The Call Of Thalassa

"We are all addicted

to something that ruins us."

-Quotes 'nd Notes

There is nothing glorious about dying. It's not a tale of fallen heroes, just a mess of scarlet. A flower of blood appears as pain blooms from your wound, slowly spreading to the rest of your body. Your mind registers your defeat just before your powers abandon you, leaving you gasping for your last breaths. And as you realize everything that you still had to do in life, your mind goes blank. Your soul exits your body, leaving nothing but a broken shell behind.

War is not a game of heroes.

War is a field of blood and loss.

A battle is a field of death -the tomb of souls who found a tragic end. There is no winner -not when you have to grieve and bury the ones that have fallen for this cause. No matter how noble this cause is, their families would have to continue their lives with the constant pain of their absence. Their children will have to grow without their fathers. Their mates will lose their other half, having to go on in life knowing their beloved is dead. Their friend will have to live without their laughter -their lives becoming duller.

The emptiness they leave behind cannot be restored. They were unique in their own way -they held the hearts of their loved ones. How could someone forget the one they love? How could they replace someone that meant so much to them? The answer is simple; they can't. They just go on with their lives, learning how to live with the pain of this loss.

They have to move forward, even if their future is built on ruins. For ruins have a purpose too; they stand tall and hauntingly beautiful to remind you of something that used to be. Even if they seem ready to collapse, they are more steady than what you could possibly imagine. They are the memories of your past, comforting you in your new beginning. It is both sad and sweet to watch the way something so glorious ended when its memory is filled with so much warmth and happiness.

And sometimes, people are the biggest ruins of them all. They carry the memories of loved ones that have long ago passed away. Their loss deeply hurting them -making their soul scream in pain, begging for someone to notice they are drowning. And yet, they still stand tall. Waking up every single day, even if they want to find peace in the nothingness that sleep offers. Their soul is crying for help -their heart is shattered. They cannot breathe. Yet, they are still there -alive.

A Ruin with a Soul.

As Havelock gazed at what was left of Atlantis, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful the city was, even if it was ruined. The golden walls still glistered under the sunlight, even when they were covered in blood. The mesmerizing statues as broken as they were, still looked beautiful with their missing parts shattered around them. The ravaged houses had maintained their aristocratic features, even if they would need a lot of work to be inhabited yet again. And the grand palace was still standing in the center of the city hauntingly beautiful, even if the bridges surrounding it were broken and its light had dulled.

The battle was over and yet, the water still had the taste of iron as blood flowed like spilled ink. The Atlanteans had won, but they wouldn't celebrate their victory. Their wounds were many -their losses significant. They took care of each other's injuries, before taking care of their fallen brothers. They had been through enough tragedies -they had been waiting for the day they would return back home.

But their home wasn't the same. It was ravaged and destroyed as if to match their tarnished lives. They wanted to go back when things were peaceful and they had to worry about minor problems in their daily life. Yet, life is not always fair. They will have to recreate their happiness in order to take it back. And that's what they were intending to do; built their new lives on the ruins of their old one.

And that's a difficult task to do. Especially, when the wounds of your present are still flesh and bleeding. Some of them may never close. Some others will leave scars behind. Scars to remind you of the battles you have survived and the mistakes you should never make. For the mistakes of others and the impact they have on our lives are very important lessons. And as long as we don't forget, history will not be repeated for the second time.

Havelock couldn't stop thinking of what had happened. He could still hear the sound of tridents clashing. He could feel the cold metal on his hand. He could still see the way Sethelious' eyes had narrowed at his sudden attack -the scar on his face seeming deeper as wrath covered his features. They didn't have anything to say to one another -they both knew what was all this about. The one had murdered to take the throne and the other had come to take back what was rightfully his, protecting his people and avenging his loved ones in the process.

So, they let their bodies say what words could not express. Uncle and nephew danced in the ancient art of war, intending to kill their opponent. Their fins moved fast as well as their tridents, sometimes slashing flesh and others leaving small bubbles in the water. This time it was a fair fight; the element of surprise missing as well as others to intervene. They were on their own and the winner was taking everything.

They attacked each other with vigor, using their tails to slam each other upon hard surfaces and their sharp claws for deep injuries when they were too close. Their tridents were moving expertly, clashing and threatening to spear flesh at the first mistake. As they fought with one another, so did the others around them. More and more rogues were falling victims of the Atlanteans' wrath. And as their tridents killed their enemies, the painful hisses and enraged growls were fading away. Until their arrows had spilled enough blood for the battlefield to grow silent.

