The watery plain clings tightly.
They've swum before, felt the press of water on skin. But this place—this depth—feels different. The water wraps around them not like a stranger, but like something familiar, almost natural. Anyawu looks around. At least most of her company are safe, accounted for. She steps slowly off the wooden board now sunken into the silted ground.
"Chioma," she calls, eyes scanning the group.
Chioma steps forward. "You notice it too, right?"
"How in the heavens are we able to breathe underwater?" Chioma asks, her voice hushed with awe. Then, pointing ahead, "And what in Ani is that?"
Before them, a kingdom glimmers beneath the sea, bathed in blue-white light that seeps from some celestial place above.
Anyawu narrows her gaze but remains calm.
"Everyone stay close. My troops can't protect all of you scattered. The strong among you, guard the weak. And check your—"
She's interrupted by movement—a figure descending to their level.
A priest, once strange on land, now stranger still. His legs are gone, replaced by a scaled tail that moves with grace. At Anyawu's subtle hand signal, her warriors shift into an offensive line—protective, yet poised.
"Mermaids? Mermen? This is what I must deal with?" Anyawu mutters under her breath.
"I see everyone survived. The fall wasn't fatal then," the merman priest says, voice melodic, mocking. "You surface folk have such soft skin and bones."
Still tense, Anyawu steps forward. "Answer me, unholy creature. What are you, and where are we?"
The priest chuckles. "Fiery, this one. You remind me of my queen," he says. "My name is Obinna n'Mmili. You are guests—of the goddess."
At the Palace
King Nduka sits at the dining table with his sons. Food, abundant and aromatic, sits untouched. His appetite, usually fearsome, is gone. He stares into the distance, hollow.
Four priests walk the hall, their staffs tapping the floor in slow rhythm.
"How is the news?" the king finally asks.
The priests remain silent, their faces grim.
"The gods have forsaken us," one of them says. "Our children have strayed from the path. They now lie in the belly of the beast."
"Drop the parables!" Nduka snarls.
"Igwe," another begins solemnly. "Our children… they are gone. I cannot sense their chi. Either they are dead—or they are no longer in this realm."
The king's face darkens. It is as if his soul has drifted from his body.
"Keep your optimism intact, Father," Chinedu, the king's first son, says gently. "We don't yet know their fate. Let's hope they're simply... elsewhere."
"That would mean they're in the arms of that goddess," the king growls. "She'll seal their fate—worse than death."
"How sealed off are we from the watery realm?" Chinedu asks one priest.
"If you're thinking of breaching it—forget it!" the king snaps. "There's nothing we can do."
"There might still be a way," Eze, the second son, pleads. "A ritual. The right priest. A spell. We might reach them."
"No," Nduka says, his tone calm but final. "If they are truly there… then we must place their fate in the hands of Chineke."
In the Watery Realm
The hundred-strong crew—Anyawu, her troops, the chosen—stand at an altar. On the right, mermaid sirens hum a rhythm so holy it shivers the soul. On the left, warriors stand in clay-and-bronze armor, silent, alien. And ahead—on a throne of coral and stone—sits the goddess, majestic and stern.
"Is that how you greet the goddess of water?" she thunders.
The crew collapses to their knees—except Anyawu. She remains standing, unwavering. Chioma, already kneeling, tugs at her commander's robes, her face pale with fear.
"And who must you be?" the goddess asks, eyes narrowing with a mix of offense and curiosity. Anyawu doesn't answer.
It isn't disrespect. It's courage. And the goddess sees it—sees that Anyawu is the most afraid, not for herself, but for her people.
"You are their commander?" the goddess continues. "It's rare to see a female leader—aside from myself, of course. So tell me... do you know why you're here?"
Anyawu straightens, then bows slightly. "No, we do not. We were ordered by the king to reach the Nile shores."
The goddess laughs, elegant and cruel. "Tragic," she says. "Then allow me to clarify. This—" she gestures grandly—"is your execution."
At the Palace
Chinedu walks the corridor toward his chambers. Eze runs up behind him.
"Brother—you can't allow this. There must be something we can do."
Chinedu halts. "And what, pray tell, would that be?"
"Father has grown weak. But we are his sons," Eze insists. "I've done the research. With the right priest, the right spell—we can reach the watery realm. We can rescue them."
Hope flickers in Chinedu's eyes.
"But we'll need a crew," he says.
They head for the barracks, the air filled with the sound of soldiers at rest. The crowd parts at the sight of royalty. They stop before a tall young man—powerful, lean, with the bearing of a general.
"General Chukwuebuka," Chinedu greets him.
"Young kings," Chukwuebuka responds warmly. "How was the expedition? And... is my bride-to-be, Anyawu, returned?"
Back in the Watery Realm
Anyawu's face hardens, disbelief shadowing her features.
"No," Chioma whispers. "How are we to escape this?"
Anyawu turns to her, offering a quiet, reassuring smile.
"How is this possible?" the goddess asks, feigning innocence. "You see, your king made a deal—his kingdom's safety in exchange for your lives."
"You can't punish the innocent for our king's choices," Anyawu snaps. "Spare them—take me. Take all my crew if you must. If it must be one, then let it be me."
Her voice cracks at the end.
"You sound just like the king," the goddess replies coldly. "Quick to offer sacrifice to save his own skin. Still, you're less selfish. But human, all the same."
"We are with her," Chioma declares. Around her, the others nod in unity.
"How touching," the goddess says. "Too bad this loyalty wasn't shown to your own gods. But…" she pauses, smiling faintly, "I will give you a chance to defend your loyalty. Let's see how many will truly stand by it."