Poseidon's Heir: A Battle for the Seas

"Even a shadow trembles before true light." — Khaimah Peter

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The forest finally thinned, giving way to jagged cliffs that loomed over a violent sea. Waves crashed against the rocks like war drums, and salt burned against Gravill's skin. But he barely noticed.

His chest heaved, lungs scraping for air as if he'd been drowning this whole time. Elsa collapsed onto her knees, pressing against a deep gash on her side, while Nicholas stood guard, magic flickering weakly in his trembling hands.

Gravill staggered to the cliff's edge. His heart pounded — not just with exhaustion, but with something more primal. The Forgotten Isle called to him, not with words, but with a force so ancient it resonated in his bones.

The sea churned, swirling like a living thing. Then, with a thunderous roar, the water split.

An ancient stone bridge rose from the depths, slick with algae and glowing faintly with runes. But at the end of the bridge, half-buried in the earth, was a silver trident — its three prongs reaching toward the storm clouds like they were trying to pierce the heavens.

Poseidon's trident.

Gravill's knees nearly buckled. He barely heard Nicholas rasp, "Go."

He stumbled forward, every step heavier than the last. The sea raged beside him, waves climbing the cliffs as if trying to drag him back. And the voice followed.

"You can't escape me," Hades whispered, his voice a cold chain wrapped around Gravill's mind. "Even with the trident, you're nothing but a lost child playing king."

The voice twisted into a shadowy figure, barely visible in the corner of Gravill's vision — Hades, lurking like a parasite, feeding on Gravill's fear.

Gravill squeezed his eyes shut, tears mixing with rain as he reached for the trident. His hand trembled.

"They died for you."

Karl's sneer. Owen's blood. His mother's tearful eyes.

"Pick it up," the shadow whispered, venomous and cruel. "Let me watch you break."

Gravill's fingers wrapped around the trident's shaft.

The world detonated.

A surge of power erupted from the weapon, lightning racing through Gravill's body like a thousand storms. The earth trembled, cracks spiderwebbing beneath his feet, and the shadow of Hades let out a guttural snarl.

The black mist clawed at Gravill's consciousness, screeching as the trident's glow intensified.

"No!" Hades' voice fractured, warped and distorted as the shadow writhed, desperate to cling to him.

But the light consumed it.

The shadow disintegrated like smoke in a hurricane, Hades' lingering presence banished in an instant. The voice that had haunted Gravill since was finally silent.

The storm quieted. The sea settled.

And above the trident, a figure flickered to life — translucent, shimmering like sunlight reflecting on water. It wasn't Poseidon in the flesh, but a faint echo of him, a remnant of the god's power imprinted on the weapon.

The figure knelt to Gravill's level, eyes the same shade of endless blue as the ocean. His expression, carved from salt and sorrow, held no malice. Only regret.

"My son," the echo said, voice distant, as if traveling from another world. "The sea remembers you."

Gravill fell to his knees, clutching the trident like a lifeline. Tears poured down his face as the echo slowly faded, leaving only the weapon's glow and the distant rumble of the tide.

For the first time in his life, Gravill couldn't hear the darkness.

Only the sea.