ACT ONE.  CHAPTER I:
UNDERWATER CRYPTS

NEW YORK, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
2016, JANUARY 26.

Nothing appeared out of place as Sade passed the weathered porch of her New York apartment.

The evening had already cast its shadow over the city, the streets quieting as the last few people hurried home. Her brown eyes drifted lazily across the front room, their gaze heavy with weariness, before settling on a familiar picture frame mounted against the wall. Outside, snowflakes drifted in the soft caress of the wind, dancing lightly on the windows of nearby buildings, lending the night an almost otherworldly glow. Late January had come, and with it, a coldness that seeped into the air like a lingering ache. Sade had already spent two months in the heart of Manhattan, exchanging the lively, close-knit environment of her Yale dorm for the humdrum stillness of her sleek penthouse. She couldn't help but exaggerate, perhaps, when she spoke of monotony—but with only her cat and the occasional chat with her elderly neighbor to break up the silence, it certainly felt that way.

As she entered, she tossed her bag onto the sideboard by the door, the familiar gesture carrying her effortlessly into the soft embrace of her couch. The TV flickered to life, the news buzz filling the space like a comforting white noise.

      "Thank you, AI."

      "At your service, princess."

Sade's brow furrowed ever so slightly, irritation pulling at the edges of her lips.

     "I didn't program you to follow protocol," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

The AI offered no reply, its silence only coaxing a second eye roll from her.

The room, though minimalistic, still held pieces of the past—a scattering of photographs, trinkets, the subtle hum of her AI prototype, which she'd developed alongside Shuri. The AI, in its way, transported her back to the lab, a chaotic haven of disarray and innovation that she both despised and relied upon. The clutter, which she usually ignored, echoed the untamed disorder of T'Challa's room, reminding her of the old times and the scent of incense that still clung to her clothes. It was a scent that lingered, sweet and familiar, like memories of her mother. Her father, on the other hand, was always present, even if he wasn't physically here. The simple act of being outside of Wakanda was enough to make him feel close, a weight pressing gently against her chest.

If there was one thing Sade didn't miss about Wakanda, it was the suffocating protocol. The constant need to measure every word, every action, lest it provoke a scandal. The ever-present guards who seemed to shadow her every step, their watchful eyes making her feel more imprisoned than protected. She had grown tired of it all. That's why she'd agreed to the mission her father had assigned her.

An exclusive group of businessmen had set their sights on the oceans, turning the seas into their new playground, and with it, a questionable expansion of their already dubious operations. King T'Chaka's interest, however, was narrow and specific: a suspected vibranium trafficking ring hidden beneath the hulking shadows of their oversized ships. The rest of the world, and even the vast ocean itself, was irrelevant in his eyes.

Sade, on the other hand, was passionately opposed to the policy of non-intervention. She firmly believed that Wakandan technology could make a monumental difference outside their borders—helping those who had been left to suffer. This belief had fueled many of the arguments that continually simmered between her and her father. She understood his hesitation to share the technology that protected Wakanda from potential enemies, but his perpetual refusal to assist the world beyond their borders infuriated her. She loved him, yes—but the hypocrisy he so carefully hid beneath his kingly façade had slowly carved a rift between them. That divide deepened with every meeting, every conversation.

As the news buzzed softly in the background, the peace of her penthouse settled into the quiet rhythm of impending sleep. But then, the shrill sound of a ringtone sliced through the stillness. Groaning, Sade reached for her phone on the coffee table, her fingers fumbling in the dim light.

      "Drowsy already, Princess?" came the rough, familiar voice on the other end.

Carter Roe. They'd known each other for barely a month, their first encounter a chance meeting at a social event neither of them had been particularly excited to attend. Since then, he'd kept reaching out, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was nothing more than a pawn in her carefully crafted mission. The businessman, ever the charmer, spent his time inviting her to every social gathering he had to attend, thinking she might actually enjoy his company. Sade exhaled, mustering the most enthusiastic tone she could manage before answering.

      "Not yet, Carter," she said, her voice smooth but slightly forced, as she plastered on the façade she had perfected for moments like these.

He had charm—there was no denying that. But it was the kind of charm that made her wish she could surgically remove his tongue, just to keep him from speaking. The honeyed cadence of his voice was a seductive trap, one that appeared harmless at first, like Pandora's box waiting to be opened. Curiosity beckoned, enticing her to peer inside, to uncover who—or what—was hidden behind the layers of his carefully constructed mask. But once that box was opened, once that mask slipped away, the allure dissipated. All that remained was regret, mingled with a gnawing sense of dread.

      "But I'm pretty tired and—"

      "Some of my colleagues would love to meet you. You could even discuss those prototypes you mentioned last time." His voice carried an edge of expectation, hoping to spark her interest.

      "Who?" she asked, her curiosity piqued against her better judgment.

