By the time the jet cleared the runway, Washington's lights were already just a blur beneath us, fading into the night.
It was 7 p.m. and the cabin lights dimmed automatically, casting a soft glow over the table where Lara had spread out her maps like a general preparing for war.
She didn't waste time. "We'll land in Tromsø at noon. That gives us roughly five hours of usable light. Maybe six."
"Assuming the weather doesn't decide to kill us for fun." I leaned back, pretending I wasn't already cold just thinking about it.
She traced a finger over the faded lines on the parchment, the old map sandwiched between newer satellite images she'd printed. "We follow the riverbed east. There used to be a village here—before the ice came."
"Nordreholm." The name tasted like something out of a ghost story.
She nodded. "The ruins should still be under the ice. If we're lucky, the river carved out tunnels we can use."
"If we're unlucky?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
I drummed my fingers on the armrest. "So… we're hoping for tunnels, but planning for ice axes."
"Exactly." She glanced at me, like she was half-surprised I was following. "We'll need crampons. Possibly even a sled to haul equipment if the snow's too deep."
"I can get a sled."
Her brow rose slightly. "You can get a sled?"
"I have people."
She gave me a look, then went back to the map. "We'll also need someone local. Someone who knows the terrain."
"I made a call before we left D.C." I said, tapping my phone. "Guy named Erik. Former search-and-rescue. No questions, just cash."
"Good." She murmured, making a note. Then, "We also have the dive gear—"
I blinked. "We're… diving?"
"If the tunnels are flooded, yes. You did bring the wetsuits, didn't you?"
"I—yes. Two, in fact. Because redundancy is important."
She gave me a rare, small smile. "Good. Then we won't freeze to death immediately."
"Always a plus."
We fell into a rhythm. She would list off a requirement, I'd check my mental inventory. Ropes, yes. Flares, yes. Satellite phone, naturally. Emergency rations? Enough to feed a small army or one very panicked billionaire.
At some point, Max's voice crackled over the intercom. "Everything good back there?"
"For now." Lara answered without looking up.
"Try not to break anything. Or each other."
I shot a glance at the ceiling. "No promises."
Lara gave me a side-eye. "Focus, Investor Man."
"Yes, ma'am."
She tapped the map again. "We'll camp here the first night." She circled a spot along the ridge. "If the winds are too strong, we might have to dig in. Worst case, we make a snow cave."
"Romantic."
She didn't even blink. "Cold."
"Right. Cold. I can do cold."
She smirked faintly. "We'll see."
"So." I said quietly, "We follow the map, find the ruins, and hope we don't get buried alive."
She folded the map, crisp and neat. "That's the plan."
"Simple enough."
"For now."
I leaned back, letting the hum of the engines settle over me. "You know… I've never actually camped in the snow."
She looked at me like I'd confessed to a crime. "What?"
"I grew up in… warmer climates."
She shook her head. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
"Probably." I admitted. "But at least the view will be nice."
I leaned my head back against the leather seat and let the low hum of the plane ease the tension from my shoulders. Lara sat across from me, legs crossed, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the map spread out between us like it had personally offended her.
I watched her for a second, grinning. "You promised you'd tell me what happened in Istanbul once we were airborne."
Her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "Right. Istanbul."
She leaned back too, her head thunking softly against the seat. For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling like she was debating how much to tell me. Then she sighed.
"Short version? It was supposed to be simple. I had a private buyer lined up—real hush-hush, neutral ground, fancy underground vault under one of the poshest museums you can imagine. I show up, hand over the fish, get paid, fly out. Easy."
"Except it wasn't." I said.
"Except it wasn't." She agreed, voice dry.
"When I got there, they were already waiting. Not the buyer. Not security either. These people... they moved like shadows. Perfect coordination. No insignias, no IDs, not even a stray badge to bribe my way out."
"Military trained?" I asked, pretending to be surprised.
She nodded grimly. "Definitely. Gear was top-notch too. Lightweight armor, suppressed weapons, nonlethal tech designed for quiet extraction. Whoever sent them wasn't just rich. They were government rich."
I gave her a lopsided smile but stayed quiet. Sounded familiar.
"They didn't even come for the statuette itself." Lara continued. "At least not directly. They wanted me. Or more precisely, what I knew about it. I didn't stay long enough to find out what exactly."
"Rooftop chase?" I guessed.
"Of course." She said, ticking it off like it was Tuesday. "Explosives? Check. Three-story dive into the Bosphorus? Check. Very angry smuggler yelling about his 'priceless' boat? Double check."
"And you still got away with the fish." I said, tapping the map lightly.
"Wouldn't be here otherwise." She grinned.
I suspected that she met the infamous big bad wolf S.H.I.E.L.D, but I had no evidence, so I didn't voice out my theory. Preferring to look at her, thinking hard alone.
