Chapter Text
The temple was beautiful.
In Varun’s line of work, you had to be careful with the word temple. So many ordinary buildings whose purposes had been lost to time were falsely assumed by archaeologists to be places of worship and reverence, as opposed to places of human connection and ingenuity.
There was no mistaking the construction of this building as anything but reverent.
Intricate murals of interlocking waves and tides adorned the walls, etched in lapis and gold. Varun mourned the artworks no doubt present on the backside of their entrance, lost to their unfortunately quick means of entry. But desperate times called for desperate measures, which was why he and his colleague, Captain Greaves, were here, armed with guns despite the risk to the ancient structure, and chasing a black market thief who would rather strip this place of its gold and jewels for profit than care about the history of any of the artefacts within.
Hold. Greaves halted Varun’s movement with a handsign. From a room up ahead, the two men could hear shuffling and the occasional scrape of stone as something was dragged. It only sounded like one other person, albeit one searching for something rather hurriedly. With a glance, the two agreed on a plan.
“Halt!” Varun called out, stepping into the doorway. His gun was lowered, hands raised in easy friendliness. “There is no need for this to get messy. State your business here.”
The crouched figure in the room straightened and turned, revealing a thin man carrying a submachine gun. Varun winced internally at the damage it could cause to the temple if the man were ever to use it. Which, it seemed like he was eager to do, from how it was leveled straight at Varun’s chest.
“Who the fuck are you,” the man growled. His finger twitched towards the trigger.
A quiet ‘pop’ echoed through the room, the sound of Greaves’ silenced rifle going off. The threatening man slumped to the ground, a neat bullet hole between his eyes. Stepping forward, Varun carefully removed the machine gun from the corpse’s hands, flicking the safety on before closing the dead man’s eyes. His death was regrettable, but not unexpected, hence why Greaves had been aiming at him from the shadows in case the man refused to cooperate.
“We’re not alone in here,” Greaves growled. “Split up and search the area for more intruders. If you find the artefact, radio me. Retrieving it safely is our priority.”
“Yes, Captain,” Varun responded. Raising his rifle once more, he stalked purposefully off, checking corners for more intruders or signs of the artefact they’d been sent after in the first place.
—
Varun was not a man easily shaken. Long years in the field had worn that instinct out of him, leaving smooth focus where nerves used to be. Still, something about this operation made him uneasy.
He considered the feeling. It wasn’t to do with his team, he had worked with Greaves many times before, and small squads were not unusual. The man could be temperamental, sure, but he was a good gun in a fight. Nor the intruders, they were not out of the ordinary either. Looters trying to raid a site before the proper authorities could catalogue the artefacts were practically ubiquitous.
It had to be the mission objective, then. Despite the newly-discovered temple, dating back at least to the sixth century if not earlier and packed with history and artefacts, everyone seemed entirely focused on one relic. The descriptions were vague, all Varun knew was that it was likely some form of jewelry and he’d know it when he saw it. Whatever it was, it must be spectacular. Varun regretted that he had to take it from what had clearly been intended to be its final resting place, but better it was taken by someone who would respect it and the history behind it than by someone who simply wanted an expensive historical trinket.
From somewhere ahead, a faint chime drew Varun’s attention, the only sound besides his breathing and steady heartbeat. The sound should have startled him - but he found himself strangely unconcerned. Breathing in faintly salt-tinged air (weren’t they kilometers from the nearest ocean?) He headed to investigate.
As he walked, the sensation of calm only grew. Varun lowered his gun, somehow knowing he would not need it (how did he know he would not need it?). Tucking his flashlight back into his belt, he was only slightly surprised that he could still see - dancing ripples of faint aquamarine light covered the floor, as if he was underwater on a sunny day.
His ears filled with the slow sound of crashing waves, his breathing unconsciously shifting to match. Any last vestiges of fear or uncertainty at the strangeness of the situation left him. It was strange, yes, but it was also beautiful, and he knew nothing here meant him any harm. Nor was he desecrating the temple by his presence - he was invited here. He was welcome.
The gonging chime sounded again, louder, from the doorway in front of him.
The room he emerged into was unmistakably the heart of the temple, despite its hidden location. A ceiling seemingly made of the ocean itself cast rippling light onto the spiraling floor, bright as day. Five hallways branched off of the circular room, all leading to a central pedestal, upon which sat the artefact.
