Two helicopters sliced through the sky toward Seriphos Island—an Apache and a Black Hawk. From his seat in the Black Hawk, Jim gazed out at the horizon as the unit's destination came into view. The island unfolded below them in rugged terrain, its single major city tucked into the sheltered curve of a circular lagoon. Though smaller than Argos, the sight was still striking.

  The helicopters circled overhead, searching for a suitable landing zone. From above, Jim surveyed the sprawling clusters of sun-baked brick homes, their open courtyards baking under the midday heat. Narrow streets wound through the city like ribbons, all converging toward an elaborate building at its heart.

  This wasn't the stark white marble palace he'd expected—it was an explosion of color and life. Vibrant murals covered every surface, depicting swirling ocean waves, sea creatures, and fierce warriors in battle. Massive ceramic urns perched on painted pedestals, spilling over with emerald ferns. Jeweled stones caught the sunlight from within the walls, while towering columns decorated in blues, greens, and flowing floral patterns framed the palace's magnificent entrance.

  Jim's gaze then settled on the statues—massive stone effigies of a long-bearded figure wielding a trident, their presence dominating the cityscape. Poseidon. It made sense. This was an island city-state, and if the people of Seriphos worshipped anyone above all, it would be the God of the sea.

  His eyes drifted past the palace to an even more imposing structure behind it—a temple. Nearly the same size as the palace itself, the temple looked like a fully intact, vividly adorned version of the Parthenon. Its terracotta roof gleamed under the sun, contrasting with the brilliant blue columns that lined its perimeter. The craftsmanship was breathtaking—a testament to the devotion these people had for their one god.

  Jim turned to Medusa. She was staring at the temple, her expression unreadable, her snakes eerily still. He could only guess what was going through her mind. The name Polydectes had come up in their mission briefing—king of Seriphos, a devout follower of Poseidon. Jim wondered what she thought of this city, of these people who worshipped the very god responsible for her fate.

  The helicopters continued their descent, but Jim's attention remained on Medusa. If any part of her past that haunted her, this place—and the god it revered—was surely at the center of it.

  The Black Hawk began its descent while the Apache remained airborne. Guards armed with spears and shields rushed out of the palace. They eased up as it touched down on the tiled ground, and Perseus hopped off nervously. The rest of the group disembarked, and the helicopter lifted off again, circling overhead to rejoin the Apache.

  A trio of guards approached Perseus, their eyes flickering with suspicion as they sized up Jim's entire group before shifting their focus back to him.

  "You made it back," one of them remarked, his tone tinged with surprise.

  "Nice to see you too," Perseus replied dryly. "I need to speak with the king."

  "He's busy," the guard shot back, his stance rigid.

  "I don't care if he is or not. He's expecting me." Perseus countered, his voice sharpening.

  The tension rose. Veronica subtly tapped her rifle. The guard's gaze drifted uneasily from the weapons back to Perseus before he exhaled sharply.

  "Fine. Follow me," he muttered. "But keep it civil."

  "I hope you do, for your sake," Jim murmured under his breath.

  The group moved forward, shadowing the guards as they led them through the palace courtyard. Along the way, more guards joined them, forming a growing escort as they ascended the stone steps leading into the megaron.

  At the far end of the chamber, King Polydectes sat on his throne, looking imperious. The aging ruler appeared to be in his late fifties, with a long, curly beard and a slender face. His sharp nose and small mouth gave him a stern, calculating appearance. Draped in a flowing tunic, he watched the approaching group with an unreadable expression.

  Dana? stood beside him—a slightly younger woman with warm, olive-toned skin. Dark hair spilled over her shoulders, while bold blue eyeshadow emphasized her eyes. Despite her tense posture, she carried herself with a regal air, clad in a flowing salmon-colored tunic and basic string sandals.

  Guards lined the throne room in disciplined rows along both walls, while aristos clustered to one side, exchanging glances and hushed whispers. Slaves glided silently through the chamber as Jim's group entered and an eerie hush settled over the room.

  Every gaze locked onto the newcomers—an unfamiliar sight in a place accustomed to rigid decorum.

  "Perseus! I didn't expect you to return. You look worse for wear. Recent scuffle?" Perseus nodded tightly. The king continued, "It seems you have brought company. Who are these strangely dressed people?"

  Perseus stood firm. "These people are my friends."

  Veronica shot him a sharp glare, but he ignored it and pressed on. "I've come for my mother."

