THE OCEAN IS NEVER STILL. Nothing is really. But the only thing that seems to move here is the steady snow of sand and detritus that has traveled for miles below the emerald waves, through currents and tides, and now floats down to the abyss where Erebus lays, curled between mountains that have yet to rise. He rests in the freezing blackness, the occasional twitch of his being sending a small current through the water. He can hear everything from here, the hum of volcanic vents, and the grate of plates grinding against each other, the flicker of a fish’s fins and the ghostly moans of monsters haunting the depths. Erebus stirs in surprise as he senses another being drawing near, greater than an eel or the carcass of a whale drifting down or even some wayfaring hero who somehow managed to reach this far.
He whirs a mild warning, announcing his immense presence there in the light - devouring chasm, riddled with curiosity at who ventures so far from life. Khaire! Erebus vibrates. Hail, friend? Who calls?