Morgan observed Elric closely, watching as shock rippled through his features. The sharp, angular lines of the man's face betrayed an emotion Morgan had not often associated with him—fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. It was a universal language, and on Elric, it was written in bold, unmistakable strokes.

"No, no," Elric whispered, his voice trembling as his eyes darted toward the towering black walls of the Onyx Kingdom. "I can't be here. Not here."

Morgan tilted his head, a single brow arching in mild curiosity. "Why not?" he asked, his tone calm but probing. "You lived here all your life, did you not?"

Elric swallowed hard, the movement of his Adam's apple pronounced, his breathing ragged. "Yes, but Caspian... Caspian forbade me from returning."

"Not if it's the will of the gods," Atlantis muttered under his breath, though his tone was laced with bitterness. His spear glinted faintly under the pale light, and the tension in his stance spoke volumes. It was clear he still resented not being the one to end Elric's life.

Morgan shot Atlantis a warning glare, his green cat-like eyes narrowing. "Enough," he said sharply before returning his focus to Elric. "You're here now, and running will only make things worse. Caspian will not be kind, but if you go willingly, it will lessen the blow. I will speak to him on your behalf."

Elric's shoulders sagged, though whether it was in resignation or despair, Morgan couldn't tell. The once-imposing figure seemed to shrink as they approached the gates of the Onyx Kingdom, the massive black walls looming over them like a silent, omnipotent sentinel. A servant stepped forward to guide them, their demeanor professional but cautious, their eyes lingering warily on Elric.

As they passed through the gates and into the city, Morgan's senses attuned to the comforting presence of familiar auras. He felt the warm, healing light of Aceso, a steady, grounding force, and Ren's vibrant energy, like the gentle hum of life itself. It brought a small smile to his lips, even as tension lingered in the air.

"Your brother is here," Morgan said softly to Atlantis, his voice gentle but encouraging. "You should visit him. I'm sure he misses you."

Atlantis's golden eyes flickered with something unspoken—longing, perhaps, though it was quickly masked by his stubborn resolve. He shook his head, his grip tightening on his spear. "He can wait," Atlantis said firmly. "I want to keep a close eye on our... guest."

Morgan sighed. He could see the toll the past weeks had taken on Atlantis, the strain evident in the rigid set of his jaw and the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Always watching, always protecting—Atlantis hadn't allowed himself a moment to rest since Morgan's near-death experience. It was noble, but it was also unsustainable.

"You go with Elric," Morgan said, trying to keep his tone light. "I'll find Marcus and catch up with you later."

Atlantis hesitated, his protective instincts warring with his trust in Morgan, but eventually, he nodded. With a last warning glance at Elric, he turned and followed the servant leading them to their quarters.

Morgan exhaled, relieved to finally have a moment of solitude. The familiar corridors of the Onyx Palace stretched before him, each turn and detail etched into his memory. He moved quickly, his tail gliding through the water with practiced ease.

"Excuse me?" a small voice called, hesitant and almost timid.

Morgan turned, his sharp gaze landing on the speaker. It was a slender merman with an aura of fragility, his golden hair adorned with delicate jewelry that glittered faintly in the dim light. If not for the collar that marked him as a slave, Morgan might have mistaken him for a member of Ava's court.

"Yes?" Morgan replied, his tone neutral but curious.

The merman's trembling hands clutched a small scroll, his brown eyes darting nervously to the floor before meeting Morgan's piercing gaze. "Are you Morgan?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Morgan's brow lifted slightly. "I am."

The merman nodded quickly, stepping closer as though afraid to be overheard. "Caspian sent me to find you," he said, his words hurried. "He requests your presence—and that of Queen Aceso."

Morgan tilted his head, intrigued. "And why, pray tell, does Caspian need us both?"

The merman hesitated, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "There's an injured human on the surface."

Morgan's lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I see," he murmured, his tone laced with subtle amusement.

Finally, he thought, his mind already racing with the possibilities.

"Lead the way," Morgan said, gesturing for the merman to move ahead. Whatever awaited them on the surface, Morgan knew one thing for certain—this was no ordinary occurrence. And it was only the beginning.

******

"Morgan's snake-like eyes narrowed in satisfaction, the sharp grin spreading across his face exposing his razor-sharp teeth. "Jonas Smith," he repeated, rolling the name off his tongue as if tasting it. "A simple name for a man carrying such complexity."

Jonas grimaced, his hand unconsciously pressing against his bandaged shoulder. "It's the name I was born with. Nothing fancy, no hidden meanings. Just a guy trying to do his job."

Morgan tilted his head, his long green hair shimmering like seaweed in the faint light reflecting off the ice. "And what exactly is that job, Jonas? Or is it Agent 12 again? Cold, detached, no ties to anyone?" His voice dripped with mockery, but beneath it, there was an edge of curiosity.

Jonas met Morgan's gaze, his jaw tightening. "That's classified."

Morgan let out a low chuckle, his taloned fingers idly scratching at the ice beside him. "Of course it is. But you're a man of secrets, Jonas. Secrets you keep to protect others, secrets that weigh heavily on your soul."

Jonas narrowed his eyes. "What do you want from me? To confess my sins? I don't owe you anything."

Morgan's grin faded, replaced by a somber expression. "No, you don't. But you owe yourself the truth." He slid further out of the water, his lean, tattooed torso visible now, the green scales on his tail catching the dim light. "You can't hide behind your number here. We are not so easily fooled. You're not just Agent 12, and we're not just... 'mythological creatures.'"

Jonas frowned, uneasy with how Morgan seemed to read him so well. "You think you've got me all figured out, huh?"

Morgan leaned closer, his glowing eyes peering into Jonas's soul. "No, Jonas. I think you've barely begun to figure yourself out."

Jonas looked away, his thoughts drifting back to his sister. Ana's laughter, her silly jokes, her persistent hope for a family reunion. He clenched his fists. "I had a life. People who mattered to me."

"And yet you left them behind," Morgan said softly. "Or were you taken from them? Either way, you've been running from something for a long time."

Jonas felt the weight of those words settle on him. He didn't have a response—at least, not one that didn't feel like an excuse. Instead, he changed the subject. "Why am I still alive? You could've let me bleed out."

Morgan tilted his head, his gaze steady. "Aceso saved you because Marcus asked her to. And Marcus asked her because the god within him saw something in you. Something worth saving."

Jonas furrowed his brow. "Gods. You keep mentioning gods. What does that have to do with me?"

Morgan gave him a cryptic smile. "That's for the god to reveal in time. But I will say this—your presence here is no accident, Jonas Smith. The currents of fate are rarely so kind to deliver a mere coincidence."

Jonas didn't like the sound of that, but before he could press further, another voice interrupted them.

"Jonas!" Marcus called out, his silver eyes wide with concern as he approached. "How are you feeling?"

Jonas turned his head, his gaze meeting Marcus's. He wasn't sure what it was about the merman—maybe it was the gentle way he spoke or the sincerity in his eyes—but something told Jonas that Marcus was one of the few beings here he could trust.

"Sore," Jonas admitted. "But alive."

Marcus smiled, a faint flush touching his pale cheeks. "Good. You're going to need your strength."

"For what?" Jonas asked, his tone wary.

Marcus exchanged a glance with Morgan before responding. "For answers. And maybe... a new beginning."

Jonas frowned, the weight of their words settling in his chest. He didn't know what lay ahead, but one thing was clear—there was no going back.