Ibris clung to a chair aboard the Ishtar's Veil as Esa carried and landed the unresponsive ship onto a southern beach, far from the obelisk blast. He glanced nervously at Geshar, crumpled and unconscious in another seat, painfully thin and starved. Beside him, Nabu-9 worked with its limited medical tools to keep the crane halfbreed alive.

As the ship touched down, Ibris watched as Yoshua and Marcus hurried to open the hatch. The same one they had barely managed to secure before Esa had propelled them into the stratosphere to escape the blast. The fresh sea air hit them as they stepped outside, their movements slow and colored with grief.

Esa was already outside, pacing furiously, his body radiating tension. His breath came heavy, fists clenched.

Sheera stood nearby, his wings simmering at his sides, speaking in a calm, measured tone. "You must breathe, Esa. It is the only way to clarity. Remember the Gab Nori says, 'loss blinds judgment.'"

"Don't!" Esa snapped, cutting him off, his voice raw with grief and fury. "Don't tell me to breathe, master. We've lost so much." He shot Sheera an angry glare. "You've lost so much!"

Sheera's talons dug into the sand, his wings flexing slightly. His gaze, steady and sorrowful, locked onto Esa. "Yes," he said calmly. "I have lost much, as have you. And this... this has happened before, Esa, and it will happen again. Loss is the nature of our world. But I don't want to lose you to your anger."

Ibris overheard Sheera's words. Memories stirred of Sheera's time as the Ummanu, the High Priest of the Grand Citadel on Atlantis' floating islands, second only to the High Priestess. Back then, Sheera was a towering figure of calm authority, revered by both Atlanteans and sky gods alike for his unparalleled wisdom and unwavering strength.

When whispers of a coming rebellion and potential civil war reached the Citadel, the great Ummanu had done the unthinkable. He left his sacred post, traveling south to join the Southern Mountain Order of Dawa. Forsaking rank for principle, that choice had shocked many but sealed him in Ibris' eyes as a man of unmatched conviction and sacrifice.

Now, as Sheera stood on this southern beach, speaking with the same measured calm that had once commanded reverence on the floating islands. Sheera had always carried his loss with grace, but Ibris wondered how much it had cost him to do so.

Esa's breathing grew heavier as he dug his feet angrily into the sand, saying nothing.

Sheera stood unyielding, his words hanging in the tense air like a lifeline.

Ibris climbed down the airship's hatch, raising a hand to shield his face from the sun. He was in a haze, the valley's devastation pressing down like an unshakable fog.

Marcus and Yoshua circled the airship, inspecting for damage.

Ibris headed straight for Esa.

I have to set things straight with Esa.

Esa's eyes locked on him, grief flaring into rage. His expression darkened as he strode forward, finger trembling as he pointed at Ibris.

"YOU!"

His long hair fell across his face, veiling the fire in his hazel eyes. With a sharp thrust, unseen force exploded from him, hurling Ibris backward. 

The halfbreed hit the sand, dust billowing his pained groans faded into the sea air.

Sheera stepped forward, urgent. "Esa, please. This is not you. Stop this."

Esa ignored his master, his vision searing with wrath, as he turned back to Ibris. "You did this," he repeated, seething. "All those people are dead because of you!"

Marcus froze, then started toward them. "Esa! Stop!"

Yoshua caught his arm, holding him back with a firm hand. He shook his head. "Not your fight, Marcus," he said quietly, turning from the scene.

Ibris glanced toward Yoshua, his pain evident, not from Esa's blow, but from the silent betrayal of his closest friend. He turned away, shoulders sagging.

Esa did not hear Marcus. He saw only red, grief roaring loud enough to drown every other voice.

Sheera sighed, shaking his head, his wings twitching with tension.

Ibris' bloodshot eyes met Esa's. "It was a mistake..." he began, weak and pleading.

"You killed Master Orin, Kora, the monks, the pilgrims, and countless others!" Esa's voice cracked.

Ibris struggled to his feet, raising a trembling hand. "Esa, it was a mistake..." 

"...people I loved! People I cared for!" Esa's voice broke, raw with rage. "Innocent people who didn't deserve to die! You're lucky the explosion didn't reach the village!" He screamed, furious. "And now, we're left without answers to the Yucan ships and what was going on in that tower!"

