The sea was still boiling with the echoes of war. Crimson clouds hovered over the ruined coral spires. The cries of the fallen mingled with the groaning of the deep, as if the ocean itself was mourning. Dominic floated just above the battlefield, blood trickling down his temple, his trident clutched tight in his grip. He hadn't felt this drained in his new life—not since awakening as Poseidon. Yet, something primal still surged within him.
"They just keep coming..." he muttered, teeth gritted. His eyes flickered across the battlefield—Naerida's guards clashed with the monstrous choirlings that Lyrielle had summoned. These weren't ordinary sea beasts. Each of them pulsed with corrupted siren magic, eyes burning blue like ghost fire, their movements fluid and cruel.
A sudden current swirled behind him. Dominic turned sharply—Aegirion was still alive, but just barely, holding onto a stone shard from a broken sea tower.
