A Dream of Destiny
Somewhere in the sea east of Atlantis, a lone ship fought to stay afloat. Mighty waves crashed against the wooden hull, soaking the deck and everyone desperately clinging to the rails. Waves struck the ship with such force that towers of spray swallowed the entire mainsail, obscuring its design of a blue dolphin.
Several men and women, certain of death, lay prostrate before the carved image of the Greek god Poseidon that rose above the ship’s prow. Frantically, they prayed to that ruler of the sea, his brother Zeus, and any other deity who might be moved to spare their lives. One woman, her black hair so drenched by seawater it looked like a mass of writhing snakes, clung to the stern rail and sang chants to the goddess Athena. But her voice was drowned by the constant roar and crash of the waves.
Only one person on board remained steadfastly calm: Reocoles, the ship’s captain. Standing behind the captain’s wheel, his heavyset body planted on the deck, he looked as immovable as the mainsail’s mast. Even as the ship rocked dangerously from side to side, with seawater cascading off his brow, he stood firm, hands clasping the wheel’s wooden knobs. All the while, his eyes scanned the horizon.
Reocoles seemed so firmly rooted to the deck that it would have been hard to believe one of his legs was badly lame. Since birth, that leg had troubled him. But now, propped against the wheel, he seemed oblivious to any such weakness. Only the shape of the heavy iron brace under his wet leggings revealed the truth.
Besides, something far stronger than a brace supported him—his indomitable will. Despite the raging storm that threatened to tear his ship apart and drown everyone aboard, his eyes gleamed with the certainty that a great new discovery awaited him. And with that discovery, all the power he’d ever dreamed of wielding.
An island of vast riches, ready for him to claim.
Surrounded by sheer cliffs, this undiscovered island rose out of the sea with a mighty façade. Though he couldn’t see it through the violent waves, he felt sure it was there. For he’d seen it clearly in a dream the night before.
A dream he could still recall in vivid detail.
A dream that promised him his true destiny—all the power that life had, until now, denied him.
A dream that had been sent to him, he felt absolutely certain, from the gods on high.
“Sir!” shouted a bedraggled sailor, struggling to keep his balance. “I have important news!”
“Say it, then,” commanded Reocoles, without turning his head away from the horizon.
The sailor, whose name was Karpathos, tugged nervously on one end of his very long (and very wet) mustache. “I have checked all the charts, sir. And there is absolutely no island in the direction we are heading!”
“No island, you say?”
“That’s right,” shouted Karpathos over the endless roar of the sea. “No island at all!”
Reocoles turned just long enough to shoot the sailor a furious glance. “Of course it’s not on the charts, you imbecile! We haven’t discovered it yet.”
Karpathos blinked in confusion. Tugging worriedly on his soggy mustache, he protested, “But, Captain, sir—”
A cry interrupted him. It came from a young sailor who had volunteered to be lashed to the mast to see greater distances. Though the sailor’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard above the din, his words rang out like a harbor bell.
“An island! I see an island!”
Sure enough, an imposing island was starting to take shape through the spray. Its sheer cliffs jutted out of the ocean; from its center rose a mass of thickly forested hills. A beam of sunlight fell directly on that forest, making it shine like a crown of luminous green.
“Exactly as my dream foretold,” Reocoles muttered to himself. “The island whose riches I am destined to control.”
Suddenly, the ship lurched sideways—so forcefully that Reocoles lost his grip on the wheel. He tumbled backward, landing on top of Karpathos. Before they could untangle themselves, another great wave crashed over them, sending them skidding across the deck.
The wheel, meanwhile, spun ceaselessly. For a powerful current now gripped the ship, spinning the craft in ever-tightening circles. A ring of waves lifted all around, surging skyward, blocking out any view of the island.
It was then that the sailor lashed to the mast raised his voice again. He shouted just one word—a word feared by sailors across the ages:
“Whirlpool!”