The ocean had turned gray.
Not the natural kind. Not the calming, overcast kind. This gray was thick. Heavy. Like the sea itself had been clouded by ash and rage.
Dominic and Aegirion floated near the outer ledge of the vault's temple, watching the rising storm with quiet tension.
The spiral in the distance had grown.
"What do we do now?" Dominic asked, gripping the Trident as it flickered faintly in his hand.
Aegirion scanned the waters ahead. "We don't run."
That was unusual.
Dominic raised a brow. "You sure? I thought you just told me I wasn't ready."
"You're not," Aegirion said flatly. "But there's something coming. It's not Virell. Not yet. Something smaller. A test."
Dominic squinted.
From the distance, the dark water began to ripple unnaturally. Not like a wave. More like… footsteps.
Then he saw it—shapes. Six of them.
Walking.
On the seafloor.
As they drew closer, Dominic realized these weren't sea creatures.
They were people.
Or what was left of them.
Their limbs were fused with coral and iron. Their faces covered with barnacle-like masks. Seaweed slithered like nerves along their arms. And in the center walked someone different—a figure cloaked in storm-gray armor, helm shaped like a cracked seashell, eyes glowing faintly blue.
A voice echoed.
> "By order of Virell, Herald of the Depths… surrender the Vault Key or be torn from the bones out."
Dominic blinked. "He's got messengers now?"
Aegirion stepped forward. "That's a Storm Herald. One of Virell's personal executioners."
Dominic twirled the Trident lazily in his fingers. "Charming guy."
The Herald raised a hand.
Instantly, the soldiers surrounding him sprinted.
Fast.
Too fast.
Dominic barely brought the Trident up before one slammed into him. The force sent him spinning backward into a column of the temple. Stone cracked around him.
He coughed.
"Ow."
Aegirion darted forward like a torpedo, energy exploding from his palms. He struck one of the twisted warriors straight in the chest, sending it spiraling into a trench. The creature's armor split, revealing rotted muscle and rusted bone beneath.
Dominic shook his head clear and flipped into motion.
Another charged. He ducked under its claw, spun, and drove the end of the Trident into its side. Water shimmered with a blue pulse. The creature screamed, flailing before it went still.
"Alright, two down—how many's left?" Dominic muttered.
Three more came at once.
They weren't random brutes. They fought like soldiers—quick, coordinated, merciless.
Dominic weaved between their strikes, but he wasn't a seasoned warrior yet. One claw nicked his shoulder. Another kicked him hard into the sea bed.
Sand flew.
He spat blood into the water. "Son of a—"
Then a surge of energy blasted the assailants back.
Aegirion floated beside him, arm steaming from the burst. "You okay?"
"I'm having fun," Dominic grunted.
That was when the Herald himself moved.
He didn't swim. He glided. One moment he was ten meters away. The next, he was right in front of Dominic, blade drawn.
Dominic raised the Trident just in time to catch the slash.
The impact sent a shockwave through the water, distorting the sea around them like a quake.
"Child of Poseidon," the Herald said through his helm. "You are unworthy."
Dominic gritted his teeth. "Then take it from me."
The Herald slashed again—faster. Dominic barely blocked. His hands burned. He lunged forward, slamming the butt of the Trident into the Herald's chest. Aegirion followed up with a blast of pressure that knocked them both back.
The Herald paused.
Then gave a strange tilt of his head.
> "You are not yet whole. But you are beginning."
He looked to Aegirion.
> "The boy must fall before Virell awakens fully. Next time, we will not test. We will take."
With that, he vanished in a swirl of brine and wind. The remaining soldiers, even the ones injured, turned and followed into the dark current.
Silence returned.
Dominic floated there, panting.
"Was that... a warning?"
Aegirion nodded slowly. "No. That was a message."
Dominic looked toward the Spiral Maw in the distance.
Something vast moved beneath it.
---
Cutaway: Virell's Domain
Far below, deeper than even the Vault ran, Virell sat on a jagged throne made of reef and wreckage. His body glistened with armor that pulsed with storm essence.
