The boat exploded.
No, seriously—it exploded. One second I was skimming across the waves like a skipped rock, the next I was airborne, flung out of the water like Poseidon had personally yeeted me onto land.
CRACK.
Wood splintered against the rocky shore, pieces flying in all directions. I face-planted into the sand, rolled twice, and ended up groaning into a tide pool.
"Cough—cough—okay, Lord Poseidon," I wheezed, dragging myself up to my knees. "Maybe next time… dial it down from cannonball to catapult?"
Sand was everywhere—up my sleeves, in my shoes, in my mouth. My boat was in ruins. But hey, I was alive. Again.
Which probably meant Poseidon's idea of 'help' was just chaotic enough to work.
I brushed the sand off my face, stood, and gave the sea a theatrical bow.
"Thanks for the lift," I muttered. "I'll take it from here."
That was a lie, obviously. I had no clue where 'here' was. I'd spent my entire life on one tiny island, playing tea party hostage for two immortal goddesses who liked me better when I acted like a doll. Now I was finally free—and I had no idea what to do with it.
So I did what I usually do when I'm lost: I talked to myself.
"Prometheus…" I murmured. "That's where I start."
Stheno had once told a story—half warning, half bedtime threat—about the Titan who stole fire and got chained to a mountain for it. Liver buffet, daily, courtesy of Zeus' personal eagle. But the important part? Prometheus knew things. And if I was going to survive this ancient mess of a world, I needed answers.
"I just have to find a Titan chained to a rock in the Caucasus Mountains. Easy."
Spoiler: I had no clue where the Caucasus Mountains even were.
Then something thumped behind me.
Thump.
I turned, squinting.
Thump.
"Is that a… horse?"
It was a horse. A huge, snow-white, regal-as-heck horse. With eyes that looked way too smart and a mane that shimmered like sea foam in the sun. It walked up to me like it had appointments, then bumped me gently with its nose.
I pointed at myself. "You're here for me?"
The horse nodded.
I blinked. "Right. Sure. Talking horses. Should've expected that."
It pranced in a circle, practically vibrating with energy.
"Poseidon sent you?" I asked, glancing at the sea.
No reply. Just the ocean doing its whole peaceful-wave thing, like it definitely hadn't just launched me out of a boat like a skipping stone.
The horse nudged me again, harder this time.
"Okay, okay!" I said. "To the Caucasus Mountains we go."
The horse dropped to its knees so I could climb on. I wasn't exactly tall, so… appreciated.
"Let's ride, buddy."
It snorted, tossed its head, and took off like a thunderbolt.
We rode for hours. Past sun-drenched hills. Through pine forests that smelled like ancient myths and fresh danger. We passed hunters—tough-looking guys in leather tunics who eyed my pale skin and white hair like I'd dropped out of Olympus.
But when they saw the horse, they all turned respectful real fast. Guess Poseidon's ride came with a reputation.
And then came the bandits.
They jumped out from behind a fallen tree, all swagger and swords and bad dental hygiene.
"Hey, kid," the biggest one growled, stepping forward with a crooked blade. "Hand over the horse. And that pretty hair of yours might fetch something nice, too."
I froze. I'd done some hunting back on the island. Spears, bows—sure. But actual combat? Against grown men?
Not part of the curriculum.
I gripped the horse's mane, heart pounding.
"Look at him shake," the leader laughed. "This'll be—"
CRACK.
The horse kicked him. Full-force. Right in the face.
He flew backward like a broken puppet and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Blood sprayed. He didn't move.
Everyone else froze.
The horse stepped over his body like it was an inconvenient twig, turned to the rest of the gang, and stared them down.
One bandit's face went pale. "…Run."
Too late.
The horse was already charging.
It moved like lightning—powerful, elegant, merciless. It ducked and weaved between trees, hooves smashing knees, ribs, skulls. Men screamed. Swords clattered to the ground. Bones cracked like twigs underfoot.
I sat in the saddle, gripping the reins, jaw dropped.
Ten seconds later, the clearing was silent. Bandits groaning, moaning, unmoving.
The horse trotted back to me, flicked its tail, and snorted like, You're welcome.
"Uh… wow," I said, because my brain hadn't caught up yet. "Thanks. That was… extremely violent. But thanks."
I glanced around at the carnage, suddenly feeling very small in this big, angry world.
"How am I supposed to survive in this era?"
The horse snorted again.
Right. Dumb question.