Lost at Sea

Ch. 4

Few ever seem to recall that Zeus is a god of prophesy. Or of mild prophetic power, at least. (Though if anyone were to describe Zeus as "mild" anything to his face they'd promptly feel the wrath of 1,000 volts of electricity coursing through them.) According to Aeschylus, Zeus is the "source of all prophetic power, front whom all prophetic signs and sounds proceeded. Zeus was quite pleased with this description and rewarded Aeschylus heavily, ensuring that his texts would be preserved for thousands of years. At Dodona, Zeus was regarded as a prophetic god above all else.

Still, despite his association with prophesy for thousands of years, there's a reason Zeus is only really know for thunder and lightning and ruling the gods -- and that's because he really wasn't that good at it. While Apollo had his oracles and the Fates their natural insight, Zeus was left with only small snatches of future that he could very rarely make any sort of sense of on his own. This was a source of wounded pride for the king of the gods, and so he very rarely mentioned his prophetic gift himself, instead content to be remembered and feared for where his true power lied.

Over the course of the centuries and the millennia, Zeus's connection to prophesy grew weaker and weaker. He'd have an occasional glimpse into the future every two or three hundred years, but nothing more. It had been nearly 500 years since his last moment of insight when Zeus had a vision that made the ichor coursing through his veins run cold.

"It can't be."

Maybe he was mistaken; actually interpreting visions and prophesies had never been his strong suit. It could mean anything. Absolutely anything other than what he felt it meant.

It was time to consult the Fates.

She should have scoffed. Run away in terror. Bowed down and begged for mercy. Anything, really, aside from what she actually did.

She laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. She hadn't laughed so hard in years, if she ever had at all. It was just all so crazy, so-- Preposterous. Yes, that was the word: preposterous. It was one thing to believe in monsters and spirits; another thing entirely to even imagine the possibility of gods. Plural. Her uncle, a devout Catholic, would have been so displeased.

Eventually Sally became aware of herself, and the laughter slowly eased. She wiped tears from the corner of her eyes, then turned to the man -- sorry, god. "I'm-- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh so hard, but, that was joke, right? A god? There's something about you, I'll give you that, but you hardly strike me as godly."

A frown flickered across his face but was gone in an instant, his expression morphing back into an easy smile. "That's not quite the reaction I'm used to getting. Then again, I haven't revealed myself in ages. I suppose the mortal world -- and it's sense of reverence -- has changed. You don't believe I am who I say? Who are you to discount it, one who sees all that lies through the Mist. You, more than anyone, should realize that there's more to the world than most humans suppose."

"I take your point," Sally said with a tilt of the head, crossing her arms in front of her. "But-- Poseidon? Like the Ancient Greek deity and Zeus and the pantheon and all that? It would be one thing for there to be a god, but you're asking me to believe in mythology."

"Yes, I am." He stared intently at her without breaking eye contact, and for a moment, as she found herself drowning in the depths of his sea green eyes, she almost believed him. He stood. "I usually don't degrade myself with demonstrations, but just for you."

He was already halfway down the beach before Sally thought to jump up and follow him. The moment his feet met the shoreline, the water swelled up to greet him, wrapping him in what can only be described as a tight embrace. The water rose, and he rose with it, until he was towering above nearly ten feet in the air, held up by swirling currents of sea water. The trident was somehow in his hand again, and this time Sally noticed that it was encompassed by a faint green glow. The man moved the trident from side to side, and as he did the waves below shifted with him. Finally he began to slowly sink down as his column of water dispersed. When he was touching the sea floor, he stuck the end of his trident into the sand. It slowly sunk into the water and the sand until it was no longer in sight.

He smiled. "Hello, Sally Jackson."

Her breath caught in her chest. "Hello, Poseidon."