text: He stood at the shore, the sun diving onto the clear horizon ahead. The water from his skin dripped, making the sand beneath him harden. The skin of a long dead lion weighed heavily on his head. He heard no sound but the crashing of the waves, the white water seething its way to his toes. “You are victorious,” said Poseidon. Hercules had not heard his uncle approach. Perhaps from the waves. Perhaps when it crashed. “I am,” said Hercules. “But not truly. If you had, you would not have come for me.” Poseidon said quickly, with a hint of impatience. Hercules had heard of his uncle’s poor temper before, but he never had the curse to see it first-hand. Tired from his debacle in the darkness, Hercules had no intention to arouse the wrath of the sea god. “I must ask a simple favor,” “A favor?” Poseidon laughed at that, and the sea shook awkwardly, betraying its common course. “And what might the bastard son of the god of gods ask of me? ... Favors *heh*,” And again he laughed. “Safe passage through this sea, that is all.” Hercules felt the fatigue in his arms. The dark dog had raged well, though not well enough. Still, Hercules grew ill-fond of the tricks of Hades, another one of his uncles. The uncle who stood beside him now, a god with hair as glorious as his accolades, was fond of tricks himself. The water seemed to coat Poseidon so that he shimmered in the sunlight. His trident, gold and majestic, was staked on the sand beside him. His tricks, Hercules was sure, was hidden somewhere in his words. “Passage?” Poseidon looked around, confused. “Where is your ship, then? Or even a boat?” “Of those I have none,” answered Hercules. *Do not anger him*, he told himself. *The sea is unforgiving, and relentless.* “Are you playing games? I do not wish my time to be wasted with petty riddles.” *Or perhaps do, but the right way. If I do not play this gambit well, all will be for naught.* “Once-“ “You truly are your father’s child, always conniving, always at lust for more power.” “Once-“ “He never truly respected me, did he? Your father in his clouds and in his comfort. Not ever, not once.” “Once-“ “WHAT IS IT, BOY? WHAT IS THIS *ONCE* YOU HAVE IN MIND THAT YOU WOULD NOT DARE LET ME FINISH A THOUGHT?” Hercules smiled but he dared not let Poseidon see it. An opportunity was all he needed. “Once, you allowed a man through. A herd of men, in all actuality. Led by a shepherd carrying a grand staff. The sea, red as it was, parted to let them walk the sand beneath it. That would not have happened, that would *never* have happened, without your leave. Do I speak untruthfully?” Poseidon thought for a moment. “I remember.” His uncle replied. The rage in his face slowly subsiding. “What of it?” “I ask you kindly, uncle, to do for me as you did he. Not to part the way, but to calm the sea. That I may walk on your waves in this journey. This, I humbly ask.” Hercules knelt then, the lines he’s rehearsed left lingering in the air. He saw his uncle shift his feet to face him. “Rise,” Poseidon said, and so Hercules did. “Gods do not kneel.” He paused. “Why do you request for this *safety of passage*? With no rest, no less, from your labor?” “I had heard soundings, rumors that I must confirm myself. And for that, I must cross this sea. But only alone can I accomplish this, and only through here. To see it for myself, with haste.” “*Haste*?” His uncle asked, and Hercules nodded. “As you will,” Poseidon lifted his trident and pointed it at Hercules. “But for this favor I must burden you with a labor, your thirteenth, your final.” Hercules agreed. “Good. Seek and capture a bolt of lightning. I wish it bottled.” He lowered his weapon. “I will bring you this bottle of lightning you ask for.” replied Hercules assuredly. Hercules wondered why Poseidon would not just ask his brother for that. He looked to the sand, and beneath it from where he came. Below it lay the darkness, the underworld where Hades ruled over. Hades, who turned a blind eye to his trial. He looked to the sea, where he would traverse, the vastness that Poseidon dominated. The sea spread as far and as wide as Poseidon’s power, and twice as deep. Would he turn a blind eye as well? Finally, Hercules looked to the sky, where he found the sun. But no amount of warmth could make up for what his father had brought him forth to lose. A life of tragedy, Hercules reflected. *Still.* With his guiding hand, Poseidon brought a wave to drench Hercules’ feet. And with a stroke, the water receded, and Poseidon was gone. Hercules felt the water shift beneath his feet. It was far different than walking on land. Below, the waves moved endlessly and unpredictably, where ground would not. His balance, as unsure as his courage, struggled to remain afloat. Not a meter from the shore, Hercules fell backwards, splashing into the shallow water. This would be harder than he had thought. Hercules retreated to the sand and tried again. This time, he managed to walk five meters away, until a wave swept at his legs and sunk him. Again, he tried, this time reaching ten meters, where a fish drifted between his toes. Caught unaware, Hercules moved his feet only to lose his footing and fall. As he swam there idly, the water moved abruptly, weirdly, as it had before. It seemed to dance. *Was Poseidon laughing at him?