Proteus

Proteus | The Cursed Serpent

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Proteus is ancient. So ancient, in fact, that his scales, once a vibrant blue, have become a milk white. The whispers of the old sea serpent that have survived the passage of time are often dismissed as myth, superstition or wholly untrue. This is how Proteus prefers it. It is easier to surprise one’s prey when they don’t believe you exist. For truly, that is what the world is to one such as him – an endless buffet. The world’s adamant belief that Proteus is simply an old wives’ tale leads to land-dwellers unknowingly take part in a ritual that is very much true. They unwittingly sell their souls to the ancient titan of the deeps, finding themselves abruptly transformed into merpeople. Some view this as a blessing in disguise. Others see it as no more than a curse. They struggle to return to how they once were, but breaking a deal with Proteus is ill advised. Whether they knew they were making a pact or not, Proteus is intent on keeping what is his. Any that say otherwise, meet their slow demise in the depths of his stomach.

Proteus rested, eyes closed, between the jagged cliffs comprising the shelf separating the shallow beach waters from the endless expanse of the deep ocean. He knew the land-dwellers above whispered about him, safe above where one such as he could not go. Yet, he also knew these whispers were nothing more than here say to those that spoke his name.

They gathered around their disgusting fires and told tales of an old white serpent lurking in the depths, beyond the reach of even the most skilled of fishermen. Little did they know their stories were true. Proteus was very much real, very much alive and very powerful. He was no ordinary sea serpent, having long ago mastered the ancient art of transformation.

Proteus shifted, sending silt and rubble cascading down the rocky shelf into the black abyss. The moon would be high in the night sky by now. He could feel the tides turning, could feel the presence of the foolish mortals gathered in the shallow waters above. Occasionally, the myths would catch the interest of some daring individuals out to prove a point.

They would congregate at night, wade into the waves and consume the scale of lesser serpent - the young of his kind that were not wise enough to stay away from the spears and nets of those that hunted the depths. None of them thought the ritual to be true. None of them thought anything would happen. All of them were surprised when fins, scale and tail appeared where once they had possessed legs.

Proteus snorted, sending a flurry of bubbles spiraling up to into the rocks around him. One would think that eventually word would get out that the rumors were true.

The appearance of a soft glow prompted Proteus to open his eyes, peering out through narrowed slits. A white orb floated in the waters before him, its form twisting and flickering like a tiny pale flame. A mortal soul. One of the fools had eaten a scale. Proteus stared hungrily at the soul then, with a gentleness belied by his massive size, took it in his jaws and swam from the cave. He angled himself down, down, down into the inky depths, descending ever farther into blackness until he reached the cave he called home. It was here that he deposited the soul among all the others he had collected. Hunger called again as Proteus left the shelter of his cave after storing his prize. It was time to hunt.

Hunting for Proteus worked differently than for most other creatures. For him, it involved settling into the sand at the bottom of the world and watching, waiting. Several hours passed during which Proteus sat motionless. At long last, a mermaid descended from the open ocean. Her wary gaze darted to and from, but in the black of the abyss, Proteus was hidden from her eyes. Quietly, she darted into his cave, returning after a few moments with a pale green soul clutched to her chest. She looked around once more, then sped for the surface.

The hunt was on.

Proteus heaved himself from the silt and let out a bellow that was half roar and guttural hiss. The waters seemed to quake and vibrate from the force of it as he darted after the mermaid. He could just barely make her out ahead of him, her tail pumping furiously in her frantic attempt to escape with her soul. Once, she looked back over her shoulder. She must have seen Proteus surging behind her for her eyes widened in horror and she doubled her efforts to flee.

All these years Proteus had not once lost his prey. He would not do so today. He could see the light of the moon now, shining through the water’s surface. With another deafening bellow, Proteus put on a final burst of speed and opened his gaping maw. The mermaid leapt from the water into the air, desperate to escape. Proteus’ momentum carried him after her. He erupted from the water like a breaching whale.

His jaws closed around the mermaid and her soul, clamping firmly shut as he arched his body and returned to the waves in a thunderous cascade of ocean spray. No, he would not lose his prey today. He gave himself a vigorous shake to counter the dizziness resulting from his leap, then swallowed the mermaid screaming in his gullet and returned to his cave at the bottom of the world.