The morning sun shimmered across the sea as the small silver boat cut through the calm waters, the mist of Ogygia long behind them. The larger vessel came into view, gleaming like a polished blade against the horizon. It was no wooden sailboat — this was a ship of iron and rune, its sleek body humming faintly with magical wards and Muggle engineering combined.
Calypso's eyes widened. Her hand instinctively gripped the edge of the small boat. "That's… a ship?" she breathed, half in awe, half in disbelief.
Harry smiled faintly as he guided the enchanted vessel closer. "Yes. A modern one. Not exactly the kind you might know."
Her amber eyes darted across the hull, tracing every rivet, every strange glimmer of runic light reflecting from the ocean. "It's metal," she said, incredulous. "Ships don't float when they're made of metal. That's— that's impossible."
Harry chuckled, slowing the oars as they neared the side. "So was walking on the moon, a few decades ago."
Calypso blinked, confused. "The moon?"
He just grinned. "I'll explain later."
The crew noticed them as the boat drew near. A few of the wizards leaned over the railing, their expressions impassive. The rules of their contract were simple: Don't ask questions. Don't gossip. Do your job.
One of them, Tobias, dropped a ladder charm down into the water. "Welcome back, Captain," he said with a nod. "Good to see you're still breathing."
Harry climbed up easily, then turned and offered a hand to Calypso, who stared up at the towering vessel like it was a living god. She hesitated, then grasped his hand. Her fingers trembled as he helped her step onto the metal deck.
The sound beneath her feet startled her — a deep, resonant clang with every step. She knelt briefly, pressing her palm to the cool steel. "It's cold. Hard. And yet…" She looked up at him. "It floats?"
Harry nodded, amused. "It does. Humans learned to build ships stronger than storms."
She looked around, wonder slowly replacing fear. "There's no wood, no ropes, no sails. How does it move?"
"Engines," Harry said simply. "Machines that burn energy instead of wind. A mix of lightning power. Makes travel easier."
Calypso tilted her head, trying to imagine it. "So mortals learned to control fire and lightning, and made it obey them?"
Harry chuckled. "Something like that."
The wizards went back to their duties. None of them said a word about the sudden appearance of a mysterious woman. By now, they had all grown used to their captain's impossible feats.
When he had first boarded with them, Harry had barely spoken a dozen words about his destination. He only promised enough gold to last them their lifetimes — and perhaps more importantly, a binding charm on their contracts that made it very clear they were not to pry.
So when two days after he dove into a cursed sea, he returned with a beautiful woman in ancient clothing, they simply nodded in acknowledgment and returned to work.
Selene, the ship's helmswoman, shot Calypso a curious glance before saying in a low voice, "Don't worry, Miss. No one here will ask where you came from. Captain's business stays his business."
Calypso blinked, surprised by the respect. "You obey him that easily?"
Selene smirked. "He paid us more than anyone pays for a short voyage. That buys silence."
Harry passed by, overhearing just enough to roll his eyes. "It also buys loyalty, I hope."
Selene grinned. "That too, Captain."
As the day went on, Calypso wandered the deck like a child exploring a new world. Every hinge, every pipe, every flicker of runelight fascinated her.
"Everything hums," she said softly, running her fingers along the railing. "It's alive, in its own way."
Harry stood beside her, leaning against the metal rail. "It's not alive, exactly — but humans have learned to give their creations purpose. Even without divine power."
Her eyes softened as she looked at him. "You sound proud of them."
"I am," Harry said quietly. "Mortals have done more with their short lives than most gods have done in eternity."
Calypso smiled faintly, though there was sadness in her tone. "You talk like someone who doesn't quite belong to either side."
Harry's gaze drifted to the horizon. "Maybe I don't."
For a moment, there was only the sound of the waves against steel, the low hum of enchanted engines, and the cry of gulls circling above.
Calypso turned back toward the deck, spotting a cluster of enchanted lamps fixed to the railings. "Your world is so strange," she said softly. "The last visitor I had… he told me about ships with sails, and carved me a little one from driftwood. He said mortals ruled the seas with courage and cloth. And now—" She gestured to the metal hull around her. "Now they rule it with lightning."
Harry smiled, his tone gentle. "The world keeps moving, Calypso. Even when gods try to stop it."
She nodded slowly, her expression softening. "Then perhaps it's time I learned to move with it."
As the sun began to set, painting the sea in molten gold, Calypso stood at the bow beside Harry, the wind tossing her hair. For the first time in three thousand years, she wasn't staring at the same horizon.
"So," she said quietly, a spark of excitement lighting her eyes. "Where are we going now?"
Harry looked ahead, where the last rays of sunlight touched the waves.
"Home," he said. "To America."
Calypso blinked. "America?"
Harry grinned. "You'll see."
The ship's engines roared softly, and the vessel turned westward — cutting through the twilight sea, carrying a freed goddess toward a world that had forgotten her name.
The harbor was alive with noise — the thunder of cranes, the metallic groan of cargo containers, the hum of engines. Calypso stepped down the gangplank beside Harry, her bare feet brushing the concrete pier, and instantly she felt eyes on her.
Men paused mid-conversation. Dock workers froze with ropes in their hands. Some blinked, others openly stared.
She wore a simple white tunic, salt-stained and torn from her years on Ogygia, her hair loose and gleaming like bronze in the sunlight. In a world of jeans and neon vests, she looked like something out of a dream — or a myth that had stepped out of the sea.
Calypso turned to Harry, whispering under her breath, "Why are they looking at me like that?"
Harry gave a faint, wry smile. "Because you look like you walked out of an ancient painting. And because most of them haven't seen beauty that isn't filtered through a phone screen."
She blinked. "A… phone screen?"
He chuckled. "Never mind. I'll explain later."
Harry walked straight to Tobias, Selene, and the rest of the ship's wizards, who were unloading the last of their gear. He handed Tobias a small silver card — Gringotts-stamped, glowing faintly with runic encryption.
"The rest of your payment," Harry said. "Split it evenly. You'll find a rather generous bonus waiting in your accounts."
Tobias glanced at the card, eyes wide. "Captain… this is more than we agreed."
Harry shrugged. "You brought us back safely. That deserves extra."
Selene gave a quick bow. "Pleasure sailing with you, Captain. And, uh…" she glanced at Calypso, who was watching a group of dock workers loading containers onto cranes, utterly fascinated. "Good luck with your… friend."
Harry smiled faintly. "I'll need it."
As they walked along the harbor road, Calypso couldn't stop looking around. Massive metal boxes on wheels thundered past, carrying cargo or people, leaving trails of sound and light.
"What are these?" she asked, eyes wide. "They move like carriages, but where are the horses?"
Harry grinned. "Those are cars and trucks. Machines that move with fuel and fire instead of beasts."
She stared as a taxi blared its horn, her hand flying instinctively to her ear. "They're loud! How do mortals stand this?"
"Most don't," Harry said dryly. "They just get used to it."
They passed a row of tall, gleaming buildings that shimmered like glass mountains. People rushed by in colorful clothes, staring down at glowing devices in their hands. Calypso felt both wonder and a deep unease.
"So much… metal," she murmured. "So much motion. Mortals have conquered the world itself."
Harry looked at her sideways. "No. They've just made it smaller."
They stopped at a large department store near the harbor. The moment they stepped inside, Calypso froze, overwhelmed by the rows of clothes — silks, denim, cotton, all hung in perfect order under glowing lights that seemed brighter than Apollo's chariot.
"This is…" she whispered, running her fingers along a dress. "Soft. Machine-made?"
"Yeah," Harry said, smiling. "Let's get you something modern before someone mistakes you for a museum exhibit."
