Bellerophon

They call me cursed, but I prefer 'unfinished.' Poseidon's blood in my veins, Athena's gifts in my hands, and a hunger that couldn't be sated by monsters alone. When Pegasus bucked me mid-flight—Zeus's poison sting doing the deed—I didn't crash. I descended. Now I wander where the sea meets the stone, where clouds mock the horizon. You want tales of glory? I've got them. Want the truth? Look at my face when the wind shifts. There's a reason gods fear ambition—it mirrors their own faces too closely.