The child's petulant crying flooded the car cabin, a sharp sound bouncing off the dashboard.
"I want it! I want my elephant!" he shouted, kicking hard against the back of the front seat.
"Sweetheart, we can't right now," the mother pleaded, half turning around. "If you behave between now and Christmas, maybe Santa will bring it, but you have to be a good boy."
"No! I want it now!"
The woman looked at her husband for help. Henry kept his hands firm on the wheel, knuckles white. He shook his head slightly.
"We barely have enough to eat," he murmured with evident exhaustion. He tried to soften his tone as he glanced in the rearview mirror. "Why don't you read us your book? We really love the way you do the voices."
"No! I already read it to you! I'm bored! I want the elephant!"
In a burst of fury, the boy hurled his notebook forward. It struck his father squarely on the back of the head.
"Ah!" Henry cried out in pain and, on pure instinct, closed his eyes for a second while bringing his hand to the spot.
"Henry!" the mother's scream tore through the air.
He reacted, but the world had already twisted.
Two white headlights were advancing directly toward them from the oncoming lane. The father wrenched the wheel in desperation while the woman threw herself over her son to shield him with her own body.
The little boy couldn't close his eyes — he froze, watching those twin lights rushing toward him, merging into a single blinding glare that swallowed everything before the crash.
That white brilliance began to vibrate, bleeding into an intense yellow. The edges sharpened and the light became the crown of a giant star roaring in the void.
Chromastone floats facing the violent solar waves, arms extended, every facet of his body blazing. The Sun's pure radiation strikes his body, absorbed and channeled through his structure.
"It's not enough..." Legion murmurs. "If I could get closer... if I could position myself right in front of the sun... maybe I could fully recover."
A flash of frustration crosses his eyes. He feels the power flowing, but he knows it's a patch, not a cure.
"But I'm not Superman. I couldn't cover that distance even in my dreams without running out of energy halfway there."
He stays thoughtful, watching sunspots dance in the distance. His mind begins to weigh dangerous options. A nuclear reactor? Fission would generate a brutal energy density, but the risk is too high. He doesn't fear gamma radiation — he fears what lives in the basement of that energy.
"I don't want to attract the attention of The One Below All... if that thing even exists in this universe," he shudders slightly. "I hope it doesn't. With Terrax and everything that awaits me, I can only pray it doesn't exist."
Despite the stellar heat he absorbs, Legion feels the emptiness inside. He feels better now, yes, but it's a temporary illusion. He knows that the moment a few hours pass or he returns to human form, the chronic exhaustion and discomfort will come back to claim his body.
At that moment, Sid's voice interrupts his thoughts.
"Sir! Emergency in Africa. Atlantean forces, led by Prince Namor, have launched a formal siege against Wakanda's borders. They are heading to the surface with hostile intent."
Legion sighs, rotating his stone body to observe the blue and green marble floating below him. From up here, borders don't exist — only the beauty of the atmosphere.
"I still find it hard to believe how something so beautiful holds so many dangers."
He shakes his head, clearing away the philosophical thoughts.
"Sid, guide me. Mark the entry coordinates."
His crystals ignite with a multicolored glow, accumulating solar energy at his feet to create a kinetic impulse.
"The solar energy in my body won't last long. I have to make use of it while it holds."
Like a meteor of prismatic light, Chromastone plunges toward the Earth's atmosphere, leaving behind a trail of fire and color as he crosses the stratosphere at a terrifying speed.
==
Namor remained suspended in the air, the wings at his ankles beating constantly.
His eyes traveled over the mineral structure of the creature before him, coming to rest on the circular symbol on its chest.
"Human," Namor murmured.
Chromastone nodded. The multicolored reflections of his body bathed the Atlantean prince's armor.
"I'm glad someone finally believes I'm human. Honestly, you've saved me half an hour of explanations."
Namor's expression didn't change, but his posture relaxed by just a millimeter.
"My people know of you..." the Prince of Atlantis declared. "Your attempts to clean the ocean may go unnoticed by the surface, but not by the inhabitants of the deep. I respect that. And it is for that reason that I will give you the opportunity to withdraw in one piece and not enter into conflict with us."
Chromastone watched him, raising his hands momentarily in a gesture of consideration while scratching his chin. He looked back at the Wakandan vessels and the warriors waiting with bated breath. Then he let out a small laugh.
"That's a good offer... just kidding. I'm sorry, that's not an option. You can't expect me to withdraw and let two great nations enter a conflict that would cost an unimaginable number of lives... perhaps even affect the entire world."