A storm of resentment surged within Esa, as he delivered another strike, sending Ibris flying backward into the sand near the airship. Ibris did not retaliate, his arms hanging limp at his sides, silently accepting the blows without a word.

"You're a mess, Ibris!" Esa roared, thrusting out his arm. His fingers curled, tightening an invisible grip around Ibris' neck, lifting him into the air. The bull halfbreed clawed at his throat, legs kicking helplessly.

"Esa, stop!" Marcus cried, pleading. "This isn't justice. Don't let anger blind you."

"You're careless," Esa pressed on. "You drink ambrosia like nothing matters, and you ruin lives like they don't matter either. Who do you think you are?" His grip tightened, power surging. 

Ibris hung limp, horned head drooping as if he had already accepted whatever was coming.

Sheera shook his head with disapproval, averting his gaze.

Esa held Ibris suspended in the air, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might crack. His glare was molten, ready to tear Ibris apart limb by limb.

"You're not even worthy of your Mansa name!" Esa shouted, trembling. "You're a joke for a bull halfbreed. A gimmicky showpiece."

Ibris accepted his fate and muttered, "Fine, do your worst." His jaw clenched as Esa's invisible grip tightened, the crushing force making his breathing grow shallow. A flicker of guilt and shame crossed his face. He had heard far worse from others throughout his life.

"How are you any different from the men you sent me to stop from killing innocents?" Esa's voice cracked, tears streaking his face. "I believed in you, in your cause." His glare hardened. "Maybe I should give you the death you've been chasing... with your carelessness, your indulgence, your disregard for everyone around you. You're a monster! A murderer!"

Ibris looked at Esa with sorrow, then lowered his gaze in acceptance.

Marcus clenched his fists, stepping forward. "That's enough, Esa! He's had enough!"

Sheera, noticing Esa's hesitation, spoke again. "He's already beaten, Esa. Don't make yourself into the monster you're accusing him of being."

Esa collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably as the voices of his master and Marcus finally broke through. His trembling hands loosened their grip around Ibris neck, allowing him to fall to the ground with a loud thud, landing on all fours in the sand. Esa let out a shuddering breath, a guttural growl escaping his lips as he released the last of his rage.

Finally, Yoshua quietly approached and placed a steady hand on Esa's shoulder.

Esa drew a deep breath and glanced at Yoshua, then turned to Ibris. "I assure you, you'd be dead if not for these men."

Ibris rose in silence, his pain both physical and emotional.

Yoshua met Ibris' gaze, a flicker of sadness crossing his face, but he remained silent.

Esa buried his face in his hands, a raw, anguished wail tearing from his throat.

Everyone stood frozen, Esa's cries cutting through the silence like a blade. Sheera's feathers ruffled uneasily, his usual composure slipping. Marcus shifted uncomfortably, his hands tightening into fists, while Yoshua remained motionless, his wolf eyes weighed down with sorrow. Ibris stood with his head bowed, his broad frame hunched under the crushing weight of guilt and shame. Esa's anguished wails carried across the Southern ocean, raw and unrelenting.

Suddenly—

Esa's tablet chimed, the sharp sound slicing through the silence. His trembling hands pulled it from his pocket, and what he saw stopped him cold.

Yoshua stepped forward, peering over Esa's shoulder, an instinctive howl of pain escaped him.

Esa stood up, his body rigid with purpose. He turned toward Ibris, voice edged with finality. "You and me, we're through. For good."

Without waiting for a response, he bent his knees to launch into the sky. 

"No." Yoshua stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "You do not go alone. I'm coming with you."

Esa gave a single nod.

"Wait!" Ibris called, stepping forward.

"No. Let them go," Marcus cut in, moving closer. Then, quieter, he added, "This is how it must be."

With a powerful burst of energy, Esa launched Yoshua and himself into the air. The force of their takeoff kicked up a spray of sand, the wind from their departure scattering debris across the beach. The two men shot upward in a streak, disappearing into the horizon in seconds, leaving the others behind in stunned silence.

No one spoke. 

