Poseidon's Atlantis Adventure

THE ANCIENT TEMPLE LOOMED BEFORE POSEIDON. A CRUMBLING EDIFICE half swallowed by the jungle’s greedy embrace. Vines curled around columns, erasing the geometric perfection of their flutes. Stones lay scattered, excavated by roots and the slow creep of entropy. He pressed on, parting leaves with calloused hands. This place predated his reign, but its origins remained shrouded in myth. What secrets lay buried here?

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, too rhythmic for an animal. Poseidon froze, pressing his back against a cool stone. This ancient sanctum did not allow mortals. How had they breached its defenses undetected?

Three figures emerged from the gloom. Black robes flowed around them like living shadows. The leader’s face was obscured by a ceramic, demonic mask.

“You trespass in a forbidden realm,” the leader intoned. His voice echoed off the walls.

Poseidon stepped into the light. The water in his veins hummed with power. “I walk where I please. Who are you to hinder a god?”

The man stiffened. “One who serves higher powers than you, fallen one.”

Rage kindled Poseidon’s chest. How dare this mortal claim dominion here? But open confrontation served no purpose. Diplomacy might yield more. “I seek only knowledge, nothing more,” he said evenly. “Grant me passage, and no harm will befall you.”

The leader’s hands slid into his robes. Poseidon tensed. “Our mistress has forbidden your presence here. I cannot defy her will.” His hand emerged, clutching an obsidian blade that glowed with dark energy.

Poseidon sighed. So much for diplomacy. He splayed his fingers, and the waters answered. A geyser erupted beneath the men’s feet, blasting them backward. Across the floor, the blade of the leader skittered.

Having picked up the dagger for later inspection, the god of the sea walked past their prone bodies. The temple’s secrets beckoned. He would allow no one to deny him their revelations.

Poseidon moved deeper into the temple, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. More robed figures emerged to bar his path, spouting threats and proclamations of forbidden knowledge. He brushed them aside with blasts of water and gusts of wind, their sopping forms left groaning in his wake.

At last, he reached the inner sanctum—a vast circular chamber with a domed ceiling that vanished into darkness. Strange symbols and geometric patterns adorned the walls and floor, illuminated by the aquamarine glow of crystals jutting from the rock. At the chamber’s heart sat a stone altar; upon it lay a leather-bound tome and the glint of metal.

Poseidon approached with reverence. This was no ordinary book; he could feel its power thrumming in the air. The metal object was a compass unlike any he’d seen. Its arrows shifted without pattern, reacting to energies beyond the physical realm.

He reached for the leather-bound, worn tome covered in brilliant crystals and secret hieroglyphs, fingers brushing the cover…

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Poseidon whirled; the trident leveled. From the shadows stepped Kyrie, hands raised. “Peace, my friend. I will help you. Yesterday, when you announced your return here, I could not allow you to come here alone.”