The water moved as she willed, parting around her, cradling her like an extension of herself. She did not swim. She commanded, and the ocean listened. It carried her effortlessly, shifting beneath her touch, bending to her unspoken desires.
For as long as she had existed, the seabed had been her cradle. The dark had been her home. She had known nothing else, and she had wanted nothing else. There had been no need to explore, no reason to question. The deep had held her, quiet and unchanging.
But now—
Now she expanded her senses, reaching beyond where she had ever reached before. The water thrummed around her, filled with currents she had never noticed, with movements she had never cared to feel.
She let herself sink into it, in body as in mind.
And the world unfolded around her.
Everything became clear.
Life pulsed around her.
Shapes of all kinds—small and large, swift and slow, fragile and formidable. Some so small they barely stirred the tides, others vast, their presence filling the water, impossible to ignore.
And beyond them, at the very edge of her awareness. She came aware of a presence—that felt vast, powerful and so incredible old—moving slow and indulgent.
She turned away from it, drawn instead to the smaller lives drifting nearby.
Making her toward them.
She watched the creatures with gelatinous translucent bodies, glowing faintly in hypnotic, rhythmic patterns.
They wove through the darkness with effortless grace, moving slowly and unhurried.
They were beautiful.
They were like her.
Or was she like them?
Without deciding, she moved toward them.
At first, they did not seem to notice her, weaving through the dark in slow, graceful arcs.
She let her presence unfurl, wrapping around them like the current itself, studying them in exquisite detail.
And at once they stilled.
One turned.
Then another.
A pause. A ripple.
And then—recognition.
She understood them, even though no words were exchanged.
Their bodies undulated with the slow, hypnotic sway of their joy.
Elation.
Reverence.
Worship for her, For her mere existence.
The emotions radiated through the water—Pure. Instinctive. Impossible to misinterpret.
They knew her in a way, she did not yet know herself.
They swarmed her, gliding close, tendrils brushing her skin like whispers in the water. No fear, no hesitation.
She was puzzled by eager, almost frantic forwardness.
Why?
She had never seen them before. Yet here they were, circling her, responding to her presence with something she did not quite understand.
A daughter of the sea, they called her. But she was aware of it. She always has been a child of the sea.
Were they not its children too?
She quickly realised they were such simple creatures. Lacking the intelligence to articulate themselves for a meaningful conversation.
So she did not stay long.
They were others.
She felt/saw them, distant but present. Larger, stronger. Not like these delicate wanderers.
She reached outward. not with her hands, but with something deeper. The way she felt the water, the way she commanded it.
And with a single desire—to see—
She was there.
This one was different.
Larger. Swifter more Powerful.
It did not drift; it cut through the water, fins slicing through the abyss with purpose. Muscles coiled beneath sleek skin, and with sharp teeth.
A predator.
But even this one had a glow.
She watched.
And then, she changed.
Her form reshaped effortlessly, adapting. Limbs stretched—then vanished. Her body streamlined,
She flexed, testing the strength in her new body. The way it moved.
The predator turned.
It seemed to acknowledge her, the same way the creatures before it had.
And this time, unlike the others—
It spoke.