The currents thickened as Dominic and Aegirion swam deeper into the chasm. The water here wasn't just cold—it was ancient. Silent. Watching.
The entrance to the temple loomed ahead, carved into the rock face like the mouth of a forgotten god. Statues of Poseidon flanked the doorway, mossy and cracked, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
Dominic paused mid-swim.
"You feel that?" he asked.
Aegirion narrowed his eyes. "It's awake."
The gates creaked open, not by touch, but by presence. A whisper rolled through the water, curling around Dominic's ears like a memory.
> "Return, child of the sea."
They entered cautiously. The floor of the temple was layered with crushed shells and old bones. Massive stone pillars twisted upward like kelp, etched with glowing runes that pulsed in rhythm with Dominic's heartbeat.
He touched one.
A flash—
A vision.
He was standing in the center of the ocean, trident in hand, waves crashing around him. Hundreds bowed before him—merfolk, leviathans, creatures without names.
Then it snapped away.
Dominic stumbled back, panting.
"You saw it, didn't you?" Aegirion asked quietly.
"Yeah," Dominic muttered. "I was… him."
They moved deeper.
At the center of the temple sat an altar, simple but pulsing with power. Behind it stood a massive mural, half faded, showing a younger Poseidon surrounded by three others—each with different crowns: fire, wind, and shadow.
"This is where it begins," Aegirion said. "This is the first mark of your awakening."
"What do I do?"
"Place your hand on the altar. Let it recognize you."
Dominic hesitated. Then placed his palm flat.
The temple shuddered.
Runes exploded with light. The floor rumbled beneath them. A burst of water flared from the altar and slammed into Dominic's chest.
He screamed. Not in pain—but from the overload. Memories poured into him—wars beneath the sea, old betrayals, the name Thalorin.
His knees hit the floor.
"Dominic!" Aegirion tried to reach him, but the water between them turned into a wall—clear and impenetrable.
Above them, the mural shifted. The image of Poseidon turned—his eyes glowing—and smiled.
Dominic's body lifted from the ground, suspended in water like a puppet. His own eyes turned bright blue, then flickered gold.
And just like that, it stopped.
He collapsed, gasping.
"I… I remember," he whispered.
"Remember what?"
"Everything."
A beat passed.
Then the altar cracked.
The room went dark.
A pulse of sound echoed from the deep, far below the temple—like something had just woken up. Something that had been waiting a long time.
Aegirion looked down the hallway. "We're not alone."
A ripple passed across the temple's waters. Not from them.
Dominic stood, wiping blood from his nose. "Let them come."
Far from Poseidon's temple, beneath the black shelf of the Mariana Trench, something moved.
A city long buried in silence lit up with pulses of eerie green. Towers made of coral and bone cracked open after centuries, like ancient scars splitting wide. The seabed shook gently—almost respectfully.
Inside the throne hall of the Drowned Court, voices echoed.
"She breathes again," a cloaked figure said, walking over slick obsidian tiles. His face was hidden, but his voice—smooth, oily—dripped with reverence. "Poseidon's heir touched the altar."
A massive figure stirred on the throne. Her body looked carved from darkened sea glass, glowing faintly with a cursed light. This was Neratheia, Empress of the Drowned Court. Banished eons ago. Forgotten by most.
Not dead.
Her eyelids fluttered open. Jet-black eyes. No whites. No pupils. Just abyss.
"So the bloodline survives," she whispered.
The hall trembled under her voice.
She stood slowly, water cascading from her shoulders like a robe. Chains uncoiled from her wrists and vanished into the shadows.
"Summon the Vultures," she said. "We reclaim the tide."
"Yes, my Empress," the figure bowed.
"And find the one they call Dominic. If the power of Poseidon sleeps inside him… I want it torn out."
The light in the hall dimmed. The ground split open, releasing swarms of eel-like shadows that slithered into the currents, headed straight for Dominic's location.
Neratheia smiled softly to herself.
"Let the sea remember who it fears."
The silence in the temple was almost too perfect. No water moved. No fish swam. Just stone, salt, and secrets.
Dominic stood beside Aegirion in the centre of the great hall. The marble under his feet shimmered faintly. Gold patterns pulsed beneath the surface—like the temple was alive, breathing through its walls.
"Is it always this quiet?" Dominic asked, voice low.
Aegirion didn't answer right away. His trident tapped the floor once, gently. A small tremor followed.
"It's listening," he finally said.
"To what?"
"To you."
Dominic blinked. "What?"
"The temple responds to Poseidon's blood. It remembers its master."
A gust of pressure blew through the chamber. Dominic instinctively reached for balance as a slow rumble stirred beneath them. The floor at the far end of the hall split, revealing a hidden passageway swirling with blue mist.
Aegirion tilted his head. "Looks like it wants to show you something."
Dominic swallowed. His gut twisted, but his legs moved anyway.
He stepped forward.
Down the spiral stairs.
Deeper.
The air changed. Not cold, but thick—like he was walking into a memory.
Faint voices whispered along the walls. Not words. Emotions. Rage. Grief. Power. The sound of oceans crashing, storms roaring.
He stopped at a chamber sealed with a glowing circular door. Markings around it shimmered with symbols he couldn't understand.
"What is this place?" he whispered.
"Poseidon's Heart," Aegirion answered. "It holds the core of his legacy… his truth."
As Dominic approached, the door lit up. A hum echoed in his bones. Then—click.
It opened.
Inside, a massive pool glowed blue. At the center, suspended in mid-air, was a crystal orb—cracked, but still pulsing.
Aegirion's face hardened. "That's not supposed to be broken."
Dominic moved closer, drawn by instinct.
He reached out.
As his fingers grazed the orb, visions exploded in his mind.
Screams. Cities drowned. Ships ripped apart by whirlpools. A massive crown shattered into three. A name—Neratheia—screamed across the currents.
Dominic stumbled back, clutching his chest.
"What the hell was that?" he gasped.
Aegirion's jaw tightened. "We're not alone in the sea anymore."
Just then, the water around the temple pulsed violently. Outside, a shadow moved.
No fish. No shark. Bigger. Faster.
The entire temple groaned.
Aegirion stepped forward, eyes glowing. "Get ready."
Dominic nodded, his breath shaky. "Something's coming, isn't it?"
A long silence. Then Aegirion said, "No. Something's already here."