Stark - Prophet of the Depths

The light grows distant. Stark is sinking. Wreckage of the Zarima ship he was working on tumbles into the darkness with him. The cold water around him numbs his skin. His muscles burn from when he was fighting to get to the surface. The stormy water pulled him down again and again. Now he is tired, he gives himself to the current of the storm and it rewards him with a moment of calm.

The light of the storm above him crackles up and grows distant again as Stark sinks further. He closes his eyes for a moment, almost tempted to take a deep breath to quicken his end. A drum fills his ear, the beat of his heart that desperately tries to warm him in the cold water and another more distant noise he cannot recognize.

Stark opens his eyes again. No. He has never given up and he will not now. His tired and cold muscles rebel as he forces them to move once more. The dark sea around pulls at him again as he fights against the currents that pull him around. Stark doesn’t give up, he continues his movements, his body growing ever weaker only kept going by his will. Stark cannot give up. The distant noise grows closer.

His hand pierces the surface. A gasping breath, fresh air fills his lungs, he coughs, rain falls on his face, a wave crashes over him, the ocean swallows him again. Quickly the currents pulls him downwards, the crackling light growing distant. Lightning so loud he can hear the rumbling in the water reveals a silhouette that pushes itself between Stark and the light of the surface. At first, he hopes it is a boat but that hope is quickly drowned as the silhouette winds through the water with predatory elegance.

The shark senses the sailor beneath him and with waterborne precision turns in its hunting grounds. The black beast has Stark in its hungry sight. The beat of Starks heart quickens, the beat hammering joined by the faint echo of a distant voice. Stark does not give up; if he dies here he will die a legend unwitnessed. The distant voice sings as he draws a knife from his boot.

“One more trial to left to face.”

The shark, like it only waited for him to get ready, now swims at him with a speed only possible for the apex predator of the ocean. With a kick of his legs Stark dodges narrowly but the ocean has other rules than a fight on land. The shark is massive; at least ten metres long and with its mass and speed the current it generates has Stark tumbling through the salty water that burns in his eyes.

“Are you worthy of my embrace?”

He barely manages to realize where the shark is before it swims at him again. The beasts jaw ripped wide open, big enough to swallow him whole or rip him apart with the three rows of deadly sharp teeth. The distant voice sings, sound of drums and organs fill the water.

“There is no hope, there is no time.”

Stark sees the predator approach with overwhelming speed. He will die here there is no doubt about it. However if Stark can do something about it he will not die drowning and he will not die alone. He let’s go of the air in his lungs and leans backwards completely relaxed as he sinks like a stone. The shark misses his sinking target and Stark rams his knife upwards. He tries to hold on to the blade hoping that the sharks own speed will become its doom, the knife tearing through its flesh as it torpedoes along him, but he can’t. He pierces the sharks skin and then the knife is wrestled from him by the enormous of the predators movement. Something cracks in his wrist as the knife rips away from him.

“Their bodies crack in the ragging tide.”

The voice sounds much clearer now, a female voice, filled with anger strong enough to shatter the world if she had the opportunity. Stark watches as the shark disappears back into the darkness of the ocean from where it came, in search of easier prey, of which the shipwreck should provide it enough off.

Stark hangs in the water and looks at the surface again. He tries to lift as much as a finger but he is completely numb and there is no more air in his lungs. He is sinking like a stone. All he feels is the numb pain in his wrist, all he sees is the flashing of lightning above the surface, all he hears is the drum of his heart, the organ and the distant voice.

“From the azure depths I reach.” She sings, “Ripping at your mortal soul.” At the edge of his field of view, Stark sees another shark circling around him, it is much smaller than the one he just faced, only about thirty centimetres long. For some reason that annoys him. If he is going to die, at least the greatest predator he has ever seen should eat him, not a small fish.

Another shark appears in his field of view, then another one. Soon a whole swarm of small sharks is making its rounds with him at the centre. “One more trial you have faced.” The voice sings and as she does so Stark sees the sharks tighten their circles, their numbers ever growing.

“Do you want to live, worthy one?” The voice stops singing for a moment to ask this simple question. Starks eyes go wide. All of this must be a hallucination; of course it has to be but if there is even the slightest chance. To the sound of organs, he raises his cold, broken hand towards the light. It is a single eye of stormy crackling surrounded by an ever-moving swarm of small sharks. He has no air to scream and yet he does as his mangled hand reaches for the light. “YES!”

“My wrath shall not let go.” The voice picks up its enraged songs again. “You have sunk so deep and survived alone. One more trial you have faced and thus one more mortal I shall embrace.” The sharks suddenly become very agitated and swim ever faster. “Free me in your lifetime. When you stride I will be your side. Always keep in mind…” The sharks dissipate from his field of view but Stark knows they are still all around him, only gathering speed.

Thousands of teeth sink in his body. He tenses in an airless scream as he is ripped apart and reborn at the same time. Images burn through the pain. His mother unable to stand on her own. His father unable to stand for his own. His mistress unable to live on her own. His captain unable to fight for her own. His fellow sailors unable to act on their own. They are all weak. The images blurr, become irrelevant. Only the song of the depths is important now.

The pain is gone all of the sudden. Stark feels sand and algae in his extended no longer broken hand. His hand tightens, his back arches upwards, pushes through the surface. A deep breath, air, a beach in front of a cliff, the storm is still raging. He stumbles forwards. “Help me.” He hears a voice and turns. Behind him is another sailor, bleeding from a stump leg. “The shark, it, it ate my leg, there was nothing I could do.” Stark can see the knife still in his belt, the sailor had been too cowardly to fight in his last moments and paid the price for it, even if Stark would help him here he would likely bleed out.

The voice of the woman is still in his head, “My name is Zalaria.” she whispers to him. Stark walks towards the sailor as he tries to pull himself towards the beach, “Thank you, Sta….oh god, did you always have those scars? They look like a thousand small mouths ripped you apart.”

Stark doesn’t answer as he strides through the shallow water. “Always keep in mind….” Zalaria sings in his head again. Stark draws the knife from the sailors belt, who squeals confused as he does so. Stark takes the knife into both hands and rams it through the sailor’s throat, who dies with a few last grunts. Zalaria and Stark sing the last words of the wrathful hymn: “…All that’s weak must die.”