The Salt dragon raised his offering toward Kellen. For you, Uncle. In keeping the customs of old, it would honor me to feed this first bite to you.
Kellen was trying to think of an excuse to decline when another Sancul shouted the Salt dragon’s name from afar. Kellen looked for the source, but could not find the one who had called for his companion.
Relinquishing his offer, Phobetor backed away from the feast. Forgive me, Uncle, he said. I am a weak replacement for my mother’s hospitality, but it would seem I must serve the others in her stead. Let you wait for me though before you eat. He gave over the whale meat portion to Kellen. Here. I shall be back in due time.
Phobetor left him before Kellen could object.
Instinct urged him to follow and abandon the feast. Kellen ignored his inner grumblings when he again spotted the crimson-haired she-squid from before. She swam among another grouping, yet seemed unconcerned with their conversation. When her violet gaze locked with Kellen, she offered him a smile to make any other that Kellen had ever witnessed pale in comparison.
Who are you? He wondered of her as the she-squid gave her farewells to those she swam with. Kellen found himself unable to break his stare of her, his mind and body both mesmerized as she seemed to glide through the water in a path directly toward him.
The she-squid stopped inches away from Kellen. Hail, Kellen Shore-Walker, she said, smiling at him all the while. Welcome to the Cavern of Somnus. She laughed. Welcome home, rather.
You know me? Kellen asked.
Of course, said she. Though by your face and tone, I gather you do not remember me.
Kellen shook his head. I-I don’t remember much . . . from my life before, I mean.
Before? She asked, cocking an eyebrow. When you were the doom-bringer Moros?
Kellen hesitated. Yes, he said finally.
The she-squid’s grin quickened. You need not lie to me, she said. I know that you never lived that life, Kellen Winstel. You have only been pretending all this time for want of your own survival.
Kellen’s gaze narrowed upon her. Believe whatever you want, then. Who are you anyway?
Phantasos is my name, said she, chuckling. And I should almost be offended that you had forgotten me, if I did not know the truth about you. She leaned in like she meant to whisper a secret in his ear. For you may have fooled the others here, but I see you, Kellen Shore-Walker. Just as you are now, just as you have ever been.
Kellen pulled away. I don’t know what you mean.
Rest easy, said she, tittering again. I have no desire of divulging your secret to the others. Her eyes flashed. But I will do all the same if you will not meet my price for keeping your secret safe.
Price? Kellen squirmed. What do you want?
One of the she-squid’s tentacles slunk through the water toward him.
Kellen’s face flushed when her tentacle briefly intertwined with his. Then, he understood that she had done so only to pry the bit of whale meat from him. What are you doing? He asked her, giving up the prize that the Salt dragon, Phobetor, had left him.
Our people are starving, she said of the ongoing feasting around them. You must forgive them for their lack of courtesy and undisciplined nature. I fear all these long years in silent banishment have weakened their resolve. The she-squid used her tentacles to cut cleanly through the meat, portioning it in half. In the days of old, all those dining here today would have remembered an honored guest is afforded first rights to such a feast as this.
This isn’t a feast, Kellen thought of the slain main course before him. It’s a carcass.
For all his thoughts on the matter, the other Sancul did not share his sentiment. No longer bothering to feed one another after having delivered a first bite, the host of Sancul strangers had turned their ravenous hunger to attacking the remains and greedily fending off the others attempting to sup on it as well. Like hogs crowding around a slop bucket, the Sancul swarmed around their own meal, littering every inch of the slain Blue Whale calf.
To judge the number of deep dwellers joining in, Kellen deduced the whale would be reduced to its bones within the hour. For all the surrounding gluttony, Kellen continued to find himself drawn back to the she-squid before him.
As Kellen’s former companion had attempted to do before being called away, Phantasos too raised her offering to him. Here, she said, raising the smaller portion of meat toward his lips. You would me honor me to take the first bite.
Kellen recoiled. I don’t think I can.
Ah, but you will do, she said, motioning to the others around her. Or else I must carry through on my threat to reveal your secret to the others, Kellen Shore-Walker.