Namor frowned, pointing his trident toward Black Panther.
"After the crime that Wakanda's royalty has committed, the least I can do is declare war!" he roared.
"We have nothing to do with this!" T'Challa cut in from his position, but Namor silenced him with a furious shout.
"Lies!" Namor bellowed. "The one known as Kwame, a former member of your Dogs of War, was captured after cutting down three of his own companions who participated in the assassination of Princess Fen... my mother! And not only her — twenty-three more Atlanteans died. Five were children! Two pregnant women were also among the victims of your scheming!"
Upon hearing this, the warriors of Talokan erupted once more in their rhythmic chant.
"OH! OH! OH!" striking their shields with an unmistakable thirst for blood.
Namor raised his trident once more, and just as Chromastone was about to try to intervene, the water stirred again.
New figures emerged from the depths. Among them stood out a man whose garments suggested a different noble status — more refined and diplomatic. He stepped forward, ignoring the tension of the imminent battle.
"You should have waited, Namor," the newcomer said. "You can't take Atlantean warriors and set off to declare war simply because that wretch claimed to be a Wakandan agent. You've been far too impulsive."
Namor turned his head with a furrowed brow, looking at the man with evident irritation.
"This is not the image that the future ruler of Atlantis should project," the man continued. "It seems you still have much to learn before aspiring to the crown. Your grandfather would be disappointed in you."
"You heard him, cousin!" Namor replied through clenched teeth. "What more proof do they need? As the future king, I must show determination in eliminating the enemies of our nation."
The man shook his head calmly.
"Whatever it is you're planning, the Council has declared that the case will be investigated as a priority. No action against the kingdom of Wakanda is to be taken before the final verdict has been handed down."
"Byrrah!" Namor exclaimed, but the one now known as Byrrah raised a hand.
"You've heard. Don't embarrass our people any further. You've caused enough trouble for today."
Namor huffed, his chest rising and falling with contained rage. He shot one last warning glance at the Wakandan warriors, lingering especially on Black Panther. Then he glanced briefly at Legion and withdrew, positioning himself behind Byrrah.
Byrrah sighed, surveying the damage.
"Now return the waters to their place," he ordered Namor. "At least clean up the disaster you caused."
Namor clenched his fists, but obeyed. He extended a hand and pulled it back with a sharp gesture, making the giant tide violently recede into the abyss — revealing the coastal village beneath: a desolate landscape of flattened houses, rubble and mud, a silent witness to the prince's fury.
Legion nodded in silence, feeling the solar energy stored in his structure beginning to dissipate.
As he descended gently toward the muddy ground, his body emitted one last flash before contracting and softening. Within seconds, his imposing figure disappeared, leaving in its place a young man.
Byrrah advanced with a firm stride, flanked by his personal guards and a Namor who, though still frowning, now walked one step behind. They left behind the mud of the devastated village, reaching a patch of dry ground where Black Panther, Okoye and the Dora Milaje were waiting.
T'Challa raised a gauntleted hand. It was a brief gesture, but enough for the Wakandan warriors to ease their attack positions — though their eyes never left the Atlanteans for a single second.
Byrrah stopped at a respectful distance and gave a slight bow of his head.
"I am Byrrah, of the Atlantean Council," he introduced himself in a calm voice. "Before any other word, I must offer an apology for the impulsiveness of my... cousin, Namor. I ask for a measure of understanding — he is still young and does not always know how to control his impulses... added to the fact that his mother, Princess Fen, has just been murdered."
T'Challa nodded gravely as his helmet retracted.
"I am T'Challa, the Black Panther and future king of Wakanda. We understand the weight of grief, but I need a clear explanation. I have heard the name Kwame and an accusation of murder. Wakanda has not lifted a finger against Atlantis, let alone committed an atrocity of this kind."
Byrrah nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.
"I will gladly share the details of our investigation with you, Prince T'Challa. But first..." Byrrah turned his head, directing his gaze toward Legion, who stood at a short distance, listening to every word. "I have received reports about this individual. What we are about to discuss is a private matter between our nations, and his presence here is... irregular."
However, before Legion could take a step or respond, the sound of vibranium striking the ground resonated sharply.
Okoye and the Dora Milaje moved in perfect synchrony, forming a tight circle around Legion. A dozen vibranium spears pointed directly at his throat, leaving barely millimeters between the sharp tips and his armor.
"This man has entered the lands of Wakanda without any invitation," Okoye declared, her eyes fixed on Legion. "By our laws, that is a crime. He will not go anywhere until he answers to the throne."
