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“Nish...entop adlantisag, kelobtem ga...gabran?”
“Close, but that’s actually gabrin, not gabran. I know it can get a little confusing at first with all the similar looking hieroglyphs, but you’re really getting the hang of it!”
Kida looked up from the journal with a satisfied smile. A light breeze rustled the surrounding trees and stirred her hair as the running water behind her continued to burble. “And what about your speaking skills, then?”
“Oh, you know, they’re...” Milo gave a limp shrug. “They’re coming along.” He grinned as he picked up the journal. “You know, I still can’t get over your language being a root dialect—I mean, I knew it was special compared to other languages I’ve studied, but I never expected it to enable you guys to understand so many other languages as well—I mean it’s—it’s just amazing!”
Part of him still couldn’t believe it, despite having stayed at… no, saved this place. Part of him refused to see Atlantis past what it had been to him all these years—a bedtime story, a desperate proposal to museum executives, a forgotten language he had to puzzle together piece by piece.
But now it was a real city. An entire society. It was the parrot lizard colonies of the sky and the bustling marketplaces of the mainland. It was the people he helped protect, the woman he was lucky enough to call a friend. Atlantis was real—as real as the ground beneath him and the carved stone structures towering above.
Milo grazed his hand against the stone underneath him, the moss flaking under his touch. Maybe, against his efforts, all the times he’d been called crazy and deluded had managed to seep into his skin, stained like ink against parchment.
“Milo?”
Kida’s voice pulled him out of his musings. He jerked his head a few times in order to steer his thoughts back to the text laying between them.
“Sorry, sorry. Just got a little lost in my thoughts is all.”
Kida tilted her head as she leaned towards him. “What is it you were thinking about?”
Milo waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, it’s nothing. It’s just,” he looked up across the water, sparing a thought to when Kida asked him to swim with her to the mural days prior. “My grandpa was laughed out of the museum so many times for believing in this place.” He couldn’t hold back the smile that formed. “It’s still weird for me to be sitting here in the middle of it all, I guess.”
Kida hummed in acknowledgment. “Is he the reason for your choice of intellectual pursuit?”
Milo looked back to Kida. “What, you mean me choosing to be a linguist?”
“Yes,” Kida said. “I mean, I cannot imagine the need for those who study lost languages to be very high in your society. Did you choose this profession freely?”
Milo couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. Kida’s assessment wasn’t too far off; he had always been told the linguistics field held few opportunities for work, and these opportunities were directly proportionate to the amount of respect people felt was due towards the area of study.
The truth was, nobody forced Milo to do anything. Sure, if his grandfather had been someone other than himself, maybe Milo wouldn’t have found the line of study so alluring. But after all the tales his grandfather spun about a lost city that was swallowed by the very ocean it stood upon, founded on a language lost to all those on the outside, he found himself naturally running towards the subject as a river ran towards the sea.
“I definitely wasn’t forced into it,” Milo said. He shrugged. “I don’t know, it just seemed like a natural place for me to end up in. Back then I imagined I’d be able to help him with figuring some of this stuff out, but that never really happened.”
He closed the book before taking it in his hands, running his fingers over the well-worn leather and metal cover of the Shepherd's Journal as he’d done a myriad of times before. “I just wish he could’ve seen all this. Been here for all of this. Or something to at least let him know that he was right about everything, that all the things those people said to him were wrong.”
Kida went quiet for a moment as she averted her eyes to the ground. “I feel something similar, in regard to my mother.” The hand she had been leaning on against the ground folded into a light fist. “And now my father.”
Milo’s heart sank. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought this up.”
Kida shook her head. “No, I’m glad you told me this. It’s comforting when you find someone who harbors similar feelings as you do.” She looked up towards the clouds. “Do your people have certain beliefs about those who have passed?”
Milo put the journal back down between them before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Well, it depends on who you ask. A lot of factors could influence a person’s beliefs. Religion, culture, geographical location,” he counted off his fingers, “and even a person’s own experiences in life.”
Kida hummed thoughtfully. She looked back towards Milo. “And what do you believe in, then?”
He should’ve seen the question coming, but Milo was caught off guard nonetheless. While the feelings of loss and sadness from his grandfather’s passing were very easy to recall, he couldn’t say he gave much thought to what happened to his grandfather past that.
He never considered himself much for theory, especially of the religious or spiritual type. Much like his grandfather, he preferred intellectual pursuits of the physical kind. Being able to decipher an unknown piece of text or bring back an artifact from a civilization long since past felt much more gratifying than sitting around mulling over the meanings of the universe—not that he didn’t hold respect for the people who did.
While Milo may not have had many thoughts of his own regarding those who died before him, the words of a certain king were now at the forefront of his mind.
“If I’m being honest, I never gave the subject much thought,” Milo admitted. “But the King... your father... he said a few things to me before he died.” Kida’s eyes went wide at the mention of her father. “What did he tell you?”
