The morning air in Atlantis was soft—atop the glistening skybridge that overlooked the central plaza, five figures stood gathered: Kida, Milo, Helios, Kurai, and Skuld. Below them, the rest of the surface crew—Audrey, Sweet, Packard, Cookie, Molière, and Vincenzo—prepared for departure. Their Atlantean vessel to go back to the surface was nearby, engines purring gently beneath the crystalline wings.
"Make sure you don't crash into a waterfall," Helios called lazily, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the balustrade.
"You wound me," Vincenzo said with mock injury, pressing a hand to his chest. "I only crash things on purpose."
Cookie laughed. "Ain't that the truth."
Audrey stepped forward, helmet tucked under one arm. "You sure you're staying behind? We could use you on the surface. Maybe get matching tattoos."
Skuld chuckled, adjusting her satchel. "Tempting. But someone has to make sure Kurai and Helios don't burn the place down playing around. Especially Helios, he likes to pretend to be a scientist."
Helios raised a finger. "I prefer 'applied metaphysicist.'"
Packard waved nonchalantly. "Well, if you kids find another hidden civilization, send a postcard."
Kida moved forward and offered a formal bow, though the gesture was softened by her warm smile. "Atlantis will always welcome you, should you ever return."
Sweet gave her a two-finger salute. "Thanks, Princess. Or… Queen now?"
Kida tilted her head. "Just Kida is fine."
They shared quiet laughs, and then came the farewells. There were quick hugs, longer embraces, and words unspoken but understood. Skuld squeezed Audrey's hand tightly before letting go. Kurai offered only a nod to the group—but it carried weight. Even she, silent sentinel of shadow, lingered a heartbeat longer than what she usually would.
Then, one by one, the Atlantean crafts lifted off. The engines shimmered with radiant blue as the ships spiraled upward toward the surface. The group watched in silence until the last shimmering trail vanished into the sky.
Kida turned to Milo, her hand slipping into his without thought. He looked down at her, his expression filled with something gentle and unfamiliar—hope.
Helios smiled.
"Well," he said, brushing off his coat, "why don't the two of you go on a date?"
Both Kida and Milo blinked at him.
"A… what?" Milo asked.
"You've earned it," Helios said. "A day off. Enjoy your city, walk your floating gardens, swap life stories over whatever counts as wine down here. Live."
Kida opened her mouth, then closed it, then smiled. "That sounds… wonderful."
"I'll show you my favorite rooftop," Milo added shyly.
"Scandalous," Helios said with a wink, waving them off.
With Kida and Milo heading deeper into the city, Helios turned back to the others. "Library?"
Skuld rolled her eyes. "Of course."
Kurai was already walking ahead. "Fine, let's go."
The Library of Atlantis remained a towering marvel of crystal and stone, its floating stairways now fully operational. The trio climbed in near silence, boots tapping softly against smooth, ancient floors. Shafts of soft blue light shone down like spotlights, and the quiet hum of old magic filled the air.
Helios led them to the highest tier, where the oldest texts were stored—written in the flowing glyphs of Atlantean script, indecipherable to any of them. Kida had given them the special privilege to browse here as they pleased.
Skuld crossed her arms. "Remind me again why we're here? You said you wanted something about the crystals, but none of us can read—"
"—Ah-ah-ah," Helios interrupted, reaching into his inventory pouch.
With a smug flourish, he pulled out a small leather case. Inside were three sleek pairs of thin-framed, silvery glasses. He tossed one to each of them. Skuld caught hers awkwardly.
Kurai narrowed her eyes at hers like it had personally insulted her.
"What is this?" Skuld asked, examining the lenses.
"Special order," Helios said proudly. "Moogles crafted them using synthesis materials from four different worlds. Enchanted to translate any written language into the reader's native tongue. Took them a few days to get the specs right. Don't worry—no mind-reading, no curses, no exploding lenses."
Kurai raised an eyebrow. "Pity."
Skuld slid hers on. The moment she looked at the nearest wall, her eyes widened. "Whoa. I can read that."
Kurai hesitated, then slipped hers on silently.
Helios already had his on and was scanning shelves. "Find anything with crystal diagrams. Anything referencing 'source,' 'creation,' or 'fusion.'"
They fanned out.
It didn't take long.
Skuld stopped before a pedestal, pulling open a tome that hovered midair and flipped open with a whisper of displaced air.
"Helios… I think I found it."
He and Kurai joined her.
The page was old, the ink glowing faintly as the enchantment adjusted to their vision. A circular diagram depicted the Heart of Atlantis—its radiant core surrounded by a series of orbiting figures, each shaped like stylized hearts.
Skuld read aloud, slowly. "The Heart of Atlantis… is not a gift from gods, nor a relic of the stars. It is the memory of our people. Each Atlantean, in life, gave a piece of their heart to a project long ago… freely and willingly. From that offering, the Heart was born. And in its light, the crystals grew."
She stopped. The silence that followed was thick with awe.
Kurai stared at the diagram. "So the Heart… is a collective of actual hearts. Hmm, no wonder it always felt it's power reject me."
Helios nodded slowly. "Every citizen. Every generation. One by one, they gave a sliver of their hearts. And in return… they created a power that nourished an entire civilization."
Skuld whispered, "That's beautiful."
Helios closed the book, reverently. "It's more than beautiful. It's the final piece."
Kurai's head tilted slightly. "Final piece… to what?"
Helios tapped the side of his chin, his eyes distant. "If the Heart was made from willingly given fragments of hearts… then I might be able to replicate the phenomenon using Ansem the Wise's heart lattice chamber back in Radiant Garden."
Skuld frowned. "Wait, seriously? You think you can recreate the Heart of Atlantis?"
"Not exactly," Helios said. "But the principle—light born from collective memory, sustained by unity—that's what matters."
Kurai folded her arms. "You're forgetting one detail."
"Oh?"
"These hearts were given. Voluntarily. Out of love. Sacrifice. Devotion. While I might not understand why they wished to do so, I at least understand that the hearts taken in Radiant Garden were ripped out. Forced. I believe those hearts won't get you the result you wish."
Helios didn't respond right away.
Instead, he stepped to the window, hands clasped behind his back, and gazed at the still-hovering crystal outside.
"…Yes," he said at last. "That's true. And the difference between choice and theft may make all the difference in the result. But even still…"
He turned around. "This proves it can be done. It gives me the framework I need. A seed of a miracle."
Skuld took a step forward, brow furrowed. "What miracle?"
Kurai's voice was quiet but sharp. "What are you trying to create, Helios?"
He smiled.
The kind of smile that revealed everything and nothing.
Helios raised a finger to his lips and let out a light shhh.
"It's a secret," he said.
Skuld groaned audibly. "No. Absolutely not. You don't get to drop a revelation like that and then hide the conclusion!"
"You'll like it," Helios said, walking away with an annoyingly casual shrug. "Eventually."
Kurai narrowed her eyes. "Secrets have a price, you know. This one being that you're annoying me."
Helios winked at Kurai, turned, walking backward down the hall of floating shelves. "So does knowledge. And I'm paying it."
He disappeared around a corner, boots echoing faintly.
Kurai and Skuld stood in place for a long moment.
Skuld finally said, "He's going to drive me insane."
Kurai let out a small, reluctant breath of amusement. "The fact that you're still here with us proves that he already has."