Almost two centuries have passed since the mysterious tragedy of the Poseidon's Fury left its entire crew slaughtered without a trace of the assailant. Only a single shred of evidence remains - a cursed scroll clutched in the captain's severed hand...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Themistonoe cautiously approached the covered shapes, her legs shaky. Every breath stirred up dust, creating swirling shapes in the lamplight.
With trembling hands, she lifted a corner of the nearest cover and paused, gathering her strength for what was underneath. She slowly moved the fabric aside, and a cloud of dust erupted, causing her to cough.
As the dust settled, vague forms became visible in the dirty lamplight. Tall stacks of precarious amphorae and blurry statues stood like silent guards over this burial ground of artefacts.
Themistonoe carefully examined the topmost vessels, hoping to find meaning amidst their covering. The first few revealed patterns worn away by time.
Her breath caught as one amphora caught the light, shining brighter than the others. With great care, she brushed away layers of dirt to reveal a smoother clay shape underneath. But it was the faded letters on the base that captured her full attention.
Leaning in closer, Themistonoe strained her senses to decipher the hidden inscription. Each flickering light revealed a new character. Was this a name? A date? She concentrated intensely, furrowing her brows.
Her heart pounded as she ignored the dust on her body, driven by each new revelation. Letter by letter, a name emerged, suggesting the unlocking of hidden mysteries.
Echephron.
When the full inscription was revealed, Themistonoe gasped in understanding. Before her lay the key to unravelling the greatest secrets of the secret chamber.
After a lifetime of searching through countless artefacts, destiny had brought her to the answer: a single, delicate amphora bearing the name Echephron.
Now filled with renewed purpose, Themistonoe examined the amphora for clues. Near the bottom, she noticed a small crack, barely visible in the dim light.
Themistonoe ran her fingers along it, feeling peculiar marks. Her heart raced as she carefully opened the crack.
A scraping noise came from within, like the shifting of ancient bones. Peering inside, she noticed a gleam—the unmistakable yellowed colour of parchment that had been hidden away for ages.
"No," she whispered, filled with awe and disbelief.
Collecting herself, Themistonoe reached two fingers into the narrow opening and pulled. Slowly, a tightly rolled scroll emerged, just as old as the clay vessel that had protected it for centuries.
When the scroll was completely pulled out, she could hardly contain her excitement. Finally, she could unfold this ancient document and read the writings left behind, perhaps on purpose, by its original owner.
Finally, she would uncover a piece of the soul she had been searching for—Echephron, speaking to her over time with these treasured, yellowed pages stored within a simple clay urn.
