the Last Atlantean: an Antediluvian Fantasy

[ScottishMongol]

Spoiler: Disclaimer

Claims about Atlantis almost inevitably rely on pseudoscientific, pseudohistorical, and pseudoarchaeological beliefs that are linked to racism and conspiratorial thinking. The author does not condone any of these views. This story is an attempt to construct a world based on the claims traditionally made by Atlantis truthers, especially those of the 19th-20th Centuries (for more, see the work of Ignatius Donnelly). As a result, there are some "period-accurate" views that modern viewers may find offensive. I humbly ask for your leniency in this matter.

The Last Atlantean
A True Account of the Past Life Memories of One Melissa Larkin

***

Preface​

Increasingly a consensus is emerging in the academic community that an undeniable body of evidence exists for the lost continent and civilization of Atlantis. Atlantis, according to all harmonic accounts, was founded on an island in the middle of the north Atlantic. Great in art and science, learned in spirituality, they grew into a sophisticated and wise culture. Their voyagers mapped the Americas and the Mediterranean, and where they landed, they left colonies who in latter days would give rise to the civilizations of our recorded and familiar history. However, greatness and prosperity brought arrogance and greed. Its colonies became tributaries. Its nobles turned from wisdom to pride, and sought gold and slaves from distant lands. Atlantis, we are told, was destroyed when the entire continent was thrown into the depths of the sea, an event which has since been given scientific basis thanks to advancements in the field of geology.

While Atlantis may have been destroyed, its legacy endured. All world cultures, all world religions, and all world civilizations are now seen to be but branches of the same tree which has its roots in Atlantis. It will not be long now until schoolchildren are taught about this civilization and its downfall in the same breath as Rome, Mesopotamia, and Egypt.

To this body of evidence I add a true account.

It is now known thanks to advancements in the field of Spiritualism that the immortal soul does not move beyond the confines of the Earth, but continues to inhabit it, moving from body to body and accumulating memories. Under the right circumstances, a person can access these memories, and thus experience events that happened many hundreds or even thousands of years ago.

I accessed my own past life memories over the course of nine sessions in the year 1878, under the guidance of the famed hypnotherapist Elodie Bergeron. Elodie placed me into a hypnotic state which allowed me to draw out my memories, and her experience and insight has been invaluable in making sense of these experiences.

Never before could one have imagined a first-hand account of Atlantis being available in the present day. Yet here I present for your perusal and edification the account of my past life as Anat, an Atlantean noblewoman who was witness to the last days of that civilization.

I have elected to write my account in the third person, focusing on Anat. Though I experienced everything through Anat's five senses, I had the uncanny sense of being a passenger, a passive witness to her deeds and even her thoughts, unable to comment or act and rarely feeling an emotional response to what I witnessed until I emerged from my hypnotic trance. At several curious points I received insight into the politics, culture, and history of both Anat and her world, as if I were recalling previous experiences or teachings that I was not witness to. These I have inserted into the narrative at various points as exposition.

Lastly, I have attached my own commentary, in the hopes of providing some context and recording Elodie's own observations.

 

[Guaire]

Excited to see where this goes

 

[veteranMortal]

Oh brilliant!

 

[jcw3]

This feels like something that could have been written in the Mignolaverse. Very excited to see where this goes.

 

[ScottishMongol]

Session One​

The army kicked up a cloud of dust as it tramped across the sandy plain. Sandaled feet, hooves, and chariot wheels trod the stony ground and sent dust billowing skywards. The dust got everywhere; in her hair, in her eyes, in her mouth.

Anat coughed and spat out a mouthful of sand. She rode in a chariot befitting an Atlantean noble, a car worked of elegantly-carved panels and struts and drawn by a black horse and a red. There were two other men with her, one driving the cart and the other standing at Anat's side with a bow and arrows. Both had the Atlantean look, tall, dark, and grey-eyed, but Anat stood taller than either by half a foot at least.

