The door pulsed—alive.
Dominic's hand hovered over it, the Echo of Leviath glowing in his palm like a heartbeat. The stone spirals around the door shimmered, reacting to his presence, to the divine blood that now coursed through his veins.
Poseidon's gift—or curse.
He pressed the Echo into the center.
A low hum reverberated through the reef-stone beneath his feet. The spirals unwound, kelp tendrils slithering back like limbs retreating from a wound. The stone door split open with a hiss of ancient breath, and darkness spilled out like ink across the sand.
A stairwell descended beneath the island, lit by blue ghostfire that flared with each step he took.
Each step felt heavier.
The air turned colder.
At the bottom, the stairwell opened into a chamber submerged in water—but not drowning. The water clung to the ceiling, suspended unnaturally above him. And beneath that water, trapped in a bubble of memory, was a scene that made his breath catch in his throat.
A hospital room.
His hospital room.
Dominic saw himself—seventeen, thin, frail, strapped to machines. His mother sat beside the bed, clutching his hand, whispering prayers that cracked under the weight of grief.
Tears welled in Dominic's eyes.
This was the moment.
The final one.
The heart monitor flatlined. His mother's cry ripped through the illusion like a dagger.
And then… the air rippled.
From the shadows of the hospital room, water began pouring in—not from pipes, not from tanks, but from nowhere. It surged around the boy's body, swallowing it gently.
Then came the voice.
"You do not belong to Death."
A silhouette formed in the flood. Not Poseidon. Not Hades. No god Dominic knew.
It was Thalorin, the Deep One. An entity older than Olympus. A being long erased from history for threatening the balance between realms.
The chamber dimmed as Thalorin's voice echoed again, now reaching Dominic in the present.
> "You were never meant to be Poseidon's heir, Dominic. You were stolen from Death to serve something greater… something that lies beneath even gods."
Dominic stepped forward, heart pounding. "Why me?"
The water above shimmered.
Thalorin's figure turned.
"Because you were broken. Forgotten. A soul with no anchor… and a perfect vessel for my return."
Dominic's blood chilled. "Return?"
The memory shattered like glass. Water rained down from the ceiling, soaking the chamber floor. The walls groaned as the sea outside pressed against them. And in that chaos, another voice spoke—sharper, divine.
Aegirion.
His form surged through the now-broken memory-chamber, trident drawn, eyes burning with rage.
> "You fool! You opened the Echo too soon!"
He rushed to Dominic, grabbing him by the shoulder.
> "Thalorin was not meant to be remembered. That memory was sealed for a reason!"
Dominic's hands shook. "He's inside me… isn't he?"
Aegirion didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The tremor beneath their feet was enough. The entire island quaked. A guttural roar rose from the sea beyond the cave—not from a beast, but from the water itself, as if the ocean was awakening.
Aegirion shoved a glowing shard into Dominic's chest—an Abyssal Sigil. It sizzled against his skin, forming a brand.
> "This will keep him dormant… for now. But your soul is already marked. You're not just Poseidon. You're something else. And the gods… they will never let you live if they find out."
Dominic staggered back, overwhelmed.
"So what do I do now?"
Aegirion turned, eyes heavy.
> "You make a choice. Embrace what you were given—or discover who you really are."
The chamber cracked again. Water poured in. Aegirion pushed Dominic toward the stairs.
> "Go. Run. We'll meet again. But next time... choose a side."
Dominic fled the chamber just as it collapsed behind him, swallowing the memory, the past, and the god who had dared reveal too much.
---
Outside – Shoreline of Velen
The glide-barge floated near, drawn by the waves. The sea, though unsettled, had calmed slightly—like a predator retreating to the deep after baring its teeth.
Dominic climbed aboard, soaked, shaking, burning with questions.
He was no longer just a boy reborn.
No longer just Poseidon.
He was a vessel.
A key.
And somewhere in the depths… something ancient had begun to stir.
High above the mortal seas, where no ship could sail and no storm could reach, stood the Temple of Tempest—carved into the clouds themselves. Its pillars spiraled endlessly, forged from salt and sky, and within them echoed the wrath of gods.
