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Lungs inhale water until they break, then grow anew. The pain of drowning no longer affects me, for I have suffocated a million times yet I still not die. Though a lesser god might. Those Gods on the North Rim who brag of their resolve yet flee at the sight of their own blood, who send followers to fight in their stead, they would succumb to the depths of the ocean. Would give up and let the weight of the deep overtake them until they were ruined. I was no such god.

Though possibly I underestimated them, at least the resolve of their worshippers. They had sent me here, after all.The last thing I witnessed above the cresting waves was the burning of my place of worship. They held my head above as they killed my most loyal, then buried them next to me so I may watch the creatures of the sea feast on their corpses. In the moment it seemed the worst punishment imaginable, but I cannot say I didn't wish worse upon them now.

They would not be forgiven. If these chains would break, these anchors would rust, they would see how thin my patience had become.

With a mighty heave up my feet left the ground, carrying up the chains that weighed me in place, then all falling back down with a muted thud and cloud of sand. Today a bit more than yesterday, and tomorrow more than today. At this rate in a few thousand years I may crest up beyond the waves, and if the North Rimmed worshippers still idolized their false kings I would be sure they no longer had the breath to.

After a few more angered jumps I let myself fall back in the sand. Most of my days were spent here, trying to brush off barnacles and keep away hungry sea life. Trying to convince myself that I was still a god despite everything. Letting my throat fill with sea water again.

*But today would be different.*

I felt it earlier, in the morning I think. The tinges of my lost power returning to my fingertips. It started in my chest and spread faintly to my hands, the feeling of godhood that I once bathed in. Power that I hadn't tasted in what must have been hundreds of years. Somebody was praying for me, and though one beings prayers would not be enough, I knew more would follow. Loyal worshippers had a way of converting others; I just needed who praised me to keep that loyalty until I could prove my strength. With the last bit of my power left over from the years before I had been tossed to sea I called to them.

"Be faithful and you shall be rewarded. I will give you the world, just have patience." To my surprise the voice of a young girl replied, the sound was welcoming in my head.

"Hello?... I- we need help. Whoever you are can you help us?", her voice was frantic. It seemed the North Rim would have to wait for my one and only follower needed me more.

Just a little more and the sea would be but a memory. Just a little more and I would no longer be a drowned god. I jumped again, this time with a drop of godhood at my feet, and flew higher than ever before.

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Submitted by GrunkleStanwhich on Sat, Jul 09, 2022 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

You can’t kill a god, but you can erase it. Bound in enchanted chains weighed down by cold iron anchors, followers slaughtered and your temples burned, for all intents and purposes you don’t exist. You’re cast into the ocean, hopefully never to be heard from again. You are the drowned god.