer normal Atlanteans. They've been enhanced—physically augmented beyond anything we've seen before. Orm himself…" Batman's expression darkened. "He gave me nearly the same impression I get from Wonder Woman or Cheetah. I believe he's using the harvested souls for more than his weapons. He may be transforming himself into something approaching a demigod."
"What?" Multiple shocked voices erupted around the table.
"This is the worst-case scenario," J'onn muttered.
Batman nodded grimly. "Getting captured wasn't ideal, but it gave me an opportunity to engage him directly and extract intelligence." He gestured to the holographic display. "I recorded the conversation. Listen."
The recording played.
"Damage?" Orm's voice echoed through the chamber. "I've researched you, Dark Knight. You're supposedly wiser than most surface champions. So use that wisdom and see what's really happening. What you call damage is necessary chaos before a new order rises. I'm building a world where Atlantis finally claims its rightful place."
"By harvesting souls?" Constantine's voice cut in. "Mate, you're just being a parasite. And an order built on sacrifices isn't worth a damn. You're delusional."
Orm scoffed. "You understand nothing. For centuries, the surface world poisoned our oceans. Your waste, your toxins—all dumped into our home. And what did Atlantis do? Nothing. We hid. We cowered." The sound of his trident slamming against the deck rang out. "No more. With the power I now command, I will cleanse the surface and reclaim what is rightfully ours."
"Power built on stolen lives isn't true power, Orm," Batman said steadily. "I've stood face-to-face with beings who could unmake worlds—I know what real power looks like. Whatever you think you're becoming, whatever power you believe you possess, it doesn't even come close."
Orm laughed. "You think my plan is so simple? Consuming souls is merely a means to an end. And you're referring to Orach, aren't you? The Higher Realm being?" His tone turned mocking. "Yes, I've read about him. You're right—compared to him, I'm insignificant. But do I really need to fear him? His actions have made one thing abundantly clear. As long as his interests aren't threatened, he won't intervene. I'm free to pursue my ambitions." He paused. "And even if he did decide to act… I've found a way to deal with him."
"An operation of this scale requires resources far beyond what Atlantis alone could provide," Batman said evenly. "Who's backing you?"
Orm chuckled. "Trying to extract intelligence, Detective?" His voice grew closer. "You're brave—I'll grant you that."
"So, who's backing you?"
"Why don't you deduce it yourself?" Orm replied. "Take a guess."
"…The Shinto Pantheon."
"Impressive," Orm said, genuine surprise in his voice. "Yes, I have dealings with the Shinto gods. Satisfied? But they're not alone. I've formed alliances with many entities across our universe."
"Why?" Batman pressed. "Why do all this? Arthur never wanted your throne. You were and remain king of Atlantis."
Orm's chuckle grew into full laughter, then abruptly shifted to fury. "I may sit on the throne, but the people made it abundantly clear who they truly wanted to rule. Do you know what it's like to feel like an impostor in your own birthright? To be king in name only?" His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "I don't need permission to claim what is mine. I'll take it with my own power and make every traitor pay. Together with my loyal soldiers, I'll forge the one true New Atlantis. And if wretched souls from the surface world must fuel that ascension, so be it. They should feel honored their essence serves a greater purpose—my purpose."
"You're devouring people," Constantine said flatly. "This is madness."
"Call it what you will," Orm said dismissively. "Guards, bind them. Take them to the holding cells. They'll serve as excellent test subjects for the next phase."
The recording ended.
Silence fell. Everyone sat processing what they'd just heard.
"Yeah," Constantine said finally, massaging his temples. "Hearing that again… the bloke's completely unhinged. Absolutely mad."
"Wait—did I hear that right?" Black Canary leaned forward, expression tense. "Did Orm really say he has a way to deal with Orach?"
Batman and Constantine both nodded.
"He did," Batman confirmed. "Orm claimed he's found a method to counter Orach if necessary."
Superman's expression grew serious. "Do you believe him?"
Most of the League focused on Batman's answer, but Cheetah's eyes narrowed. She'd caught something in Superman's tone—a hint of interest, maybe even anticipation.
