Atlana stood to the side, her elegant form drifting in the ocean air. She felt hollow. She felt less than herself. And she felt the weight of betrayal- her own body filled with foreign spores that pulsed against her will. She could not fight.
Rose floated beside her, the wind pulling gently through her verdant green hair, her beauty serene even amid the carnage. Her eyes, however, were sharp.
"You cry," Rose said softly, "but tell me something."
Atlana turned to her slowly.
"If Achilles hadn't grown strong enough, if we were still on that tiny floating Colony City called Neon... what do you think would have happened when the Ancient Ones came and we were in their way?"
Atlana's lips trembled. She couldn't answer.
"You think the Atlantians would have smiled upon us? Held our hands? Offered us tea and alliances? No. Countless humans would have died. The rest of us would've been shackled in chains."
Her voice did not rise in anger. It remained steady, painfully calm.
