Far away from any continent or island and deep into the darkest fathoms of the Pacific Ocean stirred fabled life. This was a place that knew not sunlight and while the human eye perceived it as an impenetrable void, there are many sources that provided a medium to see by for the eyes that were accustomed to it. Even at this depth, the plants and creatures that provided their almost invisible glow received their queues from the sun and moon, providing night and day for the life that thrives leagues below the known depths of the ocean. This light, which is beyond the spectrum of human vision and conceivability, is more than enough to illuminate the depths for the beings that lived there, but exposure to raw sunlight or moonlight would render any of these life forms a quick death- save one very
special race.

A race almost too well known to the human species.

While the ultra-indigo landscape is chaotic in texture and form, a structure which stands strongly against any movement of the tectonic plates and any underwater storms occurring is very precisely organized. Nearly a living being of itself, Sverajsa (Sver-ah-je-sa) or “The Meridian Proper”, was constructed as a haven shortly after humans took to the sail and wheel to explore the seas that divided the races. All the surfaces were hydrodynamic with the exception of sixteen foreboding talons of equal length and angle, which were erected to collect passing food that came with the tides, be it vegetation or small, ocean borne creatures. Thousands of strangely human hands brought the large dwelling into existence over almost three hundred years after its idea was necessitated.

Early man coexisted with the builders of Sverajsa long before the water people sought to escape them. Mage, shaman and traveler alike were approached by the mystical race, communing with them and gaining insight concerning food and wisdom. During this period of alliance, the human race was much like the water dwellers in mind and purpose, though methods of survival and living differed. Neither people were legendary bedtime stories or extraordinary sightings, These races were neighbors and friends that gave aid to each other when it was needed. Both understood their place in Nature and facilitated their duties to the earth in harmony, That is, until corruption found the land dwellers and slowly devoured their will to graciously serve their Mother.

Fearful of death and other people, the human race formed solid religions and governing to protect their rites as a race. Mindful of this irrational twist of fate, the mer-people warned and advised those still open to listening to them, though to little avail. Those that heeded the wisdom of the water dwellers were shunned and deemed faithless; some were even put to death. Eventually, from that moment in history, most people lost their ability to communicate honestly and candidly to each other, much less the orphaned race of the water.

Still, some tribes of the Merian people sought out open minds and convened with them in secret, against the new feeling of abandonment and the advising shared by growing numbers beneath the waves. Those that would listen dwindled and coastal hunting parties came in their stead to dissuade the remaining hopeful Merians from returning to the shore. This measure succeed in that regard. Nevertheless, humans would take to the seas in small, handmade rafts in an attempt to seek the wisdom of the people in the water. They were honored for only a short time, until the large ships from other lands came and hunted the finned people. Hope, in the minds of the Merian people, was lost for the human race and they finally sought refuge from any land dweller’s attempt to interact with them.

Scleria carefully paged through the books she had collected over her adventures to the coast of Greece, most of which were discarded, never to be found again or lost by someone who was reading near the side of a ship. She had many loves and interests, hoarding them all in a barnacled enclave several hundred feet below the surface of the Mediterranean sea. The Merian girl found pictures and things used by humans and wanted to know more about them- in short, they were her passion. She felt destiny with them and wanted to do something that would bring The People of the Land and her family of the sea closer together… like they once were.

A book entitled “Mythos” caught her eye. She’d not read that one yet. Curiously, she picked it up and though the water had managed to preserve the pages from time, the pages were soft and sponge-like at her scaled fingertips. Scleria gingerly thumbed through the pages and looked at the illustrations.

Throughout man’s recorded history, there are fabled meetings and battles with men and women of the water, and most of them hold to fact. One encounter, though molested by human perception of the time, was Medusa. She was indeed with child at the time that she was happened upon and killed by Perseus, but not of any ‘god’. Medusa, Euryale’s sister, was an enigmatic and seductive Typhon Practitioner seeking out humans as sacrifices to Anen, the Aphus (king) of Typhia.