Batman considered the question. "Whether I believe him is irrelevant. Orm has already proven more dangerous than we anticipated. I'd rather not underestimate him again." He paused. "We should assume he does have a countermeasure and plan accordingly."
"Then shouldn't we warn Orach?" Flash suggested. "Maybe get his help?"
"Then shouldn't we tell Orach about this?" Flash suggested. "Maybe we could get his help."
"Flash has a point," Hal agreed. "Bats, I know you've said having Orach intervene would be dangerous, but look at what happened yesterday. Even if all of us were there, we couldn't have stopped that wave. But Orach? With his power, he could've saved those people. Saved Taiwan."
"I agree," Green Arrow added. "We need him to act."
Black Canary's expression was conflicted. "Before yesterday, I would've said no. But after seeing the devastation, the deaths..." She trailed off. "We have someone with the power to stop this. Shouldn't we use it?"
"I disagree." J'onn's voice cut through the growing consensus, drawing everyone's attention.
"Manhunter?" Hal looked shocked. "Why?"
"Because of the fight with his echo," J'onn said quietly.
Silence fell.
J'onn continued, his voice measured. "We all remember that fight—how powerless we were. We would have died if Diana hadn't reached its heart." He looked around the table. "Orach has fought in wars beyond our comprehension. His power is meant for threats on that scale, not conflicts like this. And it's not as though he doesn't help—he's been improving lives across this world, healing the planet. Whenever we truly need him or make critical mistakes, he steps in." J'onn paused. "His friends who appeared during Darkseid's invasion followed similar principles. There's a reason he doesn't actively interfere with lower realms like ours. And remember—eventually, he'll leave us. He belongs in the Higher Realms." His gaze swept across his teammates. "Above all, Orm is from this realm. He's our responsibility to stop."
"But that's..." Shazam started to protest, then faltered, unable to find the right words.
"I agree with J'onn," Cyborg said. "Orach's power is too great for situations like this. This is our world to protect. Didn't we all train with his methods specifically so we wouldn't need to rely on him?"
"Cyborg's right," Aquaman added firmly. "Orach has already given us an edge by training us. He did that so we could protect our own world."
"I don't know if anyone cares what this old man thinks," Zatara spoke up, "but I agree with Martian Manhunter. A power like that shouldn't be called upon recklessly."
"I agree too," John Stewart chimed in. "Think about it—we bring in a Saiyan whose power destabilizes reality and ask him to prevent a war? What if his intervention causes a catastrophe? What if fixing one problem creates something worse?"
The room erupted into debate, voices rising as some argued Orach should be contacted while others insisted they handle it themselves. The League quickly divided.
"I don't agree with you, J'onn." Superman's voice cut through the chaos, silencing the arguments. His expression was deadly serious. Once every eye was on him, he continued. "What's the point of having all that power if not to save lives? Weren't the Saiyans supposed to be protectors?" His jaw tightened. "To me, he's shirking his responsibilities."
CRACK.
The sharp sound of splintering steel cut through the room. Cheetah's fingers crushed the armrest of her chair, warping the metal beneath her grip. A thin layer of golden-green energy—her Nature Ki—flared around her as her cold eyes locked onto Superman.
"Do you want to repeat that?"
Superman met her gaze, unyielding. "I meant what I said. He's stronger than gods, isn't he? Then he should help us stop this before it spirals completely out of control."
Cheetah held his gaze, Ki still flickering around her. Her expression was carefully controlled, but everyone could see the anger simmering beneath. "You don't understand—"
Batman's hand grasped her arm under the table, firm but reassuring. She took a breath, her Ki gradually dissipating as she nodded at him. When she looked back at Superman, her voice was cold. "Orach doesn't owe us anything. He's already done more for this world than you realize. And questioning his sense of responsibility?" She leaned forward slightly. "That's incredibly short-sighted, even for you."
A flicker of doubt crossed her mind—something about Superman's insistence felt wrong, almost too eager—but she kept the thought to herself for now.
"Enough." Batman's single word commanded the room's attention, silencing everyone. "Let me end this debate. Orach isn't on Earth."
"What?" came the surprised shouts from many.
"When did he leave?" Flash asked.