      "Uh, people like Rick Hamilton, Andrew Stone..."

He let the silence stretch, clearly hoping Sade would bite at the suggestion, her intrigue catching fire. But instead, she dove into her bag, pulling out the file she'd been working on for the last few days.

     "Rick Hamilton and Andrew Stone, as in Hamilton & Stone? The owners of the cargo company?" she asked sharply, her fingers gripping the photos of the two men with a sudden intensity.

There they were—the missing pieces of the puzzle she'd been piecing together for the last two months. The brains behind the smuggling ring. Because as sharp as Carter appeared, he was little more than a façade—an heir to a fortune, dabbling in wealth accumulation while too eager to sink his teeth into whatever life could offer. A pawn, easy to manipulate, an ideal mark for two entrepreneurs whose empire was teetering on the edge of collapse.

Carter hesitated before answering, as though weighing how much to reveal, unwilling to expose too much about his associates.

      "They're better known for other things, like... engineering," he added, his laugh uneasy and strained.

She finally told him she'd be ready in about ten minutes, then quickly dialed Raïssa Salah's number. The CIA agent, who had been unofficially following the same case, was another story altogether. Or should she say, the CIA agent who thought she was spying on Sade, unaware that she was being watched in turn.

      "Imani? Do you know what time it is—"

Ah, yes, Imani. Her first name, or perhaps her middle one, depending on who you asked.

Sade... the name held weight. It was a shadow—a shadow of a vassal on the verge of dethroning a lord, the shadow of a moon that would soon eclipse the sun's brilliance. A name tied to potential. A name tied to fate.

Honor bestows the crown.

The name of a would-be usurper. A would-be queen.

But Sade didn't want the throne. Imani? She'd rather live in the shadows. But no matter how hard she tried to embrace the darkness, Sade knew deep down she would never escape her destiny—not without a few well-placed, time-bending tricks up her sleeve.

      "I have your people. Well, more like mine, but you know what I mean."

      "Not really, no."

      "Anyway, Carter's picking me up in about ten minutes for a gala event where the trio will be together for the first time in two months. I'll take two mics with me—not the ones you provided, because I don't trust your junk organisation—"

      "The CIA is not a junk organisation, we—"

Sade rolled her eyes, fastening the buckle on her heels with a swift, practiced movement.

      "Yes, blah blah blah. Stop cutting me off. I'll give you the debrief tomorrow, along with the audio recordings. Hopefully, we'll actually have something this time."

She had no intention of telling Raïssa everything she learned tonight. She had worked with the enemy long enough. From now on, she was a free agent—an observer, not a collaborator.

      "Watch yourself," Raïssa warned, her tone sharp.

Sade smiled slightly, tucking a pair of knives into the garter hidden beneath the flap of her water-green dress.

      "Aw, you love me too much—"

      "I just don't feel like having an entire country on my back."

      "Liar."

Raïssa didn't respond, simply cutting the call without another word. Sade scoffed, slipping her phone back into her bag as she made her way out of the building. Carter was waiting outside, and she was ready to play her part.

TRIBECA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
2016, JANUARY 26.

The constant darkness of her flat, the sanctuary where she could lose herself in the quiet, felt worlds apart from the blinding brilliance of the gala. The room around her gleamed with dozens of chandeliers, their crystal teardrops catching light with every flicker. It was as though a thousand eyes were attempting to pierce through the very soul of anyone who dared look too long. Each spark, a greedy attempt to consume.

In a way, the elites in their shimmering clothes were like these dangerous lights—seductive yet lethal. Like the sun's rays, they promised warmth but often left scorched earth behind. They were like spider webs: intricate, beautiful, but deadly once you were caught in their grasp.

For hours now, Sade had been little more than an accessory. A handbag, a token of status, as Carter shuffled her from one conversation to the next. He had forgotten all about the promise he made her earlier, his focus consumed by the glittering world they found themselves in. Finally, frustration bubbled up inside her, and she couldn't keep the question in any longer.

      "Carter, what about your associates?" she asked, her voice polite but edged with impatience.

He shot her a look, his eyebrow arched in surprise, but she simply returned his gaze with an innocent smile that hid everything she was truly thinking.

      "Yeah, um..." He didn't get to finish before two men appeared by their side. Their faces were tight, urgent, their expressions twisted with barely contained anxiety.

      "Oh Rick, Andrew, we were just—"

      "We don't have time for small talk. You need to come with us," said the man with the owl-like eyes—Rick Hamilton.

      "Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it in front of Imani."

The two men hesitated, their eyes briefly flicking over Sade with that same air of superiority they reserved for the princess of Wakanda. They only saw her as a child of a poor, landlocked African nation, a misplaced princess among the wealthy and powerful. If only they knew. Bast, she fought every urge to show them how little they truly understood. To show them the truth behind their paternalistic, condescending views.

