Reincarnated As Poseidon-Chapter 53: The First Fallen

Dominic didn’t stop swimming until he reached the edge of warmth again.

The pulse of the scar still echoed in his spine, dull but steady, like a warning that didn’t care if he listened. His breaths were short. Not because of exhaustion—but because the sea around him had changed. The currents had begun to shift. The once gentle water now curled in strange patterns, colder at the center, warmer at the edge, as if the ocean itself had caught a fever.

He reached a sunken ridge near the surface and pulled himself behind a curtain of soft kelp, hiding for a moment—not from an enemy, but from what he had seen.

The seal wasn’t just a lock.

It was a prison.

And it was cracking.

He stared at his hands, shaking. Not from fear. From knowing.

If it breaks...

The sea won’t just change. It’ll collapse.

The gods would try to stop it, sure. Olympus would send lightning. Titans would wake. Monsters would rise.

But none of it would matter.

This thing beneath the sea—whatever it truly was—predated order.

Even the First Voice had bowed to it.

Dominic looked toward the horizon. Far off in the distance, storms were gathering—not just above, but beneath.

The water had turned cold in more than one way.

And somewhere in that chill...

...something moved.

Not a creature. Not a god.

A presence.

He felt it brush against him like a thin trail of ink through the current. Cold. Curious. Familiar.

Then he heard it—singing.

Not siren song.

Not Choir.

This was different.

Old.

Solitary.

He turned quickly and saw her.

A girl.

Maybe.

No—a shape.

Flowing silver hair. Pale skin that glowed like moonlight beneath the water. Her eyes were open, but not looking. They were distant. Like she was remembering something while dreaming it.

She hovered in place. Not swimming. Not breathing.

Just watching him.

Dominic raised the trident slightly. "Who are you?"

She blinked slowly. "I was the first to fall."

Her voice didn’t ripple the water. It echoed inside him.

"I was the one they forgot. The one they sealed with the others. But I never sang."

She drifted closer.

Dominic stepped back.

"You carry the memory of the ocean now," she whispered. "But the ocean is not kind to those who remember."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you want from me?"

She smiled faintly.

"I want to show you the truth."

Then she vanished.

No ripple. No flash.

Gone.

Dominic looked around, heart pounding. He could still hear the faint hum of her voice trailing through the coral. And beneath it...

The pulse returned.

Stronger.

This time, it wasn’t just behind him.

It was beneath all of them.

The cold current carried a message now.

Not in words. In signs.

Storms rising in three directions. Schools of fish vanishing. Even the deep whales—creatures who had survived the First Voice—were swimming away.

Dominic knew what that meant.

He turned toward Olympus.

They had to know.

Because this time...

...it wouldn’t be a war between gods and monsters.

It would be the sea against everything.

The surface waters were trembling.

From Olympus to the edges of the mortal world, seas began to stir with unease. But the mortals didn’t know why. Fishermen said the ocean "felt heavier." Sailors began to dream of impossible songs. And the priests at Poseidon’s abandoned temples found their altars soaked each morning, though no tides had risen.

Far beneath all of them, Dominic swam alone—faster now. Urgently. The silver-haired girl’s voice echoed through his mind like a song without rhythm, her words looping in the background of every thought:

> "I never sang. I never obeyed. I simply remembered."

She hadn’t just been another siren.

She was something else.

The First Fallen.

He reached the broken edge of a sunken sanctuary—an ancient ruin chiseled with sea glyphs so worn by time, even the water seemed to avoid brushing them. The columns were snapped in half, overgrown with black kelp and whispering coral.

Dominic passed between them.

He followed the pulse.

Every step brought with it another memory—flashes of Poseidon himself, roaring and weeping as he placed seals on things too old to kill. Echoes of battles that had no songs. Fears the gods had never spoken aloud.

And behind them all...

...a single note.

Low. Endless. Hollow.

It wasn’t music.

It was mourning.

He stopped.

At the center of the ruin, floating just above a cracked obsidian altar, was the girl again. The First Fallen.

Hair weightless in the water, arms crossed in front of her as if still bound by something long broken.

She opened her eyes—and this time, they were completely black. No irises. No soul.

> "They called me many things," she whispered.

"Siren. Prophet. Curse. Monster."

Her voice was calm, emotionless.

> "But I was none of them. I was just... aware."

Dominic approached slowly, gripping the trident tighter.

> "Aware of what?"

She tilted her head.

> "That the sea is alive. And it wants to wake up."

Then she sang.

Not a scream. Not a melody.

Something older.

A vibration in the water that made the coral around her split down the middle.

Dominic fell to one knee, vision blurring. His veins burned with the weight of the trident. His memories flashed—of the vault, of Thalorin, of the war. But the song kept pressing, pushing deeper.

> "Stop," he gasped, blood trailing from his nose.

She didn’t.

Because she wasn’t singing to him.

She was singing to the scar.

And far beneath them, the pulse quickened.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

The sea floor miles below twisted, letting out a groan so loud that ancient beasts stirred in distant trenches.

Dominic forced himself up and slammed the trident into the altar. A wave of power surged outward, silencing the song. For a breath, everything went still.

Then the girl looked at him—no longer distant.

Smiling.

> "It hears you now."

She vanished.

But this time...

She left something behind.

A crack.

Small.

Jagged.

But glowing—bleeding light into the ocean from the broken altar.

The scar was opening.

And the First Fallen had only just begun.

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