Chief Arnook's eyes, aged like the ice surrounding his domain, lingered on Kre'as for a silent heartbeat. He then turned slowly, his gaze sweeping out to where the sea met the sky in an indistinct line of churning grey. The waves, carrying whispers of a future uncertain and untamed, crashed against the shore with a rhythm as old as time itself.
"Your words are heavy with tides yet to come," Arnook finally said, his voice a low rumble akin to the distant thunder that often foretold a storm. "Our ancestors spoke of balance, of the push and pull between the moon and the ocean. To flood the world is to tip this sacred equilibrium."
Kre'as nodded, understanding etched into the lines of his face, sculpted by years of bearing the weight of his people's plight. "Balance can be restored anew, Chief Arnook. It is not destruction we seek but rebirth—Atlantis must breathe again, free from its watery chains."
The chief let out a soft chuckle, though it lacked mirth and was tinged with the wisdom of a leader who had seen many seasons change. "And what of those who breathe air, Kre'as? Will they learn to breathe water as your kin do?"
"Adaptation is the gift of survival, just as we did" Kre'as replied, unflinching. "Those who embrace the tide shall find themselves lifted by its strength."
For a moment longer, the two leaders shared the silence, each lost in contemplation of futures intertwined yet uncertain. A cold wind swept through, stirring the snow at their feet and whispering of changes that could freeze the heart or set it ablaze.
"Be wary of the depths you seek to stir," Arnook cautioned, his voice softened by the siren call of the ocean. "The spirits are more than stories told to calm fretful children at night. They guide us, challenge us, and sometimes, they surprise us."
"Surprises," Kre'as mused, a shadow of a smile playing upon his lips, "are merely opportunities in disguise, Chief Arnook, and I am afraid my king will need some progress on this next outing of mine."
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
With a final nod, resonant with the gravity of all that had been shared, Chief Arnook turned back towards his home of ice and stoic endurance. Kre'as watched him go, his eyes reflecting the steely glint of the waters he commanded.
"My daughter, will she be hurt in this war" Arnook turned his head one more time towards Kre'as, Kre'as offered no words of reassurance or affirmation. That silence was the answer Arnook needed to know.
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The night held its breath, and even the moon seemed to cast a wary eye upon the world below. Chief Arnook's silhouette melded with the shadows of towering ice structures as he moved away from the shore, where the last whispers of Kre'as' departure passage faded into silence.
Arnook's boots crunched softly over the fresh snow that blanketed the ground, a crisp testament to the chill of the Northern Water Tribe's home. Each step echoed the rhythm of his thoughts, a steady drumbeat of contemplation and concern.
"Atlantis," he murmured to himself, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. The revelation sat heavy in his mind, a puzzle with pieces scattered across history and legend. Kre'as' words, imbued with fervor and conviction, had painted a picture of a submerged future—a vision both fascinating and frightening.
He paused, gazing upward at the celestial dance overhead. The stars shimmered like a map of destiny, unfathomable and distant. In their midst, the moon shone bright, a beacon and reminder of his daughter, Yue—now forever out of reach, yet ever-present.
"Yue," whispered Arnook, the name a prayer, a plea for guidance. His heart twinged with the memory of her sacrifice, and now the weight of new responsibility pressed upon him. Could he stand by and watch another force threaten the balance she had given so much to uphold?
In the silence, the snow seemed to respond, each flake a soft touch against the landscape, a slow transformation in progress. Change was the essence of life, but some changes came at too steep a price.
"Kre'as seeks to turn the tides of fate," Arnook concluded, the resolve firming within him. "But we are children of the water; we bend, we do not break."
Chief Arnook turned towards the heart of his tribe, where warm lights flickered within igloos and the whispers of his people blended with the sounds of the night. There was work to be done, alliances to forge, strategies to devise. The revelation of Atlantis's existence had opened the door to unknown possibilities, and the chief knew it was time to prepare.
A soft chuckle escaped him, despite the seriousness of the situation. Kre'as had come seeking support, perhaps even seeing the Northern Water Tribe as a pawn in his grand scheme. But Arnook was no stranger to the subtleties of power, and he would not be swayed so easily.
"Chief Arnook, another message from Chief Sokka, shall I destroy it like the other ones" a northern guard asked, "No, let me see, also prepare a letter for a reply, I have urgent news for the world.