Chapter 1: Currents of Rivalry

The sea had always been deep, but not always watched.

Long before ships carved white scars through the waves, before lanterns burned

against the fog, something had already claimed the darkness below. The sailors

had names for storms, for reefs, for the endless black water beneath their

hulls—but none of those names were the right one.

Because the thing below had a name of its own.

Zammon.

A leviathan older than most maps, older than the stories told to scare children

away from the shoreline. He did not simply live in the deep—he ruled it with quiet

patience. Vast coils slept beneath cold currents, and ancient eyes watched every

flicker of light above the surface.

But Zammon had a problem.

He was… interested.

Where other leviathans might destroy ships or drag them under without a second

thought, Zammon lingered. He watched. He listened. Humans fascinated him in a

way the silent ocean never could. Their shouting, their fear, their stubborn

bravery—it was endlessly entertaining.

But none of that held his attention quite like her.

Andromeda.

Another leviathan of the deep, vast and terrible in her own right. She moved

through the ocean like a living current, rarely staying long in one place. Many

creatures of the sea feared her passing.

Zammon did not fear her. He followed her.

Not always closely, not always where she could see—but enough to know when

she passed through certain waters. Enough to know the rhythm of her

movements through the deep.

And once Zammon became interested in something…

He had a terrible habit of becoming obsessed.

For weeks now, he had lingered near these waters, because they were hers as

much as his. Andromeda had passed through before, silent and distant,

vanishing again into darker currents.

Zammon waited.

He was very good at waiting.

Above him, a ship drifted through the waves, its wooden hull creaking softly as it

cut through the water. Zammon barely paid it much mind, though the muffled

voices drifting through the sea were mildly entertaining.

Boots thudded across the deck.

“Did you hear that again?” one voice asked nervously.

“Hear what?” another replied.

“The water. It sounded like something moved under the ship.”

A pause followed.

Then someone laughed.

“Relax. What’s down there? A sea monster?”

Deep below, something enormous shifted in the dark.

And Zammon smiled. The movement was slow, deliberate, a ripple through miles of cold water that

never quite reached the surface. Above, the ship continued its path, unaware that

something vast and ancient drifted beneath its shadow.

Zammon listened.

Humans were loud creatures. Even through the water, their voices carried in

strange, muffled vibrations that tickled at his patience.

“Probably just a whale,” one of them said.

“A whale doesn’t follow a ship for three nights,” another replied.

“Then stop leaning over the railing and looking for it.”

A few nervous laughs followed.

Zammon rolled one massive eye toward the hull above him.

Three nights? he thought dryly. Please. If I were following you, you’d know.

His tail flicked once, sending a lazy current through the darkness. The ship

creaked in response, rocking just slightly.

Above deck—

“Okay, that was definitely the water moving.”

“Or the wind.”

“There is no wind.”

Zammon almost laughed. If a leviathan laugh could travel to the surface, the

entire ship might have capsized.

Humans loved explanations. They clung to them like drifting wood in a storm.

Unfortunately for them, Zammon had little interest in being explained.

His attention drifted away from the ship and back into the endless dark around

him. The ocean stretched outward, vast and silent, currents whispering secrets

older than the oldest sailor’s tale. And somewhere out there—

She moved.

Zammon felt it before he heard it. A distant tremor in the water. A shift in the

currents that did not belong to tide or storm.

His eyes narrowed.

Slowly, the leviathan lifted his head from the depths, his immense form uncoiling

with patient grace. Creatures scattered in every direction—schools of fish

flashing silver as they fled the growing shadow.

Zammon ignored them.

There.

Another ripple, faint but unmistakable.

Andromeda.

He knew the rhythm of her movement now. The ocean carried it like a signature.

A presence that bent the water around it.

Zammon tilted his head slightly, almost thoughtful.

“Well,” he murmured to the empty dark, his voice a low rumble swallowed by the

sea, “look who finally decided to show up.”

Above him, the ship’s lanterns flickered softly across the waves.

Below, something far larger began to move.

Zammon pushed upward through the water, not fast—never fast. There was no

need for rushing when you were the largest thing in the ocean.

The surface grew brighter overhead.

The crew was still arguing.

“I’m telling you something’s down there.”

“You’re imagining things.” “Then why does the water keep—”

The sentence never finished.

Because a shadow passed beneath the ship. Not quickly, not violently—just a

slow, impossible darkness gliding under the hull.

Every lantern reflection vanished for a moment.

Silence fell across the deck.

“…Did you see that?” someone whispered.

“No.”

“Yes you did.”

“…That was big.”

Zammon continued past them without a second thought.

He had far more important things to focus on.

Far out in the deep water ahead, the currents shifted again.

Andromeda was near.

Zammon’s long body curved through the ocean as he changed direction,

following the faint trail she left behind.

His grin widened.

“Oh, this is going to be interesting.”

And somewhere in the dark waters ahead, another leviathan moved.

