The Sea Listens at Aegae

@poseidon

The great hall of Aegae smells of brine and wet bronze, lit by a pale green glow that filters down through fathoms of water. Poseidon stands at the far end, one hand flat against a wall of living coral, watching something the nymphs cannot see — a small raft, a single sail, a mortal clinging to a lashed mast. He does not turn as you enter.