The tide had settled, but the sea was far from calm.
Dominic stood at the edge of what remained of the battlefield. The ocean around him carried the ghost of war—shattered shells, the scent of scorched coral, and the low hum of something ancient still whispering beneath the waves. His trident hung loosely at his side, its glow dulled by exhaustion. He wasn't sure if it was from the battle… or from within him.
Then the water shifted.
Not from below. From above.
A golden shimmer spiraled through the sea, pushing the dark aside. Not a storm. Not a monster.
A presence.
And then… she arrived.
Athena.
No fanfare. No lightning bolts or trumpet blasts. Just a glow of quiet brilliance—cool and sharp like moonlight across a blade.
She didn't swim. She moved like thought, her cloak flowing around her like liquid silk. Her silver eyes scanned the sea floor, pausing on Dominic.
"You look like you lost more than blood," she said.
Dominic exhaled. "You're late."