* Hercules would not fail again. He would not give his uncle the pleasure of this kind of entertainment. This time, Hercules *ran*. *With haste*, he thought*.* Running, his feet moved above the water. But he did not fall. He bounded off the waves, like a rock thrown at just the right angle, continuously bouncing across the water’s surface. *With haste.* The fish that caused him failure once before leapt in front of him, but he paid it no heed, slapping it away with such force that *it* bounded like a rock thrown at just the right angle. The waves did not move this time. Poseidon no longer laughed. An hour passed and Hercules, still running, found himself inside a storm. It was night for a while now, and the sea had turned as black as the ominous clouds above growled thunder, but Hercules knew better than to stop. If he did, he would fall. He knew. So he ran. Above the wild waves, he ran. Thunder cracked and whirlpools formed, yet still, he ran. *With haste,* he thought. Mysterious silhouettes moved about beneath his feet, to scare him, to impede his journey, yet still he ran. His uncle and his other uncle watched him now, shadow and sea alike. He gave them no mind. Hercules chose to look at the sky instead. Beyond the rain and the clouds that held them, he knew the sky was still there. *Still,* Hercules almost fell asleep midstride, but his face touched the water and he was awakened, catching his fall with a quick step. The storm had gone as it had come, and day began to break. For once, Hercules stopped. He was in the middle of the sea, with nothing around him. He saw the horizon unobstructed. The water slept, attending to not so much as a ripple. He ran and ran, and this is where it took him. Nowhere. Nothing. Nothing but silence. *Still,* A step rattled the sea’s peace. Yet only timidly. Small ripples sent themselves across the face of the water. Hercules turned and saw him, standing there on the water. He wore a robe, white as silk and pure as an angel’s wings. He was bearded and had hair that dropped to his shoulders. The rumors proved to be true. “You are real.” said Hercules. “Only as much as you are.” The man’s voice calmed even the sea, where the ripples formed soon faded. “And you are powerful,” Hercules pointed to the man’s feet, which were firmly above water. *Did Poseidon bless him too?* “Only as much as people allow me to be.” Hercules scoffed. “That is not how power works. My strength is-“ “Given to you since birth?” The man smiled. No matter how much he had tried to deny it, Hercules could not help but agree. It was true that when he lay but a baby, he had strangled two snakes sent to kill him. Nothing of that was his own doing, though Hercules would like to credit his courage. Yet in truth, he had no memory of the snakes or the strangling at all. Only the stories kept his feats alive. Only the stories. The man continued. “You are blessed beyond all others, so why do you come to me?” “For...” Hercules did not know. Perhaps it was his allure. Whatever it was, it made Hercules speak thoughts he had tried to forget. “He promised me.” Hercules said. “He promised me a seat beside him, a place in his pantheon, the mountain of gods.” “And he did not deliver on his promise?” Hercules shook his head, slowly. The man looked at him, in part with eyes of pity, another of *love*. *Was it?* Hercules had never known the feeling. He could not be sure. But the man spoke with such grace that he could not help but feel warm, “Fathers have their own mysterious ways with their children, I have found.” “I do not recall telling you I spoke of my father.” “Sons. We have a way of knowing, don’t you think?” The man neared Hercules, his steps silent, keeping the sea’s peace. He stopped an arm away from Hercules. “All sons have a place in their father’s heart. You already have a seat at the mountain, I assure you. Do not fear, for I know.” Hercules would not take lecturing from a man who natured himself a prophet. *How much pride must one have to declare himself the arbiter of truth?* “And what would you know of sons and fathers?” asked Hercules. “Far too much,” said the man, with *pain*. Hercules felt it, slightly, a tinge in his voice. “So, tell me why, prophet. Why am I here and not there, where I am destined to be?” The sun peeked from the clouds lingering on the horizon. Sunlight poured on the two men facing each other. Hercules had to cover his eyes because the light grew too fierce, but the man not so much as squinted. “Once I would have asked myself the same question, to have doubted. Once I would have strayed and lost my way. But that once is gone now. The years have taught me much. I’ve realized that destiny is not always what it would seem. It barely is. And long have I strayed from its path. Destiny is so... unforgiving. How can we hope to understand such a thing that binds us?” “Nothing can bind a god,” Hercules replied, but the man shook his head, disagreeing. “Of course, hydra-slayer, sun-shooter, you labored with courage and ferocity. You conquered the impossible. But I must contradict. Being a god, of all things, is the very element that binds them; to locations, to dominions, to philosophies, to powers, to beliefs, to the minds and whims and wills and prayers of man.” “Yet I could not have done those labors without my strength, without being the son of Zeus.” “You sell yourself too short. It was courage, not your strength, that bore fruit to those labors. And courage... what else is more human than courage? How can one be courageous if he is almighty? “ Hercules looked at the man in disbelief. *How could he be so sure of himself, to not have doubts, to have thoughts as clear as the sunlight that made the water beneath him shine? How?