The Atlantian System: Creation

Allister looked at her when the team started to unbuckle their seats, and he frowned upon seeing that she wasn’t doing the same.

“Is everything well?”

Leta’s lips tightened as she became acutely aware of the note she still had in her pocket.

The prudent choice would have been to wait and discover the intentions of the Loupgarou when she was in the safety of the Sect. Still, there was an unsettling knot in her stomach, warning her to read it before stepping into the building.

Maybe it was instinct or impatience.

Despite the reminder of the impending Vault closure, she felt compelled to read it now, just to be safe.

Taking a breath, she gave him a brief nod.

“Would you mind giving me a minute? Just one,” she added after seeing the serious look he gave her, “Cross my heart. This isn’t like when I did the upgrade. Just, well, a moment alone. Please.”

Allister turned to Atreus, who responded with a loud exhale through his nose for confirmation.

“Alright.” He grumbled, his expression evident of his displeasure, “We will wait for you outside.”

Leta thanked everyone as they got out of the vehicle. Bonnie happily wagged her tail while Allister opened the door for her to jump down.

As she took the note from her pocket, she noticed them forming a synchronized circle around the car like bodyguards protecting a royal motorcade.

Leta’s heart pounded with anticipation as she quickly removed the plastic and unfolded the paper.

Oletta,

There is no scenario in my imagination that would make me believe you would trust these words, but I must give you the truth. You do not have to trust me, but I wager that you are perceptive enough to realize that there is something terribly wrong with this whole timeline of events.

That being said, all I can do is pray you take my words to heart.

Get out of Athens by any means necessary.

War is coming, and it comes much faster than anticipated.

Your Rising has pushed up the timetable for what is to come.

If you were a true Crown, then maybe. But we both known you are far, far more than a Queen.

That has put the Crowns and the Royalty on alert.

A few hours? A few days? I’m not sure, but when it hits, it will hit hard.

While I have been instructed to either bring you in to the Blessed or kill you, rest assured, I have no intention of either outcome. However, my inaction in the last 24 hours to do either has pushed me from the circle of information that I have previously relied on.

What I do know is that there are others of my ilk, a Drow and a Witch, who plot something far worse for you.

You must not let that happen.

Do not go back to the States. They will expect you to return there. If you are willing to take a leap of faith, go to Düsseldorf. There is a boat docked there that I think you will find interesting, if not entertaining.

Leave the Mundane with the Chosen, but take your father with you. We will do what we can.

For both our sakes, please destroy this letter after you read it.

I will do what I can to keep an eye out for further dangers, but I fear my ability to reach you have now been irreparably compromised.

Good luck, my lady.

- Tariq Al-Hashimi

“The-fucking-nerve.” Leta growled as a spark of electricity turned the paper to ash in her fingers.

‘He tries to kill me, gets Adjany thrown off a building, kidnaps my mother, infects my father, and what? Does he really think I’ll set everything aside and listen to someone like him? Oh, sorry! I know I’ve killed and mortally wounded a lot of people you know, but I’m totally not the bad guy here, I promise. Bastard.’

Irritated, she released a sigh, her head pushing back into the headrest.

‘I can’t trust a word he says,’ she admitted to herself. ‘He’s done too much damage, and he’s in with the Blessed. It’s like trusting an orca not to go after a seal. He’s a predator, plain and simple.’

Leta stopped to reflect on what he had said. ‘But that Drow back at the old tech company had also said something about a war. I thought it was just gallows bravado or the ramblings of a lunatic, but maybe it’s connected?’

The train of thought raised more questions than it provided answers.

The Blessed and the Chosen were already attempting to murder one another. How much more of a war could there be?

Were they simply two opposing sides, engaging in a stick-throwing contest before resorting to using nuclear warheads?

Leta shook her head. She couldn’t solve any of these issues while sitting in the back of an SUV. Once she had acquired the Blade, she could delve into this further.

“One thing at a time.” She told herself before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

Atreus, who was standing nearby, heard the door click and instinctively reached for the handle to hold it open for her, acting like a diligent chauffeur.

Leta briefly glanced at him, reminding herself of the role she had to fulfill.

Make an impression.

She had the means to successfully achieve that.

Seamlessly, she pivoted and strolled forward, moving with the grace and dignity of a duchess, her head held high.

Eleven years ago, little eight-year-old Leta had walked through this museum with her father and wondered in awe at the ancient statues and the gleam of Agamemnon’s Mask.

About two weeks ago, an enthusiastic nineteen-year-old Leta entered through the main doors, excited to immerse herself in the history and culture she adored.

This time, a tall, elegant woman with silver hair and swirling blue eyes walked through the back parking area, flanked by her team.

A tall, dark-skinned guard signaled their arrival to someone with an earpiece, and a petite woman with brown hair and green eyes emerged from the opened doors.

In unison, the three of them performed a deep bow.

“Your Majesty.” The woman spoke with an Eastern European accent. “I am Weaver Stefana, Second of General Mic. Please, follow me.”