But sometimes, silence roars louder than a siren. It echoes around until your ears are ringing from its depth. And as the silence took over, Sethelious finally glanced at the chaos around him. His mind went blank -he couldn't believe it. Everywhere he looked he could see ruins of his army -corpses of the ones fighting his own battles. He shook his head in denial, refusing to accept what he was seeing. No. This wasn't happening! His army hadn't fallen! They had not died! Because if they were dead, so was his reign. And everything he had sacrificed for his revenge was in vain.

Because simply; he had lost.

"No", he whispered.

He swam backward. His eyes widened. His breathing grew labored as the fact he was defeated registered in his mind. His trident fell from his hand as his whole being was screaming in denial.

"No!", he shouted yet again.

Havelock watched him wearily. He didn't attack him; he considered cowardly to hit a man when he was distracted, especially in single combat. He wanted to keep his consciousness clean, even if Sethelious wouldn't have done the same.

The young King didn't know what to expect. Would a man like Sethelious surrender? He had gone in great lengths to ensure that the throne was his. He had sacrificed his own happiness for revenge. Even when his freedom was taken away, he still plotted against his own brother. And he had almost succeeded -he brought chaos upon them before declaring himself King, even for a small period of time. Would a man that had sacrificed everything for power and revenge give it away without a fight? Would he bow down to a King he would never recognize?

Havelock should have known better. Sethelious wasn't a man, who accepted predetermined situations. He never accepted the fact that his brother was better than him, even if he knew Neptune was destined to become King. He didn't accept the fated love a Goddess chose for him, choosing to follow his heart and decide alone who was the best for him. Even when he was imprisoned and all the omens were against him, he believed in his own powers and found a way to free himself. And even though everyone was against him, he had managed to become the King of Atlantis -even if he had to spill the blood of innocents to do so.

He always played by his own rules.

And by his own rules, he would die.

They didn't see it coming. And when they realized what he'd done, it was already too late. His claws had slashed his own throat before anyone could stop him. His blood flowing like a river from the violent wound. Havelock could only stare in shock as Sethelious killed himself in front of his eyes. He drowned in his own laugh -a small smile appearing on his face, despite his pain. His body tensed as he struggled to breathe before completely relaxing and flowing to the bottom of the sea. His eyes closed as a content sigh left him. He let his last breath, knowing that he finally found what he was looking for all his life.

Peace.

His ending was quite fitting; he was killed by the man he hated the most. Every time he was looking in the mirror, he despised the idol looking back at him. His own self was his biggest competitor -in his eyes, he was never enough. He never tried to love himself for what he was. He was constantly trying to change, even when he saw that he was following the wrong path. He always wanted more -more power, more attention, more love. He was never grateful for what he already had -he never enjoyed the small joys of life. He never accepted himself for what he was. And in the end, he died because, after all this time, he still wasn't enough for himself. He still couldn't hold the throne he'd sacrificed so much for.

Havelock didn't know if his uncle would ever find peace. He hoped he would. Despite all the pain and grief he had brought to his family, he was a tortured soul. His hands would eternally carry the blood of innocents and yet, the young King couldn't bring himself to curse the name of a dead man. Havelock wasn't one to judge; the desperation of his mate's absence had brought him to the brink to insanity before he found his own miracle. They were all ruined souls, looking for their better halves and the warmth of love. May Thalassa be the judge of their mistakes.

"Havelock?"

He didn't notice when Osmond appeared beside him. He was too focused on his own thoughts. He wiped the blood away from the wound on his forehead, before turning his attention to his general and brother.

"I sent a messenger to the Caves", he said, "The rest will be here before nightfall."

He nodded in answer, before turning his attention back to the destroyed city. Ruined, but still standing.

"It's over", he whispered.

Osmond gave him a small smile.

"Yes", he confirmed, " It is."

A few moments of silence passed between them. They watched as their men prepared for the arrival of their mates and children. They all had a content smile on their face. The storm was over. The sun had risen in the sky.

"What do we do now?"

Osmond looked at Havelock.

"Now, we live, my King."

The general patted him encouragingly on the back.

"Now, we live."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of chapter 49!!

P.S. Last chapter is coming up on Wednesday!!

Follow & Comment & Vote

Until next time!!