Lightning met tide while thunder met the abyss. The heavens convulsed as Zeus and Poseidon clashed again, no longer as brothers—but as rival elements, each refusing to yield.
Poseidon drove his trident into the earth.
At once, the waters below surged in response. Massive serpents of seawater rose from the cracks, their eyes glowing green with ancient enchantments, their bodies hundreds of feet long. Their coils slithered around broken pillars and ruins, snapping their jaws at anything in reach.
Zeus raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Thunderbolts streaked down—not from the clouds, but from his own chest. Each bolt split mid-air into forked arcs of divine electricity, targeting every serpent simultaneously. They shrieked, exploded into clouds of boiling mist—but not before one wrapped around Zeus's leg and yanked him off his feet.
He crashed into the ground, sending up a geyser of shattered marble. The sea rushed in.
Poseidon didn't let him recover.
