Overview:

Cerulean Arlentis (Topher) and his divine steed, Cielo, witness the ruins of Atlantis rise from the depths, restored to their former glory. Through a tableau vivant of classical statues and Plato’s narration, they uncover the grand history and tragic downfall of the lost civilization.

Meanwhile, James seeks refuge in the seaside lodge of an elderly couple, Aling Sita and Mang Noel. As Noel shares his wisdom and life’s hardships, James confronts his own inner turmoil, grappling with the weight of his journey.

Finding solace in their hospitality, James departs with renewed purpose, leaving the couple in peace as he sets off toward his next mission.

Cerulean Arlentis (Topher), the paladin clad in silver and gold-plated armor, donned a flowing white cape as he rode his winged white pony, Cielo. Together, they journeyed across seven mountains and forded seven rivers. As Cielo descended over the Mediterranean Sea, Cerulean leaped onto the sandy shore below. Unrolling the ancient map, he studied its markings intently.

“This has to be it—the sea where Atlantis sank,” Cerulean affirmed to himself.

“But how are we supposed to dive in?” he wondered aloud.

Cielo neighed, as if suggesting a solution. The pony gestured for Cerulean to mount again.

“I trust you, buddy,” Cerulean said, climbing back onto Cielo’s back.

With a swift gallop toward the sea, Cielo spread his wings, creating a force field around himself and Cerulean. As water splashed against the glowing barrier, Cerulean beamed.

Encased within a warm, white-tinted spherical shield, Cielo and Cerulean dove into the depths. Sometime later, they caught sight of the sunken ruins of a city beneath at the seabed.

Cielo landed gently among the ruins, and Cerulean dismounted. The paladin formed his own smaller, identical force field as he stepped toward the center of the submerged city, drawing a close distance from Cielo. Suddenly, shimmering swirls of sky blue and gold rose from the marble floor, engulfing Cerulean, Cielo, and the ancient ruins in a rotating, radiant whirl.

Before them lay a restored ancient city beneath the sea. Cerulean, with his white-winged pony, Cielo, marveled as they entered a fully enclosed, grand classical palace—a stark contrast to the open, low-ceilinged ruins they had just seen. The water was gone, replaced by breathable air that filled the once-submerged structure, prompting Cerulean to dispel his force field.

“It’s okay, buddy. We can breathe here,” Cerulean reassured Cielo, who then released his own protective shield.

The surroundings were bright, with white ceilings and walls adorned with geometric patterns. Symmetry, balance, and order were reflected in the intricate carvings on the panels. Tall, majestic columns lined the marble floors, which gleamed with artistic imagery and patterns. Busts and towering statues stood prominently, along with murals that brought a sense of grandeur to the palace’s foyer.

As Cerulean and Cielo continued, they reached a room that piqued Cerulean’s curiosity.

“Could that be Plato or Aristotle?” he wondered aloud, eyeing a life-sized statue of an elderly, bearded man deep in thought, holding a scroll and quill atop a podium.

“It’s like a scene frozen in time, a moment from history, like a tableau vivant,” Cerulean remarked, while Cielo neighed in intrigue.

To their surprise, the statue moved and spoke: “I’m not Aristotle; I’m Plato. I was a teacher, and Aristotle, both my student and colleague.”

“Come, young one,” beckoned the living statue, “and bring the small horse, too.” Cielo neighed cheerfully and approached.

“I shall tell you a story,” Plato began, but he suddenly returned to his motionless state.

“Oh, sir, don’t leave! You started and then stopped,” Cerulean pleaded, while Cielo expressed disappointment.

“Wait, what’s that?” Cerulean pointed at a glowing, sky-blue-and-gold bubble floating above them.

“It seems to be leading us somewhere,” Cerulean guessed, as the bubble drifted toward the exit.

Cerulean and Cielo quickly followed, leaving Plato behind as they exited the room.

Cerulean Arlentis (Topher) and his companion, Cielo, continued through the hall to the next room. This time, there were more statues—three on the left and one on the right—each frozen in place, creating a silent tableau.

“More statues… Do these ones also move and talk? What do you think, Cielo?” Cerulean asked, glancing at the white-winged pony.

Cielo neighed, equally uncertain.

“Egyptian priests, in robes, meeting with the lawmaker Solon from Athens,” narrated a familiar voice.

“Is that a voiceover? It sounds like Plato,” Cerulean remarked, scanning the ceiling and wall trim for its source.

Suddenly, the statues came to life, just as Plato had.

“Son, nine thousand years ago, before you were born, there was an island called Atlantis. It was larger than Asia Minor and Libya combined, lying just beyond the Pillars of Hercules,” one of the priests recounted.

