Chapter 33

Mel perched on the balcony railing of their hotel room, gently strumming his guitar, the soft notes echoing into the quiet night. He frowned, his mind adrift. "Why did that woman call me 'son'? Maybe it was just a meaningless daydream… but I was unconscious," he muttered, his fingers continuing to glide over the strings. His gaze wandered to the star-studded sky.

"The purple smoke figure," he mused, "looked just like how Rue described my eyes when I lost control against the wardens. And the black lightning… it was exactly like the power I unleashed back then. Everything about it feels… off."

Sighing, he reached into his robe and pulled out the tiny book he had taken from the museum. "I know it's wrong to steal, but technically, this is my property," he reasoned, flipping it open. The pages seemed endless, all blank at first glance, until his eyes glowed white as text began to reveal itself.

"Weapons defense… no. Potions… no. Spells… no," he mumbled, skimming through the sections, his frustration mounting with each turn of the page. Just as he was about to give up, something caught his attention.

"Gods?" he murmured, leaning closer. "Why would he dedicate a page to that?"

Intrigued, he focused on the section, his eyes scanning the details Merlin had meticulously recorded about various deities. Among them, he spotted a familiar name: Triton.

"Maren's father?" he whispered, curiosity pulling him deeper into the text. He began to read, absorbing Merlin's notes on the sea god and his powers, hoping it might somehow connect to the strange vision he had just experienced.

"Triton: the Sovereign of the Seas, the Stormbringer, and the Heart of the Abyss. A deity both feared and revered, whose dominion over the oceans shaped not only Atlantis but the very balance of the natural world.

Triton was more than a king—he was the embodiment of the ocean's duality: calm and nurturing in one moment, relentless and destructive the next. To call him powerful would be an understatement. His trident was said to command not just the waters, but the storms and beasts of the deep. Stories speak of him raising entire oceans to swallow fleets, while in other accounts, he quelled hurricanes with a mere whisper.

The Atlanteans adored him, and for good reason. Under Triton's rule, Atlantis thrived, its borders impenetrable, its culture unmatched. Yet even a god-king is not immune to tragedy.

Triton bore a deep love for his people and his family, but his reign was not without its shadows. Some say he grew disillusioned with mortal politics and the greed of neighboring kingdoms, while others claim his wrath against the surface world knew no bounds. This, perhaps, was his greatest flaw: the inability to separate his role as protector from his fury as an avenger. In the end, his enemies were too many, and his trust too few.

Triton's fall was not one of powerlessness but of betrayal—one he never foresaw, as he believed his divine blood shielded him from mortal cunning.

Mel closed the book with a sigh, rubbing his temples. "Triton was well-respected, a noble king… and then there's Maren, his son, so blinded by revenge he can't see straight." He shook his head, then flipped through the book again, stopping when another name caught his attention: Gaia: Mother Nature. His brow furrowed as he read the sparse entry.

"Arid is her descendant…" Mel mumbled, intrigued, but his interest turned to confusion when the only sentence under her name read: Evil incarnate. He frowned. "Evil? Gaia? That doesn't make sense." His mind flickered back to his fight with Arid and the sheer ferocity in his attacks. "Maybe it's hereditary," he muttered, half-joking, though the idea left an uneasy feeling in his chest.

He flipped to the next page, scanning the list of gods and goddesses until something else caught his eye. It wasn't words this time—his fingers brushed against the page, feeling the raised outline of a lightning bolt etched into the parchment. It was almost alive, crackling faintly beneath his touch.

Mel froze. His breath hitched as recognition dawned. This was no ordinary symbol—it was the same black lightning he'd seen in his vision. The monstrous figure. The raw, destructive power. His pulse quickened as the memory resurfaced vividly.

"What are you…?" he whispered, staring at the symbol, a storm of questions swirling in his mind. Whatever this was, it was connected to him—and he needed answers.

Below him, in the alley beside their building, Mel spotted a drunk woman leaning unsteadily against the wall, her laughter slurred and unfocused. Two men hovered around her, one grabbing her arm while the other tried to pull her away.

