The ocean was never silent. Beneath the waves, the whispers of currents, the creaks of shifting tectonic bones, and the distant calls of unseen leviathans spoke in a language older than gods.
Poseidon—once Dominic—floated within that symphony, but the voice that surged loudest was not the sea's.
You are no longer merely a god… you are the vessel of inevitability.
Thalorin's presence thundered within him, like a tide pressing against the walls of a fragile harbor. His mortal heart—though now divine—still pulsed with the uncertainty of a man who remembered hospitals, IV drips, and the pale glow of machines.
Yet, his body answered differently. Each breath he took churned whirlpools around him. The sea bent closer, obedient, hungry for command. He clenched his fist, and a column of water spiraled upward like a blade.
"Enough," he whispered to himself, shaking his head. "I am me. Not a monster. Not… whatever you are."
But Thalorin laughed, a sound that made the ocean shiver.
