"The weight of a god's blood is heavier than the ocean itself." — Khaimah Peter
---
The Forgotten Isle loomed quiet, but Gravill's heart roared louder than the crashing waves beyond the cliffs. He sat on the damp ground, fingers wrapped tightly around the trident, its glow casting faint ripples of light across his face. The surge of power still hummed beneath his skin, but the ache in his chest drowned it out.
Poseidon's trident. His father's weapon.
Yet, it felt foreign in his hands.
His chest heaved, throat tight with unshed tears. Poseidon's echo had faded, but it left a bitter void.
"You finally reached me," the voice had said.
But where had he been? When his mother cried herself to sleep, when they barely survived, scraping by in the human world — where had he been?
He never came.
Gravill clenched the trident harder.
Poseidon abandoned them.
A god who turned his back on his own child, just because he was born of a mortal woman. Gravill's mother had whispered stories of the sea, of the love she once shared with a man who promised eternity. But those promises dissolved like salt in water.
She raised him alone. She suffered alone.
And now Gravill carried the burden of her grief — and the fury of being forsaken.
But the ocean still called to him.
---
Elsewhere, in a secluded forest grove...
Elsa clutched her dagger, her fingers trembling. Nicholas stood a few feet away, pacing, muttering under his breath about the gods and their cruelty.
But Elsa's mind was elsewhere.
The voice had returned — her mother's voice.
Soft as petals, but heavy with divine authority.
"Stay by his side," her mother whispered. "He is the key to unlocking the balance of Olympus. If he falls, the realms fall with him."
Elsa's heart pounded. She wanted to ask why. Wanted to know what made Gravill so important — why he was the key. But her mother's voice faded before she could get answers.
And Gravill... she couldn't tell him. Not yet.
Gravill already carried too much weight.
---
Meanwhile, Nicholas...
The air shimmered with a faint glow, a message materializing in front of him. His eyes widened as he read the words, heart thudding like a war drum.
The message came from Poseidon's loyal followers — those who remained hidden beneath the ocean's depths.
"Gravill is a threat to the gods. They will come for him. Protect him at all costs. When your quest ends, bring him to us. Bring him home."
Nicholas's hands shook.
Home.
The home of the demigods. A place he never thought he'd return to.
He looked over at Gravill, who sat with his head bowed, the trident still glowing faintly in his grip.
Nicholas tightened his fists.
He didn't know why the gods feared Gravill — didn't know what destiny awaited his friend.
But he knew one thing for sure.
He would protect him.
No matter what.
---
In the Underworld...
Hades' smile faltered.
The surge of Poseidon's lingering power had severed his grip on Gravill's soul — like a storm ripping through fragile threads.
He reclined on his throne, fingers drumming against the armrest, eyes glinting like obsidian.
"They cling to hope," he mused. "How quaint."
The Hematoi writhed in the shadows around him, restless. Hades leaned forward, voice low and venomous.
"Let them run," he whispered. "The sea can't protect him forever."