The sun cast golden light upon the land as mortals gathered in an unnamed city, their hands weary from labor, their hearts filled with uncertainty.
The world was changing, gods walked the earth more frequently now, their presence undeniable as faith surged through temples and altars. But these people, still without a patron deity, had no one to guide them.
That would soon change.
Two gods, both mighty in their own right, had set their sights on this rising city. Each sought dominion over it, knowing that the devotion of these mortals would not only strengthen them but also shape the world itself.
Poseidon came first.
His arrival was heralded by the rolling of the tides, the scent of brine carried on the wind. The earth trembled beneath his footsteps as he strode forward, trident in hand, eyes glimmering with the vastness of the ocean's depths. His voice was thunder, his presence an unrelenting force of nature.
"Follow me," he declared, his words crashing like waves against the shore. "With my power, you shall rule the seas. Your ships will sail beyond the horizon, your might will be unmatched, and your enemies will kneel before the storm."
Then, with a single strike of his trident against the ground, the earth split open. From the fissure, a great torrent of seawater erupted, rising high before settling into a shimmering pool. The mortals gazed in awe, feeling the raw strength that Poseidon offered.
But then came Athena.
She did not arrive with the fury of the sea, nor did she command the sky to tremble. Instead, she walked with measured grace, clad in bronze and wisdom alike. Where Poseidon's presence was an unstoppable force, hers was an unshakable foundation.
"Strength fades," she said, her voice calm yet firm. "Empires rise and fall with the tide. But wisdom endures. Knowledge, strategy, and progress—these will shape the world far beyond brute power."
Then, she knelt, placing her hand upon the earth. A whisper of divine power flowed from her touch, and from the soil, a single olive tree grew. Its leaves gleamed silver under the sunlight, its roots stretching deep, anchoring it to the world itself.
"This tree will nourish you," Athena continued. "It will provide oil for light, fruit for sustenance, and wood for trade. It will give you peace and prosperity, not just for today, but for generations to come."
The people of the city hesitated. Poseidon's gift was raw power, the strength to conquer. But Athena's gift was something more enduring—something that would help them grow, not just survive. And so, they made their choice.
They knelt before Athena, swearing their devotion. The city would bear her name: Athens.
Poseidon watched in silence. He did not rage, nor did he strike them down. But beneath the surface, something stirred.
As Poseidon left Athens, the sea called to him. He stepped into the waves, letting them wash over his feet. For the first time in an age, he was still. Not a conqueror, not a warrior—just a god listening to the depths.
And in those depths, something called back.
A memory from his past incarnation, Pontus.
Deep in the abyss, where light had never touched, an ancient race had waited. They were older, more secretive, remnants of an age before Olympus.
The Merlocks. Decendants of Pontus when he ruled the sea.
Poseidon dove deep, the water growing darker as he descended. And there, in the silence of the deep, they awaited him—tall, slender beings with webbed fingers and bioluminescent eyes that shimmered like the stars in the night sky.
They knelt before him, not in fear, but in recognition. They knew him not as Poseidon, the Olympian, but as something older—something they had long awaited.
"You have always belonged to me," Poseidon spoke, his voice rippling through the water. "And now, I shall give you a home worthy of your kind."
With a wave of his hand, the currents shifted. Stones lifted from the ocean floor, coral spread like wildfire, and in the heart of the sea, a city began to rise.
Atlantis.
A city of wonders, built by magic and the will of the ocean. Towers of pearl and marble, streets paved with glowing shells, and grand temples dedicated to the sea's endless power. Here, the Merlocks would thrive, away from the world above, a kingdom of their own.
And Poseidon, though spurned by the land, had claimed the sea completely.