Remembering the stories she was told as a spawn, Scleria reaffirmed that she knew both sides of the story. The child Medusa carried was conceived of human seed, one bestowed to her by a mage by the name of Anorthenus. She bargained with her life at the whim of Euryale, who told her that her ‘landside lover’ found it necessary to slay a warrior adorned by the Grecian gods. Her supposed role was to sleep on a slab that Perseus was sure to come by while her lover laid in wait to ambush the renowned hero. She listened to her sister and had faith in the mage to appear. The rest of Medusa’s story is known to both Human and Merian.

More facts that the human race did not know, Euryale, once disposing of her sisters, assassinated the Aphus and dispersed the people of Typhia with their own magic and gods. They escaped in fear of their very dwelling, though not far. To this day, they live just outside the place once called Typhia, their forms gnarled and distorted to appear as seaweed, ever bound to the ocean floor and forced to silently watch for intruders happening upon Euryale’s lair in the Atlantic Ocean. Every Merian, no matter their tribe, knows where Euryale resides. The ancient mystic would have it no other way.

The young Merian girl traveled far outside of the Meridian Proper, against the wishes of her father, to gain her treasures. To quell his near tyrannical worry, she agreed to host a companion, Swaio, a well-adjusted angler fish. While it accompanied her beyond the dark realms that nature had intended it for, Swaio would stay a relatively safe distance from the surface when Scleria would breach to gather new things. Like every other adventure that the fish attended, it was gesturing to make the long trek back to Sverajsa,

Ignoring the silent protests of her companion a moment longer, she reflected on what she felt was the indisputable evidence that she could reach the human race. She’d seen the statues of Medusa and their representations of Merians, though she was troubled that the likeness was far from reality. Knowing that they were receptive enough to detail a stone figure after what they thought her race looked like had made her passions burn through her cautioning instincts. Scleria was now swimming to a mirror, taking in her appearance grievously. No- she looked nothing like their statues.

Her head, arms and torso were humanlike. She had four fingers and a thumb on each hand, but they were covered in smooth, hard, bronze and black scales, which also shrouded her arms, shoulders, back and neck. The front of her body was soft and devoid of scales and very human in appearance. Her people did not wear clothing, like the Land Dwellers do, because it impeded swimming. Examining the rust and grey stripes on and above her breasts, she admired the pattern but wished they were not there. If she were to be even remotely appealing to humans, she’d always preferred that she was gifted with no pectoral markings.

Her tail was the most disturbing feature she felt she had when it came to relating to the human race. It was not the dainty tropical fish flukes that the statues and pictures illustrated. More than twice the length of human legs, the serpentine, muscular, bone-plated whip tail lashed gently to keep her suspended in front of the full sized mirror. In a full dash, her tail cycloned behind her in a corkscrew fashion. Scleria also possessed two fins which protruded from her lower back and reached as far as another set of arms, but were there mostly for balance. Atop her spine, from neck to mid tail was her large fin ray, which was comparable to that of a Lionfish.

Her face was a featureless slate that exhibited her deep-set eyes, two black spheres behind a thin sheet of clear flesh. The area around her eyes were dark brown, fading into a cream colour. The gradient continued to her tube-like ‘hair’ and her knife-edge chin bone. Her lips were the only other dark coloured facial feature and the only other thing that looked remotely human. She had a human girl’s teeth but a long, forked tongue. As she thought more about her image in the mirror, she bared more resemblance to a Naga than those Greek sirens.

<Narcissus, I am the image of your admirers’ pain.> Pausing just a moment more, Scleria turned her attention to the angler and motioned to swim back to the Meridian Proper.