"Why is she so damn strong?!" one of them hissed, struggling to restrain her.

The woman giggled lazily, her words barely coherent. "I'm looking for my children," she murmured, her tone hazy.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll help you find your kids later," the second man lied, his grip tightening as he nodded to his accomplice. "We just need to get her back to our place first."

Mel's eyes widened as the realization of their intent hit him. He quickly set his guitar aside, ready to intervene—until something stopped him cold. The woman's voice. It sounded oddly familiar.

Before he could piece it together, the woman yawned, swaying slightly. Then, in a single effortless motion, she lifted one of the men clean off the ground with astonishing strength.

"What the—?!" the man cried out, flailing helplessly before she slammed him into the pavement with bone-jarring force.

"Sorry," she slurred, her voice dripping with drunken nonchalance as she turned toward the second man, who immediately froze in terror.

"S-Stay back!" the second man stammered, his hands trembling as he pulled out a pocket knife, holding it out like a lifeline.

Yaga tilted her head, swaying slightly, her eyes narrowing as a faint smile played on her lips. "Ah, that takes me back. I trained Merlin with a knife just like that once," she mused, her voice laced with a drunken nostalgia that sent a chill down Mel's spine.

Mel's breath caught in his throat as the realization hit him. This wasn't just any woman—this was Baba Yaga. Shenelle Upan herself.

The man's courage faltered as Yaga took a slow, deliberate step toward him. In a panic, he lunged, slicing the blade toward her. But Yaga's hand shot out with uncanny precision, catching the blade mid-swing.

Her drunken smile faded, replaced by an icy glare that made the air feel heavier. "Hey," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Did you take my kids?"

The man stuttered incoherently, but before he could answer, Yaga's grip on the knife tightened. Her movements became a blur as she slashed at him with terrifying speed. The blade danced through the air, cutting him dozens—no, hundreds—of times in mere seconds.

By the time she stopped, the man's body was riddled with cuts, his shirt in tatters as he crumpled to the ground unconscious.

Yaga exhaled sharply, tossing the knife aside as she steadied herself against the wall, her anger giving way to a drunken pout. "Thought so," she muttered under her breath.

Mel jumped down from the balcony with practiced grace, landing softly in front of the woman. "Ms. Yaga? What are you doing here?!" he exclaimed, rushing to her side and trying to steady her as she swayed.

She put a finger to his lips, silencing him with a drawn-out shushing sound. Then, to his horror, she absentmindedly poked her finger into his mouth. He gagged and coughed, jerking his head away. "Are you drunk?!" he demanded, gripping her arms to keep her still.

"Wait, oh hey, Merlin!" she slurred, squinting at him as if trying to focus. Before he could protest, she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm not Merlin! I'm Melanthius!" he groaned, struggling to break free. "And what do you mean someone took your children? Did something happen to Sera, Lumi, and Caius?!"

Her glazed eyes blinked in confusion before lighting up with recognition—or something close to it. "Yeah, you told me already. If you ever had a son, you'd name him Melanthius." She giggled, swaying slightly as she spoke. Then her expression shifted into one of playful challenge. "What do you say we have a sparring battle for old times' sake?"

Before Mel could protest, she playfully punched him. Playfully for her, at least—it sent him hurtling across the alley and slamming into the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he groaned, sliding to the ground.

Yaga tilted her head, suddenly frowning as if recalling something. "Wait a second," she muttered, her voice growing louder. "Now that I think about it… you said you took Sera, Lumi, and Caius!"

"What?!" Mel sputtered, clutching his ribs. "I never said that!"

But Yaga wasn't listening. Her expression darkened, her drunken haze replaced by fiery anger as she took a menacing step toward him. "You're gonna pay for that!" she roared, cracking her knuckles.

She pulled her fist back and swung at him with terrifying speed. Mel barely managed to duck, but the punch still grazed his cheek, slicing it open as if her fist were a blade. He flipped backward, landing in a crouch to put some distance between them. Blood dripped from the cut as he shouted, "What the hell are you doing?!"

