The Wildsea: Storm & Root

From the hungry skies…

A horizon more yawning, more open, than she’d ever thought possible. With chemical gas and leviathan-bone struts, with taut canvas rippling in the storm-winds, they rose from the canopy and crested the wild blue above. Their ship, once bound by the waves of leaf and branch, was free. A ting speck in the endless, but one full of laughter and hope for a new frontier.

And she remembered the depths.

No less ravenous than the skies, a cloying, clinging darkness that washed over the portholes and crept through the door-seals like tar. The rustle of waves above replaced with chittering, keening, and the roars of creatures that would break the mind if fully understood. A constant clamour of life, the thrum of predator and prey and predator again, locked into a cycle pierced only momentarily by the passing of a ship, by the sound of saws on ancient wood. In those moments, the seas were united against the invader. In those moments, she had been prey in a way she’d never felt before.

…to the wilds below.