"The personification of confinement and freedom, misery and joy, suffering and euphoria. The being who veils the sea, who drapes the oceans under a blanket of blood. Our deity," Denus said, his voice almost trembling with reverence, "is the sovereign of the seas—The Red Sea."
His expression was nothing short of devout. The way his gaze softened and his jaw set carried a weight I could feel even through the water. There was no doubt—this was more than a belief to him. It was a truth carved into his bones.
I hummed, studying him. "So… your deity is the Red Sea. What else do you know about it?"
Denus didn't answer immediately. His hands stayed clasped in that prayer-like gesture, and his voice, when it returned, carried the solemn tone of someone retelling something sacred.
