Many years ago—long before oceans claimed the land and before history learned how to remember—there existed a city called Eden.
Eden stood proudly along a vast desert plain, stretching across a region that today lay buried beneath the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. In those days, the land had not yet surrendered to the sea. It was rich, wide, and alive, blessed by a time when gods still walked among humans and magic was not whispered but practiced openly.
Eden was a city of abundance.
Its crops grew taller than any man, thick-stemmed and heavy with life. Fruits were enormous, golden-skinned and sweet, harvested from towering trees whose roots sank deep into sacred soil. Gold lined the city's halls, not as symbols of greed, but as proof of prosperity. Knowledge flowed freely, and hunger was unknown.
At the heart of it all ruled King Harvestus, a man of unmatched wisdom and immense power.
The king was no ordinary ruler. He bore the ancient gift—the ability to command both magic and mind. His strength did not lie in cruelty or conquest, but in balance. He believed that power, when shared wisely, could build a civilization that would endure forever.
To protect Eden's future, the king appointed gifted individuals—men and women born with extraordinary abilities—to oversee the city's most vital sectors. Some governed technology, shaping inventions far ahead of their time. Others watched over agriculture, ensuring the land remained fertile and strong. There were scholars, seers, and guardians, each chosen carefully for their integrity and wisdom.
Eden became a marvel.
Kings from distant lands crossed deserts and mountains just to witness the city with their own eyes. They came to meet Alaric, to test his wisdom, to understand how such a civilization could exist without falling into chaos. Many left humbled. Some left envious.
And envy, as history often proves, is a dangerous thing.
One day, a woman arrived at the gates of Eden.
She called herself Atlanta.
She was beautiful in a way that felt unsettling—her presence heavy, her eyes sharp with hidden intent. She claimed to be a powerful sorceress, unmatched in her knowledge of nature and spells. Before the king, she spoke confidently, promising prosperity beyond imagination.
"I can oversee your agricultural sector," she declared. "I can make your land eternal. Stronger crops. Better breeds. Power that no drought can touch."
The court fell silent.
King Harvestus listened carefully. He studied her not with awe, but with caution. Power alone did not impress him—character did.
After a long moment, the king refused.
The words were calm, measured. "Eden does not need power that demands loyalty through fear."
Atlanta's expression darkened.
Her pride shattered into fury.
In her rage, she unleashed a curse upon the land—a curse bound within a dark amulet, pulsing with destructive magic. The earth trembled as the spell took hold, and the once-fertile soil began to weaken.
To break the curse, the amulet had to be destroyed.
Realizing this, King Harvestus pursued her.
The sky filled with motion as the king and his appointed guardians—those gifted with transformation and flight—rose into the air after her. Shapes shifted. Wings formed. The chase carried them beyond the land and into the clouds themselves.
There, beneath the blazing sun, Atlanta turned.
She raised the amulet high.
Light erupted from its surface, blinding and absolute. The magic struck their eyes, stealing their strength, and one by one, they fell.
Below them, the ground began to crack.
The earth opened its mouth.
Eden was swallowed.
As the city collapsed into the depths, Atlanta's voice echoed through the sky.
"I seal this city from time itself."
And with that, Eden vanished.
Where towers once stood, there remained only emptiness. No ruins. No memory carved into stone. Just a silent stretch of deserted land—later claimed by the ocean and forgotten by history.
Forgotten by most.
Barbara paused, her voice settling as she finished the story.
Her three children sat around the dining table, breakfast plates half-full.
"Mom," Stacy said, her brows furrowed. She was seven and already skeptical of anything that sounded too unbelievable. "That doesn't even make sense. How can a whole city just disappear?"
Across from her, Jason, five years old and wide-eyed, leaned forward. "It makes sense," he insisted. "It's real. I know it is."
Stacy scoffed. "You believe anything."
Barbara smiled softly, sealing lunch boxes as the kettle hummed behind her. "People say that's how the Atlantic Ocean came to be," she said gently. "That Eden still exists… just hidden."
Jason's eyes sparkled.
Jordan, the oldest at sixteen, shook his head. "Come on. It's just a story."
Jason frowned. "You don't know that."
As the siblings argued, feet nudged and kicked beneath the table until Barbara turned sharply. "Enough."
The school bus honked outside.
Minutes later, backpacks were slung over shoulders, and the story of Eden was left behind in the kitchen—disbelieved by some, unforgettable to others.
At school, Jordan leaned against a locker beside his best friend Ezekiel.
"You look distracted," Ezekiel said.
"It's nothing," Jordan replied.
"Sure it is."
Jordan sighed. "My mom told the weirdest story this morning, I don't even know why it's stuck in my head. It was quite a funny one",he giggled.
Before Ezekiel could ask more, a girl walked past.
Chloe.
Jordan froze. "Hide me. Hide me."
"What?" Ezekiel frowned.
"My hair—do you see my hairline?"
"Bro—"Ezekiel chuckled.
"Hey, Chloe!" Jordan blurted. "It's not receding! I mean—hi. You're good. You look—good."
Chloe stared at him, confused, then kept walking.
Ezekiel laughed. "You're hopeless."
Jordan groaned." Not fair buddy, not fair. I bet I'll tell Sophie how you got an AI wedding photo of you standing by her"
Ezekiel's eyes widened," You won't dare".
They both laughed.
The classroom slowly settled as students took their seats. The morning chatter faded into low murmurs, chairs scraping lightly against the tiled floor.The school bell rang sharply, echoing through the hallway. The noise silenced the remaining chatter as their teacher walked in—a tall man with glasses and a stack of books tucked under his arm.
"Good morning, class," he said, placing the books on his desk. "Let's settle down."
He wrote a single word on the board:
GEOGRAPHY
"Today," he continued, turning back to face them, "we're going to talk about something familiar, yet still full of beauty and wonder."
He paused, scanning the room.
"The Atlantic Ocean."
Jordan's stomach tightened slightly.
"The Atlantic ocean," the teacher went on, "covers nearly a fifth of the Earth's surface. It has been the center of trade, exploration, and countless unanswered questions. The Atlantic Ocean is extremely wide and very deep in some regions.
It contains long underwater mountain ranges and deep trenches.
Its waters vary in temperature, from cold polar areas to warm tropical zones"
He walked slowly between the rows of desks. "There are legends, theories, and stories tied to it—some scientific, some… not."
A few students chuckled.
The teacher stopped and looked around. "Does anyone here know anything unusual about the Atlantic Ocean? Anything at all."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, without fully realizing why, Jordan raised his hand.
The teacher turned toward him. "Yes. You. Stand up."
Jordan stood, feeling Ezekiel's stare burning into the side of his face.
"What do you have to say?" the teacher asked.
Jordan hesitated. The classroom was quiet now—too quiet. He swallowed.
"I…" he began, then steadied himself. "I heard a story."
The teacher's eyebrow lifted slightly.
"A story?" he repeated.
Jordan nodded.
And the room leaned in.