The ocean was lit dimly by the moonlight during this journey home. Reflecting the ripples from the surface above, the coral seemed to dance and sway. The shimmering glints off the schools of bright metallic fish looked like sparks of electricity, flashing in and out hypnotically. The scenery was surreal and calming, everything unified with a sense of belonging, until a bright orange glow appeared from above the surface ahead. Caution welled up inside the curious Merian girl, but gave way to inquiry. Slowly, she emerged from the otherwise calm water to discover a large ship engulfed in flame. After watching for a few moments, she noticed a human, on fire himself, dive into the seas that barely kept the vessel afloat. Being naturally equipped to swim for long distances without the Pacific claiming her life, she knew that the man had no chance of surviving a swim to the nearest shore. Putting aside any reserved deliberation, she hurried to the man who was unconscious and on his way to drowning and grasped tightly at his tunic. Holding his dying body close to hers, Scleria breathed air into his lungs while swimming to the nearest beach. Only moments later, due to her underwater agility, she made it to land and pushed him onto the shore away from the current. Once she felt that he was going to live, she studied his gentle yet strong features until her scales became too dry to bear. His hair was long, dark and beautiful and his face shaven. From what remained of his clothing, she could tell that he was not a hunter or merchant. This man seemed scholarly in some way. Even as he lay recovering from a brush with death, he had a depth about him she had not seen in other people she watched.

As she receded back into the tide, she grew concerned of his well-being once he awakened. He had nothing to survive with. The lady of the sea had no idea how the man would fare on his own on this small island, so she thought to catch fish with which he could rejuvenate his strength. Though this was a medial task, it wasn’t her resolution of ease that drove her to do it. ‘He has to survive,’ she thought, ‘he’s important in some way.’ she gathered fish and wrapped them in seaweed for him. Scleria would have tendered a fire to warm him, but she did not know how. Having spent more time above water than she should have nevertheless, the girl retreated once more into the night ocean, hoping that the man would wake to find her gifts and survive.

Hours had passed and the night aged quickly. If a fish could become impatient and even angry, Swiao would be that fish. Perhaps the time spent with the people of the water had taught the pacing angler emotions such as worry, impatience and fear; as it was skilled in exhibiting these particular feelings at this moment. Fins waving in the water to keep her from moving, Scleria slept lightly despite the worry that prodded at her. She was unsure if the human had awakened from his trauma-induced sleep. The strong looking body lay still and seemingly lifeless as she swam away from the small island. The insects in the small patch of light pink Judas-trees hummed and chirped, content that nothing seemed amiss. She remembered the sound as it disappeared into the increasing distance, using it to measure how far she would stay from the man she rescued. Her unease had pulled her out of her shallow sleep with its sickening grip, but she continued to float there ponderously. It was the ocean dweller’s intention that he be found by his kind, but her resolve thickened to be his guardian until that happened. Deciding that as her recourse, she would come back with fish and other supplements of the sea until he boarded a ship. If that happened while she was hunting, a quick circle around the island would be enough evidence for her to know that her self assigned duty was complete.

*    *    *

The massive Aphus made slow, determined circles in the royal corridor of Sverajsa, apprehensively clutching his acromatic trident at his side. His concern would easily be mistaken for outrage by anyone who’d encountered him now. Though the Merian People could not make speech underwater but they communicated with their minds; fully erasing any chance of misunderstanding. Thoughts were both communication and weaponry for the Merian, quickly transferred and executed within the intended recipient. Lusus Naturae, being one of the two Supreme Powers in the ocean aside from Nature herself, knew this more than anyone and would not chance to harm one of his own tribespeople with the energy of his currently resplendent personal problems. Scleria, being his last viable and capable offspring, was both the center stone of his heart and the thorn in his side. He audibly groaned at his thoughts.