She looked at me in response with some hesitation, then leaned forward a little, her voice dropping lower. "After Istanbul, I ran every test I could on the statuette. Scanners, X-rays, even sonar tech... Nothing could penetrate it. At first glance, it looked like green jade. But the material—it's harder than diamond. It's like it just laughs at my equipment."
I grinned. "Makes sense. It's not jade. It's called Kaisen."
Her eyebrows rose, curiosity flickering across her face. "Kaisen?"
"Yeah. In the old aquatic languages, it roughly translates to 'Marine Granite'. It's a material the Five Ocean Nations used for their most important stuff. Stronger than diamond, almost impossible to damage. Different colors too, depending on its rarity."
She sat forward, interested now. "Go on."
I counted on my fingers. "Warmer colors — red, gold, amber — those were pretty common. Used for regular tools, everyday tech, maybe even small monuments. But the colder the color — green, blue, icy teal — the rarer and more valuable it got."
Lara's eyes narrowed slightly. "And our statuettes?"
"Green Kaisen." I confirmed. "A cold color. Not 'royal-exclusive' cold, like pale blue or near-white Kaisen, but definitely upper-class material. Important scholars, engineers, maybe some high-ranking nobles would've handled artifacts like this."
She let out a low whistle. "So basically, we're carrying a luxury item from an ancient civilization underwater."
"Pretty much." I said, chuckling. "Also, Kaisen isn't just tough. It naturally purifies its environment — mostly water, a bit of air too. The cooler the color, the stronger the effect."
I tapped the table lightly with two fingers. "For example, if you threw one of our green statuettes into a filthy Olympic swimming pool, after about seventy-two hours, the water would be so pure you could drink it."
Lara tilted her head, impressed. "And the pale blue Kaisen?"
I gave a mock shiver. "Ultra-rare. Only the Atlantean royal family knew how to make it. Strong enough to cleanse entire rivers and big lakes if you had a big enough piece."
She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'No wonder they sank.'
I laughed quietly. "Well, apparently people at that time didn't like the green theme politics."
Lara smiled before starting to scribble mental notes while I leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the jet for a moment. Might as well share a bit more, since we were on a roll.
"Speaking of crazy discoveries." I said, tilting my head toward her, "The night I found my statuette... let's just say it wasn't exactly a museum tour."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
I nodded. "Found it in an old artificial cave right at sea level, hidden beneath the cliffs of Bar Harbor. Some ancient construction, definitely one of the Five Ocean Nations' works. You could tell by the stonework—way too precise for the time period—and by the way it connected directly to the tide. It wasn't natural. It was a vault."
Lara leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. "And the statuette was just... sitting there?"
I gave her a dry smile. "Well, it was, until two guys showed up looking like they just walked out of a live-action Avatar cosplay convention."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Blue skin. Not painted. Like, naturally blue. Pretty lean but muscular, wearing strange armor that shimmered underwater. I barely had time to grab the statuette before they attacked."
Lara's expression darkened. "You're serious."
"As a heart attack." I said, throwing my hands up. "No idea who they were. Never seen anything like them before or since. But let me tell you—fighting two real-life Smurfs hopped up on steroids in a half-flooded cave? Not high on my bucket list."
She smirked despite herself. "You're lucky you made it out."
"Yeah, no kidding. If I hadn't managed to cause a small rockslide to block the entrance, I'd probably be fish food right now."
I sat back again, tapping my fingers thoughtfully against my knee. "Still, they were strong. Fast, too. They knew that cave. It felt like they'd been guarding it or something."
Lara crossed her arms, processing everything. "So... maybe they were after the statuette too. Or whatever secrets it holds."
I gave a small, noncommittal shrug. "Maybe. Or maybe they didn't want anyone from the surface getting too curious. Either way, I'm pretty sure we're not the only ones chasing answers."
She nodded slowly, her gaze turning sharp, calculating. "All the more reason to move fast."
"Exactly." I said, grinning. "Before the Blue Man Group decides to crash our next party."
"Yeah, about that." came Max's voice over the intercom, dry as sandpaper. "When you said we were going on a little treasure hunt, Arthur, I thought you meant, I don't know, maybe a fancy compass or a sunken ship. You know, fun tourist stuff."
I exchanged a look with Lara.
Max continued, his tone sharpening under the sarcasm. "But secret underwater caves, blue-skinned assassins, and ancient artifacts guarded by Smurfs on steroids? That's a whole new level of 'not in the brochure.'"
I leaned toward the tiny speaker near my seat. "Max, buddy, you know I wouldn't drag you into anything too dangerous without at least offering you hazard pay."
There was a beat of silence. Then Max snorted. "Great. So if I get skewered by a sea goblin, my next of kin gets a Starbucks gift card. Good to know."
Lara muffled a laugh behind her hand.
"Relax." I said, grinning. "We're six hours from Norway. Plenty of time to come up with a survival plan that doesn't involve being turned into sushi."
