Long ago, when sailors first learned to walk the seafloor in copper helmets, they believed the ocean kept a ledger of every breath stolen from its depths. Men would rise too fast, gas tearing through their blood like angry spirits, leaving bodies twisted and minds lost in the bends between worlds. Divers spoke of the Nereid Curse—a punishment for daring to breathe in realms not meant for lungs. The first dive medics were oath-keepers, warriors of science and superstition who memorized the ocean’s rules. They treated wounds no battlefield surgeon had ever seen: veins turned to foam, hearts pounding as though chased by sharks, and dreams haunted by the deep’s terrible gravity.

Then came the Iron Temples—chambers of steel and oxygen, where medics played the role of Poseidon’s lawyers, negotiating a diver’s soul back into harmony with the sea. These healers learned to command pressure itself, to ease nitrogen’s rebellion, and to pull drowning men toward life even long after they’d left the water. Today’s dive medicine practitioners are still guardians of a thin threshold—standing between the crushing black below and the chaos of rising too soon. They know better than anyone that the sea never forgets… and it never forgives without a price.

• 50% polyester/25% combed ringspun cotton/25% rayon jersey
• Sizes are standard men's/unisex sizes.
• Soft AF