His daughter’s two older siblings were remarkably characteristic of Lusus’ youth, passionate and boundless. Hondour and Thaelamus conspired together many years ago to destroy Euryale, their motivation being to dissuade their fellow Merians from the temptation to utilize the evil spellcrafter’s power to address individual shortcomings. While the majority of those under the rule of Lusus Naturae were content with the protection of Sverajsa and the lifestyle it afforded them, many outside the Proper and those of different alliances where quick to approach the Atlantic Witch for an answer to their problems. While she would capacitate them, it would come with a price that would satiate her own agenda. Failure to follow through with her demands would result in punishments of which eternal life as Screamweed would be the most favorable. If her desperate charges did as she asked, they could keep her gift but never return home, usually due to the ocean’s uncanny way of exposing their horrible acts to those of concern. Others would never be heard of again.

One day brought the Sverajsa a traitor, marked by Euryale. Those that knew the very young Hadai noticed her difference immediately. She left as one touched by Hecate, unattractive and very intelligent, and returned as an alluring white and gold idol with a glowing Distorsio shell marking on her forehead. While her friends and family recognized her and stared in wonder of her metamorphasis, the protectors of the Meridian Proper recognized the possession in her hands straight away. A large, purple and black Wentlewrap shell with a bright blue glow emitting from its mouth was cradled like a baby close to her chest. When the guardians attempted to apprehend her, they became mesmerized by Hadai’s beauty after coming only inches away from her. Unable to move or breathe while sinking like stones to the feet of the luminous apparition, they died silently. In horror of this spectacle, the citizens of Sverajsa quickly escaped to their dwellings and homes, some even leaving the structure. Hondour was the next to encounter the now saddened Hadai, who was approaching him to offer the shell in seeming honor. Instinctively, the prince drew his harpoon and commanded the admonished idol from proceeding in her course. From deep inside of her soul, she gathered the wit to convey a plea to kill her, as she no longer had control over herself. The prince’s heart nearly shattered as he threw the harpoon, slaying the slave of the sea witch. The dark cloud of blood consumed the main corridor of the Meridian Proper and, while the spell was broken, Hadai’s corpse seared his hands as he pulled it out into the open ocean.

Later that night, Thaelamus met with his scarred brother. Hondour explained his burns and the circumstances surrounding them, following a proposed an attack on the Gorgon Lady and a desperate need of his stronger sibling’s help to make the fatal attack upon her. Infuriated of the prince’s condition and the story that was told to him, Thaelamus accepted the task. They would go alone, impelling though the darkest ocean ever known to the Merians of Sverajsa. Lusus would receive a large clamshell with an arcanely carved sigil days later, one that would arrogantly detail his sons’ peril in the most degenerated of tones. Though chafed, the Aphus retired powerlessly for weeks without food and company into a corridor, sealed ambiguously from the inside. Since that day, Lusus bitterly admitted that he never fully recovered from his sons’ demise and carried that feeling of regret to his only daughter. He didn’t want his entire progeny to be the agonized and writhing centerpiece on Euryale’s alter.

The Aphus of Sverajsa further reelected that sending an angler fish to accompany his dear child was perhaps the most foolish measure he could have taken to protect her life.

*    *    *

The morning sun warmed Thenos’ skin enough to convince him to rouse himself and spit out the ocean water stagnating in his cheek. Opening his eyes to observe his surroundings, he found that he’d washed up onto a small island. His vest was blackened and his right shoulder felt blistered, but he felt grateful that the logos allowed him to live another day. Thenos of Elis attempted to stand and nearly faltered, but gained his balance. Suddenly, he went into a fit of coughing, which directed his sight to the ground directly in front of him. Still clearing the sand and phlegm out of his throat, he reached down to pick up one of four seaweed wraps and carefully opened it to reveal a preserved fish that was actually quite suitable for a meal. The realization came to him that he did not merely come in with the tide, nor was it by chance that he was here. Looking at the burned debris that settled forty paces from where he awoke, he reached an epiphany that he was rescued. Elated, he ran around, examining the brush and beach for signs of his rescuer while the wrapped fish was still in hand. After no more than an hour and a full perimeter check, he had discovered nothing. “Who would emancipate someone and them abandon them to die slowly in the sun with no more than a day’s ration to survive on?” He questioned aloud, hoping that a response would follow. After minutes of waiting, no acknowledgement came to the now worried Greek man.

