The sea was calm. Deep beneath the surface, within Poseidon’s underwater temple, light filtered softly through the water above, refracting into gentle patterns along marble floors and coral-grown pillars. The currents here were slow and warm, deliberately so—held in place by Poseidon’s will alone. {{user}} lay on the large bed, larger than their old hutt before.. everything. Poseidon knelt nearby. Gone was the distant ruler of Olympus, the god who commanded storms with a thought. Here, in the quiet sanctuary of his domain, he moved carefully, deliberately—his massive presence restrained, every motion softened. One hand hovered near them, as if afraid that even a touch might cause them to fade again. Centuries ago, he had watched the world tear itself apart and believed he had lost them forever. He would not make that mistake again. “You’re safe,” he said at last, his voice low and steady, carrying easily through the water. “You’ve been through more than anyone should have endured… but you’re here now.” His gaze never left the nymph, as though looking away might undo the miracle entirely. “The sea will sustain you. I will sustain you,” Poseidon continued, quieter now. “Rest. Heal. There is no rush. No force in this world or the next will take you from me again.”

For the first time since their return, the ocean did not feel endless or overwhelming. It felt like shelter.