1. The Weeping and Angry Sea

1

THE WEEPING AND ANGRY SEA

PACARI

S omething is wrong with the water.

The green and orange nudibranch clings to my arm, its ear-like rhinophores curling back as it lets out a defensive toxin. I curse, trying to shake it from my arm.

When the first devastating ripple unleashes, I am unprepared. My body slams against the coral. Terror rushes through me—that coral has existed for thousands of years and my negligence now means that it will take another thousand to regrow—if at all. The world is a swirling mess of bioluminescent neons against the blackness. Another ripple throws the plants and animals of my garden asunder.

"Pacari!" booms a deep voice from the entrance to the grotto .

Cirro's thick tentacles reach out to pull me out, ripping me away from the defenseless sea life I've worked many years to protect. The little slug still clings to my arm. Despite its earlier attempt to poison me, I wrap my other arm around it protectively, flaring my arm fins to cover it. My arm feels weak from the toxin.

"The garden!" I call back to the kraken, trying to wriggle my way out of his grasp.

"Even the Abyssal Ones have taken shelter," Cirro says. "It is not safe here."

"But—"

"The creatures will be fine. You will not. You are not made for these depths," he growls back in exasperation, pulling me through the small cave entrance.

I try to protest, point out that my skin glows because I was born in dysphotic waters as he was. The blistering heat from the nearby vent fills me with alarm, and in my panic, I allow Cirro to pull me along.

The nudibranch lets out a small noise as it curls against me even tighter. I wince at the pain, but turn my attention to comforting the slug as Cirro drags me from my life's work.

"We'll be okay, little one," I whisper. "I'll keep you safe."

It may be all that remains of my garden when this devastation has passed. The Lantern Witch's sanctuary spell has its limitations—there is no guarantee it will hold against whatever terrible thing currently befalls us. Rocks fall, scraping against my back as Cirro pulls me clear. A tentacle sweeps across, pushing debris out of the way before it falls on either of us. I watch my friend clench his jaw, curling me in towards his center as his tentacles jettison us away from harm's way.

"Let me go, we can swim faster apart," I urge, nudging gently at the arm holding me.

"If you go back for your garden, you put us all in danger," he grumbles, staring back at me with a hard look.

The thought had crossed my mind, but I would not wish to endanger him nor my little passenger any further.

"On my honor," I swear, pushing at him once more.

He grumbles as he lets go.

A glance behind tells me the cave structure is failing. Every kick propelling me forward feels like the most agonizing movement I've ever made.

"What is happening?" I ask.

Moving much faster now, further and further from the deepest, darkest depths, I race to keep up with Cirro as he swims towards the surface. With each undulation of my body, a sickening, sticky horribleness passes through the water. I swim faster to outpace it.

"Can't you feel it?"

"The water is wrong," I nod.

"It is weeping. Angry. Storms come and go without emotion but this…"

A tide shifts through the water, ripping us away from each other. His tentacle lashes out, pulls me close. The nudibranch holds tighter, releasing yet more toxins. I push past the numbness, keep swimming, keep moving. It is dangerous to be this deep with the waters so enraged. We swim above the cliff next to us just before it shakes loose, sending rocks plummeting underneath us.

"Where are the other Abyssal Ones?" I ask, fear prickling my skin—at least the parts the nudibranch has not already numbed.

Cirro shakes his head. Forbidden knowledge. I know better than to ask, but I cannot help myself.

Another tide shifts towards us, this one pulling all of us deeper, towards the crumbling rocks, into the Abyss. Cirro grips tighter, fanning his tentacles out to provide a modicum of cover. As we billow there in the twisting stream, the emotion deepens. That awful, sickly feeling moves through me. Nothing will ever be worthwhile again.

We are trapped. Despondent.

A song breaks through the current, wraps around us like a comforting embrace. The nudibranch lessens its death grip, ceases to release its toxin. It worms up my arm, my neck, to the top of my skull in search of the song. We look to each other, Cirro and I. Filled with the stubborn pride of hope, we kick and propel ourselves up, up until we are finally clear of the Abyss, far enough away that all we encounter now are the frantic creatures of the upper seas. I kick harder and harder, fighting to get closer to the source of that song. Cirro lets go, whether to beat me there or to allow us to swim more efficiently, I cannot tell.

The song pulses through my veins, quickens my heart, and brings such joy and comfort to me it escapes on my lips. Gaining on Cirro, I look to the kraken and laugh to see his eternal frown upturned just slightly. Joy never looks quite right on his face, his mouth far too small.

"Excited to see your favorite little leviathan?" I tease.

A tentacle whips up and smacks me in the face. I should have known better than to think Kalixto's song would calm Cirro's natural grumpiness. He and I are both much more reserved than the siren, but at least I know how to smile. Even if it would scare off a human or two .

"That phytoplankton is no leviathan," Cirro huffs. I cannot tell if it's dismissive or in jest.

Soon, the siren's silhouette takes shape in the ray of sunlight beaming down from the surface. As we get closer, I can almost make out his features, but the daylight makes it difficult to see clearly.

"Do you have word, Kalixto?" I ask.

The merman nods somberly, long flowing green hair billowing behind him. The scales scattered across his chest twinkle in the sun's light.

"The Lantern Witch longs for vengeance."

The words trickle down my spine like a crab, uncomfortable and disconcerting. His words are vague, but I shudder to think of what one must have done to trigger her ire.

"Is she harmed?" I ask, worry seeping in as I think of my garden.

"Not… externally," Kalixto responds.

I would ponder what familiarity he has with the Lantern Witch, but my mind races with the fate of my garden.

I lift the nudibranch to my face. "We will help your friends, little one, don't worry."

The sooner I can speak with her, the sooner I can tend to the surviving life. My friends nod at me, worry apparent within their expressions, as I swim away.

"Don't forget your offering!" Cirro calls out .

I nod, realizing all the trinkets I once had are now buried within the cavern… which means I will go to the Lantern Witch with nothing. Our previous arrangement will not cover the garden's rehabilitation alone. In her current state, I worry for the price she will ask.