Warriors of Poseidon 03 - Atlantis Unleashed

through the Void like a shock wave, and Justice looked up to see that the distorted surface of the entryway had turned transparent.
    High Priest Alaric leaned through the opening and held out one arm. “His sacrifice has opened the way, but only one living being may pass. I cannot come to you, Justice. You must walk through to us.”
    “I will not leave him,” Justice rasped. “I did not deserve him, and I will not leave him.”
    “You may bring his body,” Alaric said. “He is no longer alive, and thus is not subject to the strictures of the Void. But come now, before the gate closes.”
    Justice looked down at his sword and noted, with some corner of his mind, that it no longer glowed. In fact, the blade itself had turned black. “Black to match my soul, which was so unworthy of his sacrifice,” he said bitterly. Through habit borne of centuries, though, he wiped it on his sleeve and sheathed it on his back instead of hurling it out into the waste-land of the Void.
    “Now, you must hurry,” Alaric urged. “We do not know how long the gate will remain open.”
    There was nothing else for it. If he remained in the Void, he would render Pharnatus‟s sacrifice irrelevant. He could not—would not—do that. He gathered the fallen man in his arms and stood. Then, in a single leap, he passed through the gates of the Void and into Atlantis.
    As he crossed into the air of his native land, the fragile peace between his two natures shattered. The Nereid half of his soul screamed defiance, and his Atlantean side bowed its head in shame that the fallen man had sacrificed himself for such a worthless being as himself.
    His skull pounded with the raging fury of his divided psyche‟s battle for control.
    But what matter was more pain after so long of nothing else?
    He thrust his pitiful burden into Alaric‟s arms. “I would ask that you honor this man with the ancient burial rites. He was a Greek foot soldier in Alexander‟s army and survived two millennia in the Void.”
    Alaric inclined his head. “So it will be done, as honor and testament to his survival and for his sacrifice.”
    Justice threw his head back and shouted out a harsh bark of laughter that had no humor in it.
    “There was no reason behind his misguided act, although the selflessness is of itself worth honoring. But he should not have done it for me. Never for me.”
    Behind him, Ven and Conlan stepped closer. As one, they put their arms around him in a fierce embrace. In that instant, they were finally more than comrades or fellow warriors. They were brothers— family . For an instant, Justice allowed himself to experience what others had known. The warmth of belonging. But then he pushed them away.
    “Do not think to include me in your royal lineage through a mere accident of birth,” he sneered. “We are brothers in name only, and I would not have it any other way. I seek nothing now but to release myself from the burden of this man‟s unwanted sacrifice.”
    A soft noise caught his attention, the sound of denial made without words. It was her. It was Keely. The pain had nearly washed away his awareness of her presence. He looked up and directly into her eyes, greener than emeralds and deeper than the ocean currents that surrounded them. She was clutching one hand at her throat, and the silky warm skin of her neck entranced him. He wanted to hold her, to bury his face in the curve where her neck met her shoulder and never let her go.
    When she spoke, the liquid cadence of her voice caught at something deep in his soul. In both of his souls.
    “Don‟t do that,” she said, in a husky voice that sang heat and fire down his spine. “Don‟t belittle his gift to you. In all of history, there‟s no honor greater than self-sacrifice, and this poor man gave his life for you.”
    He froze, both halves of his soul trapped by the sorrow in her voice. Every fiber of his being yearned toward her, desperate to know her. Desperate to hold her. Desperate to have her.
    He would never, ever be worthy of her. But he was past caring.
    “You wish me to honor him? Your wish is my command, lady,” he snarled, losing all control—only able to focus on her. On taking her. “I honor his sacrifice with that of yours to me.”
    With those words, and nothing else beyond some vague knowledge of a Nereid power he‟d never wielded, he sprang toward Keely, caught her up in his arms, and willed that they would be elsewhere. Just the two of them. Willed them to