"Where did he go?" Green Arrow asked.
"Batman, why didn't you tell us before?" Black Canary asked, annoyed.
Batman gave her a blank stare before responding. "I was going to mention it, but you all started your little debate."
Green Arrow massaged his temples.
Flash gave a helpless smile.
Black Canary looked ready to blast Batman with her sonic scream.
"Where did he go?" J'onn asked, worried.
"I don't know. I only received a brief notification that he vanished from his lab yesterday. His team saw him transform and step into a spatial ripple."
"Di..." Cheetah muttered, turning to Batman with growing concern. "Do you think Wonder Woman's in danger? Is that why he moved?"
Batman met her gaze and nodded. "That's my assessment."
Batman met her gaze and nodded after a moment of thought. "That's my guess as well."
Cheetah wanted to say more but stopped, nodding. She understood there was nothing she could do—her best friend and Rachel, her best friend's daughter whom she treated like a niece and little sister, were off-world. But she steadied herself, trusting that with Orach involved, they would return safely.
"If that's the case, then let's get back to the matter at hand," J'onn said, gathering everyone's attention.
"Agreed. And we have another complication," Cyborg said, pulling up a news feed. "After yesterday's tragedy, the UN Security Council convened an emergency session. China, the Philippines, Indonesia, Japan—they're all demanding answers. Justice. Some are calling for retaliation." He brought up classified satellite imagery and UN reports that had somehow leaked into public circulation. "Someone with access to highly secure systems released this through Middle Eastern channels overnight. Now the entire world knows we were attacked by a modified Atlantean vessel, and UN intelligence traced the tsunami's origin to what appears to be an Atlantean weapon."
"Who leaked it?" Batman asked.
"Unknown," Cyborg admitted. "But whoever it was knew exactly what they were doing—forcing the world's hand. Making retaliation inevitable."
Green Arrow leaned forward. "Let me make sure I understand this. Orm has a fleet of modified ships—possibly more than what you saw, given the time he's had to build his forces. He has crates full of advanced weapons hidden in the Unspoken Waters. He's already used his primary weapon to commit genocide and plans to use the rest to reshape the world. And thanks to this leak, the entire world believes Atlantis as a whole is responsible, which means—"
"Which means we're staring down a war," Aquaman finished bitterly. "Surface versus Atlantis. Exactly what Orm wants."
Cyborg's expression darkened. "I'm starting to think he used us—specifically me and the Planet Watch satellite."
"How?" Laira asked, skepticism clear in her voice.
"Think about it," Cyborg said, working through the logic. "The satellite and I were perfectly positioned to identify that ship's Atlantean design. We know yesterday's attack came from Orm because we've been investigating those formations, and I was there to scan the attacking vessel. But here's the problem—I'm not the only one with that data."
He paused, letting the implications sink in. "Planet Watch captured the same readings I did from both encounters—the ship that attacked us and yesterday's tsunami weapon. The difference? My personal scans stay with me. But the satellite feeds directly to the UN. Which means they already have evidence pointing to Atlantean technology. Damning evidence."
"But they don't have the full picture," Cyborg continued. "They don't know Orm's acting independently. All they see is proof that Atlantean ships and weapons were used in a massacre. And now that multiple intelligence agencies have access to that satellite data, I can't contain it. Can't control how it's interpreted or weaponized. The information's already beyond our reach—it has a life of its own now."
"So he was counting on us doing exactly what we did," Laira said, understanding dawning. "He knew we'd investigate. Knew we'd find the Atlantean signatures. And knew that evidence would implicate all of Atlantis, not just him."
"Exactly," Cyborg confirmed. "He weaponized our own surveillance systems against us."
"Everything's falling into place for him," Aquaman said bitterly. "Orm needs the surface world to strike first. That's the only way he rallies the seven kingdoms under his banner. My mother will have no choice but to defend her people. And once the war starts, Orm gets everything—the political cover and popular support to unleash his full arsenal with Atlantis's entire military backing him."
"Then we expose him," Superman said firmly. "Show the world this wasn't Atlantis—it was one rogue faction led by a tyrant."