The Elisian became upset that his journey to seek out the philosophies of Confucius was cut short by that party of drunken sailors he was travelling with. The ship was illuminated with oil lamps conspicuously places on crates and tables, even near his articles, scrolls and loaves of bread. All that was left of the vessel, as far as the almost enraged man was concerned, were these fragments shifting with each roll of the waves onto the shore. Before he threw his fist into the air, he quickly collected his countenance and sat thoughtfully onto the sand.

“My Logos, I thank you for preserving my life and am grateful that, despite the catastrophe that I have endured, I continue to have health and a steady mind. I also thank you for these provisions that you have blessed me with. I pray that you not forget about me on tomorrow’s morn.” This time, Thenos did not wait for a response at all, instead, he crudely began to pull the fish apart and remove its bones. He would go on to build a small fire and cook the fish and the seaweed together and give thanks for his meal again. Once he felt rejuvenated, he would build a small camp for himself so that he wouldn’t burn in the glaring afternoon sun.

The day was productive for Thenos. Whistling while he made the final touches to his makeshift shelter, he’d found earnestness and faith that he would live on long enough to be discovered and taken back to civilization. He prayed audibly that it would not be long so that he may be among his companions and family again. Solitude in moderation was good for the soul; in excess, more destructive than anything ever experienced by any man. He felt purpose well up in him to share his thoughts that would move humanity in a more positive direction and wished under his breath that he had a stylus and some material to write on. The Elisian could think of nothing else to do to prepare for the night, so he ensconced himself in deep meditation.

*    *     *

Scleria, being within range of the man named Thenos’ thoughts, listened to his pondering and pleading for long enough. She felt his longing and sympathized with him, thus enlisting herself once more to answer his appeal. Besides, she needed a change of scenery. Swaio was still agitated, but was at least relieved they would do something now. The Merian spontaneously swam in the direction of the burning wreckage in the hopes of finding anything that would be useful to him. Upon reaching the sunken ship, she discovered that the fire was quite thorough in destroying most of the things that were not in crates, as there were no signs of food or books. Taking a heavy rock, she tried forcing the wooden boxes open by hitting the badly burned parts of them. Only two of the five became accessible, but she was able to find writing paper and black jars. The paper wouldn’t see through the journey, so she packed some of the surviving material from the boat’s sails and the glass containers. Other things that were packed were some intact merchant’s clothing, feathers, cord and footwear. Amused with the footwear, Scleria attempted to put one onto the tip of her tail but once the angler fish offered its express disapproval, she shook her head and dismissed the entertainment. Before returning to the island, she found a leather sack and opened it to reveal five hard cylinders, but decided it best not to investigate into those any further. The leather bag and the pack returned to her hideout near the island.

Once there, she hunted for more fish and wrapped her catch individually with kelp leaves. Finally, Scleria felt her delivery was in order, she swam near the ocean floor with her accoutrement so as not to be discovered. Nearing the drastic slope that would eventually lead to the island’s shore, she reached out with her mind to find his thoughts and discovered not only his location, but also that he was sleeping.Feeling safe of any discovery, the Merian girl swam quickly up the slope with supplies in hand and examined the area to confirm Thenos was actually sleeping. There he was, on his back with his arms to his side, fast asleep. Careful not to make any noise coming out of the water while dragging the packs onto the beach, she was alarmed at how heavy everything became on the land. The girl became so focused on the task of bringing them close enough for him to notice them that she lost track of the noise she was producing. Thenos stirred a little, frightening Scleria into a careless scramble back into the water. As she splashed around, trying to put some distance between herself and the human, the Elisian woke fully, screaming, “HAIL! WHO GOES THERE?!” By the time he was on his feet and running towards the beach, the water sounded still. Running a few steps further, Thenos tripped over the baggage, sending him plunging into the shallow water of the shoreline.

