Kingdom Hearts: Consumed by Darkness

Triton arrived too late.

The waters around the area were silent, as though the ocean itself had stopped breathing. The light filtering through Atlantica's coral towers dimmed, absorbed by grief before it could touch the seabed. The moment Athena's heart stopped, something seemed to have broken.

The queen lay in a delicate spiral of floating silks, hair trailing like golden fire in still water. Her crown had fallen from her hair, caught between drifting sea grass and a patch of her own blood. Her body was still warm—still graceful—even in death. A royal bloom, cut at full height.

Triton descended like a falling star, trident flickering, power quivering at his side. His gaze locked on her lifeless form and then snapped to the boy who was nearby.

Thalen.

One arm wrapped around Ariel, the other shielding her eyes from the scene. The girl trembled in his grip, unaware of the horror she had left behind. Her small hands were soaked in red.

Triton said nothing. His voice was gone—drowned by the grief rising in his chest like a tidal wave.

A palace guard stepped forward hesitantly. "Your Majesty… the Queen was struck. By a blade. A weapon… from the princess."

Triton's grip tightened on his trident. The shaft groaned beneath his clenched fingers.

Thalen spoke calmly, evenly. "It wasn't her doing. She doesn't remember. Something dark possessed her."

Triton dropped beside Athena, hands hovering inches from her. As if touching her would make it real. As if acknowledging it would make it final. This was something he did not wish to do.

"No…" he whispered. "No, my star, my light, my queen…"

Her eyes, once the warm hue of autumn coral, stared ahead blankly.

Triton bowed his head. And the sea shook with his roar of pain.

Within the hour, he had regained control—of himself, if nothing else. But his sorrow had calcified into something sharper. Something unyielding.

"She is to be taken to the west tower," he ordered. "No contact. No questions. And he—" Triton pointed at Thalen, "—will remain with her. If anything happens, he answers for it."

The guards hesitated. Ariel whimpered softly, clinging to Thalen.

"She's just a child," someone murmured.

"And she killed a queen," Triton snapped. "She'll be treated as both. By order of the king take her."

They obeyed.

Later that day, the Grand Chamber of Shells brimmed with tension. Nobles, commanders, high-priests, and scholars packed the chamber, all seated below Athena's empty throne. Draped in black coral vines and sea silk, the seat stood cold and heavy—an accusation unto itself.

Lord Cephrael, the kingdom's oldest surviving councilor, struck his coral staff against the floor. "This is the fault of the outsiders. The ones Queen Athena welcomed with open arms. The boy, the girl, and that strange youngster—Helios. They brought this to our kingdom."

Murmurs spread like oil through the chamber.

Lady Nerida countered quickly. "And if it had been Ursula herself? Would you blame the queen for not catching her in time?"

"This was not a war of shadows," Cephrael spat. "This was a girl—a princess—turned weapon. Corrupted in her own home. Do you not see the rot has already begun?"

Others joined the clamor. One demanded a magical investigation. Another whispered that Ariel should be banished—if not executed—to protect the royal line. A few suggested abdicating the throne altogether to install a new regency. Some wanted to negotiate surrender with Ursula to prevent further bloodshed.

The factions were forming.

Triton said nothing.

He stood in the shadow of Athena's throne, a statue carved from salt and wrath. Every word, every accusation scraped against his broken heart like shattered coral.

He began to wonder if he had trusted the wrong people. The wrong outsiders. The wrong hope.

In the highest spire of the palace, shielded by layered magical runes, Ariel stirred.

She woke with a whimper, clutching her head.

"Thalen?" she whispered.

"I'm here," he replied softly, seated beside her. "You're safe."

The chamber glowed faintly with blue-white light. The sea was calm around them, the wards undisturbed. Yet the girl trembled, eyes darting, lips quivering.

"I had a dream," she said. "No… not a dream. A memory. I was hugging Mommy. She was warm. She smelled like star-shells."

She paused. "Then… there was a sound. Like glass breaking. Then crying. My chest felt… empty."

She touched her sternum, then her fingers, and flinched as if she could still feel blood on them.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Thalen hesitated.

"No," he said firmly. "You didn't do anything. There is no reason to feel you did anything bad."

Her lip quivered. "Is Mommy mad at me?"

Thalen didn't answer.

Ariel curled into herself, small and frightened. Her aura flickered—a pulse of darkness weaving briefly through her outline like oil in water—then faded again. It left no trace, but Thalen noticed. So did the guards standing behind the warded veil.

"Thalen," Ariel whispered. "Did I… hurt her?"

He closed his eyes.

"I don't know," he said. "But we'll make it right. I promise."

The city itself had begun to fracture. Atlantica's heartbeat faltered.

Whispers of betrayal echoed in schools, in taverns, through alleyways of sea glass. Murmurs about Ariel—monster, murderer, witch. Rumors that Triton had gone mad, that he would tear the kingdom apart out of grief. That Ursula had already won.

And then there were the ones who believed Helios and Kurai were the true enemies. That they had cursed the youngest princess and brought the darkness upon them in secret. It was their fault, some said. It always had been.

In the palace, Triton sat alone beside Athena's sealed tomb. It glowed with sacred markings, surrounded by enchanted flora and guarded by silent sentinels.

He reached toward her crypt, brushing his fingers along the seal.

"I should have protected you," he murmured. "But I was too blind. Too arrogant. I believed in them. I believed in miracles."

His voice dropped lower.

"Now all I believe in is vengeance."