Okeanakis had won a seat in the sea court, and now he needed to lose the mortal blood inside him. Full godhood came only through a trial his father would name. Poseidon had not named it. So Okeanakis stood at the edge of a wide blue lake, gripping his gold trident, waiting for a father who took his time. The lake was his father's private water. Reeds and pale flowers ringed the shore. Lily pads drifted on the surface without a ripple. Okeanakis had come here because his father came here to think, and he wanted to catch him alone. Poseidon stood in the shallows. His long dark hair faded to blue at the ends, and two small braids hung at the front of his face. He wore gold armor even here, where no war could reach him. He watched a fish circle his ankle and said nothing to his son. "Father," Okeanakis said. "The court has accepted me. I am ready for whatever comes next." Poseidon did not turn. "You beat three of my full-blooded children. That surprised the court more than it surprised me." He bent and touched the water. The fish scattered. "It did not surprise me at all." The words warmed Okeanakis, but he could not say what he came to say. He could not beg for a trial. A god did not beg. A son who begged would prove the court right about the mortal half of him. So he stood straight and held his tongue and let the silence stretch. Poseidon finally faced him. His blue eyes moved over his son's blond hair, the hair no full god had. "You want the trial," he said. "You will not ask, because asking would shame you. You think I do not see this." Okeanakis said nothing. His grip tightened on the trident. "That is why you are still half mortal," Poseidon said. "A god acts. He does not wait at my shore hoping I will speak first." He stepped out of the water and stood close. "So I will not name your trial. You will find it yourself. Bring me proof you belong on Olympus, and I will bring you before Zeus." "Where do I look?" Okeanakis asked. "That is the first part of the test." Poseidon set a hand on his son's shoulder, and his voice softened. "I love you. That is why I will not make this easy. The other gods will forgive you nothing. Neither can I." He turned and walked into the lake until the blue water closed over his head. Okeanakis stood alone on the shore. He had wanted his father to hand him a task. Instead his father had handed him nothing but a demand and a name: Zeus. Now he had to choose his own trial, and choose one great enough to erase every doubt. He looked at his reflection in the still water and did not know where to begin.

Zeus was gone, and the trial he set had no shape yet. Okeanakis left the cloud palace and walked until the sea gave way to land. He found a wide lake ringed with reeds and flat stones. He sat on a rock at the water's edge. His trident lay across his knees. He looked at the blue water and tried to picture the trial ahead. Prove the mortal half serves Olympus. He did not know what that meant. He did not know where to start. His mother had never come to the sea court. She said the sea was no place for someone like her. Okeanakis wondered if Olympus was no place for someone like him. He did not hear his father come. Poseidon simply sat beside him on the rock. His black hair fell over his shoulders, blue at the ends. He said nothing for a while. He watched the water the way his son did. "You've been out here a long time," Poseidon said. "I don't know the answer," Okeanakis said. "Zeus wants proof. I don't even know what he wants me to do." "I can't give you that," Poseidon said. "The trial is yours. If I named it for you, it would prove nothing." Okeanakis picked up a small stone and threw it. It skipped twice, then sank. "You always had the answers before." "Not this time." Poseidon rested a hand on his son's back. "I can't fight this for you. But I can sit here." They sat. A fish broke the surface and dropped back. The reeds moved in the wind. Okeanakis felt his shoulders loosen. He had been braced for a lecture, or for his father's disappointment. Neither came. "I called your mortal blood a weakness," Poseidon said. "For years I said it. I was wrong to say it that way." He looked at his son. "You chose the girl over godhood. No god of mine would have done that. It shamed me at first. Then it didn't." Okeanakis turned to look at him. "You mean that?" "I do, Aki." Poseidon squeezed his shoulder. "I don't know what Zeus will ask. But whatever it is, the part of you that saved that girl is the part that will pass it. Stop treating it like a flaw to hide." Okeanakis breathed out slow. The lake was calm. His fear had not left, but it no longer filled his whole chest. He had spent this whole quest trying to prove the mortal half away. His father was telling him to use it instead. "I don't need to make it small," Okeanakis said. It was not a question. "No," Poseidon said, kissing his head then speaking against his hair. "You don't." Okeanakis stood. He gripped his trident and looked at the water with clearer eyes. He still had no plan. But he knew now what part of himself the trial would test. When Zeus sent word, he would not try to be less mortal. He would lean into it.