Tonight, that wrath had a name.
Dominic.
He was no longer a whisper on the tides.
He was a threat.
A golden flame flared atop the temple's summit, and one by one, the oceanic deities arrived—summoned by the fracture that tore through the reef beneath Velen, the very place Thalorin's memory had once been sealed.
First came Nereus, the Old One, sea-bearded and bitter, leaning on a coral staff grown from millennia of storms. His gaze was tired, but sharp.
Then Galamara, Goddess of Whirlpool and Grief, her body made of tear-streaked waves, eyes constantly weeping brine. She said little. She always listened first.
A clap of thunder welcomed Aegirion, still bearing scorch marks from the collapsed chamber. He looked furious—and afraid.
"Where is Poseidon?" Nereus growled, his voice like rolling tides.
"He's gone," Aegirion replied. "And in his place... is a vessel. A boy named Dominic. Marked by Thalorin."
The name silenced them all.
Even Galamara's weeping ceased.
Nereus's grip tightened around his staff. "Thalorin is dead. Sealed. Buried in abyssal time."
"No," Aegirion said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's dreaming. And Dominic… Dominic is the shell."
Galamara finally spoke, her voice soft and hollow. "He must be destroyed."
Aegirion's fists clenched. "He's just a boy."
"He is Thalorin's door," she replied. "Would you allow the Leviathan of the Deep to rise again? After what he did to Atlantis? After what he was?"
The chamber grew cold.
Nereus struck his staff on the cloudstone. "Then it's unanimous. The boy must be hunted. Killed. Erased."
"No." Aegirion stepped forward. "I marked him with the Abyssal Sigil. Thalorin is chained inside him, weakened. Dominic may yet choose another path."
"You are blinded," Nereus snapped. "That child was chosen for a reason. He didn't inherit the sea. He was offered it... as a cage."
They turned then, as another figure appeared in the chamber—clad in shadows that rippled like oil across water.
Nyros.
God of Silent Depths. The one who had not spoken in centuries.
His arrival chilled even Nereus.
He walked to the center of the council, and in a voice that echoed from a thousand shipwrecks, he said:
> "He is neither god nor vessel. He is the beginning of something else. If you kill him, Thalorin awakens in rage. If you spare him, he may become the monster we all fear."
Galamara's lips trembled. "Then what do you suggest, Nyros?"
A long silence.
Then:
> "Send a hunter. Not to kill. Not yet. But to test him. If he fails, we erase him."
Nereus nodded slowly. "Agreed."
Aegirion's jaw locked, but he said nothing.
Nyros turned toward the sea, shadows trailing behind him like blood. "There is one who can find him. One who does not fear the dark."
From the edge of the chamber stepped a new figure.
Tall.
Armored in bone coral.
Eyes glowing with abyssal blue.
His name was Varun, the Forgotten Trident—once a god of justice, now a myth whispered only among drowned sailors.
He bowed.
"I'll bring the boy," Varun said coldly. "Alive or broken."
And with that, he vanished into mist.
---
Meanwhile – Open Waters
Dominic stood at the edge of the barge, watching the horizon bleed into darkness. The ocean no longer whispered to him.
It waited.
His chest still burned with Aegirion's brand. His dreams were haunted by Thalorin's voice—low, velvet, coiled with promises.
> They fear you because they know what you are becoming...
He clenched his fists, jaw tight.
"I didn't ask for this."
A soft voice answered him.
"You never do."
He turned sharply.
A girl stood beside him—no ripple to mark her arrival, no sound to warn him. Her hair was dark as ink, her eyes silver, skin luminous with a faint aquatic glow.
"I'm Lirae," she said, smiling faintly. "Daughter of the Tideweaver. I'm here to help you… before the gods send someone who won't be so kind."
Dominic stared. "Why would you help me?"
She stepped closer, her voice barely above the breeze.
"Because I know what it's like to be hunted by your own kind."
And as the stars blinked above them, far behind in the deep, something shifted.
Varun had begun his hunt.