Zephyra vanished with the wind, her storm trailing behind like a warning.
Dominic dove.
Down, past the reef, past the trench, into waters untouched by sunlight. The ocean dimmed, chilled, narrowed to a tunnel between rock spires twisted by time. As he passed, ancient murals etched into stone came alive—paintings of titanic sea beasts, gods wielding tridents, and a golden throne resting at the ocean's deepest point.
He followed them.
At the end of the passage, the sea opened into a cavern the size of a city. An ancient temple sat in the centre, cradled by stone, lit by glowing anemones and currents of natural energy. Coral had overtaken its walls, but its power was unmistakable.
This place pulsed with memory.
He touched down at the base of the temple. The moment his foot hit the sea floor, the ground rumbled.
"Name yourself."
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere.
"Dominic Hayes," he said. "Reborn as Poseidon."
The temple groaned like it was waking from a long sleep. The doors parted. Inside, a chamber of relics waited—armor rusted with age, tridents broken and left to rot. At the centre was a pedestal. Upon it, a sphere of blue light floated, flickering like a dying heartbeat.
He reached out.
Visions struck him like lightning—memories not his own. Poseidon in battle with titans. Oceans split by his fury. Betrayal. War. The gods falling one by one as the rift consumed their temples. Then... silence.
The sphere dimmed.
"You left us," a voice growled from the shadows.
Dominic spun. A figure stepped into the faint light—tall, draped in seaweed, wearing cracked golden armour. His face was half-bone, half-flesh. One eye glowed sea green. The other... was hollow.
"I am Talyon," the figure said. "Guardian of the Last Tide. You are not Poseidon."
"I carry his power," Dominic said. "His weapon. His memories."
"But not his discipline," Talyon snapped. "Not yet."
The chamber shook. From outside, a pulse of black water leaked into the edges of the cavern. Talyon turned, eyes narrowing.
"It's coming here."
Dominic's grip tightened on his trident. "Then we fight."
"No," Talyon said grimly. "You're not ready for this one. Not yet."
The walls cracked. Something enormous stirred in the darkness beyond the temple—like claws scraping ancient stone.
Dominic stepped forward. "Then teach me."
Talyon studied him a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"Prepare yourself, boy-god," he said. "You will either become the Sea's Wrath…"
The ground split.
"...or drown with its memory."
The temple groaned like it knew what was coming.
Talyon wasted no time. "Stand in the centre," he ordered, dragging a rusted blade through the sand and coral floor, carving a circle of symbols that glowed faintly. "This is the Circle of Echoes. Here, the sea remembers who it once served."
Dominic stepped in, heart pounding.
The moment he did, a force slammed into him—like the pressure of a thousand waves. Visions flooded his mind. Memories not just of Poseidon, but of every ocean-born god before him. Calm tides and crashing storms. Love and wrath. Creation and ruin.
His knees buckled.
Talyon barked, "Hold the current! Let it pull, but do not drown!"
Dominic gritted his teeth. The power surged through his arms, into his chest, his skull—it hurt. But beneath the pain was something else. A rhythm. A voice.
"You are the tide."
The trident in his hand lit up, glowing a deeper blue than ever before. The carvings along its shaft pulsed like veins. Dominic shouted, releasing a burst of energy that rippled through the temple.
Then the water shifted.
A shadow fell across the temple entrance.
Talyon turned, face grim. "Too late."
The sea beyond twisted as something massive slithered into view. A leviathan—its skin bloated and black, eyes glowing with rift energy. It moved like a serpent but carried limbs like warped crab claws. Rows of teeth lined its belly.
"Corrupted guardian," Talyon muttered. "It was once the Sea's Warden. Now the rift commands it."
The creature shrieked, a sound that cracked coral and sent fish fleeing.
Dominic raised his trident. "I'll handle it."
Talyon stepped beside him. "We handle it."
The leviathan charged, tearing through the ancient stone arch. Dominic surged upward, summoning a wall of water to slow it. The creature slammed through, but faltered. Talyon struck from the side, slashing at a limb. Black ichor bled into the water.
The beast roared and swung one of its claws, clipping Talyon and sending him hurtling into a pillar.
"Old man!" Dominic shouted.
The creature turned on him next.
Dominic dodged, spinning through the water. His trident sparked with energy. He aimed, thrust, and sent a bolt of lightning surging into the leviathan's eye. The beast howled, thrashing wildly.
Talyon, wounded but not down, floated behind it. "Now, boy!"
Dominic roared, water spiraling around him. With a final charge, he launched himself forward and drove the trident straight into the creature's core—where the blackened heart pulsed.
A shockwave erupted.
The leviathan writhed, then fell still.
Its body drifted, crumbling into sand and ash.
Silence returned.
Talyon coughed blood into the water, clutching his side. "That... was not even the worst one."
Dominic helped him upright. "Then we train harder. Faster."
Talyon gave him a bloodied grin. "Good. Because the rift is awake now. And it knows your name."
Lightning struck the coast of Cyprus with unnatural precision—bolt after bolt hammering the shoreline, sending civilians scrambling for cover.
Meteorologists were baffled. No weather system explained it. The clouds hadn't rolled in—they'd appeared. Instant. Violent. Controlled.
In the heart of the storm, a woman in a grey coat stood unmoving on a cliffside, her silver eyes glowing faintly.
Zephyra.
The wind howled around her, carrying whispers only gods could hear. She frowned.
"He awakened something... and now the sky listens."
Below her, the sea churned. Ships fought to stay afloat. Fishing villages flooded. Animals fled inland. Something ancient was stirring beneath the waves—and it wasn't just Dominic.
A crack tore through the sky. For a heartbeat, the clouds parted—and through them, a glimpse of something massive.
A shape.
A godless thing.
Zephyra clenched her fists. "He's not ready."
Behind her, a voice spoke—a deep one, soaked in shadows.
"You've seen it too, haven't you?"
Zephyra turned. A man in black robes stepped forward, barefoot despite the storm. His skin shimmered like dark stone, and a faint mark of a spiral pulsed on his palm.
"Erebus," she said coldly. "Why are you here?"
"I told them," he said, gazing toward the horizon. "The sea would wake first. And when it did, the chains would snap. The rift has opened."
"And Dominic?" she asked.
"Still learning," Erebus replied. "Still weak."
Zephyra's voice turned sharp. "He killed a corrupted leviathan."
Erebus smiled. "Then he's late. The rift's true guardian is already moving."
He raised a hand, and in the far distance, where the ocean met the edge of vision, a shadow darker than night breached the water.
It didn't move like a creature.
It moved like a continent.
Zephyra's expression turned grim. "That thing is heading for the coast."
"Not just any coast," Erebus said. "It's heading for Athens."
---
Far below, in the Temple of the Tide, Dominic jolted awake.
His breath came hard. Salt burned his eyes. The dream was too real.
A voice whispered in the back of his skull. "They will drown. You must choose. God... or ghost."
Talyon limped to him. "You felt it, didn't you?"
Dominic nodded. "Something's coming."
Talyon looked toward the surface. "Then we go to Athens."