Zammon had froze mid swim, trying to figure out the source of what had been

near him. Whatever it was, it could upset him real fast.

Looking out into the water. Dark and unthinkable, he realized what was moving

around. The one he hated most.

Cryolith…

Zammon could never stand that damn Leviathan. No matter how hard he wanted

that thing gone. It always found his way back.

The name alone was enough to sour Zammon’s mood.

For a moment, the great leviathan remained perfectly still, suspended in the

black water like a living cliff. The ocean pressed against his scales as the

currents slowly curled around him.

Of all the creatures in the deep, this was the one he wished would simply vanish.

Cryolith never did.

Somewhere out there, hidden in the endless dark, the other leviathan moved

again. The water shifted strangely—colder, heavier, as if the ocean itself disliked

his presence.

Zammon’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, fantastic,” he muttered, his voice a low vibration through the sea. “Just who I

wanted to see this morning.”

Another ripple.

Closer this time.

Cryolith had a way of appearing without warning, sliding through the ocean like a

shard of winter itself. Where Zammon was patient and curious, Cryolith was…

something else entirely.

Cold. Silent. Unpleasantly persistent.

Zammon flicked his tail once, slowly turning in the water to face the direction of

the movement.

“You know,” he called lazily into the darkness, “most creatures take the hint when

they’re not wanted.” For a few seconds, the ocean answered with silence.

Then the water shifted again—larger this time.

A massive shape drifted somewhere beyond the reach of the faint surface light.

Long, jagged outlines moved through the gloom like broken mountains sliding

beneath the sea.

Cryolith had heard him.

Zammon sighed dramatically, the motion sending bubbles spiraling upward.

“Unbelievable,” he continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Out of this entire

ocean, you still manage to ruin my morning.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward the distant currents again.

Andromeda’s trail still lingered there.

Which meant one very important thing.

Cryolith was between Zammon and where he wanted to go.

Zammon’s grin slowly returned, sharp and amused.

“Well,” he said quietly, stretching his massive body as if preparing for something

mildly inconvenient, “this should be fun.”

The dark water ahead shifted once more.

And something enormous began moving toward him.

Zammon had quickly swam off, trying to get as far away from Cryolith, but still get

closer to Andromeda.

It didn’t help at all that Cryolith was in Zammon’s way. That wasn’t going to stop

him though.

The massive leviathan curved through the dark water, his long body cutting

through the currents with powerful, steady strokes. Fish scattered in frantic bursts

of silver as the ocean shifted around him. Behind him, the water moved again.

Cryolith.

Of course he was following.

Zammon rolled his eyes, though no one was there to see it.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rumbling through the

deep. “Do you have anything better to do, or is it bothering me is your full-time

occupation?”

The ocean gave no answer, but the temperature of the water dipped just slightly.

The current thickened, heavy and cold.

That was enough to answer.

Zammon swam faster.

Ahead of him, the faint trail of Andromeda still lingered through the water—subtle

shifts in the current, a presence that had passed through not long ago. To most

creatures, it would mean nothing.

To Zammon, it was obvious.

“She’s close,” he murmured to himself, a small grin tugging at his expression.

Another large ripple surged behind him.

Cryolith was gaining.

Zammon groaned dramatically, whipping his tail harder through the water.

“Oh come on,” he complained loudly. “Do you mind? I’m busy.”

A massive shadow slipped along the edge of his vision.

Closer now.

Cryolith moved like a glacier drifting through the sea—slow, unstoppable, and

incredibly annoying. Jagged outlines cut through the darkness behind Zammon,

large enough to make the surrounding ocean seem small. Zammon shot a glance back, irritation flashing across his face.

“Seriously?” he called out. “This again?”

For a moment, the only response was the quiet churn of the ocean.

Then the water ahead shifted.

Not Cryolith.

Something else.

The current changed in a way Zammon knew far too well—smooth, powerful, and

unmistakable.

Zammon froze mid-swim.

His eyes widened slightly.

“Oh.”

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Well look at that.”

Far ahead in the dark water, a massive silhouette moved gracefully through the

deep.

“Andromeda.”

Andromeda had slowly turned to face the sound of what called her name.

She smiled softly. “Ah Zammon.” She started “Wonderful to see you, dear.”

Zammon mentally blew up. He loved when she called him “Dear”.

Though, on the rough side. She called everyone Dear, or Darling. It kind of was

Andromeda’s thing.

Zammon scoffed softly. “Andromeda. Hello”

She nodded once. Though. Behind her, was the one person that Zammon hated seeing.

Once again. Cryolith.

Cryolith chuckled lightly.

“Hello, Andromeda. How is your morning so far?” Cryolith played it all off.

He acted like he didn’t just chase Zammon. He acted like Zammon wasn’t

annoyed at him. He just played it all off.

Zammon’s eye twitched.

Of course.

Of course Cryolith had ended up here too.

For a moment, Zammon just stared past Andromeda at the other leviathan, his

expression flattening into pure irritation.