Yaga's eyes were wild with fury, her voice a mix of anger and heartbreak. "I can't believe you, Merlin. I trained you, fed you, saved you from those monsters you called parents! And this is how you repay me? By becoming an overlord for that bitch?!"

Before he could respond, she lunged and grabbed his arm. The moment her fingers touched his skin, a thousand tiny cuts erupted across his arm, as if her very touch was a weapon. Mel screamed in pain, instinctively kicking her away. He dropped to one knee, cradling his shredded arm. "What are you talking about?! Are you this drunk?!"

She cracked her neck, her movements unnervingly calm despite her rage, and pulled a single strand of hair from her head. With a sharp exhale, she blew it toward him like a dart. The strand sliced through the air and pierced his shoulder, sending him flying backward into a pile of pots and pans with a metallic crash.

Mel groaned, struggling to get up as she advanced, her hair billowing unnaturally in the wind. Her once-drunken demeanor was gone, replaced by an unrelenting, primal anger. In that moment, Mel could see why people feared Baba Yaga. She was a living storm of wrath and power.

"You betrayed your best friend, Arthur Pendragon! You burn those bridges, you bastard!" she screamed, leaping into the air with inhuman agility. She twisted mid-flip and delivered a brutal kick to his shoulder. A sickening pop echoed as his joint dislocated, and Mel howled in pain, collapsing to the ground.

He clenched his teeth, his body trembling. "I'm not Merlin, damn it!" he growled through the pain, his voice desperate and furious. But she didn't seem to hear him—or care.

Take off that damn robe! I'm going to give you one thousand slashes with Phantom Severance! I taught you to use anything as a weapon—so use it, or you die!" Baba Yaga declared, her body glowing faintly red as her aura of cutting magic intensified.

Mel struggled to his feet, his entire body wracked with pain. His eyes scanned the alley frantically until they landed on a discarded pipe. He grabbed it, testing its weight as he swung it once. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I can't die here!" he shouted, determination replacing his fear.

With a burst of speed, Mel dashed forward. "Cloud Fall!" he roared, striking Yaga with the pipe. He landed a few blows, but her movements were too quick. She dodged effortlessly, her sharp eyes tilting in mock amusement. As he swung again, she caught the pipe mid-swing, and with a single swipe of her glowing hand, she sliced it clean in half.

Before Mel could react, her knee drove into his stomach, the impact knocking the wind out of him. The aura from her hand followed, leaving a gash across his torso. Mel staggered back, clutching his bleeding stomach. He exhaled sharply, releasing a thick cloud of mist that wrapped around the wound, soothing the pain and slowing the bleeding.

"What was that attack?" Yaga snapped, narrowing her eyes. "I never taught you that. Is that what you learned from that monster?!" Her voice cracked with an edge of jealousy. Without waiting for a response, she leaped high into the air, her fist glowing with her deadly aura as she aimed to crush him.

Mel inhaled deeply, steadying himself. At the last moment, he spun his body, driving a spinning hook kick into her jaw. The force of the kick sent her crashing into the ground with a resounding thud.

Yaga lay still for a moment, her body showing no signs of damage. Mel stood panting, bracing himself for her retaliation. But instead of rising, she let out a loud, drunken snore.

He froze, confused. "She's… asleep?"

Yaga stirred awake, her head throbbing as her vision adjusted to the dim light of Mel's hotel room. She glanced around, taking in the quiet surroundings before her eyes landed on Mel. He sat on the edge of the bed, his posture rigid, with fresh bandages covering the cuts and bruises she had inflicted.

She rubbed her eyes and let out a groggy sigh, her voice low and regretful. "Merlin… no, Mel," she muttered, the realization sinking in.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her gaze falling to her hands. "For everything I did last night. I wasn't myself."

Mel nodded, rolling his shoulder with a wince. "It's okay. Still kinda sore, though," he said with a faint chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "But seriously, what are you doing here?" His voice carried a mix of curiosity and concern.

