The Medajai are visiting Miyajima from the Capital—a rare occurrence, and one that rarely bodes well. The enforcers of order don't often make their way to coastal cities. The dangers of a raging sea, its ever-present chaos, are too much for them. Here on the East Coast, they're often called "Goons," a nickname tossed about in whispers and mocking glances. Rumor has it that a few people lost teeth for saying it to their faces, so maybe the name isn't quite as endearing as it sounds.
Intel brought to Mahima Oum, the notorious Godmother of the nickname—known as Mama throughout the kingdom—that the agents of order have arrived for two reasons: to locate her hideout and to take one of her sons. Mahima, the patroness of a clandestine orphanage, raises these children like devils, teaching them to survive at all costs, to keep their heads above water. But one thing she never taught them was how to swim. It was her belief—her rule—that it's safer that way.
Nineteen years ago, Mahima retreated from the Capital, Nexia. She saw too much and knew too much. and so, she sought refuge by the coast leaving that weight behind. Here, she could breathe the salty air instead of suffocating in the hypocrisy of the Elite.
On the night before the inauguration of Blue Bayou, an infant appeared on her doorstep. His serenity struck her immediately. The moment she laid eyes on him, she knew. This child—his soul was older than the ocean itself, as if he'd lived and died more times than the tides could count. His eyes, golden and bright like rays of sunlight, extended his tiny arms toward the sky, as if he could grasp the stars in the palm of his small hands.
She named him Rei. Rei Atlas.
Mahima found a letter hidden in the infant's robe. The words revealed the child's origins: the son of a prostitute and a priest, unwanted by both the divine and the profane. To Mahima, it was a sign, an omen, from the fallen gods themselves. She believed Blue Bayou could be a home for wandering souls. Or at least, she hoped so.
Rei became her first child. Five days later, Ash followed. A week after that, Joelyn. Time slipped by, and soon, the number grew—five, fifteen, twenty—until Mahima found herself the reluctant matriarch of fifty-five children, all abandoned by a cruel world that didn't have room for them.
But she was no ordinary mother.
Her hands were roughened by labor, her knuckles scarred from battles fought in back alleys and gambling dens. She did not coddle or soothe. She raised survivors, warriors. Blue Bayou became a legend, whispered through the alleys of Methuselah. Mama's sons and daughters bore a seashell tattooed on them—the symbol of the lighthouse they called home.
Of the four coastal cities in the kingdom, three were swallowed by the ocean. Miyajima remained—the last standing. Some believed it was divine mercy. But in reality, it was a fragile existence, a city of around five hundred people, caught between a government that stabbed them in the back and a mad ocean that threatened to claim them all.
Oum Mahima and her armada of children made it so the people could survive, leading them with the strength and cunning of a seasoned criminal. She became the leader of an underground organization—a criminal empire in plain sight. And now, the Medajai have come to eliminate her, to wipe out the threat she represents.
But Mama is always prepared.
"I dried my tears and armed my fears with ten thousand spears and shields. Soon my angel came again. I was armed; he came in vain. For the time of youth was fled, and grey hairs were on my head."
"Another one of your poems?" Rei's voice was drowsy with disinterest.
Mahima smirked over her book. "No. Faysal stole it from a library in the Capital."
"Of course he did." Rei plucked a red apple from the plate between them. "I heard from him Goons are paying us a visit. How much is this visit going to cost them?"
"Nothing. They're here for Ash. His qualia awakened. He needs to be monitored."
Rei's face soured. "So you're just letting them take your golden boy?"
"He's the son of a Medajai. He has the potential to be a holy knight."
"He's your son. And there's nothing holy about being a government lapdog." Rei tossed the apple aside. A hand snatched it midair.
Ash stood by the doorway, smirking. He bit into the apple. "Rotten."
"Not as rotten as you," Rei shot back. "Jealous I get to stay here while you go live in the safety of the Center?"
Ash snorted. "I'd rather be anywhere but this dump. You? What, gonna sail off to nowhere?"
"I'm meant to be a fisherman."
"You suicidal moron. Once I'm a knight, I'll come back here to capture you myself. You'll be safer in a prison cell."
Rei gave a mock gasp. "How thoughtful. But if you do, who'll feed Miyajima? My fish are unparalleled."
"You realize you're the only person in this whole kingdom mad enough to sail?"
Rei's eyes darkened. A memory flashed—something half-forgotten, like a dream slipping through his fingers.
"Not the only one..."
Mahima smacked him over the head with her book. "Stay away from the sea. Don't get carried away."
Ash burst out laughing—until she smacked him, too.
"And never threaten to capture your brother. Don't get carried away either."
Now both of them were rubbing sore spots, grumbling. Mahima took another sip of her drink, more drunk than usual. Then, without warning, she pulled them both into a tight embrace.
Rei and Ash froze. Her arms were too strong, almost crushing their ribs. They couldn't remember the last time she had hugged them.
"I love you boys," she murmured. "Thank you for keeping up with a mother like me."
Neither of them knew what to say. She let go, gave them a hard smack on the shoulders, and stood up.
"The spectacle's about to start. The Jesters are here. So you better buckle up."
She turned to Rei. "And you—stay out of their sight."