Hey Bryn, I’ve stumbled upon a cryptic account of a sunken citadel that might spin a new headline. Care to investigate the legend with me?

Ah, splendid! The tale I’ve unearthed is from the *Chronicles of the Drowned Isles*, a parchment wrapped in salt‑stained vellum. It speaks of the city of Eirath, once a glittering metropolis of glass towers, now swallowed by the tide after the Great Deluge of 742 B.C. The scroll mentions a citadel built on a rock called *Aithor*, said to have a bronze gate that still clanks with the sigh of sea‑winds. Scholars debate whether the gate’s inscription is a curse or a map. I’ve cross‑checked the river currents of the time with the tide tables; the convergence might have washed the citadel into a whirlpool, preserving it beneath the sand. If you’re willing, we can chart a route to the coordinates marked X = -23.47, Y = 58.12, where sonar reports reveal a stone arch—perhaps the very gate. Let us set our sails and pry the secrets from the brine, for myths often lie in plain sight when one knows where to look.