“Really? I find it hard to believe that such an island, Atlantis, truly existed,” Solon responded, visibly stunned.

Cielo neighed again, drawing Cerulean’s attention to the left wall, where a mural shifted and morphed. It depicted the vast size of Atlantis, along with the blue waters of the Strait of Gibraltar, labeled as the “Pillars of Hercules.”

“That’s different from the map we have,” Cerulean noted. “Ours shows the location of Atlantis’ ruins across seven mountains and seven rivers, while this mural shows its position on land, back when it was still above the surface.”

Cerulean Arlentis and Cielo reached a grand staircase, guided by the hovering sky-blue-and-gold bubble above. The glowing orb ascended, prompting Cerulean and his white-winged pony to climb the steps. On the second floor, they encountered a pair of tall, ornate double doors. The bubble approached the doors, which swung open on their own. Cerulean and Cielo stepped inside.

The room they entered was immense, likely the size of two or three rooms combined, with a sweeping panorama covering its walls.

“Atlantis was vast, made up of concentric islands separated by wide moats,” narrated the unseen voice of Plato.

Cerulean and Cielo walked down a central aisle that seemed to divide the concentric islands and moats depicted in the panorama.

“At the center stood the capital city of Atlantis,” Plato’s voice echoed throughout the room.

“A canal connected directly to the heart of the city,” Plato added.

“So, we just walked across the ‘grand canal’ to reach the capital—like the primary canal in Venice,” Cerulean remarked as they approached the central island.

“I feel like a giant overlooking Atlantis, moving down its levels toward the capital,” he observed, his voice filled with wonder. “But it’s a shame this is just a room-sized panorama. I miss the moving statues and the warping mural,” Cerulean added wistfully.

Suddenly, water began to flow through the panoramic display, rising to Cerulean’s waist as they neared the capital island. He giggled, enjoying the cool sensation.

“That was fun—literally cool and refreshing! Now I feel like going for a swim in a pool,” he said to Cielo, who neighed in agreement.

Rider and mount stood before the central island, watching as the concentric islands descended around them. The main canal cut through the panorama, ending with the unexpected twist of irrigation that granted Cerulean’s playful wish.

In another large room, Cerulean Arlentis and his pony, Cielo, found themselves surrounded by different sets of statues.

“The lush islands contained gold, silver, and other precious metals,” Plato narrated.

The first set of statues, depicting miners with carts of gold and silver, suddenly came to life in sync with Plato’s words. The miners appeared joyful as they conversed with one another, their voices overlapping. This animated set was positioned toward the back, in the left corner of the room.

The second set stood in the back right corner.

“There was also an abundance of rare, exotic wildlife,” Plato continued.

Initially still, the trees within this set soon swayed as if moved by an unseen breeze. Shrubs dotted the scene, but the focal point was the peculiar four-legged creatures. One barked like a dog, another purred like a cat, and a third howled long and loud. A small bird, perched atop one of the branches, chirped melodiously.

“The animal sounds are a great touch to this living tableau,” Cerulean remarked. Cielo neighed, adding to the chorus.

After observing the scenes in the back corners, Cerulean and Cielo moved forward to examine the central set, which was the third scene.

“Most importantly, the Atlanteans were a spiritual and moral people,” Plato emphasized.

This set was more of a twin tableau, divided into two sides. On the left, Atlanteans knelt in prayer, led by a priest singing hymns. This side paused as the right side began to move, depicting Atlanteans offering alms to beggars in the streets.

“This three-act tableau is quite impressive,” Cerulean noted, glancing around the room at the now-still statues.

Climbing the stairs guided by a glowing bubble, Cerulean and his pony, Cielo, chatted as they ascended.

“What do you think the fifth room will be like?” Cerulean wondered aloud.

Cielo neighed in anticipation.

To their surprise, the third floor had no rooms; instead, it featured a spacious, open block. The paladin boy and his winged pony approached a massive set of statues, still and lifeless.

“This is the most epic one yet, Buddy,” Cerulean said to Cielo.

Cielo neighed, his eyes widening as he took in the largest structure they had encountered so far.

Plato began to narrate: “But the Atlanteans eventually succumbed to the lure of greed and power.”

The prince on the throne came to life and stood. “We will conquer lands upon lands—the coasts and islands of the Mediterranean Sea. The West of the World shall be ours. I promise you this, in my rule, in my reign. The steel of our swords, mounted on our steeds, shall forge in fire and blood a great empire that will be passed down to your sons, and to the sons of your sons.”

The soldiers raised their swords, their steel blades clashing together with thundering cheers.

The power-hungry prince turned to Cerulean. “Soldier, conduct yourself accordingly!”