Constantine gave a sardonic laugh. "And how exactly do we do that, mate? Go on the telly and say, 'Sorry about the millions dead, folks, but it wasn't really Atlantis—just the bloke who used to be their king using Atlantean ships, Atlantean weapons, from an Atlantean hidden base'? That'll go over brilliantly."
"Constantine's right," Cyborg said reluctantly. "The optics are impossible. Even if we present ironclad evidence proving Orm is acting independently, the public won't care. They've witnessed the destruction. They need someone to blame. Someone to punish."
"Then we find Orm and bring him to justice ourselves," Superman said.
Hal shook his head. "Easier said than done. Even with a working ship capable of reaching the Unspoken Waters, that place is a death trap. Everything there is hostile. Our only real option is to draw him out."
"Hal's right," Batman said. "The Unspoken Waters exist outside conventional space-time—vast, nearly infinite. The dimensional coordinates we used were extremely difficult to obtain. Now that we've demonstrated the ability to cross over, Orm will have relocated. Remember, we never found his main base—only a deployment point. Tracking him down again without his cooperation or a direct trail will take time we don't have. We need to lure him to us."
"What about working through Atlantis itself?" Laira asked. "Can't Mera help us track Orm through Atlantean channels?"
Cyborg brought up a new communication log. "We received an encrypted message from Mera early this morning through a secure channel only Arthur can access." He glanced at Aquaman. "You want me to play it?"
"Play it," Arthur said quietly.
His voice authorization unlocked the message. Mera's voice filled the chamber, tense and urgent.
"Arthur, if you're hearing this, I'm relieved you're safe. After I returned, your mother ordered me to attack the formations hidden in the deep oceans—to draw Orm out. It failed. The formations are protected by some kind of energy that manipulates water in ways even I can't counter. So now I have to deliver a formal message to the surface nations: Atlantis disavows Orm and declares him rogue. His punishment must be under Atlantean law, not theirs."
A brief pause, then she continued.
"She's also halted all embassy preparations and trade negotiations. All Atlanteans are being recalled. Arthur, she's preparing the Seven Kingdoms for war. I tried to argue, but she's right to be afraid. The surface world wants blood. If we don't show strength, they'll see weakness and attack anyway."
Another pause. When Mera spoke again, emotion thickened her voice:
"She's ordered me back to Xebel to prepare my people. I've refused—for now. But I don't know how much longer I can hold out. She's still my queen. And she's not wrong about what the surface might do. Please stay safe. And for now—don't come to Atlantis."
The message ended.
Aquaman's hands were clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white. "My mother is no warmonger. She's doing what she believes is necessary to protect her people. And given what Orm has done, given how the surface world is reacting..." He looked around the table, expression anguished. "Can any of you honestly say she's wrong?"
Silence hung heavy in the room.
Black Canary broke the silence. "She's not wrong to prepare. But there's a difference between defense and provocation. If Atlantis strikes first—any target, anywhere—it won't matter what Orm did. The war becomes inevitable."
Cheetah's eyes flashed. "And if the surface strikes first? Should Atlantis just let itself be destroyed? Let its people die for some idealistic notion of restraint?" She leaned forward. "If I were queen, I'd do exactly what she's doing. Her duty is to protect her people. And knowing her through Arthur, I know she won't fire the first shot—but she'll be ready if someone else does."
Batman's voice cut through the tension. "We're losing focus. The immediate priority is preventing escalation on bothsides. Superman, J'onn—make contact with the UN Security Council. Present what evidence we have that Orm is acting independently. Buy us whatever time you can."
Superman's expression was grim. "They won't listen. Not now. Not with this much fear and anger."
"Then make them listen," Batman said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Use every bit of credibility the League has earned. Call in every favor. Make them understand that hasty action now will have consequences that haunt them for generations."
Superman met his gaze, then nodded slowly. "I'll try. But you know as well as I do—we're not just fighting Orm anymore. We're fighting fear. Grief. Rage. Those are harder to defeat than any enemy we've faced."
Heavy silence fell over the room as the impossible weight of their situation settled on everyone.
Then Flash's fist crashed down on the table.
"WE HAVE TO TRY!"