In
the sixth year of the third age of Milankra, (one thousand, six hundred and
twenty anno domini by the humans’
reckoning), a strange thing happened that has never happened before or since:
the great lady of the sea let a victim go. I, Milankra’s handmaid, document
these happenings to prove that there did exist one time when Milankra was
merciful. It happened this way: we became aware of another vessel of humans
traversing the waters above us, and we alerted Milankra, as were our orders.
She awoke from her deep slumber and fixed her thoughts on the craft above.
Containing just over one hundred and thirty of the bipeds, this would hardly
constitute a meal for her ladyship, but she bade us fetch this one anyway.
During
our journey to the surface (which constitutes several of the human’s days—how
quickly time must pass for them!) we were alerted by Milankra to halt. Sending
us her thoughts through the water, we learned that she had discovered something
about this vessel that she found interesting. In the time the humans call Ahktowburr, on this tiny vessel, a new
human had been born. We strained our minds, and heard the bipeds call it
“Oceanus” after the surface over which it was born. Why this new human’s
presence gave Milankra pause, we were not told. We were simply ordered to turn
around and return to our mistress in the depths.
Upon
returning we found her again in hibernation. To the time of this chronicle,
none have ventured to ask Milankra about her one moment of mercy. I feel it may
have been due to her sadness that she would not again reproduce in her life
cycle, but I have never voiced this opinion, being in doubt of it myself. We
continued to watch the vessel as it reached its destination, and afterward
observed the humans as they gave thanks to their god for safe passage and
provision, unaware of how close they had come to being taken into our watery
depths.
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