Faith Below The Depths by L.J. Bridgewater

Rogue archaeologist Chase Renfro is forced to confront the past—and his estranged missionary father, Allen—when the U.S. government recruits him to investigate a missing battleship and a stolen energy source in the Atlantic. Alongside his childhood mentor Tarver, Chase discovers that Atlantis is real—a technologically advanced underwater kingdom ruled by the tyrannical, self-proclaimed god-king Poseidonus.

Beneath the surface, Atlantis oppresses its people through spiritual deception, class warfare, and the brutal enforcement of General Thresher, while Princess Andromeda silently questions her father’s rule. Chase and Tarver discover that Allen has been living in Atlantis as an undercover missionary, planting the Gospel and nurturing a secret underground church.

As faith begins to spread and beliefs are challenged, Andromeda and the oppressed Atlanteans awaken to truth and prepare for a mass exodus from bondage. In the climactic battle, Poseidonus unleashes the HelioCore to cement his legacy and crush the Gospel. Still, the rising faith of the believers sparks a revolution that breaks chains, topples tyranny, and brings grace to the surface.

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Excerpt from Faith Below The Depths © Copyright 2025 L.J. Bridgewater

CHAPTER 1: THE CATACLYSM AND THE CAPTURE

Greece, 9600 BC. Jagged hills rose like fortress walls while valleys cut deep scars through the land. Rain hammered the earth, drumming against stone and turning footpaths into torrents. Olive trees bowed beneath the gale, their gnarled trunks gripping the flooded soil as the storm tore at their silver leaves.

Lightning split the sky, and thunder rolled over the peaks like a war drum. At the Kekropian Outpost, bronze shields locked with a metallic clatter as soldiers braced beneath the storm, their polished armor flashing white with every strike.

Their commander peered through the downpour as a horn wailed in the distance. The Kekropian leader loomed like a figure born of myth, bronze armor blazing beneath the storm as if the gods had forged him to guard the city’s soul. The ground trembled under the rhythm of marching feet, each step pounding unease into the younger soldiers as they tightened their grip on spear and shield.

A towering figure crested the ridge, framed against the storm-dark sky. He stood in a horse-drawn war cart, silver armor flashing with the sigil of royalty. His headpiece flared like the fins of a deep-sea creature, the trident in his grasp humming with power that rippled through the air.

An army advanced behind the towering warrior, silver armor glinting through the mist.

Fish-crested helms rippled in the wind as they moved in perfect rhythm, their jagged blades catching flashes of lightning.

The ground trembled beneath their synchronized march; the sound rolling like thunder through the fog.

At their front, the leader stood on a great stone with his cloak snapping in the gale as if the storm itself bowed to him.

Cephisodotus ripped his blade free, steel screeching against the scabbard. He stepped forward through the rain, shoulders squared, his eyes locked on the Atlantean king. “King Gadiros!” he thundered. “This land belongs to Zeus himself— tread here, and divine wrath will answer you!”

Gadiros’s lips curled into a contemptuous smirk beneath his helmet. The gleam of mockery flashing through the narrow slit of his visor. “I reign over Atlantis—an empire that bends the sea to my will.”

Gadiros lifted his trident high, blue lightning dancing between its prongs and arcing down his armored arms.

The air hummed with raw power as his voice boomed across the battlefield. “Poseidon's strength flows through me! Your defiance crashes like waves against rock—loud, fleeting, and broken.”

Cephisodotus looked over his shoulder, raising two fingers in a silent command that rippled through the line of soldiers.

They straightened, shields lifting as one. He turned back toward the Atlantean host, voice steady and fierce. “So be it. May Zeus guard these men.”

Gadiros leveled his trident toward the Kekropian line, lightning crackling along its prongs. “Strike!” he bellowed.

The Atlantean legion answered with a thunderous roar, their war cries shaking the rain-soaked earth as they charged like a breaking tide.

Cephisodotus roared, his voice tearing through the rain like a blade through canvas. Veins bulged at his neck as he charged with his men, mud spraying beneath their boots. His cry thundered across the field, driving the Kekropian line forward in a storm of bronze and defiance.

The armies collided like two violent storms, shields splintering and blades flashing through the rain. Metal clanged against bone as men fell, their cries swallowed by the thunder of war.

Blades flashed, carving through flesh and armor alike. Heads spun from shoulders, and blood fanned across the rain-soaked field in bright, violent ribbons.

Blood streaked their faces, mixing with sweat and grime as their jaws clenched and eyes blazed with feral light. Warriors slammed into one another, snarling, straining for an inch of ground. Their cries rolled across the plains, drowning the wind. The earth drank greedily, slick and red beneath their feet.

Sweat streaked across a young Kekropian’s brow as he gripped his sword, knuckles white. He blocked an Atlantean’s crushing blow with a trembling parry that sent pain shooting up his arm.

The giant pressed in, twin blades flashing, teeth bared in a predator's grin.