  "I told you before, boy. Your mother is my wife now! You don't get to take her from me. Honestly, it's like talking to a stone."

  Jim can't hold back a chuckle.

  King Polydectes chuckled, his eyes flicking over the group with amusement. "Your friends don't seem fond of you," he mused, before his gaze landed on Medusa. His expression twisted with revulsion. "And that..." He raised a finger, pointing at her. "That creature... Is that—"

  "Indeed," Perseus interrupted. "This is Medusa."

  At the mention of her name, Medusa leveled a cold glare at the king. Her snakes writhed. A collective gasp swept through the room. Polydectes' sycophants and Dana? recoiled in horror, and some guards instinctively stepped back.

  "How did you manage... to capture her? I assume you had help from your... friends?" Polydectes spat, his voice thick with disgust.

  Veronica, now glaring at the king instead of Perseus, flipped off the safety on her rifle. Though still pointed downward, the motion was deliberate.

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  Perseus straightened, his voice ringing with defiance. "All my life you've mocked me, belittled me, set me up to fail. You think I can't handle monsters? I am the son of Zeus, and I brought her here to prove otherwise. There she is—along with the rest of her."

  Beside Polydectes, Dana?'s face clouded with worry, her eyes darting between her son and the king.

  "Very well. I accept your tribute."

  "She's not tribute, Polydectes. I'm proposing a trade."

  "A trade?" Polydectes scoffed. "You think so little of your mother that you'd offer me a monster in exchange?"

  Perseus's expression hardened. "No, I think so little of you."

  Polydectes's frown deepened. More safeties clicked off. The Seriphos guards pivoted, spears at the ready. Jim's squad raised their rifles in response. Jim's gaze never left Polydectes.

  "Such a child! Have you ever conducted proper business before? Of course not—you've spent your life whining until someone threw scraps to quiet you." Polydectes rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "In civilized society, men approach trade with mutual respect, especially when dealing with royalty. If I'm to consider any purchase, I must inspect the merchandise first."

  Perseus felt his anger surge, fists clenching as he struggled against a man whose power he couldn't directly challenge.

  Jim had heard enough. His voice cut through the tension, firm and unwavering. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry, but Medusa's not merchandise."

  Polydectes's face twisted into a scowl, his fury palpable. "Who gave you permission to speak?" he hissed, his voice laced with venom. "You. Emissary. What is your name?"

  "Lieutenant James Barnett, United States Army."

  "Are you here to advise this boy, or was this trade your idea?"

  "My team and I are here to ensure Dana? is returned to her son."

  "And why would you be concerned with what goes on in my kingdom? What lies has the little boy been feeding you?"

  Jim didn't flinch, his gaze hardening. "Listen, your Majesty. We don't want any trouble. Let's settle this peacefully. Release Dana?, and we'll leave your island with no further disturbances." He reached for his holster, smoothly pulling out his pistol and clicking off the safety—a silent yet undeniable threat.

  "How dare you enter my kingdom, ?my house, and malign me! I am Polydectes, son of Magnes, son of Aeolus and ruler of Seriphos."

  "Pinchi pendejo," Veronica mumbled. Jim held back a laugh.

  "You think my bloodline is a joke, Emissary?"

  Perseus answered, "I think you're the joke. I am the son of Zeus. I brought you Medusa to show that I am not a child. But if you don't let my mother go, I will bring the power of my father!"

  Polydectes's expression turned red. "And now you threaten me? Let me tell you something, little boy—Zeus has no power in his brother's domain." He looked around at his courtiers, who laughed on cue. "Your mother certainly did a poor job of teaching you manners. No matter, we'll have that discussion later. Guards!" he barked, raising a hand.

  Immediately, all the guards raised their shields and spears, dropping into fighting stances. The tension in the room thickened—every breath heavy with the promise of violence. Archers in the back drew their bows. In response, Jim's squad leveled their rifles at the line of defenders. Jim stepped closer to Medusa and lifted his riot shield, positioning it in front of them both.

  A few arrows flew between the warriors, slicing through the air. A few found their mark embedding into armor with little effect, but most missed. Several spears flew toward Medusa, only to glance off Jim's shield with a hollow thunk.

  "Negotiation's over—time to rock!" Veronica shouted, diving to the side. She dropped to one knee and fired off a burst of quick, precise shots. The rest of Jim's squad followed suit, firing away at the guards as fast as they could.

