The deep ocean was silent.
Not the surface hush of a calm sea, but the true silence of the abyss — a place where light had never touched, where pressure crushed all but the hardiest of life into dust.
Here, mountains rose from the seafloor like jagged teeth. Canyons plunged into bottomless black. And in the heart of one such trench, something moved.
It was not fast, nor small. Its motion was a slow, deliberate shifting, as though waking from a dream that had lasted centuries.
Chains, thicker than the masts of any ship, lay broken on the seabed. Rust flaked from links older than empires. The last tremors of Poseidon's battle with the Council's vent cages had rippled this far — and in doing so, they had shattered seals meant never to be disturbed.
A massive eye opened in the dark.
It did not blink.
---
Miles above, Poseidon cut through the waves like an arrow.
