Chapter 19

     The terrain had changed again. What had been rolling fields of damp grass and twisted woods was now turning marshy, the ground beneath us soft and treacherous, like it was waiting for a moment to pull us under. The air was thicker here, heavy with the smell of salt and decay, and I could sense the nearness of the Atlantic before I could see it—the water calling out in its slow, rhythmic pull, a vast expanse of murk and mystery waiting just beyond the horizon.

     Tony and I had been moving quickly, but there was no mistaking the change in the atmosphere. We were closing in on something—something powerful, something that had been hidden for a long time. Whatever Achilles was after, it was tied to this land, this coastal decay, and as we moved deeper into it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were walking into someone else’s domain.

     Tony slowed, his gaze scanning the shifting landscape. “She’s here,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent.

     “Who?” I asked, though I already had a guess. This place, this moment—it felt like the culmination of everything Achilles had been leading us toward. But it wasn’t Achilles who held the power here. It was someone else.

     “She goes by many names,” Tony said, his voice tight. “But she’s always been here, waiting. Achilles didn’t create this. He’s just trying to harness it.”

     I frowned. “Madeleine?”

     Tony shook his head. “No. Madeleine’s tied to this, but she’s not the one in control.” He gestured toward the foggy horizon, where the marshland seemed to disappear into the dark expanse of the Atlantic. “This is her land. Her power. She’s been watching it rot for centuries, and now she’s ready to claim it.”

     I stared at him, trying to piece together what he was saying. “Who are you talking about?”

     But Tony didn’t answer. Instead, he pointed toward a figure moving through the mist, just barely visible against the backdrop of the darkening sky. She was walking toward us, her silhouette strong and deliberate, like someone who had nothing to fear from the world around her.

     As she approached, I could see her more clearly—a tall woman, dressed in a long, tattered coat that billowed out behind her as she walked. Her hair was wild, dark curls tangled with the wind, and her eyes gleamed with a fierce, unsettling energy. She moved with the confidence of someone who had long since given up pretending to be anything but herself.

     “Who is she?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

     Tony’s face was pale, but his expression was hard. “They used to call her a hoodlum, a criminal. But that was long ago. Now she’s more than that—more than a name, more than history. She’s the one who will uncap what Achilles can’t control.”

     The woman stopped a few paces away from us, her gaze sweeping over me with a kind of detached amusement, as though I were a curiosity, something to be studied and discarded. But when she looked at Tony, her expression shifted. There was recognition there, and something darker.

     “Tony,” she said, her voice smooth, with an edge that suggested she knew more than she was letting on. “Still trying to play the hero?”

     Tony didn’t flinch. “I’m not here for you, Ava,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m here to stop Achilles.”

     She laughed—a low, throaty sound that seemed to echo across the marsh. “Achilles thinks he’s in control,” she said. “But he’s nothing. He’s just a child playing with toys he doesn’t understand. This land was never his to claim.”

     She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes narrowing. “And you. You’ve been following him, haven’t you? Chasing shadows, trying to piece together a puzzle that was never meant for you.”

     I took a step forward, my heart pounding. “Who are you?”

     Ava’s smile widened, but it was a smile without warmth, a predatory grin that sent a shiver down my spine. “I’m the one who’s been waiting,” she said. “Waiting for this place to rot, waiting for Achilles to stumble into something he can’t control. Waiting for the right moment to make my move.”

     Her words hung in the air, thick with meaning, but I couldn’t make sense of them. “What does Achilles want?” I asked, my voice sharp. “What is he trying to control?”

     Ava tilted her head, her smile fading. “Power,” she said simply. “But not the kind you’re thinking of. Achilles wants to rewrite the city’s history, to bend time and memory to his will. But there’s something older here, something that’s been festering beneath the surface for centuries. The Ashanti knew it. The British tried to suppress it. And now Achilles thinks he can harness it.”

     Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “But he doesn’t understand the cost.”

     I felt a knot tighten in my chest. “What cost?”

     Ava’s gaze flickered to the horizon, where the dark waters of the Atlantic lay waiting. “This land was built on rot,” she said, her voice low. “On blood and death and forgotten promises. The Ashanti understood that. Their people were taken, their legacy erased. But their spirits never left. They’re still here, in the ground, in the water, in the very air you’re breathing.”

     She took a step toward me, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Achilles wants to claim that power, to reshape the city in his image. But you can’t control what was never yours to begin with. And when he tries, it will tear this place apart.”

     Her words hit me like a physical blow, the weight of them sinking in. Achilles wasn’t just after control of the city—he was trying to reshape its very foundation, to rewrite its past and bend its future to his will. But in doing so, he was awakening something older, something darker. Something that had been lying in wait, festering beneath the surface.

     “And you?” I asked, my voice tight. “What do you want?”

     Ava’s smile returned, but it was colder now, more dangerous. “I want what’s mine,” she said simply. “This land was built on rot, and I’ve been waiting for the moment to reclaim it.”

     Tony took a step forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife. “You’re playing with fire, Ava,” he said, his voice hard. “This isn’t just about power. People will die.”

     Ava’s gaze flickered to Tony, her expression unreadable. “People always die,” she said. “It’s the price of change.”

     The air around us grew heavier, the mist thickening as the Atlantic loomed closer. I could feel it—the weight of history, the pull of something ancient and relentless, something that was awakening from a long, restless sleep.

     Ava turned her back to us, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Achilles thinks he’s in control,” she said softly. “But he’s about to learn that some things can’t be controlled. Not by him. Not by anyone.”

     As she spoke, I could hear the faint rumble of thunder in the distance, the sky darkening as the storm gathered. And somewhere, deep beneath the ground, I could feel it too—the slow, steady pulse of something ancient, something that had been waiting for this moment.

     Ava began to walk toward the coast, her steps slow and deliberate, as though she had all the time in the world. She moved like someone who knew exactly what was coming, someone who had waited for this moment for longer than anyone could imagine.

     And as she disappeared into the mist, I felt a chill creep up my spine.

     The storm was coming. And we were caught in the middle of it.