Chronicle Two - The Gathering

Had it only been a day since he'd woken up to find himself in a twisted version of his life? His ingenious imagination had transported him to many altered realities in the past. Like a child with an imaginary friend, he's used those worlds to escape the misery of his own. So how did he cope with the fact that one of those worlds had taken on a solid reality?

Jag shoved the constant stream of questions to the back of his mind and focused on keeping pace with Omree as they left the medical area and entered the outside corridor. He didn't ask why four other males flanked them on each side. They were there to make sure he stayed in line. He didn't need to look back to see where the girl was. Somehow, he knew she was close.

"Anger will extinguish the light of reason, Guardian."

"What reason is there when I've got a voice in my head and insane people I don't know messing with my life?" Jag projected his thoughts to the Warder, somewhat more comfortable with the mind communication thing than before.

"Semylyn and the people of Sitnalta are not your enemies. They are in fact, your path of destiny. You must embrace what is, to conquer what is to come."

"You know, Ward, you're beginning to sound like my high school counselor. And I'll clue you in early, that dude finally gave up and marked me off his do-gooder list. So save us both some unnecessary grief and take me back where you found me."

"Guardian, I suggest you delay further arguments and take this opportunity to have your first glimpse of Sitnalta, the oldest of Atlantis' progeny."

The shock of stepping out of the tight corridor into the huge open atrium stopped Jag in mid-step. Living in New York, he'd seen his share of impressive buildings, but nothing like what lay before him now. The architecture and building materials didn't match up to any he'd previously experienced. In fact, it looked like a Sci-Fi movie set complete with an array of robed, silver-haired aliens who were staring at him as if he was the one who'd just landed.

"Guardian, if you'll step to the right, we'll take you to your quarters," Omree stated.

Jag ignored the suggestion, mesmerized by his surroundings. As a gamer and would-be programmer, he'd often dreamed up worlds of adventure and drafted plans for them. At home, a stack of drawing tablets littered the bottom of his closet, filled with a collection of unseen wonders he intended to create someday.

How could this be? One of those books held a drawing so similar to what he was looking at that it couldn't be a coincidence. His hands began to shake and the shaking spread up his arms and down into his legs.

Hitting the floor in a kneeling position, he gasped for air. Omree, who'd tried to save his fall, fell with him, his hand latched to Jag's arm.

"Father, are you okay,"

Jag heard the girl call out to her father, who'd released his hold on him and was now being assisted to stand.

"I'm okay, see if you can assist Jag." Her father replied.

He heard the girl take a hesitant step toward him. He could sense her inner battle. She wanted to do as her father asked, yet, the thought of assisting him bordered on revulsion.

"Ar...are you alright?" She whispered.

She took another cautious step in his direction.

Jag sprang to his feet, spinning to face the girl and her father. "The quarters you spoke about, where are they?"

Omree drew closer to him. "We'll take you there, Guardian. Please, follow us."

"Just tell me what level and unit? I can find it on my own."

"That's not possible, Guardian..." Omree countered.

Jag slashed an arm through the air. "A lot of things aren't supposed to be possible, but that doesn't seem to be the case, does it?"

Omree studied him in silence for a brief moment before answering. "Your living quarters are on level four, unit ten."

Page after page of detailed sketches flipped through his mind. The first water world he'd ever created was in a sketchbook containing thirty-five pages of levels, conduits, rings, and ports. He remembered them all. If the central atrium was the same, the rest had to be there too. He strode toward where the outer ramp entrance should be. When it came into sight, he didn't know whether to be relieved or to throw up.

They followed him, but he didn't care. Right now, the privacy of his quarters beckoned like a sanctuary. Reaching level four habitation ring was easy, and he knew unit ten well. He'd designed it for visiting dignitaries to his imaginary city. At least they were giving him VIP quarters.

Unit ten came into view exactly where he'd placed it in his sketches. The code panel beside the door showed it to be locked.

"What is the entry code?" He asked the question without turning around.

"Guardian, how did you know?" Omree asked.

Jag didn't know how or if he wanted to answer that question. Another voice saved him the effort.

"Father," the girl said. Let's start sorting things out tomorrow. I think he would prefer to be left alone right now."

