The Story of the Poseidon Collection

Call of the Running Tide

That night I fell into a deep sleep on the sun-warmed island sands. Soft waves and a gentle breeze caressed me down into darkness.

I awoke sharply to the sound of vast waters churning and boiling under a new morning sun.

Suddenly the seas heaved and a mighty figure rose up from the depths. A bearded and ancient god, clothed in shimmering streams of clear water. On his head a crown of copper and lapis lazuli, on his wrists bands of pure silver. His hand firmly held a mighty horn, crusted and ancient, its mouth still young with unheard power.

The air about him pulsed with the aura of aquamarine, blending into the dark blue ocean: those eyes, deep and calm, glinting silver like a distant yet ferocious storm.

The waves seemed to leap in joy, throwing their white foam onto the shore, chaos between harmony of sky and earth.

A vision came to me then of deep, silent seabeds, the lost nets of harvesting mariners, ancient treasures and skeletal wrecks filled with ghosts and forgotten stories waiting to be discovered.

Seabirds, returning to the land, called out his name in their high voices. Poseidon, lord of the oceans, stood before me and I fell to my knees on the warm sands.