The Gods of Doomed Atlantis

Without warning, volcanoes spewed red-hot ash into the high-vaulted arc of sky as purple twilight settled over the island of Atlantis. The thunderous wake of the sleeping volcanic giants in the center of the island shattered the tranquil peace over the fair bend of city in the valley far below the jagged volcanic ridge. In the valley the land lay defenseless, as though suspended in time, a treasure of natural hot springs and exquisite fountains, fluted marble pillars and palatial, three-tiered houses, nightly illuminated by a patina of golden sunset.

But now the golden glamour of eternal Atlantis was gone. In moments, all would be buried in fiery lava and burning-hot ash.

Piercing screams filled the air within the city, screams deadened by the rumbling growl of volcanoes. The inhabitants of the once-proud city had nothing but escaping it on their minds.

They flung wide their doors and ran toward the sea, toward the fleet of keelless boats that bobbed in the nearby high-walled harbor, carrying children or the few possessions they had seized before the artificial thunder shook the land. The golden city, the seventh city on the island, was soon to be a memory. A fleet of crow black birds screeched into the air as they wheeled in the darkening skies above. The crows, safely aloft, had nothing to fear.

The people of Atlantis were not as fortunate.

One of the last to escape the outer walls of the seventh city was an olive-skinned young woman with a small child on her hip. Her name was Aya, and she had the misfortune of living close by the volcano and far from the sea, yet she had survived the first blast of the volcano that had suddenly buried a third of the city just beyond her dwelling. She and her young son had abruptly fled, severing themselves from their former lives. Yet in no time Aya found that her son could not keep pace with her, and there was nothing for her to do other than to carry him, so she did. She would not abandon him, even at her own peril. Her mate, the father of the child, had died in an epidemic at the end of the past year, and Aya had no one to help her and her son to safety but her own self and all of the courage she could muster.

Courage she had in abundance, but her strength was failing.

Then at last, just as the wash of heat and smoke behind her seemed ready to engulf her, she passed the city gate. She clambered down a slope straight toward the cool wilderness between the city and the shore, all the while tightly clasping her tiny son’s head to her breast. But her rough leather sandals slipped over the rocky, unpaved ground, launching her forward; as she cried out, a strong, youthful arm reached out and steadied her.

In surprise, she quickly turned back to confront her savior. Someone had followed her, had survived the heat and ash and fire engulfing the city since she left it?! Aya could scarcely believe it. And what stranger would risk his own life to save hers with their world coming to an end? she wondered, her heart still pounding.

The stranger took only a moment to offer a reassuring smile to her. He could see that she had recovered, and they had no time to spare.

Yet in one glance, Aya recognized who this man was, if he really was a man at all.

He was quite clearly one of the Others. His eyes were azure blue and bright like fish’s scales reflecting the golden light of the setting sun in a face darkened by the ash. His gold-trimmed statesman’s robe was still immaculately draped over his left shoulder and gathered under his right arm, but dusted with a fine layer of soot. Yes, she recognized him at once.