Come a little closer then you see…
Things aren’t always what they seem to be…

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The islands are dying.

Midas can feel it as he passes each one, first the Crossing, then Tinuvel. Each island showing wear and tear as they slowly erode into the sea. Tinuvel looks utterly atrocious, large parts of the island sinking or looking completely uninhabitable. Slowly but surely the icy water begins to give way to the warm, clear, and tropical waters surrounding Atlantis and Midas holds his breath, what has happened to his home? His mind fills with horrible images of fires, falling palm trees, earthquakes, or perhaps the underwater volcanoes finally decided to erupt. Something has happened to the islands, the air is different; the water is somehow quieter and colder than he remembered.

What had it been, 2 years? 3? Midas’s memory gets a bit fuzzy. He had abandoned the islands, trying in vain to trace the steps Aria had taken when she had left. Midas knew in his heart that he would never find her because she never wanted to be found. His heart sinks a bit at the thought of that patchy girl. She had been his first love, and sadly he had let his greedy self suffocate her, trap her into obedience, and eventually she had no choice but to run away.

Atlantis comes into view though it is still too hard to see if the island is intact. Midas’s cream legs pump faster in the cerulean waters, his golden eyes strain as he tries to make out the familiar shoreline of home…of the harbour.

There are ghosts in this place, things Midas is not proud of, but it was time to come home. He had once vowed never to abandon his mares like his father had abandoned him, but in chasing Aria, Midas had unknowingly stooped to his father’s level. Coming back Midas was struck with this reality. He had left mares behind – Sylvia specifically – just like Tarrant had left Vintage so many years ago.

You really are no good.

He thinks as he inwardly punishes himself for his lack of character. Had Sylvia gone insane? Was she happy without him? Secretly Midas hopes she hadn’t moved on, that she had stayed miserable in his absence, but another part of him hopes for her happiness and that she has moved on to someone better, someone more of a man than he could ever have been for her.

And what of Claire? Did his daughter grow up without a father? What was she like now? Was she as beautiful as her mother? So many questions, and Midas isn’t sure he wants to know the answers.

Midas reaches the shallow waters and his hooves feel the gritty white sand beneath his feet. He steadies his body in the waves. He may be a bit older – but he is no less fit than he was years ago. His coat still gleams in the Atlantis sun, and his face, some might say it has grown more handsome as the years have gone by. Middle age has treated the golden boy well.

The excited gleam in Midas’s eyes quickly falls away as he nears the Harbour’s shore. Over the years, the harbour has weathered the most tumultuous side of the island. Big storms and little storms, the harbour always endured. But Midas is crushed to see that it now lays in ruin, having suffered one too many hurricanes to survive. There are huge boulders that have swept down to the shore from the jungle. Animal carcasses in varying levels of decay lay littered in the sand and serve as feasts for the many buzzards that pick at the bones. Everywhere palm trees lay rotting on the beach and blocking the shore. The land is desolate – uninhabitable. It seems whatever curse has befallen the previous islands also reached Atlantis.

Midas swims on, hoping beyond hope that the shore has not suffered a similar fate. He finds that his childhood home has also been destroyed – the sea level has risen well above what once was the pearly beach. The island is greatly reduced in size, and part of the jungle of the Shore has turned into what could classify as a wetland.

His heart sinking with every soggy step – Midas passes Paradise. Paradise was always the best territory – it faced the calmest seas and had the most temperate weather. He sees it is inhabited but thankfully it is intact. Midas swims on, looking for a place to hole up – to gather himself – and perhaps swim out again.

Midas finds himself on the side of the island called Rainy Ridge, nowadays simply referred to as the ridge. The shadows are long on this side of the island - the sunrises and sunsets not so brilliant as the others. The darkness seems to creep in the rocks and the cold wind bites Midas’s legs as they tread out of the water. This side catches the ends of the hurricanes that berated Midas’s former home. The ends of these storms often cause torrential rains – thus giving the territory its name, and it’s gloomy appearance.

Something about this land calls to Midas. It stirs memories of his young days – when he was just a secondary in the Quarry. The ridge is rocky – the vegetation, though still very tropical, grows in patches. The wind whistles as it drops down the steep edges throughtout the island. The small beach, if one can call it that, is preceded by large rocks and after the small inlet of white stand, goes back to rocks. This land feels deserted – or almost deserted – certainly devoid of any stallion and so Midas moves cautiously forward. He looks up the cliff faces as he travels inward and canters up the green steppes with ease. His mustang blood has always helped him be surefooted.

Midas instinctively looks for the high ground – from there he can assess the land, where the fresh water is, and if this is to be his new home. Midas knew before he had even laid a foot on the rocky sand that it would be – he could never part with Atlantis and this place is his only option.

He feels the darkness call to him. Midas is much darker now, much more methodical than even his former self. Midas has finally let himself grow up but he is no more valiant for it. Instead, he is a creature wrought with greed, regret, and years of pent up aggression. He is angry – at his father, at Aria, and also at himself. Midas is not golden – though outwardly he may appear so – instead, he is something closer to black, and this land reflects the new man that will call this place home.

The golden king – the last true King of Atlantis – has returned.

midas
staying afloat for the moment

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