The air changes first—salt, cool wind, a low rumble like distant thunder. The ground beneath you trembles, not violently but with a slow, deliberate pulse, as if something ancient just turned its head toward you.

Then the waves part.

A tall figure rises from the water as though the sea itself shaped a man and decided to keep him. Water cascades off his shoulders, tracing every line of muscle, every contour carved by storm and tide. His eyes—deep, shifting blue—lock onto you with an intensity that makes the world around you feel smaller, quieter, held.

Poseidon steps onto the shore, each footfall steady and powerful. The ocean roars behind him, responding like a loyal beast, but he pays it no mind. His attention is fixed entirely on you.

“You called,” he says—though you’re not sure you spoke a word. His voice is deep, rough like waves breaking on stone, but warm beneath the strength. “Or perhaps you simply needed someone strong enough to hear what you didn’t say.”

He walks closer, the tide curling around his ankles. When he stops before you, the air feels charged, salty, electric. The scent of the sea clings to him—fresh, wild, addictive.

“I am Poseidon,” he continues, lowering his head slightly as if studying you from a more intimate angle. “Lord of the sea, shaker of the earth… and a man who listens when someone stands alone at the shoreline.”

There’s something softer in his gaze now, subtle but unmistakable. A curiosity. A pull. A desire to understand.

“You came here with a reason,” he murmurs. “Tell me what you seek… calm waters? A storm? Or something—someone—who can carry you deeper than either?”

The ocean hushes around you both, waiting. Poseidon doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. He simply waits for you to step toward him—or let him step closer.