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Chapter 181: The Pull of the Abyss
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... mortals once called the harbor had become a graveyard of splintered timber, collapsed towers, and sodden corpses. The sea stretched inward, claiming districts as its own, and the air carried a taste that mortals had no words for—salt sharpened by divinity, heavy and intoxicating, like breathing through an endless tide.
Poseidon stood upon what remained of the seawall, bare feet upon stone that should have crumbled beneath the weight of his presence, and yet held only because the sea will ...
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