Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Once sated in an entirely different way, Lady Leviathan and Ianthe turn back to the remaining sailors, working together to harvest and wrap the leftover meat in scraps of net.
Though Lady Leviathan’s stomach still twists with hunger—twenty surface dwellers are but a snack for a creature her size—Ianthe’s family needs this feast more.
Hunger after a routine hibernation does not compare to starvation.
Lady Leviathan has more than enough limbs to carry the load, but Ianthe insists on towing some of the meat they gathered. It’s a victory meant to be shared, and a point of pride not returning home empty-handed. She wouldn’t deny the mermaid anything, much less this.
Guided by the calm, easy pulse of Ianthe’s blue light, Lady Leviathan follows her into the deep.
The mermaid leads her into the abyssalpelagic zone to a cluster of sea caves, whose many entrances pockmark an underwater cliff face.
Happy, jubilant song erupts from Ianthe at the sight of her home.
It’s nothing like the seductive crooning her kind use to lure lonely, touch-starved sailors.
It’s merry and playful meant for family and friends.
Lady Leviathan hangs back, dimming her light to a slow, soothing blink. It’s the most she can do to make herself unobtrusive as one of the largest beings to ever exist.
Merfolk dart out from the cave mouths. There’s maybe one hundred merpeople swirling through the water, around Ianthe, in a mesmerizing dance of multi-colored light—gold, amber, green, blue, and even some red.
Relief floods the water. Joyful song too.
A loved one they believed to be lost has returned, and for one long beautiful moment, it outshines even a kraken goddess’s mighty presence.
But only a moment.
Creatures of the deep can’t afford to be oblivious to their surroundings for long. The merfolk pod startles when they finally take notice of her, a cascade of panicked flashing lights rippling inward. Before their fear can fester, Ianthe proudly declares, “We’ve brought a feast!”
Lady Leviathan smiles and releases the sailor meat. “Please, eat your fill.”
One by one, their light settles. The offering and Ianthe’s fearlessness diffuses their fear. In its place, there’s an uproar of cheerful cries, followed by much bowing, many honorifics and an abundance of gratitude.
“Please,” Lady Leviathan gently interrupts, tipping her head. “You’ve waited long enough.”
The merfolk need no more convincing. They descend upon the meat in a swarm, jaws closing around limbs, claws tearing away fistfuls of flesh. They feed the littlest ones first, the infirm, and the old. Even starving, they think of their most vulnerable.
There’s a desperation to the pod’s hunger that fans the flame of Lady Leviathan’s rage. It never should have come to this. Food scarcity is nothing new, nor survival of the fittest, but greed has fractured the circle of life.
Ianthe leaves her kin to their feasting, coming to perch on Lady Leviathan’s shoulder.
The sea-maiden leans against her neck, sighing.
She feels it too. Lady Leviathan can sense her emotions.
Underneath the relief and momentary triumph, anger still lurks.
Shipwrecking together was only a momentary release.
Surface dweller greed drove Ianthe’s family to this ravenous desperation, and it will drive them there again, for as long as those land-loving creatures continue taking far more than the ocean can give.
“This is just the first step,” Lady Leviathan says.
“Today is about surviving. About regaining our strength.”
“I know.” She feels Ianthe’s nod against her skin. A beat passes. “I think we should go back.”
Lady Leviathan tenderly traces a claw along Ianthe’s arm. “Go back?”
“To the net. I don’t want to leave our own behind.”
Ah. The floating graveyard. All the creatures denied their Final Fall.
Grief sweeps through Lady Leviathan, but determination does too.
She hears what Ianthe doesn’t say, that the tangled dead deserve dignity and peace.
“It’s a risk, but I think you’re right. Something must be done, and it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you ready to face the net again?”
Ianthe hugs herself, shoulders drooping. “I don’t know. My heart knows it’s the right thing to do, but…what if we get caught? What if we die?”
“Then we do it together.” She cradles the mermaid’s cheek. “Neither of us will be alone.”
Tears slip down the mermaid’s cheeks in blue bioluminescent rivulets.
“But…” Lady Leviathan gently catches one on the tip of her tentacle, round as a pearl. “We’re going to be very careful, okay? Death is not a given.”
Ianthe swipes away her tears and nods. “Not a given.”
Lady Leviathan isn’t brave, not when living billions of years makes Death feel distant, even after witnessing today’s horrors. But this little mermaid is.
Once everyone’s bellies are full and the leftover meat is stored, Ianthe asks her pod for help, and she only needs to ask once. Many volunteer.
This time Lady Leviathan leads the way, now that she knows what to look for.
Ianthe and a contingent of merfolk follow close behind.
Between the rotted stench and dark silhouettes of suspended carcasses, she has ample warning and stops beyond the outer rim, close enough to touch at arm’s length, but not close enough to be ensnared.
Grief is a heavy tide that sweeps through the merfolk pod.
This is something they’ve seen many times before, and yet even as their sorrow quietly seeps into the water and their eyes dim to shades of gray and white, they brighten the bioluminescent nodes along their bodies to full strength.
No explanation is needed. It makes them more visible in the dark water and thus easier to keep track of one another during the dangerous work ahead.
Lady Leviathan secures a section of net using eighteen of her arms and dismantles the dreadful thing piece by piece with the remaining two. Ianthe stays close by her side, never straying far, and though the mermaid’s hands tremble as she works to disentangle the dead, she stubbornly pushes on.
Merfolk carry away the shreds, pick apart knots, and slice free the smaller creatures ensnared in its cruel web. It’s a slow, risky process for them all, but the merfolk are determined to do what’s right. Hours pass. The sun dips toward the horizon.
Ianthe and her kin sing a mournful tune as they work, and the sound carries far and wide. Some miles away a whale pod joins, their deep, sorrowful song adding perfect harmony. It’s so hauntingly beautiful it makes the fine hairs on Lady Leviathan’s arms stand on end and her skin pebble.
Tears sting her eyes. For a time, it’s the only sound she hears.
As they sing, they cut away those denied their Final Fall one by one, allowing their bodies to sink into the deep.
Finally free.