The tumbled rocks and sparse scrub rolled by, rising to distant purple mountains. They were marching to fight the sons of Cain, the rebel Atlantean prince, to earn glory and valor, and a vast wealth of booty and slaves from the trade cities of the Cainites. There had been many wars fought for this band of coastal desert, and each one saw the changing of hands of a few cities that would be lost or regained in the next round of fighting.

At the head of the column a tall noble in a chariot no less glamorous than Anat's led them as they turned from the road. His harness was all of gilded bronze, his helmet tall and plumed, a purple cloak fluttering from his shoulders. Anat felt contempt for him, and yet, she had come when commanded. Where others wished for plunder and glory she had only submitted to her duty, as she had times before. And what did that earn her? A sense of righteousness before a wicked king?

Anat was strong, and was famed for her prowess in war; the Atlanteans said of her that she had a man's heart and a man's appetites, and they begrudged her not in the war-host.

Turning from the road, the army spread out to face the enemy. Anat now saw the dust-cloud on the horizon, the Cainite army on the march to meet them. The Atlanteans arranged themselves, foot soldiers behind and chariots in the fore. The king rode down the line, giving a speech that stiffened their spines against whatever monsters the Cainites now summoned from the dark menageries of their prince.

Anat checked her gear; she wore a bronze cuirass worked with images of bloody war and death, and a high helm with a red silk plume that sat heavily on her head. The helm had an open face so that it would not restrict her vision, and beneath it her jet-black hair fell in twin braids over her shoulders. Under her breastplate she wore a tunic of quilted cotton that absorbed her sweat and fell halfway to her knees in pleated skirts. Her legs were bare, and she wore sandals that were laced up to her calves. Her armor, sandals, and harness were all fastened with straps of tooled leather fastened with gold buckles and studs that glinted under the Sun.

She had a blade at her hip, a short Atlantean slashing sword, and there was a rack of throwing spears close at hand, and she bore a long lance and had a quiver of arrows slung over her back with a bow in a case next to it. The knife at her belt completed her armament.

Drums were pounding along with the shrill, eerie screech of war-pipes as the line readied itself. Anat's men turned to look at her with fear in their eyes and sweat making tracks through the dirt on their faces, but she bid them stand firm and make ready.

The Cainite line was now close enough to make out individual figures. There was the line of Cainite nobles in chariots, equipped in much the same manner as the Atlanteans. Behind them were giant men, four cubits tall at the least, armored in overlapping bronze scales that gleamed and flashed in the light of the Sun. Some of these giants rode behemoths, great reptiles bigger than elephants with armored heads. The sight of those monsters chilled even Anat's blood.

The drums were beating harder and the king rode by again, urging his men to stand tall, to fight for glory, fight for Atlantis. Anat could take it no more. She shouted, and her driver lashed the reins, the horses springing forward and trumpeting. In a trice the whole line had broken after her, none of the nobles wishing for Anat to get any glory before they could.

The lines closed in a few heartbeats. Chariots flashed by, rattling on their spoked wheels as arrows whickered back and forth. Dust flew, men fell from their chariots with arrows or spears in them, one chariot overturned in a clatter of splintered wood and screaming horses. Anat's arrows flew true, her man drove furiously, and luck or god was with her. The chariots wheeled around and passed again, and more fell with that pass.

A giant mounted on a behemoth bore down on her chariot. They loosed arrow after arrow, but the broad bony frill that rose behind the behemoth's head shielded the rider. The monster bellowed, opening its beak-like mouth and tossing its horned head. The giant's voice thundered in a taunt as he raised a spear and stabbed downwards. It barely missed Anat, skewering her guardsman instead. The behemoth trampled over their horses and overturned their chariot, and Anat was thrown to the ground. Laying in the dust, she found herself looking into the face of her driver, his neck broken by the impact and his eyes staring sightlessly into hers.

