All Chapters of Poseidon's Mistress: Chapter 1 - Chapter 4

I knew the sound of death before I knew many words.   Death was metal hitting metal, boots on stone, men shouting in voices too sharp and too loud, voices that cracked through the air and sent birds scattering from trees. Death smelled like sweat, leather, horse, and blood.   I did not understand everything they yelled, but I understood enough.   “Harpy,” one man shouted, his voice harsh with disgust.   “Spawn,” another spat, his tone sharp and eager.   “There!” a third cried, loud and triumphant.   The last word had sent me running.   My wings dragged behind me, too heavy and too young to carry me far, and one would not fold right anymore. Every step pulled fire through the place where the spear had grazed me, tearing feathers and skin and making the world blur at the edges. I wanted the sky, but the sky would not take me. My wings beat once, weak and useless, and

I watched the boy after that.   Not only did he come to the shelter with stolen food tucked into his clothes and mud on his knees, but I also watched him through cracks in the old boards and thin spaces between weeds, preferring to keep my distance. Watching was safer than trusting; it kept my instincts sharp.   Zeno moved differently around his brothers. With me, he was slow and careful, as if my fear mattered more than his urgency. With them, he folded smaller.   Damon, the oldest, stood straight and solid, earning nods from adults. Theron walked chest-first, always loud and ready for a fight, while Lykos was sharp-eyed and alert.   Zeno was the one between them—not because they made space, but because he slipped through the gaps they overlooked. Smaller than Damon, softer than Theron, and slower than Lykos, he often went unnoticed. He learned to hide hurt quickly, just as I learned to conceal blood.