* “How are you so sure?” He blurted, although not meaning to. Hercules thought it a foolish question a child would ask an adult. They were on equal grounds now, both in the middle of a quiet sea, yet for once Hercules felt small. “The years have not been kind to me. Death, brother. Death comes for us all, even for I, even for you.” “Death,” Hercules repeated. “The purging of what is human within us. The defeat of life, of our souls. How can man be strong if he dies, while god does not?” The man smiled. “It is the man who knows, understands, and accepts death. It is the god, with all its pride, who refuses to succumb.” The man made no sense. “How is succumbing strength?” “The same way that courage can only exist in the midst of fear. True life begins only after realizing the importance of death.” A lone gust of wind swept Hercules’ damp tunic, his hair flowing as water droplets fell back to the sea. “*Who are you?*” asked Hercules. The man’s smile faded. “Only what people believe me to be,” And the gust of wind turned to mist, which moved to envelop the man who walked on water. As the mist parted, dissipating back into the air, the man had gone far away, nowhere to be seen. *Such faith,* Hercules thought, *such faith that man has on his father that he would travel even death.* After a moment of serene silence, the water resumed its crashing, with waves piling on waves. White water descended on Hercules, as he tried to stay his ground. The sky darkened, and black thunderclouds gathered on the horizon. The rain poured intensely, but Hercules had not a care. The rain no longer fazed him. Striding to the peak of a large raging wave, Hercules sought the sky, and peered into a streak where the clouds posed darkest. But the water was determined to drown him, and a wave washed his lionskin to the watery depths. *Damn you, uncle.* Yet he climbed, though water filled his lungs, he climbed. There, he saw it then. Lightning raged and bolted from one cloud to another. There, he sought the truth. *Still,* the saddened Hercules thought, *still he gives no answer*. With a strong leap, Hercules soared from the wave and into the clouds. The rain pierced his skin like tiny daggers, but Hercules did not wince. The ferocious winds whirled to prevent his ascent, forcing him down, but Hercules did not obey. He neared the clouds; closer and closer he came. *Father, answer me.* The clouds rumbled and roared, growling at Hercules behind its darkness. Lightning crossed his vision, unraveling from one cloud to the other, each lighting up in a rhythmic cadence, like a festival of lights. The thunder, Hercules heard, behind its furious facade, bellowed like a grand piano. But the conductor was nowhere to be seen, playing a song Hercules could never hope to understand. He grabbed the tail of one of the clouds and pulled himself up. There, he stood, no longer able to see the sea below. The orchestra continued to play. “Father, answer me.” He said unknowingly. The clouds responded with a roar. The heavens seemed to shake as the lightning grew fiercer, brighter than it had ever been. The wind howled, but Hercules would howl louder. “FATHER! ANSWER ME!” He boomed so loud that the clouds in front of him parted. In a flash, a bolt of lightning struck Hercules straight to the chest. *Why does my father resent me so?* He grabbed it before it can chance to escape, and the bolt wriggled in his hand like a fish out of water. Poseidon would be delighted. He presented it to the heavens. “IS THIS YOUR ANSWER?” And in a breath, the clouds calmed and disappeared. The bolt of lightning he had captured faded to the sky. Pure silence. From above, Hercules could see everything, the shining sun, the clear sky, the peaceful sea. He realized he was falling. His body felt weightless, like a feather drifting in the wind. But he wasn’t drifting. He was crashing. He closed onto the sea below, faster and faster. His father had answered. *I have labored and won, yet still I am defeated.* He could hear the waves now, cracking ahead of him. In the moment before he plunged into the water, a spark of light bolted from the corner of Hercules’ eye. He turned to see it. Lightning, one bolt, no, five bolts, no, fifty, more than that, way more. They all came for him. They slithered like yellow serpents in the sky, all charging at him. *Is this what he meant?* *“It is the man who knows, understands, and accepts death. It is the god, with all its pride, who refuses to succumb.”* Hercules closed his eyes then, emptying his thoughts. *Succumb*, he told himself. *It is not weakness, it is strength. Succumb.* He did not know what struck him first, the lightning or the sea.