A wooden boat shot out of the ocean and crashed into the beach with the force of a cannonball. It shattered on impact, sending pieces flying and leaving Cyd sprawled in the sand, coughing and blinking in disbelief.
"Cough, cough! Lord Poseidon, could you maybe go a bit easier next time?" Cyd groaned, pushing himself up on his knees, sand clinging to his clothes.
Honestly, if it weren't for his absurdly good luck (or maybe Poseidon's twisted idea of 'help'), Cyd would probably be another tragic corpse washed up on the shore by now. He brushed the sand off, then bowed dramatically toward the ocean.
"Well… Lord Poseidon, I offer you my highest respect," he said with a sigh. "Thanks for the lift. I'll take it from here."
That was the plan, anyway. In truth, Cyd had no idea where he was supposed to go. For fifteen years, he'd only known the tiny island he grew up on, ruled by the two demon goddesses who thought of him as some kind of living doll. Now that he was free, the big question was... where to?
"Prometheus," he muttered to himself, recalling the story he'd overheard from Stheno. The Titan who'd stolen fire from the gods and got punished by Zeus to have his liver eaten by an eagle every day. Apparently, he was still chained up on some mountain, which meant Cyd was living in the time of legends. Maybe even the time of Heracles. Hopefully, before Heracles showed up to free Prometheus. The last thing Cyd needed was to run into any demigod heroes.
Greek Myth Survival Rule Number One: Never get involved with heroes. Most of them were sons of Zeus, and messing with them could mean catching the attention of Hera. And Hera was definitely someone you did not want on your bad side.
But first things first—he had to figure out where he was. He needed to find Prometheus, not to free him (nope, no Zeus lightning bolts for Cyd), but because the Titan knew things. If anyone could help him survive, it was him.
"Now, where exactly am I... and how do I get to the Caucasus Mountains?" Cyd scratched his head, realizing he didn't even know which part of Greece he'd washed up on.
[Thump—]
Cyd paused mid-step.
[Thump—]
He turned around, annoyed. "What is that? A horse?"
Behind him, a huge, majestic white horse with deep, intelligent eyes stared back. It nudged him gently, like it had been waiting for him this whole time.
"Uh… you here to help me?" Cyd asked, pointing at himself.
The horse nodded. Yes, nodded. It pranced around him like it was all excited to get going.
"Did Poseidon send you?" Cyd glanced back at the ocean, half-expecting the sea god to pop up and say 'You're welcome.' But the waves just lapped peacefully at the shore.
The horse flicked its tail and nudged Cyd again, urging him to move forward.
"I guess that's a yes…" Cyd muttered. He wasn't about to question a gift horse—especially one sent by a god. "Alright, let's get to the Caucasus Mountains."
The horse knelt down, letting Cyd hop on its back. He wasn't tall, so the help was appreciated.
"Good horse," he said, patting its neck. "Let's go!"
The horse snorted, shaking its head, and trotted off in the opposite direction. Apparently, it knew the way.
As they traveled, they passed hunters who shot curious glances at Cyd's snow-white hair and skin. But when they saw the white horse, they respectfully kept their distance. This was Poseidon's horse, after all.
Then came the bandits.
"Hey, kid! Hand over the horse, and all your valuables," a big, burly guy with a rusty sword stepped out from behind a tree, sneering at Cyd. "That hair of yours? That'll fetch a good price."
Cyd tensed. Sure, he'd done a bit of hunting on the island, but he had no idea how to fight a grown man, let alone a bunch of them. He shrank back, gripping the horse's mane nervously.
"Look at him shaking!" the bandit leader cackled. "This'll be easy—"
Bang.
Without warning, the horse kicked the bandit square in the head. His body dropped like a sack of rocks, blood splattering everywhere.
The other bandits froze, staring at the horse in horror. It stomped on the leader's body like it was swatting a fly, then turned its piercing gaze on them.
"Uh… run!" one of the bandits finally yelled, and they all scattered.
But the horse wasn't having it. It charged forward at lightning speed, taking them down one by one with brutal kicks. Bones crunched, blood splattered, and in seconds, the entire gang was lying in the dirt.
Cyd just sat there, wide-eyed and speechless.
The horse snorted again, as if saying, You're welcome.
"Uh… wow." Cyd swallowed, trying not to look too closely at the carnage. "I guess… thanks? But seriously, how am I supposed to survive in this era?"