The mission briefing had been correct. He really did know it when he saw it.
A carved stone hand reached from the pedestal, adorned with a golden bracelet and five golden rings. Water churned within them, twisting into spiraling patterns behind intricate golden barriers. It was like nothing Varun had ever seen before. It was beautiful. It was impossible. And yet, it was here in front of him nonetheless.
Varun didn’t step forward as the rings began to rise from the hand so much as step up. The air - no, it was water now, warm and buoyant and somehow breathable - caught him, carried him forward. The roaring tide echoed in his ears now, blocking out all thought except the moment. Playful currents tugged at him, and he let out a laugh as he let himself drift to the rings - his rings, now. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but there was no doubt - whatever this artefact was, it had chosen him to bear it, and he would bear it with pride.
The bracelet fastened around his wrist with a final gong, and the world washed away entirely. Salt water crashed through his veins, the steady, rolling waves echoing in time with his heartbeat. Or was it his heartbeat echoing them? They were indistinguishable now. Powerful currents buffeted him, snatching at his clothes and hair as the water filling the room swirled around him.
Varun sensed more than saw the remaining rings slipping onto his fingers, still trying to process feeling the ocean around him, inside him. It was in his blood, in his breaths, but also outside them, stretching down all the corridors of the temple (the rings’ temple), in the walls and ceilings, the flowing pools, the underwater tidal caves that connected the temple to a mass of water so great it made Varun feel like a mere droplet in comparison.
The lights faded, the water dissipated, but Varun did not notice. He knelt, still hearing nothing but the waves in his ears and the tides in his blood. And then, footsteps.
“Sorry Varun, but I’m gonna need that.”
Varun turned. Captain Greaves stood in front of him, rifle aimed at his head. Ah, a part of him thought. That was the danger he’d sensed at the beginning of all this. Not the artefact, but the teammate who wanted it.
“Just give the artefact, and you can go back to being the commander’s errand boy.”
Both Varun and the artefact were in agreement on one thing: they would not be letting Greaves get his thieving hands on this thing.
“I won’t ask again.”
Greaves’ trigger finger tightened.
A sweep of Varun’s arm summoned a shielding wave of water, just in time to block the spray of bullets that had been aimed for his face. This was no time to be getting into a firefight - who knew how many allies Greaves had in REALM, how many would also want the artefact for the power it possessed and not the beauty it held. An idea chimed at the side of his mind - here, this hallway. Varun ran. Behind him, the wall of water fell on an empty room.
—
Losing his treacherous colleague in the winding walls of the temple was not hard when Varun had a perfect mental map of every corridor fixed in his mind by the artefact. Still, it would not be enough - no doubt the man had already radioed the extraction team, made up some lie about Varun stealing the artefact and going rogue. He needed a way to leave. The artefact, helpfully, provided him one - the tidal caves at the base of the temple that led all the way back out to sea. And water was no threat to Varun anymore.
Two hours and several kilometers by current later, Varun lay on a beach near the coast of Mumbai, hungry, damp, and covered in far too much sand. Unfortunately, his control with the artefact did not yet extend to drying his clothes off, even if he somehow knew it would be possible in the future. There was only so much he could do running on instinct. Varun knew combat - in a fight, training and preparation were everything. If the artefact had instead chosen one of his men, had Greaves not proven a traitor, Varun wouldn’t have let them out in the field for at least two weeks to give them time to familiarize themselves with its capabilities to prevent any instinctive, destructive reactions.
Greaves. Varun sneered at the memory of the man. From his familiarity during their confrontation, it had clearly not been the first time he had faced down one of his own men over a prize. How many relics had he stolen from REALM? How many men had he betrayed? Killed? Varun was a good soldier who knew how to follow orders, but he despised being used. On that, he and the artefact were in agreement. Greaves had harmed Varun, and the organization Varun had dedicated his life to, and for that Greaves would die.
But that was a concern for later. For now, he needed to get his bearings and get into town before any of his funds were frozen. He had not left on this mission expecting to flee for his life, and he did not have enough in his wallet to finance a long pursuit, especially not a well-fed and comfortable one.
Behind him, dawn was breaking, colouring the distant city smog pink and peach. Standing, he set off towards the city. As much as he hated it, he was on the run now, and if he had to fight his colleagues, he’d much rather do it on a full stomach.