Chapter 421

The salt spray stung Yuyomei's face as the small fishing boat, the Wanderer, creaked beneath her. The sky, a bruised purple, promised another storm and the sea below mirrored the color of the heavens above, a vast and restless expanse of dark indigo. She scanned the horizon, her eyes, as dark as the water, searching for any sign of returning ships. Her father, Captain Jian, was late. Very late.

He'd left three days ago, saying something about unusually large tuna, that seemed to be congregating farther out then usual. She'd begged him not to go, a strange unease settling in her bones, a feeling she couldn't shake.

He just smiled, a wide, almost too joyful, smile, and said, "Don't worry, little star, I'll return with enough to make us rich!" His words offered no comfort.

The radio crackled to life. Not her father, just static, a discordant symphony of white noise that made her cringe. Something felt wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. The sea, once her solace, now felt like a malevolent entity, watchful and hungry.

She pulled her worn shawl tighter, trying to ward off the chilling dread that gripped her soul. The Wanderer pitched forward on a large swell.

Yuyomei adjusted the tattered sail, her movements mechanical, and her mind drifted to the ancient legends her grandmother once told around crackling bonfires.

Stories of primordial beasts that dwelled in the deep, creatures that predated humanity, and that would one day return to reclaim their domain, a domain that the surface dwellers had encroached upon for so long.

She'd always dismissed them as fairy tales. But now, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sky in violent hues, she wondered.

The water grew disturbingly still, the boat floating on a glassy surface, before it became rougher again. It felt unnatural. Too quiet. The usual cacophony of waves and wind was gone, replaced by an unsettling stillness.

Suddenly, a deep rumble echoed from beneath them. It wasn't the sound of a storm. It was the sound of something ancient stirring. Yuyomei's heart hammered against her ribs.

"What was that?" she spoke aloud to no one, her voice barely above a raspy breath. She strained her eyes, peering into the dark abyss. Then it happened, the water began to churn, not violently, but rather with a slow, deliberate motion, the surface rippling like disturbed cloth.

A shape rose from the depths, massive and dark, the silhouette of a fish but unlike any fish she'd ever seen. It was enormous, its body a grotesque amalgamation of scales and spines, its eyes two orbs of malevolent yellow. Its mouth gaped open, revealing rows of teeth, each one the size of her hand.

It was one of the old ones, a creature of legend, thought to be nothing more than a figment of imagination. It was real.

And it was right in front of her. She tried to scream, but her voice was trapped in her throat, her mouth going dry. A smaller fish, still larger then any other she'd encountered, rose with it. Then another. Then a swarm, an army of ancient terrors, their eyes all locked onto the small boat, as if it were an unwanted toy they desired to destroy.

"This cannot be real," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the fish surfacing, some much bigger than others.

One of the smaller creatures struck the side of the boat with a force that sent Yuyomei sprawling. Her head hit the wooden deck, and stars exploded behind her eyes. She scrambled back, her hands slipping on the wet planks, her breath shallow.

She fumbled for the radio, her fingers trembling, hoping against all logic, that someone, somewhere, would hear her. Nothing but static.

The water was alive now, the ancient fish were moving all around them, their bodies brushing against the boat, creating an eerie, groaning sound as they passed. She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare, a terrifying tableau of teeth and scales.

A massive shadow passed overhead. Larger then anything she could possibly have imagined. A dorsal fin, impossibly large, emerged from the water, a dark silhouette against the fading light. A Megalodon.

But it was…wrong. Its form was ancient, prehistoric. This was not the Megalodon of documentaries. It was something older, something much more dangerous. It felt angry, or rather, not angry, but hungry. Utterly consumed by hunger.

It moved with an unnerving, deliberate speed, its movements betraying an intelligence far beyond that of an ordinary predator. The other fish seemed to part before it, granting it passage, their own fear palpable in their swift movements.

The Megalodon's jaw opened, and the sound of it made her feel as though her soul had physically separated from her body, she could actually feel it. The sound was so powerful, it felt like a physical force, almost like a gust of wind, but more raw and visceral.

"No, no, no..." she choked out, backing away towards the stern of the ship, there was nowhere to go. She was caught. The Megalodon turned it's dark, soulless eye onto her. She felt as though she'd been impaled by the sheer intensity of the gaze. It was cold, empty, not even predatory.

It was just hunger, the purest form. She reached for the oar, the only thing she had to defend herself, and held it tight, shaking uncontrollably.

"Please, leave me alone, please," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face, and her words, little more then a pathetic croak, was nothing more then a pointless waste of time.

The Megalodon surged forward, the water exploding around it like a hurricane. The Wanderer shuddered under the force of it, the old wood groaning and splitting. The boat was nothing to this monster, a toothpick. It was so big, she couldn't even see half of it, and what she could see was enough.

Then she saw it. The Megalodon's jaw, lined with teeth like daggers, closed around the bow of her ship, the wood splintering under the immense pressure.

The boat tilted violently, throwing her off balance, and she went over the railing, falling into the cold, dark water. The water was shockingly cold, and she gasped as it enveloped her, the initial shock stealing her breath.

She thrashed, trying to swim away, but the water was murky and thick, filled with the bodies of the ancient fish, their scales brushing against her skin, their eyes staring at her with a haunting curiosity.

She tried to look up for the surface, but couldn't see through the murky depths, everything was a dark, soupy mess, like a nightmare. She could taste the salt, thick and metallic, it almost felt like blood in her mouth.

She kicked, trying to get higher, but she knew it was useless. The Megalodon was there, she could feel its presence all around her, a dark mass blocking the light from the surface. She caught a glimpse of the fish, the ancient fish, their grotesque forms darting through the water.

Some seemed to circle her, their cold eyes fixed on her, their movements like a slow dance, waiting for the inevitable.

Her lungs burned, her vision began to blur, and the world started to fade at the edges. She saw her father's face, his smiling, too joyful, face. She wanted him to be there, to be there with her, so she didn't have to be so afraid.

She was so very, very afraid. The ancient fish surrounded her, not attacking, but just…watching, observing her struggle. She wanted to scream, to thrash, but she could no longer move.

The Megalodon moved closer, its enormous mouth opening slowly. She didn't see fear in those dark eyes, or anger, or predation. All she saw was hunger, the cold, pure, insatiable need to devour everything. She knew what was coming.

But, instead of fear, there was only acceptance, an exhaustion that had taken hold of her, making her want nothing more then for it to end.

The Megalodon's teeth closed, not around her body, but around her. Not through her skin. It was as though her entire being was drawn inside, forced inside of a void of nothing but hunger. There wasn't any pain, only an unsettling emptiness, like a black hole sucking the entirety of her into it.

Her last sensation was the utter lack of sensation, the complete and total absence of everything, but the gnawing, empty need of hunger. The sea continued on, undisturbed, the ancient fish returning to their slumber, waiting for the next dawn.