"You're right, of course," Omree spoke decisively. "The initial code is SEM. You can replace that with your DNA scan at your convenience." He placed a hand on Semylyn's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

Jag listened to the girl's dutiful reply that belied her fear of being left alone with him. What did she think he was, some kind of monster? If it weren't for the ridiculous twelve-foot space thing, he'd let her know just how alone he wanted to be.

Space and time were what he needed to wrap his mind around the reality of Sitnalta, the underwater city that he'd drawn with exact precision. Even the bracelets on the arms of he and the girl were on the pages of his drawing tablet, four in all. Did the others exist? If so, who wore them? And what about the other drawing tablets at the bottom of his closet? Was it possible the other two submerged cities existed as well?

The girl quickly moved to the far side of the room, giving him a wide berth as he made his way toward the room's viewing portal. Parts of the city lay in his view, and beyond that, endless miles of dark, impenetrable water.

A sense of isolation pushed in on him. He didn't belong here with these people. Whoever they were, they weren't his kind. He groaned aloud and pressed a palm against the viewing glass, his fingers sliding inward until they fisted. Despair soaked to his core. Alone-he was completely alone.

"You are not alone, Guardian."

The voice again-the intruder who breached his privacy and left nothing but more confusion. He looked at the girl who sat in the corner of a long, white couch, her eyes downcast, her lips sealed tight, her hands folded in her lap. She looked doll-like, inanimate, and embodied everything responsible for his spazzed-out mental state. He took two steps in her direction, intent on shaking some answers out of her.

"Ease your mind, Guardian. You are not alone. There are others. They are coming..."

* * *

Before answering Omree's question, Xerell squared his powerful shoulders and took a seat opposite him at the council table. 

"The notifications have been acknowledged by the fathers of Jag and Alexandria, Liam O'Neal and General Bart Allen. The meeting will take place tomorrow at the specified place and time. Both men have arranged to be absent from their normal activities for the three days you asked for. Do you think this is sufficient time to convince them of the scope of the mission they need to undertake?"

Omree rubbed his fist across his chin and considered the best way to inform Zerell of his next decision. "I've pondered that question throughout the night. Whatever we do it has to convince them from day one that this is a non-negotiable situation. We need them to grasp the facts and be willing to move forward immediately."

"So did you come up with a workable plan?"

"Yes, I believe so. We have the most powerful tool for convincing these men of the true nature and reality of our shared problem and that is Sitnalta itself. We will bring them here. After experiencing the reality of Sitnalta, I believe we will have no trouble moving forward with mediation. If the existence of Sitnalta can't convince these men of realities and forces beyond their knowledge, nothing else would. It's a quick and solid approach."

Omree took Xerell's silence as agreement and continued. "I know you think we're moving too fast, but truth is, we don't have the luxury of time. The Sun Dwellers need every minute possible to prepare for the worst probability. If we move too slowly, it could be the last wrong decision of their existence."

Xerell nodded his head. " Even if the Sun Dwellers are the catalyst of their own demise, without Sitnalta's help they can do nothing to remedy their mistakes. What are the latest projections?"

Omree breathed a heavy sigh. "At the current decay rate, we expect the complete shut-down of the prime's generative properties in less than ten years.

They believe the sun's energy to be the driving force behind this planet's weather engine. While that is true, they are not aware of how vital the Prime is to that process. They will not see the impending disaster until it is too late. The weather cycles they understand will cease to operate. In less than six years, oceans will have heavily encroached upon Earth's land surfaces. Those who dwell above the waters have only a limited time to save a small percentage of their people."

Xerell nodded as he contemplated how complex even the simplest preparations were going to be."Preparing aquatic habitation of the simplest form is an adequate beginning, given the time frame. The oceans will still be able to supply food for many years even with the changing conditions. "How else can we attack this problem?"

"I'm not sure yet," answered Omree. "The Warder said the Glory of Atlantis lies with the Son of the Sun. This can only refer to the new High Guardian, Jag O'Neal. Only time will reveal what the Warder's words mean. Meanwhile, we need to proceed with coordinating a disaster plan with The Sun Dwellers and complete the transfer of the rest of the Chosen ones to Sitnalta. "