The water was heavy down here and deeper than dreams, beyond the grasp of sunlight or sound; the sea pressed around me like the memory of gods long dead. My feet touched the floor of the abyss, where even the Deep One's voice had once trembled. The trench was jagged and ancient, a scar in the world's flesh, carved by wars older than time. And now I had come to the end of what should never have begun. I stood still, my breath steady despite the pressure. The silence was alive. The bones of sea creatures long extinct lined the chasm's edge, and in the darkness before me, I felt it, the last shiver of the Deep One's presence, clinging to this cursed place like rot to a corpse.
I lowered my head. "I am here."
The sea stirred, and from the shadows, Mother Sea appeared, Vast and translucent, her form ever-changing, her hair a tide of stars and salt. She towered above me, ancient and graceful, her voice deep enough to fracture stone.
