The ocean pulsed with a rhythm that was not entirely natural.
Poseidon stood upon a jagged pillar of obsidian rock, his trident thrust into the seabed. Every current bent toward him, swirling in obedient spirals, as if the ocean itself recognized his claim. His cloak of kelp and foam drifted like a living shadow, the water dancing around his figure as though afraid to touch him.
And yet, even as the ocean bent to his will, Dominic's heart thundered beneath the godly exterior. The human boy that once was had not disappeared completely. Fragments of his fragile mortality clung to him like barnacles to a sunken ship. Every time he drew upon the god's power, he felt the reminder—the whisper of something ancient, watching him from within his very veins.
That whisper belonged to Thalorin.
> You wield my power well… mortal. But you are still bound by fear. Fear is a leash that Olympus will yank until you choke.
