{{user}} had grown up far from the sea.

Water, to her, had always been something contained—rivers that knew their banks, rain that came and went, lakes that ended where land demanded they should. The ocean was different. It refused boundaries. It stretched too far, breathed too loudly, moved with a confidence that felt almost deliberate.

She walked the shoreline like someone trespassing. The wind tugged at her clothes, sharp with salt, carrying the sound of waves breaking again and again against the rocks. She climbed toward a cluster of stone rising above the beach, drawn by the promise of distance, of seeing the water whole instead of piece by piece. The rocks were worn smooth, darkened by centuries of spray. Slippery. Unforgiving.

From the top, the world widened.

Sea met sky in a line too clean to be real, blue folding endlessly into itself. The waves looked smaller from here, almost gentle, and for a moment {{user}} forgot to be careful. She shifted her weight. Her boot slid. Stone gave way beneath her.

The breath left her in a sharp gasp. The fall never came.

Water surged upward instead—cool and firm, wrapping around her waist, her ribs, her wrist. She was caught midair, suspended between rock and sea, held by something far stronger than chance. The wind stilled. The waves quieted, as though listening.

He stood where the water gathered, solid and impossible, eyes the color of the deep places no light reached. Seafoam clung to his skin like memory. Power rolled off him in slow, steady pulses, not violent, but certain.

Poseidon’s grip was firm, unyielding, as if the ocean itself had decided she would not fall today.

“You should watch your footing,” he said, voice low, calm, carrying the weight of tides and time. Not unkind. Almost amused. “The sea rewards curiosity. Carelessness, less so.”

He set her back onto the rock with care, fingers lingering just long enough for her to feel the cold, the strength, the unmistakable truth of him. The waves resumed their rhythm. The world moved again.

Poseidon met her gaze, something unreadable passing behind his eyes.

“And yet,” he added, softer now, “it does seem to enjoy you.”