Anat was on her feet in a second, her lance in her hand. She threw it with great strength, plunging it into the beast's thick, armored hide. She narrowly dodged another jab of the giant's spear, leaping back and drawing her sword as she gathered herself for a mighty leap. She landed on the beast's shoulder and struggled with the giant, pushing back against his mighty muscles. His face was dirty, ugly, and covered in a coarse black beard, and it was twisted in rage as her blade moved towards his throat. It slid home, and the look of rage changed to one of shock as Anat twisted the sword.

She slid from the behemoth's back and let it rampage, the giant's body toppling from the saddle with a great crash. She tried to get her bearings – other giants were down, the Atlantean infantry had moved up, and the king was rallying the other nobles for another charge. Then she heard the cry.

"Tyrant lizard! Tyrant lizard!"

Some king or prince among the giants came forth to face her, and he rode a true nightmare steed. It went on two legs, its forearms tiny and hanging uselessly. A long tail dragged behind it, and its massive head was dominated by a mouth full of carved, serrated fangs. Its scales were red as blood. The giant on its back was less fearsome only in comparison, and he bellowed a challenge to Anat.

She had no thought of fleeing – this was battle joined, a time for bravery and valor, and she welcomed this challenge. As the battle raged around them, Anat grabbed at a quiver of throwing spears and turned to face this champion of Cain. At the monster's first charge she rolled to the side, spearing its flank with a thrown spear, but the giant directed it with movements of his arms and legs, and it wheeled around surprisingly quickly. Anat only barely dodged its snapping jaws, launching another spear that stuck in the folds of its neck. The tyrant lizard lunged forward, trying to trample her, and she only barely missed being crushed between its three-toed feet. They fought like that, the monster wheeling and missing her by inches as she filled its hide with spears, the giant hurling insults and abuse at her. At last, a stone turned beneath the tyrant lizard's foot, and it toppled over. A creature of that size could not survive even a slight fall without being crushed under its own weight, and both steed and rider were crippled beyond saving.

The giant's sword had fallen from his hand, and Anat took it up. Despite its size – it was almost as long as she was tall – she hacked at the fallen tyrant lizard, chopping at its neck as it struggled and shrieked. Blood flew in great gouts until she was covered it, hot and salty. Stepping over the corpse, she stood over the giant. The look in his eyes made it clear – he was broken, his only hope to be dragged back to Atlantis a cripple to be paraded before a jeering crowd in the triumph.

Anat gave him mercy, and when the Atlantean king found her, she was holding his severed head in her hand.

***

The battle was over, the ground a wreckage of chariots and bodies, the bulks of fallen behemoths and giants and the piles of the slain already attracting crows and vultures. A pterodactyl of vast and demonic aspect, borne on wings of hide stretched between its fingers, was already descending to take its presiding place at the feast.

The Atlantean nobles left the common soldiers to take scalps as prizes and to bury their own dead, for the king wanted to rush on to the city while it was yet unguarded and begin the sack. Anat was found a chariot, but she had no thought for the honors she would receive for this victory or the loot to be gained from the undefended city. The blood that covered her was drying in the heat of the Sun, sticky and crusted in places, turning from red to dark brown.

The city had strong walls and gates, but they were unguarded, and the gates were not even closed as they passed through and slew what guards they found there. Anat stood in the street as Atlantean soldiers began to pillage and slay all they found, and weeping women and children were herded together, to be divided up as slaves. Anat turned her eyes from the scene and passed on, trying to harden her heart against the cries of anguish.

Then her eyes fell on a Cainite woman, kneeling before her. She was young, perhaps only eighteen, dressed in simple undyed cloth. A poor woman, with lustrous brown hair beneath a headcloth. She had her hands folded in supplication, her face wet with tears, her dark eyes wide with fear.

"Take me, mistress," the girl asked. "Kind mistress, do not let these men have me. Take me under your protection."

