The Tower of the Third Current shimmered with crystalized silence, its windows catching the light of the moonlit surface.


Queen Thalassa stood within its highest chamber, surrounded by scrolls, sigils, and three silent attendants. The water here was held still by ancient spellcraft. Not even the sea dared stir.


A single orb floated before her—spinning slowly. It pulsed with light drawn directly from the deepest ley-lines of the ocean floor.


The signal was unmistakable.


The seal was breaking.


“Are you certain?” asked High Vizier Coralos behind her, his voice tight with restraint.


“I am never uncertain,” she replied coldly. “The thirteenth is awakening.”


Coralos hesitated. “But the boy—”


“Is more than a boy,” she cut in. “He is blood of Ceto. Born of the sea witch. Son of the king.”


At that, the room grew colder.


The last phrase had not been spoken aloud in council. But now that the queen had confirmed it, there would be no containing the echo.


“The Council will demand containment,” Coralos said.


“They will get more than that,” Thalassa replied. “I have already summoned the Wardens.”


His eyes widened. “That’s an act of war.”


“No,” she said, eyes locked on the orb. “It is an act of protection. Triton’s heart has always been his weakness. He is compromised.”


“And if he stands between us and the boy?”


She turned slowly.


“Then we will move through him.”


Her words fell like anchors into the chamber. No one spoke.


The orb shimmered again—this time flickering with three pulses in rapid succession.


Triton. Medusa. Erebus.


All converging.


All connected.


The queen’s gaze did not soften. But beneath the calculation, there was a flicker of unease.


Not fear.


But uncertainty.


She had ruled with reason for centuries.


And yet… somewhere deep, she wondered:


What if the tide was turning not toward destruction—but redemption?


And if so… could she allow it?