Thedarkisadifferent place without sound.
Time has always been the deep's steady pulse—the thrum of distant vents, the groan of shifting stone, the vibration of water over my scales. Now, there is nothing. The silence is a physical weight, crushing me from within.
I swim without direction, without purpose. My equilibrium is shattered. Up and down have become meaningless concepts. I list to the left, my heavy tail dragging through the water like dead weight. I overcorrect, smashing my shoulder into unseen rock. The sharp crack of bone against basalt sends no sound through the water. I feel only the dull, distant ache of the impact.
Blind, deaf, I swim into a cluster of stinging-nettles. Their venom burns my pale skin before I realize my mistake. The pain is a dull thud, a sensation without sound. I am a ghost haunting my own body.
Kael the Shadow. Kael the Rock. Apex predator of the lower tiers.
Now, I am Kael the Broken.
The journey to the Outskirts takes an eternity. A trip that should have been twenty minutes becomes a nightmarish crawl through the crushing dark. Every familiar landmark is gone, swallowed by the void.
When my family's cave finally looms from the oppressive gloom, relief washes through me. They are Basalt-Kin. Brutal, unsentimental, but they understand the deep's violent hazards. Mother knows trench poisons. Jora knows how to treat crippling wounds. They will have a purge. They will cut this silence from my throat.
I swim clumsily into the main cavern.
The water holds the scent of blood and torn meat. My younger brothers, Rusk and Torin, tear into a massive carcass. Jora sharpens a bone spear against the wall. Mother rests on the high ledge, her scarred tail draped like a dark tapestry of violence.
They turn as one.
This is when I would announce myself. The low thrum that means Family. Safe. Return.
I open my mouth.
Silence pours out.
Rusk stops chewing immediately. He swallows a massive mouthful of raw bone and cartilage. His black eyes narrow with sharp suspicion, the corners of his mouth twisting in a sneer.
"You look like you wrestled a surface propeller," he grunts. The shape of his words forms on his lips, though the sound is entirely lost to me. "Where have you been? The lower vents are completely clogged. The ambient pressure is dropping."
I try desperately to answer him.
The poison. I can't speak. My lips move frantically. My throat spasms with the intense effort of pushing air through my paralyzed syrinx.
Nothing comes out. Not a croak. Not a hiss. Not even the wet click of air bubbles escaping my gills.
Rusk frowns, tilting his heavy head. "What's wrong with you?"
I try again, genuine panic rising in my chest. I point aggressively to my throat. I point frantically toward the cave entrance. I aggressively mimic the motion of drinking, of violently choking on venom.
Jora laughs. A harsh vibration rattles the stone floor, but my dead ears register absolutely nothing.
"Look at him," she says, turning completely away from her spear work. "He's playing children's games. What is it, Kael? Did your little betta-mer friend finally decide to stop wasting your time with foolish games? Did he take your tongue as a trophy?"
The cruel mention of Vaelis hits me like a physical blow to the ribs.
He did not know. He was tricked. He is innocent. The scream burns in my frozen throat.
"Speak up," Mother commands coldly from the high ledge. Her voice creates a heavy, oppressive pressure in the water pressing heavy against my scales. "I tolerate your useless wanderings, Kael, but I absolutely do not tolerate insubordination or silence. Report your status immediately."
I swim forward, growing frantic. I grab Rusk's arm, shaking him to get his full attention. I point desperately to my ears, then directly to my open mouth. I shake my head violently back and forth.
Help me. I can't hear you. I can't speak.
Rusk's response is a violent shove, a territorial warrior's immediate reaction to uninvited contact. He doesn't do it gently. He does it to make a point.
"Getoffme," he snarls, the shape of the words sharp in the dead water. "Stop twitching like a dying bait-fish."
