Poseidon's Heir: A Battle for the Seas

"Strength forged in suffering becomes the sharpest blade." — Khaimah Peter

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The Forgotten Isle's eerie silence fractured as footsteps scraped against jagged stone. Gravill pushed himself to his feet, the weight of the trident in his hands grounding him like an anchor. Nicholas and Elsa stood close, watching him with a mixture of concern and quiet awe. The air smelled of salt and ancient magic, but beneath that lingered the iron tang of something darker.

The scent of blood.

Owen's blood.

The sound of dragging echoed through the ruins, and when they turned, Karl emerged from the forest's shadows. He held Owen by the throat, the alpha's body limp, fur slicked with crimson. Karl's eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction, and the Hematoi slithered behind him like living nightmares, black mist coiling around their distorted forms.

"Owen!" Elsa cried out, her voice cracking.

Karl tossed Owen to the ground like discarded prey. The werewolf groaned, barely conscious, his chest heaving with shallow breaths.

"You thought you could run," Karl sneered, blade glinting. "But death always catches up."

Gravill stepped forward, the trident glowing brighter as his grip tightened. The surge of Poseidon's power still pulsed through him, each heartbeat a thunderous echo of the sea itself. He should've felt terrified, exhausted — but instead, he felt something else entirely.

Calm.

Powerful.

Nicholas's fingers sparked with magic, and Elsa drew her daggers.

Gravill raised the trident, its light reflecting in Karl's stunned eyes.

"You won't touch him again," Gravill said, voice steady. "Or any of them."

Karl's smirk wavered, just for a moment. But then he charged.

The fight was a storm.

Karl moved like a shadow, blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. The Hematoi lunged, their twisted forms snapping at Elsa and Nicholas as they fought to keep them at bay. But Gravill — Gravill met Karl head-on.

The trident blazed, every strike echoing like waves crashing against jagged cliffs. For the first time, Karl faltered. The boy he had mocked, the fragile heir he had hunted, now fought like a tempest incarnate. The trident hummed with raw energy, responding to Gravill's rage, his pain, his purpose.

"How...?" Karl gasped, stumbling back, burns searing across his skin from the trident's light.

Gravill's chest heaved, tears burning in his eyes. "You don't get to win."

One final strike.

The trident pierced Karl's chest.

His body convulsed, shadows peeling away from his flesh like smoke caught in a gale. The Hematoi shrieked, their connection to Hades severed as they dissolved into the ground. Karl, once so untouchable, disintegrated — his body scattering like ash on the wind.

It was over.

But Owen lay still.

Gravill collapsed beside him, tears streaking down his face as he lifted the trident over Owen's broken body. The weapon's glow softened, light cascading over Owen like a gentle tide. Gravill didn't know how he did it — he just willed the power to flow.

"Please," he whispered. "Don't die."

The light soaked into Owen's wounds, the deep gashes knitting closed. Slowly, painfully, Owen's eyes fluttered open.

"You're... louder than usual," he rasped, managing a weak grin.

Gravill laughed, the sound fractured with relief.

"You're impossible," he muttered, wiping his face.

And then, footsteps.

Lucien and the Silverfang pack emerged through the trees, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and reverence. The beta rushed to Owen's side, but the alpha waved him off, slowly rising to his feet with Gravill's help.

Lucien bowed his head. "We came as soon as we felt the bond restoring. The pack stands with you, Alpha."

Owen turned to Gravill, eyes steady.

"You saved my life," Owen said quietly. "You saved all of us."

Gravill looked away, guilt gnawing at him. "After what I did to your son... I don't deserve that."

Owen placed a hand on his shoulder, grip firm but gentle.

"You carry enough ghosts," Owen said. "Let that one rest."

Gravill swallowed hard, nodding.

As they bid farewell to the pack, Owen lingered for a moment.

"If you ever need us," he said, voice rough but sincere, "call. No matter where you are, the Silverfang will come."

Gravill watched them disappear into the forest, heart heavy yet full. He looked down at the trident, the glow still faintly pulsating, and knew their journey was far from over.

He turned to Elsa and Nicholas, who stood quietly beside him.

"We need to leave," Nicholas said, glancing at the sky as storm clouds gathered. "The gods won't stay silent for long."

Gravill nodded, gripping the trident tighter.

Let them come.

He wasn't running anymore.

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In Olympus...

Zeus clenched his jaw, lightning crackling across his skin. He turned to the other gods, their expressions unreadable — except for Athena, whose eyes burned with restrained fury.

"But Poseidon..." Zeus started, voice a low rumble. He didn't finish the sentence.

Because Poseidon's heir lived.

And the sea had chosen him.

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In the Underworld...

Hades sat in silence, fingers curled so tightly around his throne's armrests that the stone cracked beneath his grip.

For the first time in millennia, the shadows whispered something he didn't like.

The heir was awake.

And the war had only just begun.

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