The first thing I became aware of, as consciousness slowly crept back, was the ache that spread through every inch of me. It was fading, but the pain was unmistakable. My body was healing. A mental sigh followed—this wasn’t the kind of recovery I wanted.
The second thing I was aware of the warm sand cushioning me. It felt, oddly soothing for a change, more of an embrace instead of a suffocation. And it was strange but pleasant new feeling I thought. I could keep my eyes closed and live like this until my existence was finally allowed death.
The third thing I noticed was the sound of the waves, gentle now, as though the sea itself felt remorse for what it had done to me. The rhythmic crash and retreat should have been maddening, but instead, it matched the slow, steady beat of my own pulse. Alive, still. Against my will, perhaps.
In the darkness of my closed eyelids, the system was attempting to get my attention flashing a symbol in my face. And mentally I groaned, I was conflicted in wanting to see the notifications. I didn’t need to be told I failed at anything. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it if I failed, but it’s not I ever figured out how to make the notification symbol disappear permanently.
Better to rip the bandage off quickly, before it festers, I thought, though the words felt heavy in my mind, reluctance weighing each syllable.
And so mentally nudged the symbol to open up, what was hopefully not soul destroying news.
The notifications unfurled in my mind like an ancient scroll, text glowing with an ethereal blue hue against the void of my inner darkness.
System Log:
“You have used unused magical potential, which has caused your magical manipulation to fall into the state of unpracticed and unused.” One notification informed me, with information that I was well aware of.
“Unused potential in a state of un-practice and not used, has caused the magic within you to tap your vitality”, I mentally eye rolled once more. If I was mortal, I would have been concerned, but I wasn’t.
“Due to The Curse of Eternal Unrequited Desire…” I shuddered remembering the first time I read the description, I had been sitting on the beach, full of hope that I would manage to find a way to get the curse removed. It had been my first day on the island.
“Welcome to Ogygia, Zeus along with the other Olympians, have bound you hear before the start of the Titan War.” I sighed, as I had known they had wanted me here, as they didn’t need me interfering. My father, Atlas, wanted my help, but I hadn’t made up my mind yet.
I had been debating what I was going to do on the island, when the next notification caught my attemption.
“You have received The Curse of Eternal Unrequited Desire.” and a chill had quickly spread through me that day, freezing me to the beach that no longer felt as pleasant as it did when I had arrived. But I was compelled to read on.
“You–Calypso–is bound by a curse of endless longing and unfulfilled desires, a punishment far crueler than even the gods’ typical means of confinement. Or is it? The curse is a twisted reflection of love and desire, forever binding you to the island and stripping you of the joy of true connection or release.
You are forced to desire–but never to receive. You will yearn for things you can no longer have: the freedom to leave, the love of those who don’t want you, and the sweet release of death. As time stretches endlessly, these desire will fade into hollow echoes, constantly torturing you with their unattainability. In the end, you become a reluctant siren, an alluring figure whose charms work only on those who cannot return your feelings–your immortality now anchored and no longer your own.”
System log: Effects on stats and Abilities:
One: Forced Desire (Enforced Attraction).
Effect: The curse compels you to chase after those who are emotionally distant and uninterested in you. Your desires cannot be controlled, pulling you toward unattainable people and ideals. You become emotionally fixated on these false objects of affection, even though they offer you no true connection.
Impact on stats:
Charisma debuff. You lose twenty-five percent of your charisma – despite your allure, your intense emotional fixation creates an aura of desperation, weakening your charm in the eyes of others.
Willpower debuff. You lose fifteen percent of your will power – the constant pull of desire weakens your ability to resist the curse’s emotional influence, leading to feelings of helplessness and obsession.
Reading the curse again, tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to scream, to curse the gods who’d left me here, trapped by a decision I hadn’t made. They hadn’t even asked me where I stood—just my father. How was that fair? But I read on, needing to know how hellish this would be.
Two: Hollow Desire (Fading Yearnings) and I felt all my muscles tense with the ominous title.
Effect: As the years stretch on, your desires begging to lose their intensity and clarity, leaving behind a sense of emptiness. This hollow desire leaves you yearning for something that no longer holds true meaning. It becomes an endless, fruitless chase, a desire without substance.
Impact on stats:
Health debuff. You lose twenty percent of your overall health – the emotional toll of unfulfilled desire eats away at your vitality. The lack of purpose and satisfaction physically weakens your body.
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Strength Debuff. You lose ten percent of your strength – the lack of true purpose in your actions will sap your physical energy, making you less resilient.
Luck Debuff. You lose twenty percent of your luck – Your unrelenting pursuit of the unattainable desires ensures that you are rarely in the right place at the right time. Fate, in your case, seems to be conspiring against you.
Three: False Longing (The Illusion of Connection). I wasn’t sure I could continue reading so I just glanced at the final effects no longer caring.
Four: Reluctant Siren (Eternal Allure).
And without caring more, I just hugged my knees, silently crying.
I jolted up into a sitting position, my eyes snapping open, nearly blinding myself. The sting in my vision felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to this moment. I hadn’t thought about my first day here, not since my earliest days on the island. The flood of notifications triggered memories I wasn’t ready to confront, so I swiped them away, desperately wanting to forget.
My breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as I swiped my hands over my face, trying to pull myself together. "No, no, no, no..." I whispered, panic threading through my thoughts. I couldn’t let myself spiral. Not now. Not ever. Nothing good ever came from me revisiting the past.
I stared at the inside of my arms, the memory of the scars that once marred my skin threatening to rise like smoke, but nothing—nothing—was there.
It felt like the world had tilted. The skin on my forearms was smooth, unbroken. I blinked, unsure whether I was dreaming or simply losing my mind. The old, jagged scars, the ones I’d carved into myself in those dark, desperate hours when pain was the only thing that kept me grounded, were gone.
“No, that can’t be right,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath against the stillness. The fear crept in slowly, then all at once. Where are they? My hands instinctively moved to touch the skin, almost as if I could will the scars back into existence, but it was pointless. They were gone. Just... gone.
I should look at my notifications, but I feared they would drag me back into the past. The past I couldn’t escape. The scars had been a constant reminder of who I was, of what I had done, but now they were missing. My magic had always been my tether to the world, but using it—for him, for Ronan—had been the catalyst, hadn't it? The price of saving him, the consequence of using magic after centuries of burying it deep within me... was this? A smooth, untouched surface where the past used to live.
I trembled, eyes wide, as though staring at the smooth skin could somehow make the scars return. The sting in my eyes grew sharper, but it was the faint groan that finally broke through the fog in my mind.
A sound that wasn’t mine. No… it couldn’t be. Could it?
Panic rose in me, and before I could even think, I was scrambling to the left, away from the groan I’d heard. The sand made my retreat clumsy. I hated myself for the panic, but all I could see were the failed quests—one hundred fifty-seven of them.
I wasn’t even sure now if me following through with the message in a bottle quest was even a good idea. It was one to live in isolation for all of my days, but it was another for this… this… I didn’t even know what this was.
Eventually, during my clumsy escape from the presence I had woken up next to, I felt my back hit a rock, probably. But all I could do was stare at the human male at the end of my sand trail, he was groaning and coughing at this point. I had done a swell job at covering him with sand.
But he was oddly dressed, more oddly than the last one who left her alone on this island.
Who was he again? The last one?
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the useless questions, I watched the stranger–his form a disheveled heap against the sand–my mind drifted back to the last man who had washed up upon my shores. Noting absently it had still been a long while since I had least seen one of my brethren Gods, when this man had found his way to my shores. I remember him clearly, though time tends to blur such details. His clothes.. They had been so foreign to me, yet oddly familiar in their complexity.
The silk robe he wore was once vibrant, though now weathered and frayed by time and the endless salt of the sea. It had been embroidered with the intricate patterns of dragons and clouds, symbol of ancient power and myth, yet now they were faded, as if the journey had erased some of their meaning. The colors–rich reds and golds–spoke of his status, perhaps of noble birth. I recalled how they had caught the light when he would step upon the beach, as he figured out how to leave. The fabric almost shimmering in the sun. The sash he had tied around his waist had once been perfectly knotted, but it would hang loose, as if the world had slowly unraveled him, just as the sea had unraveled his fate by bringing him to me.
The wide sleeves of his robe had fluttered like wings as he struggled against the tide, his movements awkward, as though the very fabric was too heavy for his body. I had not seen such robes in ages. A time long past, perhaps—yet I recognized the familiar breezes of history that had brought them to me. He was not the first to wash ashore in such attire, though his journey, unlike the others, had left its mark more sharply upon him.
Around his neck hung a small pendant—likely made of jade or some other fine stone, its once-lustrous surface dulled with age. I wondered if it had held sentimental value, or if it was a symbol of his lineage, something to remind him of home, though I doubted he would ever see it again. The pants beneath his robe were more practical than elegant, bound at the ankles with simple cloth ties, but they had been torn and stained with the wear of the sea’s embrace.
His shoes—if you could call them shoes—were delicate sandals, crafted from thin leather that had long since lost its shape. The soles had cracked with time, as if they had walked many lands before the ocean swept them away.
When I first saw him, there was something striking about the way his clothing had seemed to represent his identity. The robe, though tattered now, had been a canvas of his life—one rich with culture and meaning. The layers of fabric weren’t just practical—they told a story. A story of heritage, of customs, and of the places he had come from. And yet here he was, just another soul, stripped of all that identity by the vastness of the sea.
But the man I suppose I all but summoned, was different. Though I had accidentally covered him sand, and it no doubt was drying onto the fabrics, he was wearing a shirt, where the sleeves looked like straps, leaving even his shoulders bare and it seemed like it was well fitted to him, but that could be water still clinging to him and his clothes.
And his trousers, weren’t any sort of trouser I’d seen. Not even the gods worse these shortened trousers. But I wasn’t complaining, it showed off his legs up to his knees. Honestly though, the fabrics his clothes were made of wasn’t like the silk robe man, nor was it like… was it like him. A little anger enter my thoughts at him, because Hermes came to me with orders from Zeus to let him leave and go back to his wife and son.
Nope, not thinking about him, but even the kings of back then, didn’t have fabrics that looked so soft and comfortable.
And as I looked at the clothing this new person wore, comparing it to what I used to know, I could feel the tension slowly release from my muscles… maybe I could brave the interface.