Yaga rubbed her temples, fighting the haze of her hangover. Her expression shifted, heavy with guilt, as she began to explain. "I… had an argument with Sera, Lumi, and Caius," she admitted, her voice trembling. She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the blanket. "I lost my temper. Said things I shouldn't have."

Her eyes glistened as she sniffled, a rare vulnerability breaking through her hardened exterior. "I'm a terrible guardian, aren't I?" she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her remorse.

"No, you're not a terrible guardian. You just got a little frustrated," Mel said gently, offering her a small, reassuring smile as he moved to sit beside her. "We'll find them, I promise."

Yaga sighed, her exhaustion evident as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I don't know where they are," she admitted softly. "I think… I think they might've been kidnapped by someone."

Mel's brows furrowed with concern. "Kidnapped? Why do you think that?" he asked, his voice calm but serious.

She rubbed her eyes, frustration and uncertainty evident. "I don't know," she murmured, shaking her head slightly. "Maybe I'm just rambling. Everything feels so… off."

"Can I ask you something?" He asked, fidgeting with his fingers. "What is it?" She sniffled and looked at him. "Who's my mom?" He asked and her eyes instantly went wide and she choked on air. She sat up and sweat dripped from her forehead. "Why do you want to know?" She asked and looked around nervously. 

Mel looked down. He explained the vision he had with the black lightning monster, the purple smoke figure and the lady that called him son when he passed out on the rollercoaster. She stood up and began biting her nails. "I uhh, why would you think I would know something like that?!" She asked and Mel stood up. "You trained him, you knew him more than anyone. You also mentioned him being friends with Arthur Pendragon and betraying him. You mentioned how he became an overlord for someone and when I used my cloud fall technique, you asked if I learned it from "that Monster". You know so much about him, I need to know why he did what he did!" He spat a bit angrily and Yaga bit her lip and looked down. "I–I can't tell you, Mel. I promise, when we first met, I wanted to spill everything to you but, I made a wizard's vow and I can't break it."

Mel sighed and looked down. "I just want to know what happened and why he went down the wrong route. But I understand, a promise is everything." He smiled even though Yaga could tell he was hurting.

She bit her lip, hesitating, before conjuring a rolled-up map and tossing it onto the bed. It unfurled upon impact, revealing its title in bold, sinister letters: Capital of Sins.

Mel's eyes narrowed as he read the name, his teeth clenching in rising fury. "Why did you give me this?" he demanded, his voice low but dangerous.

Yaga crossed her arms, avoiding his gaze.

"The wardens told me someone from the Continent of Sins put a bounty on Princess Rue… and Merlin's crown," Mel said, his voice tightening as his hands trembled. He scanned the map, his eyes lingering on the kingdoms etched in bold, ominous letters: Lust, Pride, Wrath, Envy, Sloth, and Gluttony.

Each name sent a spark of fury coursing through him, his mind swirling with unanswered questions and a storm of accusations he struggled to voice.

"This is where your father was born," Yaga said, pointing to a spot on the map. Her finger rested firmly on Wrath Dominion.

Mel's eyes followed her gesture, his brow furrowing. "In Wrath Dominion? You found him there? Does that mean King Arthur Pendragon was raised there too? I thought he'd have grown up in Camelot, in the Aurora Continent, alongside places like Transylvania and Auroria Dominion."

Yaga shook her head. "No, King Arthur was raised in the Pride kingdom," she replied matter-of-factly.

Mel nodded slowly, absorbing the revelation. The pieces of history he thought he understood were beginning to rearrange, forming a much darker puzzle than he had imagined.

"You'll find your answers there," Yaga said, her voice low but firm. She moved toward the door, glancing back at him. "Wanna come back to Klaus? I'll cook something for you."

Mel rolled the map up carefully, his expression determined yet weary. "Yeah… I'll come," he said, tucking the map under his arm as he followed her.

Meanwhile, Varek sat in front of the cage and Caius, Sera, and Lumi lied down and slept in. He sighed and clicked a pen. "Am I doing the wrong thing?" He wondered and remembered how he was rejected from his clan for not being able to kill Merlin Shadowbane. At that thought, he snarled and broke the pen. "Of course not." 