The Herald knelt before him.
"He resists," the Herald said.
Virell's voice cracked like thunder. "Good."
He stood, towering, limbs adorned with spinning blades of shell and wire. His eyes glowed.
> "Let him rise. So I can crush him."
The ocean didn't feel the same anymore.
Dominic sat on the edge of a sunken ridge, the Trident across his lap, silent. The currents around him whispered—not with words, but with weight. Like the water itself was holding its breath.
Aegirion floated nearby, quiet too. For once, no sarcastic comments, no sudden advice. Just watching.
"You didn't tell me Virell had people," Dominic muttered.
"Storm Heralds aren't people," Aegirion said without turning. "They used to be. Now they're just shells filled with his rage."
Dominic looked down at the Trident. "He knew who I was."
"He always knew. He's been watching."
The silence grew heavier.
Dominic felt the sting in his arms, the bruises from the fight. He still wasn't used to this—being a target, being part of something ancient. Before, life was simple. Painful, but simple. Hospital beds. Machines. Sad faces.
Now, gods. Tridents. Killers in the sea.
He gripped the weapon tighter.
"I don't trust you," he said suddenly.
Aegirion raised a brow. "Noted."
"I don't get your game. You show up, save me, train me, talk like you care—but every time we find something, I catch you looking at it like you're the one it belongs to."
Aegirion didn't speak.
Dominic stood up. "I saw how you looked at the Vault. At the Trident. Like it was yours."
Aegirion turned slowly, his face unreadable. "Do you want the truth?"
"Yeah," Dominic said. "Start with who you really are."
Aegirion floated closer. His voice dropped.
> "I was one of Poseidon's shadows. His 'left hand.' I carried out missions the surface never knew about. Punished traitors. Silenced enemies. Even gods feared me once."
Dominic didn't flinch.
Aegirion continued. "But Poseidon was paranoid. He didn't trust loyalty. He sealed away my power and banished me the moment I hesitated to drown a city for him."
Dominic narrowed his eyes. "So now you help me… because you want revenge?"
"No," Aegirion said simply. "I help you because you're not him. Not yet."
Dominic turned away. "That's the problem. I don't know who I am anymore."
Aegirion floated beside him, then motioned ahead. "Come."
They swam silently down a trench split open like a scar, deep into the older parts of the sea. The water grew cold. Ancient statues lined the walls—stone faces eroded by centuries, arms outstretched in worship or warning.
At the center was something odd—a mirror made of ocean glass. Framed by coral and silver.
"What is this?" Dominic asked.
Aegirion didn't answer.
Dominic approached. The glass shimmered.
And suddenly—he saw himself.
But not as he was now.
In the mirror, he wore a black sea cloak, hair longer, eyes glowing white-blue like the moon reflected on water. His body looked older, tougher, like he'd lived a hundred wars. Behind him stood legions of sea creatures—some humanoid, some monsters.
And at his side…
Aegirion.
But older. Worn. Armored again.
Dominic stepped back.
"Was that… a vision?"
Aegirion nodded. "A memory shard. Of Poseidon's possible future."
"I looked like him," Dominic whispered. "But different."
"You looked like what you might become."
Dominic turned away from the glass. "I don't want to be another monster."
Aegirion placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then don't. Change the tide. That's why you're still you."
But before Dominic could reply—
The ocean shook.
A sudden wave of pressure slammed through the trench, almost knocking them off balance.
Aegirion's expression changed. "That came from the west."
Dominic looked at him. "The siren?"
Aegirion nodded grimly.
"She's awake—and she's not alone."
---
Cutaway: Somewhere in the Deep Wilds
In the cold dark, a young woman floated above a shattered temple of song.
Her hair swayed like silk, eyes glowing faintly violet.
She was barefoot. Her skin glimmered with scales under lightless water. In her hand, she held an orb of crystalized breath—pure song trapped in glass.
Sirens didn't wake on their own.
She had been called.
And from every trench, from every broken reef and ancient coral tomb, others began to stir.
Singing.
Low at first.
Then rising.