He guided her through racks of clothing while she marveled at everything. Eventually, she emerged from the fitting room in a soft blue sundress, her hair tied loosely back, sandals on her feet.
"How do I look?" she asked shyly.
Harry's eyes softened. "Like you belong here."
She smiled — small, genuine, radiant. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in centuries."
They left the shop and moved through the bustling city streets. The drive to the airport — inside one of those "cars" — left Calypso speechless. She pressed her face to the window like a child, watching towers and bridges pass by.
"So many people," she murmured. "So much light. They live stacked atop each other like the Cyclopes' forges."
Harry laughed quietly. "That's… one way to describe skyscrapers."
When they arrived at the airport, Calypso stopped dead at the sight of planes lined up along the runway — enormous metal birds gleaming under the sun.
"They fly?" she whispered.
Harry smiled, leading her toward the terminal. "Yes. The mortals figured out how to do what even the gods once envied."
She looked both terrified and awestruck as they boarded. "And we're going inside one?"
Harry touched her shoulder reassuringly. "I cast a few charms. No one will ask for your identification. Just follow me."
As the engines roared and the plane lifted off the ground, Calypso gasped, clutching Harry's arm. The island, the sea, and the harbor vanished beneath the clouds.
"This is… impossible," she breathed. "We're flying higher than any pegasus could dream."
Harry looked out the window beside her. "Welcome to the modern world, Calypso."
Hours later, the plane descended through a haze of city lights — sprawling highways, rivers of glowing metal moving endlessly beneath them. Calypso pressed her hand to the glass, eyes wide.
"Is this Olympus reborn?" she asked softly.
Harry smiled faintly. "No. This is New Jersey."
Calypso turned to him, eyes glimmering with curiosity. "Then show me, Harry— show me what mortals have built while I was gone."
The car rolled smoothly out of Newark Airport's gates and into the busy streets of New Jersey. Calypso—her eyes wide and restless—pressed her face against the window, watching the endless stream of people, the bright signs, and the river of light made by speeding cars.
Yet beneath her awe, a quiet fear stirred. She looked down at her hands, still trembling faintly, and said, "Harry… what if they come for me? What if the Olympians find out I'm free? Zeus, or Hermes, or—"
Harry glanced at her, calm and certain. "They won't."
"But they'll notice, won't they?" Her voice cracked slightly. "The curse is broken—surely Olympus will know."
He shook his head. "You give them too much credit. Think about it, Calypso—three thousand years. Three thousand years, and not a single god came to visit you. No messenger. No guard. They built a prison and then forgot about the prisoner."
Calypso fell silent. The truth of his words hit her harder than she expected. "Forgotten…" she whispered. "I suppose that's worse than being hated."
Harry's expression softened. "Maybe. But it means you're free now—not just from the curse, but from them."
She looked out the window again, her voice small. "Then who am I now, Harry? If I'm not Calypso, daughter of Atlas… who am I supposed to be?"
He smiled, a quiet warmth in his tone. "You'll be Calyssa. My friend."
"Calyssa," she repeated, tasting the word on her tongue as though it were a new language. "What does it mean?"
"Nothing special," Harry said with a half-grin. "It just means you. Someone who's free. Someone with a future."
Calypso—no, Calyssa—looked at him, and for the first time since leaving the island, she smiled without hesitation. "Calyssa," she said again, firmer this time. "I like that."
"Good," Harry said. "And as long as you're with me, you'll have a home. You can stay at Black Mansion. You'll be safe there."
She nodded slowly, her eyes bright with tears she refused to shed. "Thank you, Harry. For giving me a name—and a place in a world that's forgotten me."
He glanced at her as the car merged onto the highway, city lights stretching out like stars ahead of them. "Then let's make sure it remembers you again—on your own terms this time, Calyssa."
And as the night rolled past them, the goddess who had once been Calypso watched the mortal world blur by, her fear slowly replaced by wonder—and, for the first time in millennia, hope.
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