abc-du-gratuit Chapter 400: Something else
Chapter 400: Something else
Chapter 400
Lorelei
I open my eyes.
Something is here.
Not the storm—the storm has been raging for hours, maybe longer. I have learned to sleep through storms. The water may churn, the waves may crash, but the cave is deep, the walls are thick, and I am tired.
But this is not the storm.
I sit up.
The egg is brighter than usual. Its glow fills the small cave, casting shadows on the stone walls, illuminating the scars on my body, the wounds on my back, the weariness in my own eyes reflected in the water.
My heart races, for some reason.
Then I hear it again.
A sound.
Not the crash of waves. Not the howl of wind. Not the cry of seabirds or the splash of fish or any of the noises I have grown accustomed to in my years of solitude.
It is something else.
Something I have never heard before.
Curious.
I transform.
Scales ripple across my skin. My limbs thicken. My tail lengthens, growing massive, powerful, deadly. My teeth sharpen. My claws extend. My eyes adjust to the darkness, to the churning water, to the hunt.
This is the form that keeps me safe.
I swim out of the cave.
The water is relentless. The currents pull at me, shove me, tear at me. Waves crash against the jagged rocks, sending spray high into the air.
The sky is dark. Rain falls in sheets, so thick I can barely see.
It is barely visible, but I can see.
A huge shadow.
It clings to a jagged rock—one of the sharp, unforgiving stones that line this stretch of sea. The waves crash against it, over it, around it. The rain pounds down. The wind howls.
The shadow does not move.
The waters here are too ruthless for any living creature. Even I, born of the sea, raised in its depths, struggle to keep my place.
The currents are vicious. The rocks are knives.
But the shadow clings.
I hear the sound again.
Louder now. Closer.
It is coming from the shadow.
I dive beneath the surface, swimming toward the rock, pushing against the current, fighting the waves.
The shadow is ...living.
I do not recognize it. I surface and swim closer, curious. I have never seen anything like this before.
The sea is home to a multitude of living beings, but being is not of the waters. I can tell by the way it clings to the rock, by the way the waves batter it, by the way it struggles against the current.
It does not belong here.
I swim closer.
Its body is sleek and dark. It blends with the darkness, with the storm, with the churning water. I tilt my head, trying to understand what I am seeing.
Four limbs? It must be a creature of the land. A beast that wandered too far from its home. What is it doing here, in the middle of the sea, clinging to a rock in a storm?
I look at the long claws holding onto the stone, digging deep, leaving gouges in the rock. Something flicks behind it in the rain—a tail, long and powerful, lashing against the waves.
A predator.
I can see it in the shape of its body, in the set of its limbs, in the way its muscles tense against the current. This creature was made to hunt.
But so am I.
I am not afraid. In this form, I can easily overpower it. I am larger, stronger, deadlier. Plus the water is my home, and this creature is a stranger here.
I swim closer.
The waves crash. The rain falls. The creature clings to the rock, its body trembling with effort.
Then—
A wave slams against it.
Its claws scrape against the stone. Its body tilts. It tries to hold on, tries to dig deeper, tries to survive.
But it falls.
My heart races.
I rush toward it, pushing through the currents, ignoring the waves that crash against my own body. The creature tumbles through the water, unconscious, limp, helpless—rushing straight toward a particularly sharp rock.
I catch it.
My claws close around its body is ...warm, so warm, warmer than the sea, warmer than anything I have touched in years. It catches me off guard.
I release it for just a moment, to adjust my grip.
It begins to drift away.
I catch it again, holding it against my chest, shielding it from the current, from the rocks, from the storm.
I swim beneath the surface, away from the crashing waves, away from the jagged rocks, away from the danger. The water is calmer here, darker, safer. I hold the creature against me and swim toward the cave.
*
In the cave, I place the creature next to my egg.
The stone is cold beneath its body. Its fur is wet, matted, dark. Its chest rises and falls—slow, shallow, but alive.
I watch it for a long moment, my massive form filling the cave, my tail trailing in the water behind me.
I do not know what to do with a land creature.I have never touched one before—not like this, not gently, not with the intent to save.
The ones I have touched, I have killed.
The ones I have touched, I have destroyed.
But this one—
This one is different.
The egg is now extremely bright.
I have never seen it like this before. Its glow fills the cave, brighter than the moonlight, brighter than the bioluminescence of the deep, brighter than anything I have seen in years.
My heart races.
I move the nest—the bed of shells and moss and woven seaweed that has cradled my child for so long—toward the creature.
The egg glows brighter.
What?
I push the nest closer.
The egg pulses. The light intensifies. The warmth spreads through the cave, through the water, through me.
Could it?
I stare at the creature. At its dark fur, its limp body, its closed eyes.
Is this—
Could this be—
I shift.
My body contracts, folds, shrinks.My tail remains in the water, trailing behind me, the only part of me that still belongs to the sea.
I lean over the egg.
I inspect it.
The glow is steady now.
I look at the creature.
At its dark fur, its long claws, its strange, unfamiliar face.
It can’t be.
Was the other parent of my egg... not human? But this... this land creature?
The egg shines brighter, giving me my answer.
My heart pounds.
How can this be the one?
What will be of my child?
If the other parent is a land creature—a beast, a monster—what will our baby be? Not merfolk. Not human. Something else.