The Skybreaker was gone.
Its broken pieces now rested in the dark, slowly sinking through ancient trenches far below the battlefield.
Poseidon stood on the water, breath steady, eyes heavy. His hands were raw from the clash. The Trident—now fully awakened—rested at his side, humming like a voice just below a whisper.
But it was no victory.
Only silence followed.
And silence in the sea was never safe.
As the ocean cald above, deep beneath the world, sothing shifted.
A tremor. A pulse. A whisper.
Not from gods.
Not from sirens.
But from the Primordial Hollow, a chasm sealed long ago—before Olympus ever rose. A place where thoughts bled, and voices had no shape.
There, an ancient entity stirred.
It had no na the gods would dare speak.
But in the echo of the shattered Skybreaker—
It heard.
And it answered.
"The balance is cracked..."
"Let it drown."
Poseidon’s Sensing Sothing Wrong
Far above, Poseidon turned sharply.
The air felt too quiet.
The sea... felt wrong.
He closed his eyes.
And heard it.
Just faintly.
A whisper, brushing his ear like kelp in a current.
"...drown..."
He opened his eyes, alert.
"Did you hear that?" he asked Varun.
Varun blinked. "Hear what?"
Poseidon didn’t answer. His gaze was already on the horizon.
The tides shifted unnaturally. No moon pull. No wind pressure.
Just... sothing rising.
Aegirion’s Warning (Posthumous)
A soft glow erged behind Poseidon, pulsing near the broken reef.
An old rune.
Aegirion’s final seal. A failsafe buried before his death.
Varun stepped closer. "That wasn’t here before."
The rune opened like a scroll, glowing words spilling out midair:
> "If you are reading this... the Skybreaker has fallen."
> "And if that weapon failed, then sothing worse will awaken."
> "There is a creature buried in Thalorenn’s lowest bed. Not a beast, not a god, not a mind."
> "It’s called only the Deep Choir."
> "If it sings—everything forgets itself."
> "Seal it. Or we all drown, even Olympus."
---
The Deep Choir Awakens
In the Hollow, the ocean convulsed.
Rocks cracked. Water twisted in impossible ways. Schools of fish blinked out of existence—forgotten.
And then the first note sounded.
Not heard.
But felt.
A pulse through water. Through mory. Through will.
Back at the Coral Veil, soldiers stumbled. So dropped their weapons. Others forgot their nas. For three seconds, even Poseidon’s own heartbeat stuttered.
Then the Trident pulsed in his hand, grounding him.
He clenched his jaw.
> "The Choir."
Varun looked up, eyes wide.
> "That was it, wasn’t it?"
Poseidon gave a slow nod.
> "It’s waking up."
---
Olympus Reacts
Back in Olympus, Athena was the first to shiver.
She felt her mory slip—for just a mont. Nas blurred. Her station flickered.
Zeus stumbled, gripping a pillar.
> "What... was that?"
Hers, pale, dropped his scrolls.
> "Sothing old."
Athena steadied herself.
> "No. Sothing forgotten."
They turned to look toward the sea.
The horizon shimred. Not from heat. Not from magic.
But from mory itself, bending.
---
Poseidon’s Decision
Poseidon stood tall once more.
> "We can’t wait."
Varun frowned. "Wait for what?"
> "For Olympus to act. For sirens to whisper. For tides to turn."
He turned to the depths.
> "This isn’t a war anymore."
> "It’s a purge."
> "We dive now. We take the Trident. And we find the Deep Choir—before it sings again."
Varun swallowed.
> "You’re going into the Hollow?"
Poseidon looked him in the eye.
> "I’m going to seal it."
---
Final Scene – The Forgotten Beast Stirring
Far below, the Deep Choir opened one eye.
Not a real eye. But sothing like it.
It saw nothing.
But it sensed everything.
It was hunger without shape. Song without rhythm. Death without mory.
And it had started humming.
Soon...
Everything would forget the na Poseidon.
Unless he reached it first.
The surface was already forgetting.
Nas blurred in the minds of sailors. Maps faded. Even the shape of the ocean’s floor shifted slightly in old records.