Realizing he was now part of the scene, Cerulean awkwardly joined in, raising his still-sheathed holy sword and cheering hesitantly. Meanwhile, Cielo, feeling left out in the corner, neighed in confusion.

The army of Atlanteans and statue soldiers—the tableau troops—marched forward on their galloping steeds, wielding spears, polearms, swords, and shields. Cerulean, too, was part of the cavalry, mounted on his white-winged pony, Cielo, who eagerly joined the charge.

“For Atlantis!” Cerulean cried, raising his unsheathed holy sword. But he quickly realized that his timing was off—it was too early.

In overwhelming numbers, the Atlantean conquerors pushed forward relentlessly, pressing on through what seemed like an endless annexation. Soon, they encountered their sworn enemies, the Athenians.

“For Atlantis!” the Atlanteans shouted, this time in unison with Cerulean, who finally got his timing right. Cielo neighed along with the battle cry.

Cerulean dismissed his holy sword and summoned a divine spear instead. The two armies clashed fiercely, with spears, swords, and shields colliding as they charged on their horses and steeds.

“This mass jousting is way better than Medieval Times,” Cerulean remarked, comparing it to the popular Middle Ages-themed diner, as he ‘jousted’ with his divine spear.

But soon, Cerulean’s amusement faded. He watched as an Atlantean soldier impaled an Athenian, causing both rider and mount to shatter and fall to the ground in pieces. The fallen Atlanteans exploded into rocks and clouds of dust, scattering debris across the battlefield.

“This is getting dangerous,” Cerulean realized. “I have to stop this before it escalates further.”

“Cielo, take me to the center!” he commanded. Cielo leaped, spreading his wings to carry them forward.

Once at the center, Cerulean dismounted and switched back to his holy sword, its blade glowing a warm white. He struck the ground with both gauntlets, sending out a shockwave that banished the Atlanteans, leaving only armor plates, weapons, and horse bridles scattered across the floor.

The Athenians and their allies erupted in cheers, lifting Cerulean high among their ranks. “I thought only Spartans fought like this—I didn’t know Athenians did, too,” Cerulean commented.

Cielo neighed joyfully, flapping his wings and circling in the air. Cerulean had intended only to end the conflict, but the Athenians, ironically, celebrated him as a hero, unaware that he was actually a soldier of their enemies.

“We’re on the fourth floor,” Cerulean said, with Cielo the pony by his side.

The sky-blue and gold-glowing bubble continued to guide them steadily.

“What is that?” Cerulean asked, walking toward a table with Cielo.

The table displayed a panorama, though more modest compared to the earlier one that spanned an entire great room.

“This panorama looks disturbing… strong imagery depicting disaster,” Cerulean remarked.

Above the panorama, words appeared, floating in the air.

“Since becoming a paladin, I’ve been able to speak, read, and understand Latin effortlessly,” Cerulean revealed.

The text read: The Atlanteans grew irreverent toward the gods. They worshiped only power and riches, becoming merciless conquerors. In the end, divine retribution fell upon the haughty empire and its power-hungry princes.

Their advanced civilization was scorched by fire, the earth shook, and the sea swallowed them whole.

The panorama came to life, depicting a volcanic eruption on one side, an earthquake in the center, and a massive tsunami on the other.

Suddenly, the seabed began to quake, sending violent tremors through Atlantis’ grand palace. The windows shattered, letting torrents of water flood the ground floor. From the palace dome, lava rained down like fiery shooting stars. The floors crumbled. Amidst the chaos, Cerulean spotted the Gryffin medallion and snatched it from the disaster panorama.

“We have to leave, Cielo!” Cerulean shouted as he mounted the white-winged pony.

Cielo galloped, then leaped into the air, spreading his wings. They flew through the shattered windows, twisting rapidly before breaking free into the sky. At the top of the world, Cielo spread his wings, one front leg extended, as Cerulean triumphantly raised the golden Gryffin medallion.

Below them, the palace was completely submerged. Plato’s statue stood underwater, his gaze still resolute.

With his head held high, he thought: I believe in a republic more than in kingdoms and empires. A republic should uphold order through goodness, justice, and truth. The ruling class must be judicious, while warriors, artisans, and farmers fulfill their roles in society.

This is what I believe to be right, even if my fellow scholars disagree or my compatriots detest me. How will history judge me? How will future generations see me? Will they say I was correct? Or that I was wrong? Perhaps only half-right? It is a distant future I will never witness. Yet, I can find peace knowing that I spoke my mind and stood by my beliefs until the very end.

Atlantis returned to what it once was—ancient ruins at the bottom of the sea.