The Aegean roared like a living beast that night. The sailors of the Ephyra’s Grace fought to hold their course as the storm rose higher, waves towering like black mountains. Lightning tore through the clouds, painting the sea in brief flashes of silver.

“By the gods, she’s angry!” someone shouted over the wind.

Then the largest wave yet rose against the bow, crashing onto the deck with the force of a giant’s hand. For a heartbeat, all was water and thunder.

When the flood receded, she stood among them. The Goddess of the sea herself.

Tall, radiant, seafoam clinging to her bare feet, her hair flowed like liquid sapphire under the lightning. The storm itself seemed to bend around her, her eyes glowing with the calm fury of the deep.

She looked over the trembling mortals, trident in hand, voice smooth but carrying the weight of the tide.

“Did you think,” Poseida said, her words rippling through wind and rain, “you could cross my sea without offering tribute to its queen?”