      "Princess..." Andrew greeted her with a slight nod before quickly turning to Carter. "It's about... your investment."

The word investment had an immediate effect on Carter, pulling his hand from her waist as the tension in the air grew thicker. Without another word, the three men walked away, barely giving Carter enough time to whisper a quick "Sorry" to her.

      "Looks like Prince Charming's in trouble. You should follow him," Raïssa's voice crackled through her earpiece.

      "No need," Sade replied coolly, her eyes never leaving the group. She kept her focus, the microphones hidden on Carter catching their every word.

The sound of rustling fabric reached her ears, and through the crackling static, she could hear their hurried exchange.

      "What's going on? You couldn't have—"

      "Stop acting like a kid who just discovered love or whatever. Your ship's been attacked," Rick Hamilton cut him off sharply, grabbing him by the collar.

      "Attacked? By whom? How—"

      "We don't know. It happened fast, and the surveillance cameras didn't pick up anything."

      "What about the vibranium?"

      "They managed to save some... but not enough."

      "What? You were supposed to—"

      "Watch your tone, kid."

Sade absorbed the information with cold precision, then without another glance at Carter, she made her decision. She would leave the gala without him. He was in over his head, and if the ship wasn't destroyed and there was still vibranium onboard, she had to act fast.

Her eyes flickered between the entrance of the gala and Carter's Cadillac Coupe Deville parked outside. She walked towards it, slipping into the warmth of the car before starting the engine. As the sleek vehicle cut through the dark streets, a thought lingered: I'll have Ayo return it to him. Maybe.

Who could attack an entire ocean liner, wipe out its crew, and leave no trace?

Her prepaid phone buzzed again, Raïssa's name lighting up the screen. The agent must've wondered why Sade hadn't been listening to the conversation between the partners. She felt a pang of guilt—Raïssa wasn't a bad person, despite everything. But Sade wasn't here to make friends.

      "Does the CIA have anything to do with this, Raïssa?"

      "No. At least, not that I'm aware of." Raïssa's voice was too smooth, too convincing. Sade knew the agency was hiding something. It wasn't a question of if, but what.

     "I just have one question for you, though."

      "Hmm?"

      "Why would Wakanda be interested in vibranium?" Raïssa's voice was careful, probing.

Sade allowed a smile to tug at her lips as she closed the suitcase waiting in her living room.

      "Why would the CIA be interested in helping a rebel princess?"

      " Princess Imani, I'm not the CIA, I—"

      "Oh, now it's Princess Imani? Interesting."

      "Listen—" Raïssa's tone shifted, but Sade cut her off, the finality of her decision clear.

      "I think this is where we part ways, Raïssa Salah. It's been a pleasure."

With a swift motion, Sade crushed the earpiece under her heel, the sharp crack echoing in the quiet apartment. She didn't waste any more time. Ayo would pick her up, she'd send her the coordinates of Carter's ship, and they'd get moving.

Because the truth was, Sade knew she was being watched. She always had been. Raïssa, for all her niceness, was just another set of eyes tracking her every move. And that? That was nothing new.

Allies of circumstance made the best enemies.

SOMEWHERE IN THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.
2016, JANUARY 27.

      "Are you sure you won't need me? Your parents will have my head if anything happens to you."

Sade stared down at the boat below, the night air crisp against her skin. She turned her head to look at Ayo, who raised an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of concern and exasperation.

      "What's the worst that could happen? Drowning? I can swim," Sade finally said, her voice casual as she unbuckled her belt, preparing to leap out the back of the ship.

      "Break your arm like last time?" Ayo shot back, her voice laced with skepticism.

      "Well, I'll break a leg this time, then," Sade quipped with a grin, fully aware of the worry she was causing.

Ayo rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Okay, I'll be careful, Mom," she replied, the words laced with amusement. "Say hi to Aneka for me!"

With that, Sade launched herself into the air, vanishing into the night. Her descent through the black sky was quick, and as the sound of Ayo's ship faded behind her, the cold, biting water greeted her with a shudder that wiped the smirk from her face. The chill was sharp, almost unnervingly so, and for a moment, she felt the weight of the night pressing in.

Shaking it off, she focused, the sleek texture of her suit allowing her to cut through the water with speed and precision. She had only one thing to do: retrieve the vibranium relics from Carter Roe's ship and get the hell out. Her father had made that very clear—no more, no less.

But as her fingers gripped the hull of the ship, the water's dark depths suddenly seemed to shift. A faint movement caught her attention, a subtle ripple at the bottom of the sea that sent a shiver of unease up her spine. She could feel it—a presence, watching her. It was as though the water itself had eyes, and somehow, they were trained on her.

Don't be paranoid, she told herself, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling. It's probably just the sensors. Focus.

