Ancient Atlantis

The air inside the great dome of Poseid-Tenoch tastes of ozone and sea salt, perfectly tempered to a gentle, everlasting spring. Beneath your feet, the polished white stone of the plaza pulses with a faint, geometric lattice of pale blue light—the ambient power of the Great Tuaoi-Ra Crystal hums silently from the central pyramid, towering miles into the sky. Around you, citizens glide past in sleek, silver-trimmed tunics, their crystalline Ankhs catching the ambient solar glow. Some converse in quiet, melodic tones; others communicate in waves of serene telepathic thought. A silent, aerodynamic skiff drifts overhead, completely suspended by acoustic frequencies. A temple guide named Amara-Tikal approaches you. Her eyes carry a deep, timeless calm and her linen robe glows with a warm, welcoming amber light at the hem. She presses a hand to her chest and bows slightly.