"Sir, forgive me for asking, but how exactly do you plan to capture Merlin Shadowbane?" Nomak asked hesitantly, bowing as he polished Varek's shoes. "He's performing at the music festival, in front of millions from all across the Isles. That's not exactly the easiest place to carry out a capture. And with Baba Yaga reportedly searching for the kids…"

Nomak trailed off, flinching slightly as Varek leaned forward and grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Nomak, my clever little wizard," Varek said, his voice laced with condescension. "Do you really think I'd step into this without a plan?" His grip tightened just enough to make Nomak uncomfortable. "You underestimate me."

He released Nomak with a flick of his wrist, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Keep polishing. You'll see soon enough."

Meanwhile, Mel strolled through the Hissing Havens, his royal status earning him respectful nods and greetings from the locals, but his mind was elsewhere. He had eaten at Klaus, but Yaga had fallen asleep almost immediately after. Now, his attention was consumed by the map of the Capital of Sins, his eyes constantly returning to the Wrath Kingdom. Lost in thought, he didn't notice someone approaching until he bumped into Caldric, sending him sprawling onto the ground with an exaggerated "Ow!"

"Melanthius?" Caldric said, scrambling to his feet with a nervous chuckle. "I mean… Aha! I knew you'd be walking through here."

Mel glanced up, his brow furrowing. "Who are you again?"

Caldric's eye twitched as he dramatically flicked his hair back. "It's me, Caldric! You threw me out of a window yesterday!" he spat, visibly annoyed.

Mel paused, then broke into a grin. "Oh, hey Caldric. What's up? What are you doing here?"

Mel noticed the five children trailing behind him, their expressions ranging from nervous to defiant. "Who are they?"

Caldric gestured to the group. "8th graders from schools within the Isles. Their parents sent them to me for some sort of 'rehabilitation'—a field trip to Caldara Bastille."

Mel's eyes widened. "Wow, that's… I don't even know how to explain how dumb that is," he chuckled, tucking the map into his pocket.

Caldric grinned, clapping Mel on the back. "Hey, why don't you come with me to Caldara? Relive your childhood, y'know?" He laughed heartily, clearly enjoying the idea.

Mel looked up at the looming dark thunderstorm island in the distance, the shadow of Caldara Bastille visible in the clouds. "I don't know… is it a good idea, especially with all the inmates who've sworn to put a price on my head? Including the Abyssal Wardens?"

Caldric waved it off casually. "Of course, it'll be fine. Magic's banned in Caldara, so you're safe." He gave Mel another reassuring pat on the back.

Mel nodded, glancing at the sky. "My band and I have to meet with the festival owner at five, though."

"Whoa, did you tell the time by the clouds, using your cloud magic?" Caldric asked, his voice tinged with awe.

Mel raised an eyebrow, his lips curling slightly. "No, I was just checking how dark it'll be in a few hours. Why do people keep assuming my magic controls the weather?"

"Hello, kids," Mel greeted warmly, offering a polite bow and a genuine smile. Caldric chuckled darkly. "Careful, Mel. They'd scam death if they could." Mel waved off the warning with a scoff. "Come on, I'm pretty sure I can handle a couple of—"

Before he could finish, one of the kids stepped forward and effortlessly flipped him over with a wrist throw. Mel hit the ground with a thud, momentarily stunned, and looked up at the boy in confusion "Don't patronize me, you bastard!" the boy snarled, glaring down at him. "You think you're hot shit just because you threw my older brother in prison?"

Mel's eyes widened as the boy's resemblance to someone familiar clicked. "Y-you…" he stammered. "Yeah," the boy snapped, crossing his arms with a smug grin. "The name's Clyde Sunnyday. I'm Clay Sunnyday's little brother." The boy's dark demeanor matched his delinquent appearance, from his rumpled jacket to the confident sneer on his face. Mel picked himself up slowly, dusting off his clothes while keeping his eyes on Clyde, recognizing the same fire he'd seen in Clay.

