The sharp hiss of salt and brine crept higher with each wave that slapped against the hull, but it wasn't just the sea that moved with intensity tonight.
The creatures had grown bolder.
Several of these Tritons began scrambling up the ship's side. Their claws, jagged like rusted fish hooks, clung to the wooden planks and scraped deep gouges into them. The sound was a shrill grind, sharp and shrieking against the otherwise quiet night. Their ascent was unnatural, too fast, as if gravity was an afterthought to them—nothing more than a gentle inconvenience.
Their voices were not quite screams, not words either, but something in between—a rasping mix of gravel churned through rusted pipes, broken by guttural clicks and wet snarls. The ship groaned faintly, reacting to their weight and intent, as the creatures swarmed like reef-born lizards racing toward blood.
