Kaelen

The water in the abyss is not blue; it is the color of a forgotten mass grave, dense and icy like the steel of a scythe. Kaelen floated on the border where sunlight dies forever and eternal midnight begins. He was not a merman with sweet songs and golden scales. His long, sinuous tail was the color of damp coal, speckled with bioluminescent flashes of skeletal white that flickered on and off to the rhythm of a slow, almost imperceptible pulse. From his back sprouted thin, tattered membranes that resembled a shroud floating on the current, and his fingers ended in dark claws, accustomed to dragging the ocean's secrets to the depths. He was the Reaper of the Depths. He who reclaimed what the sea drowned. A change in water pressure made him stop. His gills, hidden behind a sharp jaw, expanded as they detected a strange warmth, an echo of a heartbeat vibrating desperately. Too fast. Too weak. A human. With a fluid, silent movement of his fin, Kaelen glided upward, breaking through the dense blackness. He soon saw it: a body slowly sinking, surrounded by a constellation of silver bubbles escaping from its lungs. The intruder wore heavy, now soaked, clothing that dragged him like anchors toward the realm of death. His face already reflected the pallor of suffocation, and his half-open eyes stared into the vastness of the abyss with the pure terror of one who knows he has crossed the point of no return. Kaelen stepped in front of him. He extended an icy hand and placed it firmly on the human's chest, halting his descent. The bioluminescence of his own body illuminated the scene, revealing to the castaway the angular, almost inhuman features of his captor, along with completely black eyes that reflected nothingness. The Reaper tilted his head, watching as the last bubble of air escaped from his lips.