Anat stood quivering on the precipice for a moment. She had never taken prisoners or slaves, but as much as she loathed the institution, she had never stood against it, always turning her head from the markets that had turned Atlantis' fair cities into places of pain and torment. Here though was a chance to save even a single soul from that fate, and yet Anat hesitated. She knew that she was moved only by the girl's beauty, not by any goodness of her soul but by her own great weakness. Sinful thoughts were already entering her mind, and she wondered if the girl realized that to be under Anat's protection would not protect her from Anat.

She felt wretched, a weak soul. She had stood against monsters and giants but could not stand against the suffering she saw every day. She was offered a chance to save a single soul and it only turned her thoughts to her own desires. A good deed such as that was hardly good at all, surely.

The girl's pleading filled her head until she could take it no more.

Commentary

My first past-life regression initially filled me with a sense of wonder. I was seeing, hearing, and feeling everything as clearly as if it had happened to me yesterday. Elodie had prepared me for this though, so I was able to calm myself and let the vision continue to play out before me. Despite the thrilling combat I was comfortably detached, and was little affected by the fear and blood.

One of the things I was most struck by was the intricate detail on everything I saw, from the chariots to the armor and weapons borne by Anat. The longer I looked, the more details emerged, figures engaged in acts of war interspersed with swirling patterns similar to what we would recognize as Celtic or perhaps Arabesque.

A description of Anat herself may be necessary, although it was not until a future session when I saw her in full. Anat stood seven feet tall, had jet-black hair, and had eyes the color of stormclouds. Her skin was reddish-brown, like that of an Indian and covered in tattoos in the swirling patterns preferred by the Atlanteans. The Atlantean race is actually diverse in phenotype, with skin colors ranging through the whole spectrum of black, white, olive, and red, however it was this latter that was most common and predominant among the nobility of the Atlantean continent. Elodie theorizes that the Atlantean civilization ultimately originated from the native people of the Americas but incorporated many races.

Anat's build was at the peak of female athleticism. She was skilled in swimming, archery, and gymnastics and participated in these sports frequently to stay fit, to say nothing of the ways of armed and unarmed combat. I cannot say how old she was precisely, for the Atlantean nobility were long-lived and retained their youth longer than modern man. I would say she was in her sixties, perhaps as old as seventy.

The king leading this expedition and who Anat swore fealty to was King Nyssus. Atlantis had several lesser kings who in turn swore fealty to a high king.

I did not connect my vision to stories of Atlantis at first; it was Elodie who did so. She identified the giants I fought as the Nephilim of the Bible, the children that the daughters of man bore after they laid with the sons of God. Whether this origin is true, or whether the "sons of God" are a distorted memory of the Atlantean scientists who created them, I cannot say.

I immediately recognized the behemoth and tyrant lizard as the creatures modern science has classified as dinosaurs, but chose to preserve the Atlantean names. More precise descriptions of their appearances were cut from the final draft of this account, although I sent a letter along with several sketches to an acquaintance of mine at the Field Museum, as they reveal many soft tissues and colors that were not preserved by the fossil record and may thus be of some interest to the field of paleontology.

It was Anat's emotional turbulence over the Cainite girl that broke my concentration and brought me out of the vision. On returning to lucidity, I discussed my vision and what it might mean with Elodie. She identified me as the reincarnation of an Altantean noble and discussed the history of Atlantis. Cain, she said, was a rebel Atlantean prince who fled to the Middle East and raised an empire there among primitive men. The Atlantean Cain was known for his abilities in shaping flesh through dark science, which he used in the creation of races of servitors. These hybrids include many beings of mythology such as satyrs, mermaids, and fairies, and it seems that the Nephilim were among them as well.

I was deeply troubled by the sack of the city and Anat's encounter with the Cainite girl, and I struggled to understand Anat's motives. Elodie counseled me by saying that spirits reincarnate for the purposes of moral development. By reincarnating in the modern day, Anat was still seeking to purify herself of guilt over the sin of inaction. I took this lesson to heart.

Eager to discover more, I scheduled another session for the very next week.

 

[veteranMortal]

Seven foot tall noblewoman warrior... waow...

