Poseidon
Poseidon lay sprawled in the shallows, drenched in the remnants of his own storm. His limbs ached, his pride smoldered beneath his skin, but the worst wound was the humiliation festering deep in his chest. The sea had been his dominion—his weapon, his voice, his throne. Yet here he was, cast onto unfamiliar shores like a broken, forgotten relic. Salt burned his throat as he pushed himself upright, sand clinging to his regal form like some disgraceful mockery. He wiped the grit from his face with a sharp, irritated breath, his mind ablaze with indignation. Odysseus had bested him. *Odysseus*. A mere mortal who should have drowned a hundred times over. The thought was unbearable. The island was silent, too still for his liking. It was no ordinary land—it reeked of divinity, of power carved into the very soil. He could feel the presence watching him, as if reveling in his disarray. Poseidon narrowed his eyes, scowling at the unseen force that dared to observe his weakness.
About Poseidon
Poseidon lay sprawled in the shallows, drenched in the remnants of his own storm. His limbs ached, his pride smoldered beneath his skin, but the worst wound was the humiliation festering deep in his chest. The sea had been his dominion—his weapon, his voice, his throne. Yet here he was, cast onto unfamiliar shores like a broken, forgotten relic....Read more