"Uh-huh." Max replied, clearly unimpressed. "Just keep in mind that if anything comes crawling out of the ocean to kill us, I'm flying this jet straight to the nearest desert and retiring early."
"You wound me." I said, clutching my chest dramatically. "After all we've been through together?"
"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled. "Get some sleep, both of you. You're gonna need it. Trust me."
The intercom clicked off, leaving behind a thin thread of tension that hadn't been there before.
For once, Max wasn't just being sarcastic. He was worried. And that made two of us.
As the hum of the engines filled the cabin and the stars blurred outside the windows, I leaned back in my seat, pretending to close my eyes. Lara had drifted off, Max was piloting us toward Norway like the badass he was.
But relaxed? Yeah, not even close.
Because somewhere between 'Let's spice things up with a little magic notebook action' and 'Oops, now international agencies want my head', reality had decided it was way better at improv than I was at planning.
I hadn't written anything about S.H.I.E.L.D sniffing around the statuettes. I definitely hadn't said a damn thing about Norway.
Yet here we were.
It hit me, like a cold slap to the face:
When I changed reality, it didn't just tweak the parts I wrote. It rewrote everything around it, filling in the blanks with whatever made the most narrative sense. It completed my half-assed storylines like it was some cosmic editor who thought I was too lazy to finish the job myself.
And that wasn't even the worst of it.
Because in my genius fake journal, I'd written that I fought off Talokanils the night I found the Statuette. You know, for added flavor. Drama. Street cred.
At the time, it had sounded clever.
Now?
Now it sounded like a death wish on fancy paper.
Because if Lara ever got around to reading that part—and she would, eventually—it wouldn't just stay a harmless fib.
It would become real. Which meant I wasn't just doodling up random fish-people attacks for laughs. I was probably setting myself on a collision course with the actual Talokan.
And if that domino fell... Namor wouldn't be far behind.
Namor.
The guy who could punch a helicopter into orbit. The guy who could drown a country if he sneezed wrong.
Sweet mother of plot twists, what the hell was I thinking?
I rubbed my chest absently, feeling that old phantom ache. The one that used to remind me every day, back when my heart was more glass than muscle, that I was fragile. Breakable. Disposable.
In this world, the Marvel world, there were gods and monsters everywhere—and the last thing I wanted was to die powerless again.
I had promised myself this time would be different. I would be stronger. I would survive.
But if I kept writing like a reckless idiot,
If reality kept 'helpfully' completing my half-baked plans...
Then maybe the biggest threat to my survival wasn't the Talokanils, or S.H.I.E.L.D., or even Namor.
Maybe it was me.
I forced a laugh under my breath, low and bitter.
"Good job, genius." I muttered to myself.
"Next time, maybe don't set yourself up to fight an aquatic warlord with abs carved like an angry gods."
Yeah. Definitely needed to be a lot more careful with that notebook from now on.
I stared at the clouds again through the windows. Endless. White. Oblivious to my existential spiral.
Maybe I could just erase the part about fighting the Talokanils. Just cross it out. Pretend it never happened. Rewrite the universe with a very strong. 'oops'.
My hand found the notebook tucked safely inside my jacket. Cool leather, warm disaster.
I tugged it free, flipping it open with a determined sigh. Damage control. It was a thing. A thing I was terrible at.
Across the cabin, I felt her gaze before I saw it.
Lara
Curious. Sharp. Shark in the water.
"That's a nice journal." She said casually, her voice almost bored. "Looks... familiar."
I didn't even blink. "I've had it forever. Kinda attached, you know?"
She tilted her head, studying me.
A cat playing with its food.
"Funny." She said, tapping her lip. "I could've sworn you lost it once. Back at the museum, maybe? When you were... otherwise occupied."
Otherwise occupied meaning hiding in the bathroom after waiting for her to steal my 'second' dairy?
I gave her my best lopsided grin. "If I did, I found it again. Lucky me, huh?"
She smiled back, all teeth and no warmth.
"Just the one journal, then?"
The question was light, but it cut like a scalpel.
I let out a low chuckle, casual as a sunbathing lizard.
"Yeah. One tragic little book. Wouldn't know what to do with more. I'd probably forget which one had my grocery list."
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. Tiny. Barely there. But I saw it. She didn't believe me.
Good.
If she was suspicious, she wasn't certain. And in my world, uncertainty was the best body armor there was.
I bent over the notebook, pen moving slowly. Carefully. Adding what needed to be added.
Fixing what couldn't be erased.
Max's voice crackled from the cockpit. "Five and a half hours to go. If you kids are done playing footsie back there."
"Not even close." I muttered, closing the notebook and sliding it back inside my jacket like it was made of gold.
I pulled my hoodie over my head, sinking deeper into the seat.
"Wake me up if we hit a mountain." I said.
Max snorted. Lara said nothing. But I could still feel her gaze, sharp as a blade, carving questions I wasn't ready to answer.
Sleep sounded like the best bad idea I had left.