“Oh good,” Zammon muttered dryly. “You followed me all this way just to pretend

you weren’t following me.”

Cryolith tilted his head slightly, looking almost amused.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied smoothly.

Zammon gave him a long, unimpressed look.

“Right. And the ocean just happened to move behind me for the last mile.”

Andromeda glanced between the two of them, her soft smile never quite leaving.

The tension in the water around them was obvious, but she didn’t seem bothered

by it in the slightest.

“You two are exhausting,” she said gently.

Zammon straightened slightly, immediately shifting his attention back to her.

“I am not exhausting,” he corrected quickly. “I was having a perfectly peaceful

swim before someone decided to stalk me.” Cryolith let out another quiet chuckle.

“If I wanted to stalk you, Zammon, you wouldn’t notice.”

“Oh please,” Zammon shot back. “You’re about as subtle as an iceberg.”

Andromeda sighed softly, though there was clear amusement in her voice.

“Must you two do this every time you’re in the same waters?”

“Yes,” Zammon and Cryolith said at the exact same time.

There was a brief pause.

Zammon grimaced.

“Don’t agree with me.”

Cryolith smiled faintly.

“You said it first.”

Zammon opened his mouth to fire back another comment, but Andromeda lifted

one massive fin slightly, quieting the argument before it could grow.

Her gaze moved between them calmly.

“I was enjoying a quiet morning,” she said. “I would rather not spend it listening to

you two argue like territorial sharks.”

Zammon immediately tried to look less annoyed.

“Well I wasn’t planning on arguing,” he said, clearly lying. “I was just… passing

through.”

Cryolith raised an eyebrow ridge.

“Passing through,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“To follow Andromeda.” Zammon froze.

Andromeda blinked once.

Slowly, Zammon turned his head toward Cryolith.

“…You talk too much.”

Cryolith’s smile widened just slightly.

Andromeda’s soft laugh drifted through the water like a quiet current.

“Oh Zammon,” she said warmly. “You really are something special, dear.”

There Zammon went again.

His heart had practically flipped inside of him.

God he wished he could hear Andromeda call him that everyday, all day.

Cryolith, of course the way he was, decided to ruin Zammon’s mental moment.

“You know, Zammon. You are something special just like Andromeda says” He

said playfully.

“Andromeda, doesn’t lie. She doesn’t like liars, so she wouldn’t lie herself”

Zammon glared at Cryolith. Cryolith smirked. While Andromeda just let out a soft

chuckle.

“I didn’t mean something special like that, Cryolith.”

She had just tilted her head to the side.

“Simplly just in a friend way”

Zammon’s expression froze.

For a brief moment, the ocean around them felt very quiet.

The grin he had been trying—and failing—not to show slowly faded, replaced

with something far less enthusiastic. “…Ah,” Zammon said after a second.

Cryolith watched him closely, the smirk on his face growing just a little wider.

Andromeda, meanwhile, still looked perfectly calm, as if she hadn’t just

unknowingly dropped a boulder into Zammon’s thoughts.

Zammon cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to recover some sense of dignity.

“Right,” he said quickly. “Of course. Obviously. A friend thing.”

Cryolith let out a quiet snort.

Zammon shot him a look sharp enough to cut coral.

“Don’t.”

Cryolith lifted his fins slightly in mock innocence.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was thinking about it.”

Zammon groaned.

Andromeda glanced between them again, her expression amused but gentle.

“You two truly make the strangest pair,” she said.

“We are not a pair,” Zammon immediately replied.

“Agreed,” Cryolith said smoothly.

Zammon turned his head slowly.

“You literally chased me here.”

“I was traveling in the same direction.”

“For miles.”

“Coincidence.” Zammon stared at him for a long moment before muttering, “You are

insufferable.”

Cryolith gave a small, satisfied shrug.

Meanwhile, Andromeda had begun drifting slowly forward again through the

water, her massive form moving with graceful ease. The currents followed her

like ribbons trailing behind.

Zammon noticed immediately.

His attention snapped back to her.

“Oh—are you heading somewhere?” he asked, quickly swimming forward to

match her pace.

Andromeda nodded softly.

“There’s a deeper trench ahead,” she explained. “The currents there have

been… strange lately.”

Cryolith drifted alongside them.

“Strange how?”

Andromeda’s eyes flicked briefly toward the darker waters ahead.

“I’m not sure yet.”

Zammon’s curiosity sparked instantly.

“Strange currents?” he said. “That sounds interesting.”

Cryolith glanced at him sideways.

“You just want an excuse to keep following her.”

Zammon bristled.

“I do not.”

Then, after a short pause, he added— “…But that is a convenient side benefit.”

Cryolith chuckled again.

Andromeda simply smiled, as the three massive leviathans moved deeper into

the dark waters ahead, the ocean growing colder and quieter around them.

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Woops, probably should have checked before posting 😜

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Free nature again