The incomprehensible myth.
The lone Spartan warrior rowed, his muscles rippling and contorting at his back, the sheer force he output propelling his tiny boat further and farther toward the shore. Fear gripped every breath that he allowed to escape his battered body, sweat dripped gently into the boat, a relaxant leaving his system under the beating sun. The reflection off the Poseidon’s gorgeous creation shimmered in the back of his eye, though he never wished to see it again. No. Land was where he would travel to and land is where he would say. His story would be told across the Greek world, he was sure, but that did not excite him, no, it only made him fear for the other adventurers that may travel to that place that was forsaken by the gods.
For he had seen the impossible, shadows in the water, beasts that threatened mountains and the lone Spartan warrior rowed, his muscles rippling and contorting at his back, the sheer force he output propelling his tiny boat further and farther toward the shore. Fear gripped every breath that he allowed to escape his battered body, sweat dripped gently into the boat, a relaxant leaving his system under the beating sun. The reflection off the Poseidon’s gorgeous creation shimmered in the back of his eye, though he never wished to see it again. No. Land was where he would travel to and land is where he would say. His story would be told across the Greek world, he was sure, but that did not excite him, no, it only made him fear for the other adventurers that may travel to that place that was forsaken by the gods.
For he had seen the impossible, shadows in the water, beasts that threatened mountains and Dwarfed the likes of Cronos. It had cost his captain his life and the crew he shared that a home in that ship with, their lives.
Between the islands of Mykanos and Lemnos, across the wide sapphire gem that bridged the two, he had travelled. With his captain barking orders under the sharp moonlight that twisted through the waves and shot back up at the ship, they saw them. On their way to deliver their goods, they saw them. A creature of monstrous size, and even more hideous in appearance. Its mouth a spiral of teeth, its jaws split into several mandibles. Behind it trailed the rest of its body, a serpent that seemed to climb infinitely, further up to Uranus and away from Gaea. The spartan believed not even Hades himself could bring that thing down into the underworld.
Its teeth gnawed into the side of another creature, a creature that screeched louder that the thunder of Zeus, as several of its heads defended its body; with snapping jaws and snarling heads that thrust and pierced faster than Leonidas’ spear at the battle of Thermopylae. The creatures were stentorious, their voices casting ripples across the sea, forcing their relatively tiny ship into he rocks that revealed themselves under the colossal waves of the sea. Men flew, ear-piercing screams mixed with the thunderous battle and the sea below turned red.
Between the chains, the anchor, and the tonnes of cargo, The Spartan sunk. He sunk and sunk, the weight of his armour pulling him deeper and deeper to a watery grave. Were these the creatures of the great Odyssey? From the straits of Italy? It mattered not now, he would not be able to tell the tale, the tale of the monsters that lurked below the sea. Lunacy took him, the very though, the incomprehensible fact that these monsters existed struck his mind with zealous fire, he looked ahead.
Two great eyes opened, staring at him, unyielding, menacing. This was not Scylla, no it only had one head, yet neither was it Charybdis, its teeth were too few, this was something new, something even greater. It reached for him, he sunk into its grasp. Its membranous wings opened, propelling them up and out of the water, its bulbous head almost gelatinous as it shook itself free of the great ocean. Miles, and miles in the distance The Spartan could still see the two fighting, warring. The creature lay him down on a beach of a volcanic isle and leaned down to him. The stench of rot and degradation almost caused The Spartan to wretch.
It spoke.
He heard.
But he did not understand.
It left the island, slowly sinking back into the depths, never to be seen, or to be believed, again.
The Spartans madness infected his mind, attacked him, as he lay on the beach clutching his skull, his helmet long lost to the waves. Slowly, that madness was cured, as understanding reached him, and purpose grasped him.
Years later, he found himself rowing back to Mykanos, across those terrible waters, under the beating sun.
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