Kellen snorted and backed away from her. They wouldn’t believe you.
They might. Phantasos laughed. Far easier to admit defeat and relent to me, no? Or is taking a single bite from one of your hosts such a challenge for you?
No, said Kellen. I just don’t do well with ultimatums and being put in a corner.
Look around you, my friend, said she. There are no corners for monsters to hide in down here in the dark and deep.
Kellen frowned. You know what I meant.
Aye, she chuckled. That I do. Still, you will forgive my jest, won’t you, Kellen? I have spent far too many nights long hidden away down here without some new blood to see and spar with.
I’m not interested in sparring with anyone. Kellen glanced away from her, looking for Phobetor among the Sancul masses.
No. Phantasos called his attention back. You’re not done with sparring yet, Kellen Shore-Walker. The Salt has you in its sway now, its melody dark and deep.
Kellen cued on the message. What did you say?
Phantasos smirked. I believe you heard me well enough. I told you not moments ago that I see you, Kellen Shore-Walker. Just as your now, just as you have ever been. After all you have seen and endured thus far beneath the Salt, can it truly still surprise you so much to learn there are those of us with knowledge beyond your own understanding?
I understand that you’re playing games with me, he said.
And you do not wish to play further? She asked. No . . . for you only wish to make it back to your precious life ashore. To feel the sun on your face once more . . . to escape the Salt forever, yes?
Kellen gritted his teeth. I don’t wish for those things.
Oh, but you do, Kellen, said Phantasos. And I have an answer to those other questions you’ve been asking yourself all this time too . . . the seed of a hope that my father sowed in you, she smiled, the constant questions you ask yourself. ‘How am I to rise, Hypnos? What does that even mean?’
Kellen shuddered, then, her words resonating within him, if only because he had held true to what Hypnos had asked of him. Kellen had not told anyone about his mandate. You’re his daughter, then? Kellen asked her. The daughter of Hypnos? And the Salt dragon . . . Phobetor . . . he’s your brother?
Phantasos shrugged playfully. My brother and I are two of the Oneiroi Three, said she, smiling again. And if you would more answers to all of your many questions, she again raised the bit of whale meat before him, then I am afraid you must share in our bounty first, Kellen Shore-Walker.
Kellen did not immediately oblige her. It’s a test, he told himself, studying the meat before him, even as others continued in their feasting. Just another stupid Salt test.
Phantasos pouted when Kellen would not eat. You do not trust me?
Why should I? Kellen replied. I don’t know you at all, but you seem to think that you know plenty about me. And why is it so important to you that I eat something before you can give me answers, anyway?
I could give you answers now, said she, her lip curling. But it is our custom for all guests welcomed into the Cavern of Somnus to partake of our offerings first.
Kellen sneered at the mockery in her voice. You don’t care about customs.
No, she chuckled. But my mother does . . . and she would be most offended if you did not partake. The Mother of Masks d
oes not take kindly to strangers who scorn her offerings.
Where is she, then? Kellen asked. Take me to her and I’ll explain my reasoning.
Soon enough, I will, said Phantasos. And you may not like the answer she gives you in turn. The Mother of Masks does not suffer fools.
Kellen hesitated at that. There was a time he would have continued playing her word games, tossing insults back and forth, but he cued on more than a little fear laced in the she-squid’s every word.
At his hesitation, Phantasos again offered up the portion of meat to him.
You have to choose, Kellen thought to himself, the weight of understanding heavy upon him when he recognized that some of the others at the feast had now turned away to focus on him too. You have to choose, he read the hidden message in their stony stares. But the end result will be the same.
Still, Kellen could not bring himself to relent. Again, he looked for Phobetor among the masses. Again, he failed to locate the former companion who had delivered him.
Well? Phantasos asked him. Will you partake . . . or must I tell the Mother of Masks you would reject her offerings?
I would rather you tell me why it’s so important to your mother that I take a bite first, said Kellen. If I were truly a guest of hers, then she wouldn’t care either way.