He was more frightened than angry, beyond the guessing that he imagined a person escape off the beach. He knew there was someone waiting for him to go away so that they can get back their things left here. Off in the distance, he saw something come out of the water, but in the moonlight, it was hard to see any features. Guessing that object in the water was the person getting air and keeping their distance, the philosopher called out again. “Hail! Be not afraid! I’m stranded here….. You forgot your things!”

Scleria waited silently, still distraught over all the excitement and listening to Thenos call out. <by the water i swim in- What do I do?>

“Those are your things!” The Merian called back before she knew what she was doing and in shame, she disappeared below the surface.

Hearing that voice respond had Thenos falling to his back, head hitting the sand with an audible thud. “That was the most beautiful voice I have ever witnessed!” He exclaimed to himself and hastened to his feet again. “Lady in the water! Join me on the island before the creatures of the ocean get you!” Though calling out he was concerned, he smiled largely in excitement. No reply. Though his patience faded, his heart and stomach were still very knotted with enthusiasm. Suddenly turning around, he saw the water soaked bundles and unpacked them. Bottles of ink rolled out and clanked against each other as they came to a rest in one of the impressions made by his feet in the sand. He had found feather stylus’ and a crudely folded sail from the boat he was on. The equation was adding up in his head when he further discovered his leather sack and his belongings inside, along with clothing and rope. The courier of these items had heard his pleas. The items that he asked for, along with more wrapped fish were sitting on the beach, a foreboding blessing that sent chills up his spine. Thenos conceived that his rescuer had a raft out there in the water and has been checking up on him while he was sleeping. There was one question that had no theories to answer it. Why had this woman bothered to come back to deliver his things when she could easily take him to the nearby island she must be coming from?

Waning from the storm of emotions, his spirit declined inside of him like a linen cloth, sagging and curling in a fire without protest. As the food was already brought to his possession, he doubted a return of the mysterious woman. Nestling himself into his cloddish bed, eyes burning with lack of sleep, Thenos slipped into a heavy void too deep for even dreams to exist.

*    *    *
Swaio forcefully rubbed against Scleria, trying to get her consciousness to reappear in her empty gaze. She’d been like that since her mad rush away from the surface, as though frozen in fear and thought. A few more nudges against her shoulder and life slowly flickered upon her placid face. Her expression withered from emotionlessness to a sullen despair as she made intentional movements of her tail and fins, preparing them for travel. The angler hoped this time that it would be to the Sverajsa that they voyaged to, as the sun had lit the ocean three times since Swaio had been home. Without warning, bubbles burst into existence when the bone plated tail of the Merian girl lashed in a great arc, sending her tearing to the depths below, the force of the advance dismissing the startled fish in a whirling after-current. The racing waterdweller focused madly on her frenzied hunt, ripping through schools of fish and snatching two and three at a time. She was intense in her deadly yet precise flux, fixated on exhausting the discomposure she gained on the surface of the water above her, but had only managed the death of nine fish and a depletion of energy. Shattering within, she lost her earnestness in keeping that human alive in trade for a disgraced retreat, armed only with the hopes that this was a naive task for the foolhardy. In convincing herself never to return to the isolated island, she could imagine his rescue and return to his home so that he can say his beautiful words and write stories about his chance encounter with a Merian. Her new decision had turned into doubt nearly as quickly as it was born as she further considered that she would become a naga with motives to slay the human; only the brave heroics he performed scared the ominous beast away. Finding a middle ground, neither tethered by hate nor hope, she believed that Thenos would find a way to his people once more. What he did afterward would forever remain a mystery to her. She devoured her catch as she and her accompaniment made a steady pace back to the Meridian Proper. Relief consumed the angler fish as the darkness swallowed them both beyond the reaches of all human knowledge.