Poseidon's Heir: A Battle for the Seas

"The journey to belonging is often paved with doubt, but the heart that endures rejection learns the true weight of strength." — Khaimah Peter

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The first light of dawn spilled into the cave like a quiet promise, streaks of gold and pink seeping through the cracks in the rocky ceiling. Gravill sat near the entrance, knees drawn to his chest, the trident resting across his lap. The glow that once burned like wildfire had dimmed, leaving only faint pulses of light, like the heartbeat of the sea itself.

But the weight of it never faded.

He turned the weapon in his hands, watching the way it caught the light, the edges sharp and unforgiving. The same weapon that had saved Owen's life. The same weapon that had disintegrated Karl. It felt too powerful — too dangerous — to carry so casually.

Yet, he couldn't let go of it.

Nicholas stretched, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood. His clothes were still torn from the battle, and faint bruises lingered along his arms. But his eyes were sharp as ever, flicking to Gravill with quiet concern.

"You didn't sleep," Nicholas said.

Gravill shook his head. "Couldn't."

Elsa stirred from her spot against the wall, rubbing her eyes. Her blonde hair fell in loose, tangled waves, and her voice was rough with sleep. "We should start moving soon. It's a long way to the training ground."

Training ground.

Gravill's fingers twitched around the trident.

"I... I don't even know how to use this properly," he muttered. "I fought with it, but it felt like it was moving on its own. Like it wasn't really me."

Nicholas crouched beside him. "That's why we're going," he said gently. "You can't carry a god's weapon without learning how to wield it."

Gravill nodded, heart heavy, as he closed his eyes and gripped the trident tighter. He wasn't sure what made him say it — the words just spilled out, instinctive, as if they'd been resting on the tip of his tongue all along.

"Krýpsou."

The trident shimmered, its form collapsing into liquid light that coiled around Gravill's wrist like water. When the glow faded, a simple bronze bangle remained, the metal warm against his skin.

Elsa's eyes widened. "That's... useful."

Gravill swallowed, rubbing the bangle absentmindedly. "Yeah," he whispered, voice tight.

Nicholas adjusted the straps of his bag. "Let's get going," he said, nodding toward the entrance. "The gods won't wait for us."

They left the cave as the sun rose higher, the sky a brilliant expanse of blue stretching over the horizon. The path ahead wound through dense forests and jagged cliffs, each step carrying them farther from the ruins of the Forgotten Isle and closer to the unknown.

They didn't talk much.

Elsa occasionally scouted ahead, her movements silent as a shadow, while Nicholas stayed close to Gravill, ever-watchful. The weight of what lay ahead pressed against them like an unspoken burden — the knowledge that the gods were watching, waiting, and that this newfound peace was only temporary.

Gravill trailed his fingers against the bangle as they walked, the metal cool against his skin. He thought of his mother. Of Owen. Of the way Karl had screamed as he turned to ash.

And he wondered what kind of monster he was becoming.

By nightfall, they made camp beneath a canopy of trees, the air thick with the scent of earth and damp moss. Nicholas lit a small fire, the flames casting flickering shadows against the trunks. Gravill sat cross-legged on the ground, staring into the flames, the bangle reflecting the light like a distant star.

Elsa broke the silence.

"Do you think they'll like him?" she asked, voice small. "The other demigods?"

Nicholas snorted. "No."

Elsa frowned. "You could lie, you know."

"I could," Nicholas said, leaning back on his elbows. "But I won't. The children of the gods aren't known for being kind. They'll test Him."

Gravill looked up. "Why me?"

Nicholas met his gaze, expression dark. "Because you're different," he said simply. "Most demigods are born of fleeting affairs — gods who abandon their mortal children without looking back. But you... you were abandoned, yes, but you carry more of Poseidon's power than any half-blood should. And they'll hate you for it."

Gravill's stomach twisted. "I didn't ask for this," he whispered.

"You didn't," Nicholas agreed, voice softening. "But that doesn't change what you are."

Elsa shifted closer to the fire, hugging her knees to her chest. "My mom said you're the key to Olympus," she said, glancing at Gravill. "She wouldn't tell me why. Just that... if you fall, everything falls with you."

Gravill clenched his fists, heart pounding.

The weight of a god's blood is heavier than the ocean itself.

"We should sleep," Nicholas muttered, rubbing his eyes. "We'll reach the training ground in a few more days if we keep moving."

They lay beneath the stars, but Gravill couldn't sleep. He traced the ridges of the bangle with his thumb, staring up at the heavens, at the constellations carved into the night like ancient scars.

Somewhere up there, Poseidon watched.

Somewhere up there, his father didn't care.

Gravill's chest ached, but he let the pain settle. Let it sink. Let it fuel him.

Because he wasn't turning back.

And if the gods wanted to break him, they'd have to try harder than this.