“Uh.” Milo ran a hand through his mess of brown hair. While Kida didn’t appear upset with the conversation, he still didn’t want to risk rubbing salt into a still-fresh wound. “He told me a lot about, you know, the crystal. How it provides power for your people to survive.”
Milo waited a second for Kida’s reaction, the calming sound of running water filling the momentary silence between them.
“Did he say anything about where the power came from?” Kida asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.
Milo nodded. “Yeah, he did.” He pushed up his glasses again. “He said it thrived off the emotions of those who came before you, and that’s the source of its power. He also said over time with all these collective emotions, the crystal developed its own sort of consciousness.”
Milo shook his head again. “This is a really long answer for your original question,” he said with a bit of a nervous laugh. “But essentially, all of the past people of Atlantis are still alive, in a way. They live on in the crystal — they are the heart of Atlantis. Believe me, I know it’s not quite the same as having them sitting here with you like I am now, but it’s a nice way to view it, I think.”
Kida looked down to the crystal hanging around her neck, gently holding it at the tip. “I always felt as though part of my mother was with me, even though I never saw her after that day.”
“I guess now you have a definitive reason for that,” Milo said. The smile he wore faded slightly at his next words. “and I’m sure the King is going to be part of that too.”
Now Kida was smiling, soft and full of reverence. “He will join the other kings of our past, and help watch over Atlantis.”
Silence drifted between them again. A small corner of Milo’s brain couldn’t help but feel guilt over being the last one who spoke to the King as opposed to his own daughter. It hovered around him like one of those pesky fireflies when they escaped from a lantern, buzzing around as though taunting him. He needed to say something.
He reached out to Kida’s hand against the stone ground. “Kida, I know you probably already knew this, but your father loved you. And I’m sure if he was here he’d be so happy to know you and everyone here is safe.”
Kida’s smile softened further. She leaned against Milo, still holding her crystal in her hand. “My father may have been stubborn, but I never questioned his love for me and our people. I’m grateful to have learned from someone as wise and kind as him.”
She looked back up towards the sky. “When you said you wish you could speak to your grandfather after he had passed, I too would have liked to tell my parents that their sacrifices were not in vain. Atlantis still lives and shall be restored to its former glory.”
Milo grinned. “Well, with you as queen, I don’t see how it could play out any other way. I’m sure your people will be thrilled to have you as ruler.”
“Yes,” Kida said, a note of thoughtfulness in her tone. She stood up so she could amble closer to the water. “Though, the duties of a ruler are much easier if said ruler has the support of another.”
Milo nodded, his mind still fogged with the thoughts of his grandfather.
“Someone who is familiar with Atlantis and knows of its history and culture. Someone still willing to learn about things they may not be sure of now.”
Milo didn’t stir.
“It would also be of use,” Kida said, “if there were someone here who was an expert on deciphering and teaching a lost language, seeing as my people cannot understand it yet themselves.”
Milo stopped mid-nod. His gaze flicked up to meet Kida’s. “Wait, Kida?”
The smile that emerged on Kida’s face was mixed with uncertainty and amusement. “Yes?”
“You—you, you can’t possibly be suggesting I stay here. With you as ruler, right?”
Kida bit her lip. Her eyes shined with excitement. “Is that something you’d consider for yourself?”
It was a good thing Milo was already seated, or else he’d likely have made an idiot of himself by passing out and falling into the water. Even without the risk of drowning, his bulging eyes and gaping mouth were already selling the whole “idiot” part very nicely.
“Kida, I... are you serious? Me, as king? I don’t know if I’m cut out for that sort of thing! I—I mean, have you seen me?”
Kida laughed at that. She closed the distance between them, taking Milo’s hands in her own. “After everything you have done, I cannot think of anyone more worthy to be by my side on the throne. Of course, if you wish to return to your people and stay in those stuffy museums you’ve spoken of, I will support whichever decision you may make.”
“Hey,” Milo said with playful indignance, “the museum isn’t that stuffy. Well, maybe if you take out Mr. Harcourt.”
Kida laughed again. “What do you say?”
Milo’s thoughts flashed back to the museum in Washington D.C., with the finicky broiler, the snooty people, and the dingy, brick basement room he’d been confined to for the last several years. He had a chance to move past that, to help an entire civilization—the same civilization he spent even more years fighting to prove existed. Who would he be to pass up something like this?
Definitely not Thaddeus Thatch’s grandson.
“Hey, Milo!”
They both looked over to where Audrey was standing. Audrey motioned a thumb behind her. “We’re starting to pack for the trip back home. Need any help with your things?”
“Thanks, Audrey, but,” Milo looked back to Kida with a grin. “I don’t think I’ll be needing to do any packing.”
Audrey gave Milo a look. “What are you getting at? Have you gone crazy again?”
Milo laughed. Truthfully, he’d never stopped.