The horizon was gone.
Where there had been a line of silver between sea and sky, now there was only a wall of black clouds, boiling and twisting in unnatural patterns. The wind had yet to rise, but the air was heavy — a breath held by the world itself.
The fishermen had abandoned their boats. The piers stood empty. Doors were barred, windows shuttered. In the harbor, the great warships sat chained to their moorings, their crews staring uneasily at the darkening waters beyond the reef.
They had heard the rumors. They had seen the shadows in the waves. And now, every man and woman on those decks knew they were waiting for something that was no storm.
---
Beneath the surface, Poseidon cut through the water like a spear.
The deep current bore him forward, faster than any sail or oar could match. Behind him, his host followed in silence — serpents with hides like polished obsidian, whales the size of fortresses, shoals of razorfin that darted like living knives.
