The silence that followed the convergence of gods was nothing short of suffocating. Aegirion's watery throne receded back into the void of the celestial sea, leaving only ripples of divine power in its wake. The gods, now divided more than ever, dispersed into their separate realms with one thought clawing at the back of their minds—Poseidon had returned.
But within the hidden folds of the Rift, beneath layers of time-warped magic and ancient blood pacts, something older stirred.
Dominic, still unaware of the full scale of the divine war unfolding above him, knelt at the edge of a frozen pool. His reflection shimmered—no longer a human boy, nor entirely a god. His eyes burned with faint azure fire, his veins carried a strange current, and the voice—that voice—whispered again.
> "You are the flood. You are the storm. And they fear you."