Phantasos scoffed. Do as you will, then. In the days of old, all were quick to take up an offering of guest rights provided by their host. For only once you had supped beneath their protection were your safety truly assured. Her gazed narrowed in study of him. Or perhaps you think we mean to poison you?
Kellen nodded at her reading his mind. What he did not expect was to see Phantasos take one of the halves that she had portioned and pop the meat into her mouth. Kellen watched with curious intrigue as she took her time in chewing. Finally, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue for him to see that she had well and truly swallowed the entire bite, rather than try and fool him by hiding a bit under her tongue.
Do you feel better of our intentions now? She asked him. Say rather, that our people have not waited all this time for you to be delivered here, only to murder you now?
Kellen did not know what to say, and so said nothing.
Phantasos chuckled at his reluctancy to speak. No, Kellen Shore-Walker, none of us here in the dark and deep have any want to see your death. She offered the remaining portion of meat for him to eat. Truly, it is only a good and better life we wish for you. Phantasos nodded toward the others still watching him.
The Salt dragon, Phobetor, had rejoined with the other Sancul too. When he and Kellen looked upon one another, Phobetor swam forward to join his sister. Aye, Uncle, he said to Kellen. My sister speaks true. We have no want that anything ill should come your way again. It is only a better life we wish for you and for all of us now that you have come to lead us in the ascendancy.
To rise, then? Kellen asked, reflecting back on Hypnos’s continued message to him.
The she-squid nodded in answer. Our father has been trying to teach you all along by bringing you into his shared dreams. Again, Phantasos offered up the remaining portion of whale meat that her brother had carved off the Ancient beast. But will you heed him and the gift of protection his children offer you?
Protection? Kellen thought. It’s just a hunk of whale meat.
Doubt led to him question otherwise.
It’s not poisoned, he reassured himself when the she-squid’s tentacle brought the meat closer to his lips. It can’t be. You watched all these others eat the whale and she did the same with the other half. All of them are fine, you idiot. Just eat it before they all stop believing in you.
Kellen shut his eyes and obliged the other Sancul, then, the pulpy whale meat both foul-tasting to his human tongue, yet welcomed by a deeper root within him. Cold and raw, he nearly gagged on the blubbery mass no matter much he attempted to chew through it. By the time he swallowed it down, the Salt dragon and his sister had come to swim alongside one another.
They’re twins, Kellen recognized of the Sancul pairing, the likeness in their sharpened features unmistakable with them side-by-side.
Then, their faces began to blur and the surrounding environment began to spin.
A cold tingle had taken root within his belly too. Kellen choked at the immediate frigidness spreading through him as if he had been dunked into an icy tank. His body tensed, wracked with the pain of frozen scorch.
Poison . . . his mind screamed in tandem with the pain. A trick. But how?
Kellen had no time to think on it. For a moment, he thought to make himself retch to rid his body of the poison. No sooner than he reached for his mouth, a tentacle shot forward and encircled his wrist, preventing him from the act. Kellen followed the source to its owner. Lunging forward, he reached for Phobetor. Help . . . he cried out to the Salt dragon. Help me . . .
Aye, Uncle, said the Salt dragon, using his other tentacles to catch and hold Kellen captive. Then, he looked toward Phantasos. Truly, we should help him, sister.
He will be helped soon enough, brother, Phantasos replied.
Let down your guard, at least, then, said Phobetor. Let this former mortal see the Cavern of Somnus as we do . . . aye, and all our guests too.
Phantasos chuckled, then, closing her eyes and raising her arms as if warding off a spell.
As Kellen’s body convulsed at the poison working through him, his captor maneuvered him around to better see. Kellen’s eyes widened upon seeing what he previously thought of as a true reality begin to melt away when Phantasos relinquished the environmental hallucination she had conjured.
Gone were the plates and whale carcass. The legion of Sancul vanished with the feasting too, each of them like ghosts banished by a sudden light. So too did the cavernous room that housed them all begin to fade away, revealing the truer one within. Like a massive, singular curtain being drawn, the illusion of the arena-like room changed and revealed the reality of the Cavern of Somnus.
