Lightning cracked across the horizon, a fork of divine fury slicing the sky. Poseidon didn't flinch. Instead, he lifted the trident high, and the ocean answered. A towering wall of water surged upward as if summoned by his very heartbeat. For a moment, he felt the thrill of absolute control—the kind of power no mortal should ever touch.
And yet, it frightened him.
The water obeyed, yes, but there was something else beneath it. Something ancient. When he called the sea, he felt watched, as though eyes from the abyss stared back.
He dropped the trident, letting the wave collapse with a roar. Salt spray washed over him, cool against his fevered skin.
Then—footsteps.
Soft, deliberate, behind him.
Poseidon spun, trident in hand, power gathering instinctively. His gaze met a woman's. She stood tall, robed in white and silver, her hair like strands of moonlight. The aura around her was unmistakable—divine.
"Athena," he said flatly.
