The sea forgot itself the deeper they went.
Poseidon, Maelora, and Varun moved through a part of the ocean where the currents no longer swirled, where coral no longer grew, where even the salt seemed unsure if it still belonged.
This was no trench.
No ruin.
No lair of beast.
It was a hole in reality—a place the sea didn't remember creating.
A place it tried to bury with depth, silence, and time.
And yet it had opened again.
---
The Descent
Maelora shivered beside Poseidon, gripping her spear tightly. The glow from the Trident barely reached her face.
> "Everything feels… hollow."
Varun floated behind them, unusually quiet.
> "It's like the ocean's soul doesn't work here."
Poseidon nodded.
> "We're inside the Hollow Sea now."
They descended further. The pressure should have crushed them, but here there was no pressure—only stillness.
No gravity.
No time.
Just water that didn't feel like water.
Poseidon whispered, almost to himself:
