The sea was restless that night. Waves hurled themselves against jagged rocks, frothing white as though the ocean itself rebelled against the presence of the new god who stood upon its surface.

Poseidon—no, Dominic, no… something else entirely—stared down at his reflection in the trembling water. The face staring back was his, yet not his. His eyes glowed faintly, pools of abyssal blue swirling with streaks of silver light, like whirlpools opening into eternity. Around his shoulders, the water rose and fell as if it obeyed his every breath, bound by an invisible tether.

This power is too much… he thought, clenching his fist. The water tightened, spiraling into a column before exploding outward into mist. His heart raced. For all his awe, there was dread, too—a gnawing awareness that the force within him was not entirely his own.

A whisper echoed in his skull, deep and resonant.

You are but the vessel. Remember this. When the tide rises, I rise. When you fall, I endure.

Dominic staggered back, clutching his head. The voice—Thalorin's—was everywhere and nowhere, rumbling like a thousand storms beneath the sea. He had felt it earlier in the Rift, the raw essence clawing its way into him, and though he had survived, he knew the truth: he was sharing his soul with a monster older than Olympus itself.

"Shut up," he hissed aloud, though his words felt small against the crashing waves. "I am not your puppet."

The ocean laughed with him—or at him—carrying Thalorin's chilling amusement across the wind.

---

He turned his gaze toward the shore. Villages dotted the coast, unaware of the storm of divine politics now circling above their fragile lives. Fires flickered in huts, fishermen dragged their nets ashore, and children played in the sand without care. For a moment, Dominic envied them. Mortality had once chained him, but it had also freed him. Now, immortality felt like a cage built of salt and blood.

Yet as his eyes swept over the waves, something stirred beneath.

Ripples moved against the tide, too deliberate to be natural. A shape slithered beneath the surface—dark, elongated, predatory. Dominic extended a hand and the water parted, splitting like glass. From the depths, a serpentine beast rose, its scales glimmering with phosphorescent light, eyes burning with hunger.

A leviathan.

It roared, a sound that rattled the bones of the earth itself. Villagers screamed onshore as the water surged toward them. Dominic's jaw tightened. He didn't summon this creature. Someone—or something—else had.

They already know who you are, Thalorin whispered with satisfaction. And they are testing you.

Dominic's hand curled into a fist, and the waves obeyed, crashing upward to shield the coast. The leviathan lunged, its massive jaws snapping shut just meters away from him. Salt spray drenched his face, and for the first time, Dominic felt the pull of instinct—godly instinct. He raised both arms, and from the sea erupted spears of hardened water, striking the beast's flanks.

It bellowed in pain but thrashed harder, its tail whipping across the surface with enough force to sink a fleet. Dominic gritted his teeth. He had to end this quickly—before the mortals suffered.

He plunged his trident into the sea. The weapon sang, glowing with a light so fierce it burned away the mist. The ocean responded like a living thing. Columns of water surged upward, coiling into a massive hand that grabbed the leviathan's throat. With a roar that was half-human, half-divine, Dominic dragged the beast upward and slammed it against the waves.

The sea exploded in foam and thunder.

The leviathan shrieked, its cry echoing far beyond mortal ears. It thrashed, but the ocean held it bound. With one final strike of his trident, Dominic pierced its skull. The monster's body convulsed, then fell limp, sinking into the abyss from which it came.

Silence followed. The sea calmed, though Dominic's heart did not.

Onshore, the villagers knelt, watching him with wide, terrified eyes. Some whispered prayers, others shouted his name. Poseidon, they called him, voices trembling with reverence. To them, he was no longer a stranger. He was their god.

But to himself… he was something far more dangerous.

---

The voice of Thalorin coiled back into his thoughts.

You felt it, didn't you? The thrill. The hunger. That was only a taste. And yet, even the Olympians tremble. They will come for you, little vessel. They will try to bind you as they once tried to bind me. But this time… we shall drown them all.

Dominic's breath came heavy. He wanted to reject it, to deny the intoxicating pull of the ancient entity's words—but he couldn't. Deep inside, a part of him thrilled at the thought.

Yet another part feared it.

He looked once more at the mortals who still bowed at the shore, whispering his name as if it were salvation. He clenched his jaw.

"I am Poseidon," he declared, though his voice trembled at the edges. "I will protect these seas."

The ocean answered with a swell of waves, and for a moment, he believed it. But high above, unseen to him, the stars shifted—and far in Olympus, the gods had already heard the leviathan's death cry.

And they were watching.

The ocean trembled around him. Not in the gentle sway of tides, nor in the crushing roar of a storm, but in a way that made the water itself seem… sentient. Alive. Watching.

Poseidon — or rather, Dominic trapped within the god's mantle — hovered above a trench so deep it seemed endless. The currents here were silent, reverent, bowing before something ancient. Something older than Olympus.

And within his chest, Thalorin stirred.

"You feel it, don't you?" The voice slithered like a whisper directly into his bones, reverberating through every vein. "This sea is no longer theirs. It has never been. It was mine before Zeus even learned to wield lightning."

Dominic clenched his jaw, his trident shimmering faintly in the abyssal dark. He hated how natural it felt in his hands. Hated how the waves bent to his will before he even asked. Each motion, each command came instinctively — like remembering a song he'd always known but forgotten.

Yet what frightened him most wasn't the power. It was the thrill. The intoxicating rush every time he listened to the ocean's whispers.

Still, he spat into the current. "You talk as though I should just hand myself over. I'm not your puppet. I'm not your—"

"Vessel?" Thalorin's laughter echoed like crashing waves against jagged rocks. "And yet you are. Deny it all you like — but when Olympus casts its judgment, whose strength will keep you from their spears? Yours, Dominic? Or mine?"

Poseidon's grip on the trident tightened. He didn't answer, because the truth was gnawing at him: he had no choice.