 

[bookwyrm]

Spear and Fang deserved better than to be dragged to a war between two despots and murdered far from home

 

[Squidfam]

I did not connect my vision to stories of Atlantis at first; it was Elodie who did so. She identified the giants I fought as the Nephilim of the Bible, the children that the daughters of man bore after they laid with the sons of God. Whether this origin is true, or whether the "sons of God" are a distorted memory of the Atlantean scientists who created them, I cannot say.

Click to shrink...

I really like that this is left ambiguous, it gives the whole story a much more "realistic" feel than just coming down definitively on either side of the "the bible is real"/"the bible is just Ancient Aliens" dichotomy

 

[Guaire]

Fuck yeah Dinosaurs

 

[ScottishMongol]

I really like that this is left ambiguous, it gives the whole story a much more "realistic" feel than just coming down definitively on either side of the "the bible is real"/"the bible is just Ancient Aliens" dichotomy

Click to shrink...

Oh, there are layers to this thing.

 

[ScottishMongol]

Session Two​

Taaut's pleasure barge sailed slowly up the Nile. The bargepoles and sails were worked by Taaut's servants, sculpted hybrids with the heads of cats, falcons, and jackals. Anat, like Taaut, reclined on a couch, watching the banks of the Nile roll by.

At her feet sat Adah, the Cainite girl.

Anat no longer wore armor; instead, she wore the pristine white toga and flower crown that designated an Atlantean warrior. Taaut was dressed more modestly, in the robes of a scholar, and as always, he had a few scrolls close to hand. He had the typical Atlantean look, reddish-brown skin and dark hair hidden under a headdress, but his eyes were a brilliant green that seemed to hide deep wisdom.

"I didn't take you for the type, Anat," Taaut said.

Anat looked at Adah. She had exchanged her peasant's clothes for a thin cotton shift that clung to her slender form, very similar to that worn by Taaut's servants, and her hair was bound behind her head. The Cainite girl was gazing up at her with a mix of fear and adoration, which stirred something in Anat. The girl had spoken few words since Anat had taken her under her protection, only really giving her name. Anat had brought the girl with her as the army embarked and sailed to Kemet for rest and relaxation before their return to Atlantis in triumph.

Adah had barely moved from Anat's side, going in fear of all other Atlanteans, especially the men, even sleeping in Anat's cabin, curled up in the servant's bunk and trying to stay up as long as possible, nodding off only to jolt back awake. When she eventually fell asleep, Anat allowed herself to rest as well.

"I spared her from the sack," Anat said simply, returning her gaze to the banks of the Nile. Palm trees, bands of green, and broad irrigated fields rolled by, along with granite obelisks marking the roads.

"That was good of you," Taaut said. "What do you plan on doing with the girl?"

Anat shifted on the couch.

"I cannot cut her loose, she would be on the streets by the end of the day, or worse. I thought to take her into my household and find some living for her."

She glanced at Taaut's servants; he hadn't enslaved them or made them, rather they were his willing servants and pupils. Taaut was one of the wealthier nobles of Kemet, and a patron of learning.

"We do what we can," Taaut said.

Anat was silent. She still felt no sense of righteousness from saving Adah, especially now that she was being taken back to Atlantis to be a noble's servant after all. The thought that at least should be treated well – it simply stuck in her throat.

Taaut sighed wistfully and spoke again.

"We are set against the whole of Atlantean society. Where is our virtue, our wisdom? We have even neglected god."

He made a genuflection towards the setting Sun; Anat did so as well, half-reflexively.

"Things are even worse in Atlantis," she said. Now she caught Taaut's eye. There was an odd look there, as if he knew something Anat did not. But then, as long as they had been friends Taaut had known things Anat did not.

"I fear we do not have long," Taaut murmured. They passed the pyramids, dressed in white stone and capped with gold.

"What makes you say that?"

"There are signs for those with the eyes to see, Anat. And I have seen it. Atlantis shall pass away."

Anat was silent; she listened to the creak of ropes and the chuckle of water against the hull, the grunts of Taaut's servants.

