Reincarnated As Poseidon-Chapter 61: The Last siren priestess

Below – Coral Keep

Back in the reef-guarded sanctuary, Dominic gathered what remained of Poseidon’s scrolls. Most had faded—water-damaged or memory-drained.

But one remained.

Written not in Olympian glyphs, but siren script.

He turned it over in his hands.

No title.

Just a mark. A triangle wrapped in waves.

> "You ever seen this?" he asked Maelora.

She took it slowly. Her eyes widened.

> "This isn’t a scroll," she whispered. "It’s a song."

Dominic blinked. "A song?"

> "From the first age. A binding ballad. If sung by a true voice... it can wake the sea gods that came before Olympus."

Varun narrowed his eyes. "That’s dangerous."

> "Everything we do now is dangerous," Dominic muttered.

---

The moment he spoke, a tremor ran through the sea.

A tremor not from Thalorenn.

Not from the gods.

But from something... older.

---

Dominic looked up, toward the blue veil above.

For a moment, he saw something watching.

Not a face.

Just a shimmer.

A Watcher.

He shivered.

> "They see us now."

Maelora’s voice lowered. "So what do we do?"

Dominic closed his eyes.

> "We sing."

The scroll trembled in Maelora’s hand.

Not from any current.

Not from fear.

But from memory.

Old memory.

The kind buried so deep, even the sea tried to forget it.

---

> "This was never meant for mortal ears," she whispered, tracing the siren markings with her fingers. "Not even for sirens anymore."

Dominic stepped closer, brows furrowed. "Then who sang it?"

Maelora’s voice dropped.

> "The First Siren. Lyrielle’s mother. Her voice could shift the tides, collapse ships, and bend sea monsters to her will."

Varun let out a low breath. "And this song?"

> "She used it to wake the sleeping gods beneath the sea... gods even Poseidon feared."

A silence stretched between them.

> "And you’re holding it," Dominic muttered.

Maelora nodded. "And it wants to be sung again."

---

Elsewhere – Lyrielle’s Wake

In the deepest trench of the Eastern Abyss, Lyrielle hovered in silence.

Her eyes—dark, distant, searching.

The Choir circled her slowly, humming low tones that barely vibrated the water.

Then, her body jolted.

A sound.

A ripple.

The Scroll.

Her eyes narrowed.

> "They’ve found it."

The Choir quieted.

She clenched her fists.

> "The boy wants to wake them. Let him. He’ll choke on their voices."

---

Back at the Reef

Dominic sat cross-legged on the sandbed, the scroll now glowing faintly in his lap. Strange symbols drifted off its surface like ink swimming in water.

> "This thing’s alive."

Maelora nodded. "It’s not just a song. It’s a choice."

> "If I sing it..." he hesitated.

> "You might not stay yourself," she finished softly. "Old voices don’t like sharing space."

Dominic glanced at Varun.

> "Would you stop me?"

Varun folded his arms. "Depends what you become after."

---

Dominic smiled weakly.

> "Fair."

He closed his eyes, took a breath... and sang.

---

The Song That Shouldn’t Be Sung

The water around him shifted.

No words—just tones.

Low, then high.

Soft, then thunderous.

Notes that didn’t follow any human music.

It wasn’t just heard.

It was felt.

In bone.

In blood.

In every drop of water for miles.

---

The reef quaked.

Fish scattered.

Ancient coral lit up with blue flame.

The water began to pulse like a heartbeat.

Maelora gasped.

Varun took a step back.

> "He’s not just singing it... He’s becoming part of it."

---

And far below—something stirred.

A crack split the ocean floor.

Black water leaked upward, curling with gold threads of divine energy.

From the trench beneath all trenches... a door opened.

---

A hand emerged.

Not human.

Not monster.

Something... in between.

And a voice whispered:

> "I remember this song."

---

Dominic choked on his last note and collapsed backward.

The scroll evaporated in a shimmer of sea-dust.

Maelora caught him, her voice shaking.

> "Dominic? Speak to me!"

His eyes blinked open—no longer glowing.

But his voice was not his own.

> "They heard me."

> "Who?" Varun demanded.

Dominic looked up toward the ceiling of the sea.

His voice was calm, but filled with something ancient.

> "The Old Ones."

---

And somewhere beyond Olympus, far past Hades’ gate, a whisper echoed through every realm:

> "The Song has been sung."

Far below the ocean’s deepest trench, beyond where mortal minds can imagine and even gods refuse to tread, the earth cracked.

It was not loud.

It did not shake the realm.

But it shifted everything.

For the first time in an age uncounted, the Old Ones began to stir.

---

They had no temples.

No priests.

No prayers.

No hymns left to honour them.

Only silence.

A silence now broken.

---

In the Deep Rift – A Whisper in the Core

Black water twisted through the crevices of the sea floor, leaking lightless threads into the folds of the ocean. In the center, surrounded by forgotten bones and fossilized temples, something moved.

A face—not quite formed.

An eye—too large, too ancient.

Breathing began.

Slow.

Drawn-out.

Then, a voice—deep and impossible—spoke through the dark:

> "The singer has awakened the tide."

From far corners of the trench, others responded.

A thousand whispers layered over one another like waves crashing in reverse:

> "Another has worn the sea’s memory."

"He holds what we once were."

"He has called us. We remember now."

