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After that, Argos took to his bed. For days, for weeks, for months, he languished there. Friends and family begged him to return to some sort of life. He refused.

It was so rare for an Atlantian to lose a mate so young that no one had heard of an actual case of it. No one knew what to do.

Argos worked off basic survival instinct, although even that he fought. He left the bed once a day for food and water. It barely sustained him. He lost weight, muscle. He became unrecognizable.

It took months before a vaguely coherent thought passed through his mind, and months more before he had any kind of reason. When he did, it took the form of vengeance.

Once again, his friends were there. Ian was there. Pleading and begging him for a change of some kind. But what kind of change did they think was going to happen? Argos was a man beyond. Beyond sadness and grief, beyond anger and rage. He had entered a place few men go. He didn't intend to return.

Before this, unknown to humans, Atlantians often pulled pranks on them. These were usually well thought out and served one of two purposes. Keeping humans away from Atlantian holdings and pure enjoyment.

They had never waged war on humans. Until Argos.

He worked at getting himself back into shape. Now eating and exercising with a furious energy. Until he was strong enough to wrestle ten full-sized sharks--simultaneously.

His strength served him well. He destroyed, tore and killed up and down the coastline looking for the men who had taken the lifeboat and disappeared before he had gotten his revenge on them.

The people again sent Ian to talk to Argos, hoping that the deep bond on friendship would bring him to his senses.

Ian had looked at him in pity, and Argos had taken no offense in it. He was a man to be pitied. Everything about him was pitiable.

"Argos, my friend," Ian had said as he put a hand on Argos' shoulder, "you have had your revenge. Stay here in the comfort of your people."

Argos shook his head.

"Can you not see, my friend, that your actions make us known to them? That in destroying them, you will destroy us?"

But Argos couldn't hear even this plea. Rage was all he had now. It burned through his body like a firey brand. His heart a piece of black coal from its heat.

Where once he had eaten and worked and slept with his Intended, now he ate and worked and slept with rage. It was his constant companion, his new Intended.

As Ian predicted, Argos went too far. Soon their waters were filled with searching boats, though most didn't know exactly what they were searching for. Atlantians were afraid to leave the city, yet afraid the city would be found.

So the Atlantians turned against him, or so the young Argos thought. They demanded he stop his rampage or leave the sea forever, never imagining he would choose the latter.

Angry and betrayed, he left, but not before turning on them all.

One artifact remained from their life above, lovingly tended to in the garden. A relic tied to an ancient tale. The precious box was encased, a single light shining down on it, making the small, rare jewels scattered across it gleam like multi-colored stars.

It caught and held his dispirited gaze. I have lost my most precious jewel, and they expect me to quietly live without her? To just eat and work and live for hundreds of years alone? If I have to live without my jewel, they will live without theirs.

It was easy enough to take it. With virtually no crime, the artifact's enclosure did not contain a lock. Clenching the jeweled box, he headed for land. The only place left for him was the land of his enemies, where he planned to cut a wide swath of destruction and death.

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