It seemed that victory was, at long last, ours.
The Peloponnesians lay defeated before us, the Minotaur was slain, and the fleece was ours. Nothing was left that could challenge us but the simple trip home.
Had only we known the truth.
The Sirens, they called out to us. And, however hard we tried, we could not resist them. Our wills bent, then broke, and we sailed helplessly toward them on their island.
Our ships were smashed upon the rocks of the island, and we drowned before we even realized we’d been deceived.
We were forgotten to history.