I didn’t know how to respond to that, but I felt Breena go unconscious through our bond. It was thankfully a restful sleep, and as far as I could tell, she was still unharmed, just adjusting to changes I couldn’t understand yet.
So I sensibly refrained from choosing to panic, and began screaming at Via through the mindlink.
Via! Via! VIA! Are you and Breena okay?
What? the other beautiful Satellite asked, blinking as she lifted her head up to look at me. Oh. Of course not, you kind and wonderful idiot! I am awash in power, friendship, and rescued lives, and it is all your fault! Why would I know how we are feeling right now, except for wonderful? That was a silly question, dearest of all pendejos! Wait, did I already promise to stop calling him that? How come I can even call him that right now?
I tried to get Via back on track as the inquisitive, foul-mouthed woman began to ponder the intricacies of our mental communication.
Via, I told her, we need to figure out what to do. We have a metropolis’ worth of people to see to, plus everyone the Nuckelavee had taken from the islands. I suddenly turned my head back to the water, searching the horizon for the spot where I had seen two giant hands emerge to finish off the Nuckelavee after we had driven it off. Also, there are probably a number of resurrected quasi-deities as well.
Icons, Via corrected, looking back at me. They are called Icons. Because they are not truly gods. You knew this, she admonished. And we should just get the Icons to help you address the masses, along with your friend Gabin and his crew. Most of the people will already know who they are, and the rest will still know what to do in the presence of Icons, especially the ancient and powerful ones that have arrived. You should have known that, too. But you are tired and exhausted and have just finished doing many wonderful things, so I will do this for you. Breena and I will help carry you, though, she said, swaying slightly, because you are clearly still having trouble standing. Gabin, she addressed the Atlantean, and I could tell that she was no longer speaking just to me. We need to talk to our people groups and their Icons. Can you please help?
The ship’s captain nodded, leaning on his spear as he finished adjusting to his own increase of power.
Via nudged me so that we could both walk on the massive stone pier we had ascended upon. She was still holding me tightly, though not enough to hurt anymore. As we reached the edge and looked down to the waters below, she inhaled and projected her voice.
“Honored Ancient Mithra,” Via began. “We welcome your return to this world. I am Dame Via, of Stell Starsown, Stewardess of this world. This is Wes Malcolm, Challenger and Planetary Lord of Avalon. We hereby request your assistance in regards to the newly rescued world of Atlantis.”
The water swirled in response to the Satellite’s words. A pillar of water rose before us, taking on the shape of a woman, with dark spots marking her eyes, nose and mouth, and a curtain of foam serving as her hair.
“Hail to the Lord of Avalon and Atlantis, and his Steward as well,” a deep, feminine voice echoed all around us. “On behalf of all the newly rescued, I hereby recognize his authority over my world, and offer my gratitude and allegiance.”
I felt my mindscreen flicker as I received the support of another Icon. I let Via continue speaking as I took a moment to process it.
“Thank you,” the beautiful Satellite replied, bowing her head slightly. “Can you perhaps assist us in tending to the newly rescued population?”
“I will certainly do what I can to assist,” the echoing, musical voice said as the column of water nodded. “But the Well of Atlantis itself will provide more assistance than I can. It is currently speaking to the minds of the people below on your behalf.”
That was right, I realized. Atlantis itself had begun using the newly gathered power to resurrect both the lost Icons and the submerged race. I should have remembered that, but all the power dancing around in my soul was making it difficult to focus.
However, as I looked down, the people in the rest of the unsunken city were slowly gathering and moving in an orderly fashion, as if something invisible was somehow silently communicating to them. The oceanfolk looked understandably confused, but the Atlanteans actually looked relaxed, as if they had recognized whatever voice they were hearing in their heads. The aquamarine people reached for their brown, land-based cousins and gently led them along, assuring them that they could trust the voice of Atlantis.
The ancient natives of this place seemed supremely composed, given that they all were babbling tortured forms not more than an hour ago, but they had also all been bonded with an entity that had been built to repair and fortify mortal minds.
In fact, their recovery had probably altered them as much as their trauma had. To bring them back, Atlantis had needed to literally remake their bodies, countering the impossible with more impossible.
At any rate, they moved to higher points of the formerly sunken city, and Atlantis slowly rose out of the sea. Ancient buildings of white and blue stone continued to climb into the sky as water began to slough out of canals and streets.
Continuing recovery, Atlantis said in my mind. Protocol dictates that structures must spend a period of time above sea level for certain repairs to complete. Locating current sea vessels in port. Removing said vessels out of stasis. Locating food storage. Removing said food out of stasis. Repeating action with resurrected livestock, freshwater supplies, and other resources. Cataloging resources now. Be advised that a full report will take an unknown length of time. Continuing to resurrect ancient and recent Icons. Be advised that further resurrections will take some time. Atlantis will continue to provide updates to Planetary Lord at Lord’s discretion.
Thank you, Atlantis, I said, sorting through the buzzing sensation in my mind. Please confirm that the former citizens of this world have fully recovered from the effects of the Nuckelavee and the Flood.
Negative, the planet answered me definitively. Confirming that both elder Atlanteans and Oceanfolk have not recovered from previous trauma. Full recovery will take a significant amount of time. Expect all former victims to spend several decades discovering, processing, and grieving effects of said trauma. Atlantis advises that the inhabitants not be pressured to process their trauma with increased haste, as time is both a natural and necessary component for most, if not all, forms of recovery.
Upon hearing that, the tiny voice in my head, which had been insisting that these people had processed their pain far more efficiently than I had, suddenly shut up.
I was grateful.
Okay, Atlantis, I said, after taking another moment to think. Please advise as to what assistance is needed from myself and my retinue.
Atlantis is receiving sufficient assistance from Ancient Icon Mithra to handle all needs. Inhabitants are all being directed to locations containing food, clothing, shelter, and safety. Recommending that planetary lord and retinue retire to focus on their own recovery.
An immediate surge of panic welled up, suggesting that someone on my team had gotten injured without my knowledge. A burning impression that I needed to check on it right now before it got worse, swelled up within me. But I clamped down on it the very next moment and reminded myself that I had just checked on everyone, and confirmed that no one was actually injured, despite us having trouble processing our recent gains. Even Breena was just taking a nap.
Atlantis, explain, I answered the planet/city/wondrous artifact. None of my retinue is suffering from any known injuries.