  Sharp cracks echoed through the chamber. Spent brass casings rattled across the stone floor. In an instant, several rounds punched through the chest plate of an advancing guard. He staggered, clutching his wounds before collapsing. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and spreading, seeping from the gaping exit wounds in his back.

  For a moment, silence gripped the room.

  Every gaze fixed on the fallen guard. An immediate and palpable reaction of shock spread rapidly throughout the assembled crowd. Frozen in place, his comrades' minds grappled with understanding the recent events, the absence of a blade, spear, or any form of visible projectile adding to the confusion. Just death, swift and merciless.

  Then came the roar. The guards cried out in rage, breaking from their trance. They hurled spears and loosed arrows, desperate to retaliate against the unseen force that had just decimated one of their own.

  More spears ricocheted off Jim's shield, clattering to the floor. Arrows whistled through the air, some striking Veronica's armor—yet she remained unfazed, not even sparing them a glance as she continued firing with deadly precision.

  Jim caught the look in the islanders' eyes—confusion, disbelief.

  Amid the chaos, King Polydectes seized Dana? by the arm. He shot a quick glance at his guard captain who signaled for two others to follow. Without hesitation, the cadre slipped behind the throne and vanished through a rear passage as the battle raged on.

  Gunfire erupted, filling the air with the sharp, acrid scent of powder. Some soldiers fired in short, controlled bursts—three-round volleys that tore through the guards like paper. They dropped in an instant as the bullets made clean, precise holes. Their bodies crumpled like discarded sandbags. Screams of terror echoed through the grand hall.

  Medusa reached into her quiver and pulled free a gleaming arrow. With a swift motion, she nocked it, drew back, and released. The arrow struck home, burying itself deep in the gut of a guard just as he raised his spear to throw.

  Perseus charged toward a guard, slamming into him with his heavy bronze shield. As the guard stumbled backward, Perseus brought his sword down in a swift arc, opening a clean gash across the man's chest.

  Across the room, Veronica yanked a grenade from her vest and hurled it toward a cluster of archers huddled in the far corner of the palace. They barely had time to react, staring in confusion at the unfamiliar object just before the explosion ripped through them, launching their shattered bodies into the air. Bloodied limbs rained down—some landing with wet thuds, others rolling across the palace floor. Shattered pots and broken debris scattered everywhere.

  The squad surged forward, advancing up the steps with weapons raised. They tucked themselves behind the colossal stone columns, firing in controlled bursts around the edges. The guards held their ground, hurling spears and loosing arrows, but they were no match for the advancing squad.

  The relentless crack of gunfire echoed off the palace walls, deafening and merciless. Amidst the stench of blood and the din of battle, some guards ran, abandoning their shields and stumbling over the fallen bodies of their comrades.

  From the shadows, an archer took aim, his hands trembling as he loosed an arrow straight at Jim. It struck his shield but barely penetrating the thick polycarbonate surface.

  Jim didn't hesitate. He pointed his pistol and fired several shots.

  The bullets punched into the archer's chest and stomach, leaving small, gaping holes. The man staggered, his bow slipping from his grasp as he lost strength. He turned to flee, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed, motionless.

  After all the guards fell or fled, Jim noticed the king and Dana? missing and yelled, "King Poly ran off with Dana?—After them!" He put his hand on Medusa's back and helped her move forward. Perseus followed behind, Veronica behind him, occasionally looking back and firing a few shots at anyone still trying to throw a spear or loose an arrow.

  Outside, the squad's boots clattered against the stone as they bolted down the palace's rear steps. Far ahead in the distance, they spotted King Polydectes and his entourage racing toward Poseidon's temple.

  Jim scoffed. "The temple? Does he seriously think he'll be safe in there?"

  "Yes, he does," Medusa replied quickly. "He's going there to beg Poseidon for help."

  Jim shot her a doubtful look. "What, does he have an emergency beacon or something?"

  "He'll pray. Hard."

  Jim chuckled. He stared at her for a second, studying her face, then realized she's serious. "Shit—and Poseidon might actually show up?"

  "Possibly," she said, her gaze locked on the temple's towering columns. "Unless we stop him."

  "Then let's not waste time," Jim said, quickening his pace.

  But as they made it down the last set of steps, they skidded to a halt. A massive force of several thousand warriors were mustering between them and the temple, their weapons and armor gleaming in the sun.