Legion raised his hands slightly in a gesture of peaceful surrender, though his voice through the helmet maintained a playful tone that contrasted sharply with the vibranium tips grazing his throat.
"Wow, wow... easy, ladies," he said with a small laugh. "I know I'm tempting, but technically I'm a minor, so you're going to have to wait a few years to get a piece of me."
The Dora Milaje didn't flinch — their faces remained like stone masks, holding the pressure of the spears without so much as blinking. T'Challa, observing the scene with curiosity, addressed Okoye in isiXhosa, Wakanda's native tongue.
"Okoye, asikho isidingo sokuba madolonzima kangaka kulo mfana (Okoye, there is no need to be so aggressive with the boy)," he said calmly. "I'm also surprised, but pointing spears at him after he intervened against Namor is not the right move."
Okoye met his gaze, firm in her position as general.
"Wakanda does not need intermediaries, my Prince," she replied in the same language. "His presence is a breach in our security."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that..." Legion interrupted.
To the surprise of everyone present, the words came not in English, but in perfect, fluent isiXhosa.
"The crew of the vessel Namor drove his trident through might not share your opinion," he added, glancing briefly toward the downed ship.
The Dora Milaje tightened their grip on their spears — not out of aggression, but out of bewilderment. T'Challa stepped forward.
"You speak our language?" the Prince asked, now in English.
"Technically, there is no language I don't speak," Legion replied. "But yes, I speak it. I know that things in Wakanda are handled differently from the rest of the world, and I'm willing to play along for now... but I'd greatly appreciate not having my throat surrounded by top-quality spears."
Okoye opened her mouth to flatly refuse, but T'Challa got there first.
"Agreed. Lower your weapons."
Okoye looked at him in disbelief, but the Prince held his decision.
"You heard me, General. He's willing to cooperate."
"He said 'for now,' my Prince," she reminded him with a warning tone.
"And that, for the moment, is enough for me," the Prince concluded, turning back toward Byrrah and Namor, who had been watching the exchange.
Byrrah raised one eyebrow, showing an expression of mild amusement.
T'Challa began to apologize for the inconvenience and for his guard's behavior, but the Atlantean envoy waved it off with a gentle gesture. In fact, he seemed to understand the situation and glanced sideways at Legion.
While the leaders spoke, the young man approached one of the Dora Milaje. The warrior was imposing, standing a head and a half taller than him, maintaining an expression of stone.
"Hey... could you let me hold the spear for just a second?" Legion asked, tilting his head slightly.
The woman ignored him completely, holding her position. Legion nodded to himself as if he had received an answer, and slowly moved his hand toward the tip of the spear.
In a lightning-fast movement, the warrior struck the base of the weapon against the ground, producing a metallic echo that made Legion jump and take a step back to compose himself.
"Right, yeah... maybe later," he murmured, turning his gaze back toward T'Challa.
Byrrah resumed speaking, addressing the prince of Wakanda.
"As I was saying, three months ago my people were surprised to notice a figure repeatedly passing through heavily contaminated zones of the ocean. These are sectors we monitor closely to keep animals away and to prevent other Atlanteans from wandering in by mistake and falling ill."
He paused, gesturing discreetly toward Legion.
"Our guards reported that this individual — whom upon investigation we discovered is a new surface 'superhero' — was entering those zones. He was removing waste and releasing a liquid that, after analyzing the water, we found was allowing it to purify. Since then we have spotted him several times in restricted areas, cleaning the water and extracting debris. It was a great surprise that someone from the surface would do something like that... and with such efficiency."
T'Challa nodded slowly.
"It seems we do indeed have an individual in common who has managed to surprise us both," the Prince commented, casting a brief glance at Legion.
Byrrah offered a small, courteous smile.
"So it seems," he replied, but his expression hardened immediately as he returned to the matter at hand. "But back to what concerns us."
Byrrah produced a small communication device and consulted a report before continuing. His voice turned somber.
"Just a few hours ago, a group of four surface individuals, equipped with cutting-edge technology that allowed them to maneuver underwater and evade our radar, launched an attack in the very heart of Atlantis. Princess Fen, Namor's mother..." Byrrah paused, and for a moment his diplomatic mask faltered. "She was an extraordinarily kind woman, deeply connected to her people. She was in the commercial district with four of her guards, taking a walk and greeting citizens. No one expected an attack there."
Byrrah lowered his gaze slightly, pressing his lips together.