The Deep Choir hadn’t fully awakened—
But its hum was spreading like a sickness.
Poseidon had no choice now.
He had to descend into the Hollow.
The trench no god dared speak of.
The place where mory drowned.
---
The Descent Begins
Poseidon stood at the edge of a lightless chasm.
The Coral Veil lay far behind him.
Varun swam beside him, anxious but silent.
Below them was nothing.
Not water. Not darkness.
Just... absence.
Even light refused to bend near the Hollow.
Poseidon gripped the awakened Trident. Its third prong glead with a strange blue fla.
> "You sure about this?" Varun asked.
> "No," Poseidon said. "But we go anyway."
Without another word, they dove.
---
Through the Pressure
As they descended, the ocean around them grew still.
Too still.
Even Varun’s heartbeat felt... distant.
Their surroundings faded—colors dimd, sound vanished. Pressure wrapped around them like a second skin.
The Hollow wasn’t just deep—it sucked things out of you.
Sense. mory. Na.
> "Say your na," Poseidon commanded.
Varun blinked. "What?"
> "Say it."
> "Varun."
> "Say it again."
> "...Varun."
> "Keep saying it."
Varun swallowed hard and kept muttering it under his breath as they descended into a blur of nothing.
---
The Hollow’s Edge
They reached a plateau.
Ancient ruins lined the seabed—twisted, warped by ti and sothing worse.
There were statues—or things like statues. Not shaped by hands. Not built by gods. But fossilized mories of beings never ant to be rembered.
The Trident pulsed.
Poseidon raised it—and the space around them shimred, as if sothing invisible had blinked.
> "We’re not alone," he said.
And then...
The seabed moved.
---
The Hollow Guardian
Rising from the silt was a colossal serpentine figure, scales made of black pearl and coral bone. It had no eyes. Only mouths.
Dozens of them. Each one humming faintly.
It was the Hollow Sentinel.
The last gatekeeper.
A piece of the Choir’s will.
It surged toward them in a blur of coils and silence.
Poseidon didn’t hesitate.
He thrust the Trident forward, releasing a wave of force that split the seabed for ters.
Varun darted back.
> "Do NOT let it touch you!" Poseidon shouted.
> "Why?!"
> "Because if it does—you’ll forget you were ever alive!"
---
Battle in Silence
The fight was like a dream.
No sound. No resistance. Just flashes of movent.
The Sentinel coiled and struck, its mouths gnashing not for flesh—but for mory. Each bite tore through the water like echoes of erased thoughts.
Poseidon countered with speed and force, unleashing arcs of water that turned into blades. He moved with the tide itself.
But the Sentinel was fast.
It wrapped a coil around Varun’s leg—
> "POSEID—!"
His na stopped halfway.
His eyes turned blank.
Poseidon snarled and threw the Trident like a javelin.
It struck the coil, pulsing with sea-light.
Varun gasped and flailed as mory returned.
Poseidon pulled him up.
> "Stay close. We finish this now."
---
Strike of the True Trident
The Trident pulsed again—once, twice, thrice.
A rhythm.
Poseidon followed it.
He moved in a blur, sliding along water streams, weaving past jaws, and drove the Trident straight into the Sentinel’s heart—if it had one.
There was a ripple—then a collapse.
The creature fell in on itself, lting into liquid mory that dissolved into the trench.
Gone.
Not dead.
Forgotten.
---
The Door Beneath mory
In the stillness, the Hollow deepened.
Another passage opened.
Black stone spiraled downward in impossible directions. Reality twisted. Shapes turned sideways.
In the center of it all:
A vaulted gate, covered in kelp and chains.
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Varun gripped Poseidon’s arm.
> "That’s it, isn’t it?"
Poseidon nodded slowly.
> "The Deep Choir waits behind that door."
> "Then... what do we do now?"
Poseidon exhaled.
> "Now?"
He stepped forward, Trident in hand.
"We knock."
From behind the gate ca a soft, rising hum.
Not angry.
Not cruel.
But inevitable.
And the ocean above them?
It began to forget again.
One word at a ti.