At the room’s center, where the fictitious Blue Whale calf had been lain, now Kellen saw Hypnos stretched upon a bed of onyx stone. Surrounded by bioluminescent lanterns, bathed in an eerie and pale, greenish light, Hypnos trembled with the same continued seizures he had endured since leaving Orphan Knoll. The former, fiery glow in the mute Sancul’s eyes had lessened from what Kellen recalled in his dreams. But, when the Sancul twins hauled their stunned prize nearer toward the onyx bed, Kellen swore the blazing in Hypnos’s eyes grew stronger for each passing moment.
Kellen too began to seize, then, the whole of his body trembling in equal measure to that which Hypnos endured.
The Sancul twins bore him ever onward to a second bed of polished stone. An exact replica in shape and size to that which Hypnos lay upon, the empty bed was carved of gleaming white marble. The heading of it had been placed in opposite of Hypnos, all so that whoever lay upon the white marbled bed might be near enough for the pair to reach out and touch the other.
Dragged to hover at the side of Hypnos, Kellen saw one stranger among the rest; a she-squid who loomed over the heads of both beds. Tattooed runes and silver circlets adorned her forearms. A rubied pendant gleamed of darkish sorcery around her neck. The pendant stood out clearest of all in Kellen’s mind, the richness of its color and shimmering nature in stark contrast to the bone-white clippings that clung to the black and tattered garb worn by the she-squid witch. If she had any hair, it had all been gathered beneath a black hood that was shaped like a triangular shark fin. Mesh netting covered the entirety of her face, affording her full and total anonymity.
Kellen felt her hungry stare upon him all the same. Where he had once imagined Nyx as a dark sorceress during his healing ceremony, he imagined the one swimming before him now as a necromancer. The Mother of Masks . . . Kellen thought when the masked she-squid’s husky voice carried over all.
Here, my children, she motioned to the empty, white-marbled bed. Lay him here, beside your father.
Why? Kellen’s mind swam with the thou
ght. Wh-what’s happening to me?
As the Sancul twins obeyed, Kellen’s body screamed at him to fight with what little strength remained to him. For all his attempts, he could summon nothing of his former strength, swearing the connection between his thoughts and body had been severed by the poison working through him. The world spun faster around him, and he blinking to maintain his hold on his environment as Phantasos and Phobetor lay him upon the empty bed to continue seizing.
The poison had removed Kellen’s control of his head too. His neck muscles no longer supported him either, the icy scorch continuing in its swift path to take over his extremities also.
Phantasos appeared behind him, her frigid hands touching the sides of Kellen’s head and forcing him to look upward. It seemed to Kellen that the world was turned upside down then, the view above him like staring up into a reverse funnel.
There were more Sancul looking down on him from the above too.
Perched atop an isolated crag, her tentacles sprawled over the rock face like living vines, Black Keerie sneered at him from afar. The Salt dragon, Phobetor, swam up to join her also. His elven-like face carried none of the malice that Keerie’s did, nor any real emotion at all for the ongoing proceedings.
Kellen knew better than to call out for either of their aid.
Above them, Kellen sighted a pair of centered doors that looked as though they were crafted into the stony, black ceiling. A hazy, greenish fog of biolumiscent light surrounded both doors too, as if someone meant to highlight them for Kellen to look upon. Where the doorway that Hypnos lay beneath glistened of bone-white, coral ivory, the door hung above Kellen was liken to a truss of what once may once have been a living reef with colorful sea-grass adornment.
All were long wilted now, the remains all dark and black and dead.
Kellen had little time to study the make of either door.
The Mother of Masks swam above him, creating a current of cold water to sweep over his face before she alighted down on the opposite side of him to better face her daughter too. While Phantasos held Kellen’s head in place, the Mother of Masks reached out with a pale and withered hand, running her skeletal fingers over his brow, muttering all the while.
Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 Page 43