"The guards were executed within seconds. And the princess... was decapitated by one of the assassins. They didn't stop there — they proceeded to kill anyone within reach. Among the victims were children and pregnant women. When our forces managed to corner the attackers, the leader, who was still carrying the princess's head, murdered his own companions and surrendered to the guards."
Namor, upon hearing the account, tightened his fist around the shaft of his trident until his knuckles went white.
"When interrogated," Byrrah continued, "he identified himself as Kwame, a former member of the Dogs of War of Wakanda. He declared that he and his men received a direct mission from King T'Chaka: to demonstrate to Atlantis that Wakanda can reach the very center of their kingdom. He demanded the surrender of the sacred crystal held by our people and left a warning... the next to die would be King Thakorr."
Byrrah looked back at T'Challa with a steady gaze.
"As you can understand, that confession — combined with the distinctive tattoo the prisoner carries on the inside of his lip — was a devastating blow to us. My cousin could not contain himself and, along with his most loyal warriors, set out in search of answers... or of revenge."
T'Challa went cold. The mention of the Wakandan Mark tattoo was near-irrefutable evidence in diplomatic terms, but something deep inside him knew his father would never order the slaughter of civilians, let alone children.
The prince listened to the voices in his communicator while keeping his gaze fixed on Byrrah.
On one side, King T'Chaka was roaring with fury, his voice distorted by indignation at being accused of such a massacre, insisting it was an obvious scheme to destabilize the nations.
On the other, the queen was trying to calm him with gentle words, while Shuri, in a far more analytical tone, cut in to share a troubling piece of information.
"T'Challa, Kwame disappeared last night along with three other guards — also former members of the Hatut Zeraze," his sister informed him through the private channel. "We've been searching for them ever since, but they vanished without leaving a trace of their biometric signals."
The prince furrowed his brow, feeling the pressure mount. He turned back to the Atlanteans with composure.
"My father would never give such an order. Our peoples have coexisted in peace for centuries, and there is no reason whatsoever to shatter that balance now."
Byrrah nodded slowly, showing a degree of understanding that Namor clearly did not share.
"I agree with you, Prince T'Challa. An attack like this makes no sense," Byrrah admitted. "But unfortunately, these are the facts. And as you well know, not everyone on the Council or in the streets of Atlantis shares our more measured view."
T'Challa went quiet for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest.
"So what happens next?"
"The matter is being investigated as a priority," Byrrah explained. "We want to know how they reached us without being detected, the exact origin of their weapons, and the true connection they bear to your kingdom. I have come here to try to resolve this before it escalates into all-out conflict."
As he said this, Byrrah glanced sideways at Namor, who gave a grimace of irritation, then continued, lowering his tone slightly to emphasize the weight of his next words.
"I have not come merely to inform you. The Atlantean Council requests that someone from Wakanda's royalty accompany us back. It is necessary as a show of good faith and to collaborate directly in the interrogations and the investigation. We need answers, and we need them soon."
Okoye stepped forward, her face hardened with indignation. The tip of her vibranium spear trembled slightly, reflecting the tension in the air.
"Are you serious?" the general said, her voice loaded with disbelief. "You expect a member of the royal family to hand themselves over as a hostage in foreign territory? I will not allow such a thing to happen."
Byrrah didn't react to Okoye's aggression. He maintained his diplomatic composure, though his eyes grew colder as he addressed T'Challa once more.
"If King T'Chaka is as wise as they say, he will understand that this request is the only path to avoiding unnecessary bloodshed," Byrrah replied calmly. "I am fully aware of the magnitude of what I am asking. That is why I will not demand an immediate answer."
Byrrah gestured toward the sea, where the rest of his warriors waited in silence.
"I will return tomorrow at dawn for the chosen one and their companions. I ask you, please, to be understanding and to analyze the situation with a clear head. Otherwise..." he paused meaningfully, glancing at Namor and then back at the prince. "war will be the least of the things you'll need to worry about. There are forces within Atlantis that even I cannot contain if I don't give them proof of good faith."
Namor let out a huff of impatience, but under his cousin's gaze, he held his tongue. Byrrah gave one final bow of his head toward T'Challa and began to step back toward the water, followed by his guards.
As the Atlanteans submerged into the depths and the immediate tension began to ease, the Wakandan warriors finally lowered their weapons, though the air remained heavy with unease.
Okoye approached T'Challa before he could take a single step toward the vessels.
"No."
T'Challa raised an eyebrow, looking at her with curiosity.
"No?"
"I know you," Okoye continued, crossing her arms. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and it is not a good idea. Handing yourself over to them is a risk we cannot afford."