The gate stood before them—ancient, breathing, and impossibly still.
It wasn’t made of stone.
It was made of thought.
Sea-moss writhed across it like veins, and the chains that wrapped it pulsed with distant voices. Every ti Poseidon stepped closer, the water thickened—as if the sea itself feared what waited inside.
The Trident flickered in his grip.
Even it was unsure.
Runes covered the surface—slanted symbols, half-erased by ti and mory. So flickered into visibility only to vanish again.
One phrase finally stayed long enough for Varun to read aloud:
"Beyond this gate, all things drown: mory, ti, self."
"That’s comforting," he muttered.
Poseidon didn’t smile. He placed a hand on the cold surface. It didn’t feel like tal.
It felt like skin.
It shivered at his touch.
"It knows I’m here," Poseidon whispered.
"Then maybe we walk away—" Varun started.
"We’ve co too far.
The Trident’s tip began to glow. Each pulse sent a tremor through the seabed.
Poseidon struck one of the chains.
CLANG.
A pulse of force knocked both him and Varun backward.
But one chain shattered—disintegrating like broken thoughts.
The other chains began to hum in warning.
Not alarm.
Not rage.
But sothing... worse.
Like a lullaby.
---
The Drowning Song Begins
From deep behind the gate ca the first full note.
A single tone, smooth and layered.
It didn’t co through the ears.
It seeped through skin and mind.
And it began to erase.
Varun gasped.
"Wh-what was my... my brother’s na?"
He clutched his head, eyes wide in panic.
> "Poseidon! I—I can’t rember—!"
Poseidon moved fast.
He grabbed Varun and slamd the Trident into the seabed.
A pulse of sea-energy burst out, shielding them temporarily.
> "Stay close," he said. "Don’t think. Just move."
Poseidon struck the second chain.
This one scread as it broke—but only in their minds.
The hum grew louder.
The water started turning gray.
All color faded.
Their suits dimd. Their thoughts blurred.
Poseidon kept his eyes on the final chain.
"One more."
Varun blinked slowly. "Wait... who... are you?"
Poseidon flinched.
The Choir was working faster now.
Varun was slipping.
The Last Strike – And the Opening
Poseidon raised the Trident.
He whispered a word not taught by gods.
A na once buried.
> "Thalorin."
And then he struck.
The last chain exploded into blue light.
The gate didn’t creak open.
It breathed.
Inhaled.
And then vanished.
Inside the Chamber of Forgotten Songs
There was no threshold. No wall. No line to cross.
Suddenly, they were inside.
A vast cathedral beneath the sea, too large to be real. The walls were ford of dead languages. The floor? mories shaped into coral. And in the center...
Floated the Choir.
Or rather, what remained of it.
It had no body.
It had faces.
Thousands.
So smiling.
So crying.
So... hollow.
They rotated slowly, whispering truths and lies into the water.
Each word was a note.
Each note a trap.
Poseidon could feel it pulling at him now.
Not his body.
His na.
It tugged like a hook through his soul, trying to peel away the idea of "Poseidon."
"You are no one," the Choir whispered.
"You are not god. Not king. Not even boy."
"You are forgotten."
Poseidon stumbled.
His grip loosened.
The Trident dimd.
But then—he heard sothing.
A voice. Distant. Faint.
His mother.
"You’ll be okay, Dominic. Close your eyes."
His knees buckled.
Dominic...
That was his na.
No matter what the Choir said.
---
Dominic Becos Poseidon
He rose.
Eyes sharp. Voice steady.
The Choir shrieked—but not in sound. In presence.
Poseidon leveled the Trident.
"I know who I am."
"I was Dominic."
"Now, I am Poseidon."
"And I rember everything."
He drove the Trident into the center of the sea-floor—
And light erupted.
The ocean bent.
The water scread.
And the Choir began to collapse in on itself.
Faces shattered like mirrors. Voices blinked out.
Poseidon stood at the eye of the collapse, surrounded by silent blue light.
Varun blinked behind him—mories returning like air after drowning.
The Hollow began to close.
Poseidon whispered the last word:
"Sleep."
And the sea obeyed.
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