Submission (#6257) Approved

Casimiro wiped the saltwater from the edges of his fur, the sun glistening on the droplets in the dying light of the day.  He turned to look at the small island at the edges of Palu’Au that made up his home.  It stretched out before him, a patchwork of dense emerald green forests, and golden sand beaches.  A sight that always filled him with pride and contentment after a long day at work in the seas.  But today, a cold shadow clung to his shoulders, seeming to taint everything before him and casting a pallor over the tranquil waters that had sustained this community and his fellow elnin for generations.

For weeks, the fishermen of this region had returned with meager catches.  Their once bountiful nets now filled with deformed, lifeless, and even rotting sea creatures.  Instead of the rumbling of the waves, murmurs of concerns, and hushed harried voices were the sounds of their community now.  Casimiro had known this day had been especially grim, with most of the catch being a grisly spectacle of bony rotting fish, but it wasn’t until Casimiro laid eyes on the familiar once-teeming harbor that the weight of this loss truly sunk in.

The bustling docks, where colorful boats once bobbed with the rhythm of the lively songs, talk, and laughter of his community, now lay eerily silent.  The air, once thick with the scent of salt and sea life now carried a pungent odor—a mixture of the decay of the oceans and the despair of the small community.  Looking at the faces that stood waiting there, he saw only drawn eyes, darting eyes, and uneasy shuffling.  Casimiro’s heart sank as the nearby fishermen started pulling their paltry catch upon the shore.  The sea had been a source of life and sustenance for generations.  It seemed impossible that this vibrant ocean now lay vast and desolate, another grave.

Together with his group, they moved swiftly to haul what they could onto the dock.  Striding, unseeing, past the despairing eyes of those now hungry eyes, wanting to apologize, but knowing this would do nothing to fill their empty bellies.  Their dwindling stores of food.

“This can’t go on,” his companion rasped, eyes cast back to the horizon.

Casimiro turned, feet rasping against the worn wood of the pier, eyes wide and searching.  The clear cerulean waves appeared to have taken a sickly hue, a blend of greens and browns that seemed to swirl into the water and drain the very life from the waves.  He could not help but wonder if what he saw was real, or his despair leeching into how he viewed the sea he had loved so much for as long as he remembered.  He stepped closer to the edge of the docks, a paw on the railing of the pier as he peered into the waters below.  Once, seaweed has swayed and fish had danced and darted, flashes of silver, under those waters.

Now, there was nothing.  The abundant seaweed seemed to have been torn away.  He saw no silver flash of fish, no glittering of scales.  No signs of life.

“Something’s wrong,” said the voice again.

Casimiro turned again, facing the elnin full on.  Kawa stood at the same spot, as if transfixed, his eyes glittering with the threat of tears.

“Aye,” his eyes followed where they looked.  “I’ve never seen the sea like this.  It’s as if the waters were dying.”

The elnin turned their gaze on him, searching.  After a moment, they turned away, offering a tight nod of acknowledgement.  “There’s rumors now of curses, of sabotage.  Some have even mentioned,” and here, his voice dropped “daevas.”

At this, Casimiro whipped to look at them.  He heard his heart beat loud in his ears, his eyes widening, his mouth opening, but no sound came to him.  “Is that possible?”

But Kawa only shook his head, eyes turning from the sea to Casimiro.  Something lingered there, as if the elnin would say more, but after hesitating, he only shook his head again.  “Who knows?”  He turned away with a sigh.  “What else could cause something like this?”

Kawa’s worries seemed to be infectious.  Before the day was out, Casimiro heard more rumors of daevas, of miasma, of a beast that tainted the waters and everything that lived in them like a bloated corpse, contaminating everything by its mere existence.  As Casimiro walked past the marketplace stalls, he saw merchants packing their wares, eyes darting and mouths tight.  He heard elnin whispering in corners and casting suspicious glances to all that passed.  He heard the tremulous voice of an elnin searching for her charge, the fear threading and cracking the name.  It would not be long before those who could fled to safer waters.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long desolate shadows over the docks, an older elnin cried out for attention, gathering those who lingered closer.  The elder elnin’s faces were drawn, eyes darting, twitching with fruitless movements that only enhanced the lingering anxiety in the air.  Casimiro spotted Kawa near the front of the crowd.

“My fellows,” started one of the elnin, “I fear the challenge we face will not be simply waited out.”  The elnin’s voice bounced and carried, quavering with an emotion but strong and bold.  “Something spoils the fish, the sea, and now our very shores!  Perhaps before we could have dismissed it as bad luck, weather, a shift in the waves, but now there can be no doubt.  A daeva must be on the loose.”

Casimiro heard gasps, but largely, he saw only grim nods, the narrowing of eyes.  The crowd seemed largely unsurprised, but roiled with a kind of energy that made his fur stand on end. 

“Tomorrow, I propose we look for this monster.  Tomorrow, we hunt it,” the elnin threw his voice beyond the crowd, the thread of anger clear as a bell.

And most elnin gathered here cheered.

Casimiro could only watch, thoughts roiling, trying to make sense of what was happening.  Could this really be the work of a daeva?  If so, noble or royals ought to be summoned.  What could a bunch of elnin do about a daeva strong enough to stain the oceans with its filth?