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only noise that filled the void Esa and Yoshua left behind. 

Yoshua, Ibris thought to himself, how could you just leave me like this?

Marcus glanced at his own military grade tablet, which had just come back online.  He scanned the screen with urgency. "We need to leave. Now," he said firmly. "The Atlantean military has entered southern airspace. We cannot be here when they arrive."

He hurried up the ramp of the Ishtar's Veil, Ibris limping after him. 

Each step was a struggle, Ibris' muscles burning and his soul writhing in pain. Inside the cabin, he pulled a tablet from his jacket and powered it on. His fingers moved absently over the screen until he froze, face paling as his eyes locked on what he saw.

A picture of Kaya and Mazi, bound, bruised, and beaten. 

Their swollen faces were unmistakable, even through the grainy image. Beneath the picture was an address: a small country town on the outskirts of Bahyan City.

"He's gone after them," Ibris said, handing the tablet to Marcus. "They're flying into a trap."

Marcus took one look at the image on the screen, his stomach dropped. After a pause, he repeated grimly, "This is how it must be."

Not understanding his cryptic words, Ibris glanced at Geshar's frail form sprawled across the makeshift medical station. The crane halfbreed's head twitched, his breaths shallow.

"I'm not sure how it must be," Ibris rasped, his voice coarse from Esa's chokehold, "but I'm afraid we have more urgent matters to handle right now." Turning to Nabu-9, he asked, "How is he?"

The android's metallic voice was clinical. "Stabilized for now, but critical. I've used Marcus's bio-sustenance modules to maintain his vitals, but it is only temporary."

Ibris exhaled, fists curling as he looked to Marcus, gratitude rising despite the pain. If anyone could keep Geshar alive long enough to reach Dr. Dubay, it was Marcus, the genius sky god.

Marcus gave a brief nod, catching the unspoken thought. "Nabu-9, power up Ishtar's Veil and plot a course to the Underworld. Immediately."

The airship hummed as its systems came online. Marcus scanned the landscape from the cockpit. Below, Sheera paced the sand, talons digging in as his wings flexed with tension.

Marcus stepped to the hatch. "Ummanu, we're heading north to the Underworld. Will you come with us, or go after Esa?"

Sheera shook his head, feathers ruffling. "I have work to do here. Esa and you have your paths, and I trust you will walk them with purpose."

Marcus inclined his head respectfully. "It was good to see you after all this time."

"You too, Lord Sumeri," Sheera replied, inclining his head in return. He turned to Ibris, his voice steady and thoughtful. "Young Mansa, yours is a burden heavy to carry, may Ava Nori's grace guide you."

"It is always an honor, Ummanu," Ibris said quietly, his voice subdued. Standing behind Marcus, he bowed low to his old priest, eyes fixed shamefully on the ground. The explosion's devastation and his clash with Esa weighed heavy on his broad shoulders.

Sheera shook his head solemnly. "Be well, both of you."

Then he spread his wide, majestic wings and launched into the sky, disappearing into the mountainous horizon.

Nabu-9's metallic voice cut through the tense air. "Several military airships have entered Southern Atlantean airspace. How should I proceed, Marcus?"

Ibris stepped to the navigation console, its dim lights pulsing with ominous energy. Holographic projections of the approaching airships flickered to life, their sleek, angular designs hovering above the panel. He stared at them, trying to steady his breath through the throb of his headache. The sting of his earlier failures lingered as he watched the military closing in.

Marcus leaned over the console, eyes locked on the streaming data. "No signals," he ordered. "Keep us in stealth mode. We leave. Now."

The airship hummed to life, console light glinting in Marcus's focused gaze. "This is how it must be," he murmured one last time, as the Ishtar's Veil lifted into the shrouded sky.

******

Chapter Soundtrack

"Hurt" by Johnny Cash

Author's Note

This chapter marks the climax of the novel, the breaking point between two close allies, a fracture that could cost Atlantis dearly. Esa's fury is raw and devastating, fueled not only by the present disaster but by long-simmering frustrations. Ibris endures it in silence, carrying guilt, shame.

Sometimes stories demand that bonds break for growth to happen. 

Can what was broken here ever be mended?