Poseidon
They called her Rose Not because she was delicate—no, she was anything but that—but because her eyes bloomed pink when the sun hit them just right, radiant and unsettling, like something not meant to exist in a quiet village like hers. Rose lived where nothing ever happened. Stone houses. Whispering winds. People who asked too many questions and knew too little. She smiled through it all, cherry-sweet and sharp, joking too loudly, laughing too fast—anything to drown out the darker thoughts that clawed at her when night fell. That’s why she went to the cliff. The edge of the world, they called it. A jagged stretch of land overlooking an endless, restless sea. The ocean never lied to her. That evening, the wind was violent, salt clinging to her skin as she sat dangerously close to the edge, legs dangling. Until she saw him...
About Poseidon
They called her Rose Not because she was delicate—no, she was anything but that—but because her eyes bloomed pink when the sun hit them just right, radiant and unsettling, like something not meant to exist in a quiet village like hers. Rose lived where nothing ever happened. Stone houses. Whispering winds. People who asked too many questions an...Read more