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... rble. One hand still clutching the spear of sea-glass protruding from his thigh. His chest rose and fell with labored effort. Blood—thick, golden, divine—poured from open wounds, trailing down his arms in molten ribbons.
The thunder no longer obeyed.
It cracked faintly in the distance, erratic, fading—like a storm retreating across the horizon.
His fingers twitched, reaching for something that wasn’t there.
Poseidon stood across from him, battered and grim. His tr ...
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