Transcript of The Last Offering
I had always loved the sea, especially at night. When I looked up, I saw the colours and shapes beyond imagining, beyond comprehension. The pinks and greens spattered the sky with the shining of stars, the sea reflected each twinkling light on its rippled surface.
In the calm of night, my boat rocked and swayed in the overwhelming vastness of the ocean. It was our custom, every cycle to give an offering to the leviathan; the regal many-headed beast of the undercurrents. I had never seen it, to me it was a child's story told thousands of times as a tale outliving even the names of our eldest ancestors. Our lives have always been lived on Hanto, away from anyone or anything, just us, our tales, and our traditions. Traditions that gave us some sort of purpose on this boring pile of sand and gunpowder. Tales that took my mind and attention away from the monotony of tribal politics and my islander lifestyle. It is easy, now, to imagine that I didn't object to being chosen to offer these gifts.
The rhythmic metronome of waves lapping against the hull soon became silent, as did the whole ocean. As far as I could see, the colours and twilight soon came down, falling rapidly around me, and a being came hurtling across the skin of the water, tearing it open like a wound. The wake it left was immense and sudden, but the waves parted before they got to me. With a flash of blue light from its chest, it stopped abruptly in front of me, and suddenly I was face to face with it.
It was awe-inspiring and I was petrified, rooted to the spot like an island Moai. It scanned me, breathing steadily and slowly, staring hard, as though its gaze was penetrating my soul. The water beneath the creature did not stir, it was as though the ocean surface had frozen. The only movement as far as I could grasp was its unnervingly patient breath, and the slow tilt of my boat, drawn outwards to the creature, slowly, caught in an inevitable tidal pull.
Its voice was not booming or terrifying, moreso like a stern father or preacher.
'You belong to the tides now.' 'You belong to the depths.' 'Castil K R E A T H Fia Roake Kal... Skek Lac Ortius.' 'You belong to Ulthven Kreath.' With that, it gently lifted the stars back into the sky, and then vanished behind the crests of the waves. The pinks and greens eased back into place and I returned to where I began, in the calm sightlessness of night, my boat rocking and swaying in the overwhelming vastness of the ocean.
I set a course towards waters I had never travelled before.
I had always loved the sea, especially at night. When I looked down, I saw colours and shapes beyond imagining, beyond comprehension.