Atlantis, with all its great cities and proud nobles, its fertile fields and expansive ports, its slaves and wealth and wisdom – all to pass away? The thought chilled her, and yet in her heart she could not wish for it to be stopped. A civilization so cruel and hungry could not persist on this earth forever, the part of her that still preserved right from wrong could tell her that.

"Does that trouble you, Anat?" Taaut asked.

"No," she murmured. In fact, she welcomed it. It would put an end to the torment of her guilt, at least.

Then she recalled Adah, and frowned.

"We cannot stop it, but we can prepare," Taaut said. Now Anat's attention snapped back to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we can save the only good things left in Atlantis. I have been bringing together a group of like-minded people. A conspiracy, you could say." Part of Anat wanted to scream at him to stop talking, anything to stop her from being drawn into this. Instead, she leaned forward with interest. "We need someone who dwells in Atlantis, someone like you. There are still virtuous citizens in Atlantis, you know this; we need to smuggle them out and bring them here, to the colonies, along with such things we can gather…"

Anat realized with a chill that she was already drawn in. Adah had been her first chance to make a difference, to save a single life from the sack. Now here was another chance, a greater one. To do this, she would have to rebel against her entire society, break every oath, to openly plot theft and conspiracy. If she was discovered, she would die. That alone did not scare her. In fact, the knowledge that she would perish no matter what she did seemed to steel her. Taaut kept speaking, but Anat had already made her decision.

"Come, Anat, I've known you most of our lives. I know you feel the same as us, that Atlantis must pass. But do not let all our great works come to nothing. I have faith that so long as there is good in Atlantis, it can be preserved.

So long as there is one righteous man in Atlantis, god will spare it."

Commentary

Thoth, the Egyptian god of knowledge, is of course a cultural memory of Taaut, an Atlantean of high royal blood who had removed himself to Kemet, which of course became Egypt.

I felt a strong sense of camaraderie towards Taaut, as one would towards a childhood friend. I understood that Taaut and Anat had attended school together, that Taaut was extremely curious and Anat was an inattentive student, more concerned with athleticism. It was their opposite natures that made them friends, and which influenced their moral development.

The primary religion of the Atlanteans was solar worship. The Atlanteans were monotheists, believing the Sun to be the creator of the universe and the source of all life. They also believed that fire, which allowed for civilization, came from the Sun. Elodie, who is more educated on religious matters than me, says that this was logical to the scientific minds of the Atlanteans – the Sun does indeed warm the earth and nourish the growth of plant life. However, according to Elodie the Sun is not the ultimate source of life, and indeed the Sun's power itself is derived from a higher source. Still, as a monotheistic religion the Atlanteans were significantly advanced in spiritual matters.

Adah's silence during the vision gave me pause. Elodie suggested that she did not understand much of what was being said, as she was perhaps only partly learned in the Atlantean language. When I pointed out that only English was spoken in my dream, Elodie dismissed this as my mind automatically translating Atlantean as a result of my knowledge of that language in my past life as Anat. This seemed like a plausible answer to me, and as I am not a linguist my attempts to reconstruct the Atlantean language have been abortive. Elodie tells me it was the common ancestor of Turanian, Mayan, Semitic, and Indo-Aryan.

Nowhere was the use of hybrids as labor more common than in Kemet. They tilled the fields, worked on the docks, and labored in workshops to produce goods for export back to Atlantis. In most cases they were slaves, though a steady trickle earned their freedom in one way or another. Taaut was one of the few Atlantean nobles who opposed slavery, and took many hybrids into his service where he supported them and even educated them. In some cases he purchased their freedom, in other cases he gave shelter to runaways, and he was a patron for those that won freedom on their own.

 

[bookwyrm]

Ah, for Atlantis to fall all the righteous who uphold it must be removed for its imperious iniquities to bring it down, is that Taaut's hope, perhaps even more than hoping to leave a better kinda whitewashed Atlantean legacy for Kemet and the rest?