Beware: the Siren

Atlantis lost, is lost no more; for I now haunt its gallant ruins down under Hyperion’s shore. Among Olympian saturation and reverent conceit, in likeness to Babylon after its defeat.

My heart was stolen by the hands of a gorgon, my chest asphyxiated by the eyes of a lover – and all that remained was the body. And in wake of immersion, glamorous glutting, became an addition to a harpie’s wealth; gaining value the longer I sunk and hardened, lingered and lustered.

I became undone in such an effortless motion, and each havoc leading up to my downfall; which did all appear to be movements of a dance while music was as the waves strummed over the ocean. But my sighs and cries were as lullabies, carried out to the horizons by the sea.

So, alone in spirit and spite, memories in de formé are the only tinder for which my rage ignites. Damned be my love for thee, Siren, beloved; who’s known no greater adore than from me. And because I loved her with selflessness and awe, my sight and might had been deceived; unrealized until it was too late and already in the Leviathan’s sea-hued maw.

Here lies my specter-cindered bones that bare every thunderscar inflicted and, and burns within the fallen palace of the fallen prince, Hector. This place I saw, i’ve never seen before – centaurian structures displayed in senseless decor; lain low and enclosed in a tempestuous cage, forever seized by Poseidon’s rage.

And to believe I had become captivated by my captiver and captivity is harder to swallow than the oceans themselves, but all is not lost so long as there’s this agony. Then when you hear it, that warring horn, as it wails in violent rings across every shore and every basin, I am reminded that all of my dead ancestors drink from the sea.

Beware what follows when the horn has been sound, as it unleashes like some chimeric hound and the killing blow is found – no man, nor beast, nor hero, nor vast fleet may ever defy the apocyan sea or fear the wrath of all seven watery domains upon one single knee.

Drunken by woe and enamored in its decadence, this may be my only form of revenge. With the survival of this verse, preserves my immortality or serve as my guillotine and reveal nothing but this tragedy with my head displayed on gold before all the eyes of the earth.

-Antitheus