The sea is red with blood when I wash ashore. My family—Spyros, Marmara—is gone, swallowed by Hades’ wrath. I didn’t ask to be a son of Zeus. I didn’t want this power, this curse. But now, Argos burns under the shadow of the Kraken, and Princess Andromeda is to be sacrificed because her mother dared to boast.

Io finds me on the cliffs, her eyes ancient, her voice calm. 'You are not just a man, Perseus. You are the storm between two worlds.' She tells me of Medusa, of the Stygian Witches, of the only weapon that can kill the Kraken. I don’t believe her. Not until I see the Furies circling the city like vultures.

Draco and the King’s Guard arrive, battered but alive. 'We fight,' he says, gripping his sword. 'Or we die on our knees.'

I look at the horizon, where Pegasus once flew. 'Then we fight. But not for the gods. For the ones they’ve forgotten.'

The journey begins at dawn.