The current thickened with tension.
Aegirion stood before them—worn, sea-bitten, and cloaked in the murk of the Hollow Sea.
His body bore the ocean's wounds.
His eyes, the weight of knowledge.
But even still, a sliver of something lingered behind them…
Hope.
And guilt.
Poseidon stepped forward slowly, each stride echoing through the reef as the Choir watched in silence.
"You vanished," he said. "When we needed you most."
Aegirion lowered his head.
> "I didn't run. I drowned."
---
Memories from the Hollow Sea
Aegirion raised his arm, the coral-infused armor along it pulsing with a faint black light. He closed his eyes—and the ocean itself responded.
A tremor.
A swirl.
A stream of visions flowed from him, seen not just with the eyes, but with the soul.
Darkness.
Tendrils of thought laced with grief.
A throne made of bones and forgotten names.
The Nameless One whispering in a voice made of other people's screams.
Maelora flinched.
Even Varun looked away.