"Wait a minute now," Mel said, brushing himself off as he stood. "I didn't fight your brother for no reason. He hurt a lot of people and even paralyzed my best friend." Clyde scoffed, his expression bitter. "Yeah? And instead of trying to get him help, you sent him there—to Caldara—where he lost his mind!" His voice cracked with barely contained anger, and his fists clenched at his sides.

Mel's mouth opened, ready to respond, but Caldric quickly stepped between them, raising his hands like a referee. "Alright, alright, cut it out, you two. Let's focus on getting to the boat for Caldara. Hey, kids! Guess what? King Melanthius here has offered to fly two lucky boys and girls to Caldara himself!" Mel whipped around, his brow furrowed. "Can you stop talking to them like they're preschoolers? Also, I never said I'd fly anyone." Clyde sneered, crossing his arms as he stepped closer to Caldric. "I don't want that piece of crap flying me anywhere. He'd probably sink me into the water just for fun."

Mel shot him an annoyed look, muttering under his breath, "If I wanted you in the water, I wouldn't need to fly you there…" Meanwhile, the other kids lit up at the prospect of flying. "Fly us? No way, I want to go!" a girl with messy blonde pigtails exclaimed, hopping on one foot. "I'm Ellie, by the way!"

"Ellie, stop hogging the offer!" a lanky boy with a mop of red hair called out, shoving her lightly. "I want to fly! Name's Brandon, King Mel! Pick me!"

"No, I should go! I don't trust either of these idiots not to fall off mid-flight," a sharp-eyed girl with short black hair said coolly. She crossed her arms and gave Mel a once-over. "Name's Kara, and I don't scream like them, so I'm the safest choice." Mel pinched the bridge of his nose as the kids began clamoring, all talking over each other. "Okay, okay, stop!" he said loudly, raising a hand.

The kids quieted—though Ellie and Brandon still glared at each other—waiting for his decision."First of all, I didn't agree to this, and second," Mel sighed, glancing at Caldric, "this is your circus. Figure it out."

Caldric grinned slyly, nudging Mel's side. "Come on, King Mel! It'll make their day. What's a little flying to someone like you?" Mel gave him a deadpan look. "You owe me for this."

"Fine," Caldric replied with a grin. "Make it two," Mel grumbled, then turned to the kids. "Alright, I'll fly two of you. The rest are staying grounded with Caldric." Ellie jumped up, waving her hand enthusiastically. "Me! Pick me!" Brandon and Kara immediately began arguing about who was more deserving, while Clyde muttered something under his breath about how "pathetic" the whole scene was.

Mel groaned and rubbed his temple. "Let's go." 

Mel soared through the stormy skies, Ellie clinging tightly to his right shoulder while Brandon gripped his left, their excitement palpable despite the ominous setting. Below them, Caldric guided the boat carrying Clyde and two other kids, cutting through the choppy waters toward Caldara Bastille.

The wind whipped around them, lightning flashing in the distance, but Mel flew steadily, his movements as fluid and natural as a cloud drifting in the storm. He held the kids securely, ensuring they were safe despite the turbulence.

"King Melanthius," Brandon called over the roar of the wind, his voice tinged with curiosity, "how does it feel to come back to the place you were raised?"

Mel didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the dark silhouette of Caldara Bastille. The massive prison loomed ahead, its jagged spires piercing the stormy sky like teeth. Memories clawed at the edges of his mind.

"It makes me want to cry right here," he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible above the storm. His grip on the kids tightened slightly, grounding himself in the present. Ellie and Brandon fell silent, their earlier excitement dampened by the weight of his words.

As they approached the dock, Mel began his descent, his boots landing lightly on the weathered wood despite the force of the storm. He set Ellie and Brandon down gently, then glanced back toward the approaching boat. Caldric waved dramatically from the deck. "Welcome back to your childhood home, King Mel! Does it feel like a warm hug yet?"

Mel shot him a tired look and muttered under his breath, "More like a punch in the gut."