---

Above – Dominic’s Recovery

Dominic floated in a soft coral cradle Maelora had constructed with song. He hadn’t spoken since the Song of the First Siren left his lips.

His eyes fluttered open, not glowing—but distant.

> "Dominic?" Maelora leaned in.

He blinked, groggy.

> "They answered."

Varun leaned against the reef wall. "Who did?"

Dominic sat up slowly.

> "The Old Ones. I didn’t just wake them... I connected with them."

Maelora went pale. "You let them see you?"

Dominic nodded. "I didn’t mean to. The song didn’t just travel—it opened me."

---

A tremor pulsed through the sea.

But not from war.

Not from magic.

From presence.

Something vast now floated below them. Watching.

Not attacking.

Just... waiting.

---

Far in the North – The Temple of Shell and Void

Beneath the icy crust of the northern ocean, a lone siren priestess stirred in her sacred pool. Her name was Selkyr, a last devotee of the Forgotten Ones.

Her eyes snapped open.

> "He sang the Forbidden Verse."

She rose, robes of pearl-threaded kelp flowing like banners.

> "The sea’s balance shifts again."

She placed her hand on the temple altar. It pulsed beneath her skin.

> "Then I must go. The boy doesn’t know what he’s brought to the surface."

---

Olympus Watches

On the sky’s throne, Zeus remained still as storm clouds formed around him.

A golden eagle landed beside him with a whisper from the Watchers.

He read it.

Then crushed the scroll in his hand.

> "They’re coming back."

Athena entered. "The Old Ones?"

> "He woke them."

Ares snarled. "That boy doesn’t know the ruin he’s dragged up."

Apollo spoke from the side, voice quieter than usual.

> "What if he’s the only one who can hold them off?"

Zeus stared at the horizon. Thunder crackled.

> "Then he better hold fast. Because if he falters, Olympus will burn with the sea."

---

Dominic Realizes the Cost

Dominic floated just above the reef floor, staring at his hands.

They trembled.

> "They spoke to me... not in words. In feelings. In storms. In old grief. They remember being forgotten. They remember Poseidon... and how he turned on them."

Maelora grabbed his hand. "What did they want?"

He looked her in the eye.

> "To know if I’m their enemy... or their chance at returning."

Varun stepped forward. "And what are you going to be?" ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Dominic didn’t answer.

Because he hadn’t decided.

And that was the part that scared him most.

The northern waters were cruel.

Sharp.

Still.

Cold enough to stop a man’s heart before his last breath left his lips.

But beneath the ice...

There was warmth.

There was song.

And there was Selkyr.

---

She moved through the glacial corridor like a shadow—wrapped in a veil of woven coral, her eyes glowing like twin stars beneath the frost. Her temple, carved into the ribs of a dead Leviathan, was silent.

The Choir no longer sang here.

There were no disciples.

No crowds.

No bells.

Just her.

The Last Siren Priestess.

---

She reached the altar.

Ancient, cracked, still wet with ink from the time when Poseidon still walked the sea in mortal flesh.

She knelt.

Placed her palm on the surface.

Felt the vibrations traveling from the south—Dominic’s song still echoing like a wound beneath the sea.

> "He woke them..."

The Leviathan’s bones groaned around her, as if reacting to the call.

She looked up slowly.

And for the first time in hundreds of years...

She sang.

---

A Song of Warning

Her voice was not beautiful.

It was broken.

Raw.

Honest.

It cracked the ice above and drew the attention of things hiding in the dark.

She sang in the Old Tongue, the language of waves and ancient rage, not for worship...

...but to warn.

---

Somewhere South – Dominic Pauses

The sea stilled around him.

Dominic’s body tensed.

> "Did you hear that?" he asked.

Maelora turned. "The northern wind?"

> "No." His brows furrowed. "A voice. A warning. She’s calling the old ones back to sleep."

Varun’s hand hovered near his blade. "Another enemy?"

> "No..." Dominic whispered. "Not yet."

---

Back in the Temple of Shell and Void

Selkyr’s song faded.

Her breath caught.

She had not sung in so long.

But her throat still knew the melody.

> "Boy of the broken tide," she whispered into the deep. "You cannot walk in Poseidon’s shadow and expect to stay whole."

A droplet of blood slipped from her lip and fell into the altar, soaking into the cracks.

The bones of the Leviathan shifted.

The temple groaned.

And the sea listened.

> "I will come to you," she whispered.

"Before they do."

---

Olympus Reacts

Hermes blinked as he read the latest divine thread.

> "Selkyr sings again."

Athena narrowed her eyes. "She was supposed to be dead."

Zeus spoke softly, eyes fixed on a distant stormcloud.

> "They’re all coming back now."

> "Then we prepare?" Ares cracked his knuckles.

> "No," Zeus growled. "We wait."

---

Dominic Begins to Feel the Weight

He sat alone that evening, near the twilight trench, as fish passed silently overhead.

The glow of Poseidon had dimmed in his skin—but not disappeared.

> "I didn’t mean to wake them," he said quietly to the water. "I just... wanted to understand."

The sea didn’t answer.

But something else did.

A voice.

Female.

Barely a whisper:

> "Then you must learn what they were... before you decide what you’ll become."

Dominic stood slowly.

> "Who’s there?"

Silence.

Then—

A gust of cold water.

A shimmer in the deep.

A pair of glowing eyes, far away.

Watching.

---

Selkyr was coming.

Not to fight.

Not to kneel.

But to judge.

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