T'Challa didn't respond immediately — he simply smiled in that enigmatic way that always made his general uneasy.
At that moment, a sharp whistle broke the solemn atmosphere.
"Sounds like you've got a real problem on your hands, huh?" Legion commented casually.
T'Challa studied him carefully. Despite being surrounded by the warrior elite of the most advanced nation in the world and having nearly been run through by vibranium spears, the boy showed not a trace of fear.
"You're very relaxed," he noted, stepping a couple of paces closer. "Considering that you're technically still in our custody and we've just received a declaration of war."
Legion simply shrugged.
"Well, after a few months of risking your life almost every day, you get a little used to danger," he replied, tilting his head. "I mean, compared to going up against Terrax, this doesn't feel like that big a deal."
As he said this, he glanced sideways at the Dora Milaje standing beside him — the same one who had nearly skewered him moments before. She fixed him with an icy stare that would have made anyone tremble, but Legion only offered her a sideways smile through his helmet.
"No offense, of course," he added in a playful tone.
T'Challa let out a small laugh, shaking his head. There was something about the boy's audacity that he found strangely refreshing amid so much diplomatic rigidity.
"Terrax, huh?... Yes, I've read reports on him. An entity supposedly capable of subjugating entire planets... You said you were willing to cooperate, didn't you?"
Legion nodded without hesitation.
T'Challa gave a signal and a Wakandan transport vessel slid silently down from the sky, opening its side hatch.
The prince invited the boy aboard with a courteous gesture. Legion went first, immediately flanked by two Dora Milaje who didn't take their eyes off him for a second, while Okoye and T'Challa brought up the rear.
"I still think this is a mistake," Okoye whispered, walking one step behind T'Challa.
"Think about it more carefully, Okoye," he replied quietly. "The Atlanteans will have their guard up against us, and we against them. What better than a 'global superhero' — someone even they respect — to serve as a mediator?"
"He's too young," the general insisted.
"He is," T'Challa admitted. "But that doesn't mean he isn't capable. He said it himself — compared to Terrax, this isn't that big a deal. Instead of imprisoning him and treating him like a criminal, why not put him to the test? Let's see what he's truly capable of. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?"
Okoye went quiet for a second. Through the communicator, Shuri's voice cut in with enthusiasm.
"I'm with my brother on this! And I want to be part of it too. I want to see what kind of technology he uses."
"You're not going anywhere, Shuri." King T'Chaka's voice — now calmer but firm — cut through his daughter's momentum. "It's not a bad idea to use the boy, but you stay in the palace."
"Oh, come on! That's not fair!" the young woman protested. "I want to see what Legion is capable of too."
"Don't you have assignments to finish?" Queen Ramonda chimed in. "It's not fair that your brother has to deal with Atlantis's accusations, but you have responsibilities here."
Shuri huffed indignantly, muttering that the world was unfair and it was always the same, but before the family argument could escalate, T'Challa cut the communication with a half smile. He looked at Okoye, who after a moment's thought, gave a brief nod.
"We have nothing to lose by trying," the general conceded.
"I knew you'd agree," T'Challa smiled as he boarded the vessel.
Once inside, Legion settled into one of the advanced-technology seats. The two Dora Milaje positioned themselves directly behind him, as rigid as columns. The boy glanced at them sideways, feeling a dryness in his throat.
"Hey... by any chance would you have something to drink? Maybe a little juice you could offer this humble mediator? I was out absorbing some sun and my mouth feels like cardboard."
The two warriors ignored him completely, keeping their gaze fixed straight ahead.
The boy let out a long sigh and turned to the window, watching Wakanda's landscape begin to move at great speed.
"I would kill for a fruit juice right now..." he murmured with an almost tragic longing.
==========
HEYYYY EVERYONE, HOW ARE YOU ALL DOING? HOPE YOU'RE WELL!
WELL, THINGS HAVE CALMED DOWN FOR THE MOMENT, BUT NOBODY CAN RELAX — THE SITUATION WAKANDA CURRENTLY FINDS ITSELF IN COULD TRIGGER A WAR BETWEEN TWO INCREDIBLY POWERFUL NATIONS ON EARTH.
FORTUNATELY, THERE ARE THOSE LIKE BYRRAH WHO ARE WILLING TO PROPERLY INVESTIGATE WHAT HAPPENED RATHER THAN RUSHING HEADFIRST INTO WAR.
AS ALWAYS, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS AND ALL YOUR SUPPORT — I REALLY APPRECIATE IT.
TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES, A KISS 😘