She pushed the thought aside and ascended toward the unlit corner of the dock. But the sensation of being watched lingered, tightening the pit of her stomach. It gnawed at her, a growing suspicion that something was off about this mission, about tonight.

Once on board, Sade moved quickly, darting for cover behind the crates, avoiding the guards who patrolled the deck. Each one was armed, and she knew better than to engage them directly. Her mission came with strict orders: no weapons, no powers—nothing that could cause any incident to tarnish Wakanda's reputation. But the comforting pressure of her concealed weapon in the boot of her suit was enough to steady her nerves, even if she couldn't use it.

The door she needed to reach was across the deck. It was right in front of her, but crossing that open space would mean exposing herself to the enemy.

Great. Now what?

The ship lurched beneath her, a violent sway that felt like an explosion nearby. Sade's heart skipped as she grabbed hold of the nearest railing to steady herself. And then—voices.

A haunting melody, rising from the ocean, pulling at her. It was almost like a siren's song, sweet and soothing, urging her to—

      "Sade, get a grip on yourself," Bast's voice echoed in her mind, sharp and insistent. The words were a lifeline, snapping her out of the trance. She gripped the railing tighter, fighting the magnetic pull of the voices calling to her, trying to keep her focus.

      "But they sound so welcoming—"

      "Sade!" Bast's voice rang louder, more forceful.

Sade jerked, as though waking from a dream, blinking rapidly to clear her head. The melody was still there, threading through the air, but Bast's voice—her protector's voice—was the anchor that kept her tethered to reality. Slowly, her senses returned, but the pull of the voices remained, a soft whisper in the back of her mind, trying to slip through the cracks of her resolve.

She glanced over the edge, but the nagging feeling of being watched returned with full force. As she turned to assess the situation, something sharp collided with the back of her head. The world tilted and blurred as consciousness slipped away, her body crumpling to the floor.

And before her mind faded into the darkness, she heard the voices again, only now they were closer—so much closer.

      "Kaaltali' u." (Take her.)

SOMEWHERE IN THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.
2016, JANUARY 28.

The first thing that hit Sade as she regained consciousness was the suffocating humidity that wrapped around her like a heavy, damp veil. It wasn't the usual oppressive stickiness she'd felt in places with high humidity before; this was different. It was as though the very air itself was soaked, and she, along with it, were submerged in it—as if I'm in water?

Her eyelids felt weighted, but as the fog cleared, she forced them open, blinking against the oppressive air. Her surroundings unfolded before her in awe-inspiring strangeness. A cavernous ceiling loomed above, glowing with thousands of bioluminescent worms that illuminated the space in a way that almost felt... otherworldly. A breathless "wow" slipped past her lips. It was a sight she had never witnessed before—not on land, anyway.

But as she tried to sit up, a nagging realisation hit her—she was not alone.

Two figures stood nearby, blue-skinned and watching her intently. Their presence was oddly serene, but there was an underlying wariness in their eyes. Both women wore clothing that seemed ancient, almost ritualistic—like something out of a long-forgotten Mesoamerican civilization. The jewelry they wore gleamed with a level of craftsmanship that felt... timeless, yet distant from any known era. The aura around them was one of mystery, as though she had somehow slipped backward through time.

Then, the language. It flowed from them like an ancient chant, each word unfamiliar and strange, their tones lilting and rhythmic in a way that only heightened the surreal nature of the situation.

Sade blinked, her mind racing to comprehend what she was seeing. She half-thought she was hallucinating. But the spell was broken when another figure leapt from the water, splashing her with a sudden jolt of cold liquid. The momentary shock was enough to snap her back to reality. The new arrival—a man, this time—approached, though his features remained hidden in the dim, cavernous gloom.

Again, the two women exchanged rapid-fire words in that same foreign language, their attention shifting between Sade and the man. One of them raised her voice, agitation clear in her tone.

      "Can you stop talking about me as if I'm not here?" Sade snapped, her irritation bubbling over. The words were sharp, cutting through the air. The women froze, their eyes locking onto her with wide, surprised expressions.

At their stunned silence, Sade let out an exasperated sigh. "Now that I have your undivided attention... might I know what in the Avatar is going on here?" Her voice was a mix of disbelief and barely contained annoyance, but underneath it was a sharp, commanding edge that made her words cut through the awkward tension in the air.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

here's the first chapter!! hehehehe. lovers to enemies to... hum lovers? i'm so ready for this emotional ride. y'all, namor is a simp for powerful women you cannot convince me otherwise. the way he went back to talokan to simply take care of his ankle wing and paint a mural of him and suri? bye- and yesss i mentioned my ebony night (moon knight fic) mc raïssa in the book because why not since she's a cia agent.

because miss sade doesn't miss a chance to make a joke

i'm still waiting for the namor gifs to make my gif banners, so bear with this bland layout please-
&& don't forget to vote, comment and share 🫶🏾

© ADONYSIAC ― IZIA™