Zeke didn’t move for a long time. He just sat on the beach, staring out into the hateful sky, wishing Mama would come back for him, knowing she couldn’t; wishing Papa would find him, knowing he was probably lost.

Zeke was alone. For the first time in his life; finally outside the cave, free from the dreadful sword, but now a hostage to a tribe of treacherous snakes and a murderous breeze. He had merely traded one cage for another, and to make matters worse, he was starving and had no idea what was safe to eat.

He hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. He had been too afraid and excited before to notice, but as he sat there disassociating, waiting for no one to come and save him, his stomach growled and groaned.

Toa’s unwelcome voice broke his reverie. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Zeke turned to look at him. Toa looked sheepish, offering Zeke a bowl with something green and oily inside. It didn’t look particularly appetizing but Zeke was famished. He wanted to reach out and take Toa’s gesture. He also wanted to knock the bowl out of Toa’s traitorous hands and yell at him to never speak to him again.

Zeke couldn’t decide whether to accept the bowl or spit in it. Toa was the only person he knew here, and Zeke had thought they had shared something special on the journey here, but that was before Toa had threatened to break his neck.

Zeke couldn’t trust him. He wanted to, but he refused. Instead, he said nothing. He stood up and turned from Toa, walked away, and left without a word.

He didn’t know where he was going or what he would do, but he felt a cruel satisfaction at ignoring Toa. Then, regret. Why did he do that? What foolish pride consumed him? He wished it was all a horrible dream, that he’d wake up in his soft mossy bed with Dook snuggling up next to him for warmth. But he knew that was pointless and pathetic. His parents didn’t raise him to act this way, but his parents were gone, and he was alone. Utterly alone. And he just turned his back on the only friend he had here. Well, the closest thing he had to a friend.

He shook his head to clear out the foolishness and self-pity. He would have to manage and take care of himself. He had no other choice. Zeke decided to catch a fish. He looked around to take in his surroundings and search for a branch he could whittle to use as a fishing spear.

Haven, or Nohu Mangrove, or whatever it was called, seemed to be a small island surrounded by mangrove trees that grew just off the shoreline, blocking the horizon with a dense bush of leaves, branches, and tall roots.

In the center of the island was a singular giant tree. “Giant” didn’t do the tree justice. It was beyond massive, with a violet and green canopy that nearly blotted out the sky, reminding Zeke of the cave ceiling at home; but even the largest cavern back home seemed miniscule in comparison to the sheer breadth of this colossal tree.

A forest of coconut trees, avocado trees, mango trees, nut trees, and many more varietals surrounded the singular giant like a swarm of toddlers at their mother’s knees. But Zeke was unfamiliar with these fruits and so didn’t know if they were safe to eat. And he refused to ask for help. After Toa’s betrayal, Zeke wanted nothing to do with him or the rest of his snake-like people.

But he felt their eyes on him. The otters, too, followed Zeke at a wary distance. They didn’t want him here. He could sense that much. No matter where Zeke went, a small crowd followed. Whether by suspicion, contempt, or simple curiosity, Zeke couldn’t tell, but he resolved not to give any of them his attention.

Searching for a fishing stick kept his mind occupied, which was a welcome a relief. It took Zeke longer than he’d expected to find a suitable branch for his purposes. Most of the sticks he found were excessively curved, too large or too small, or else too decayed and waterlogged. He needed a straight branch, or mostly straight; light and thin enough to hold for extended periods as he waited for fish to come nearby; and young enough to be firm and retain its sharpness once he’d whittled the end to a point.

He found the perfect stick before the sun got low. He sat down on a fallen tree trunk and took out Aunt Gwen’s longknife, permitting himself a moment to regard the precious gift, his only possession left to him, along with the clothes on his back. Then he set those thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand.

It took Zeke little time to sharpen the stick. Mama taught him different ways to fish back when he was a young boy. He felt confident in his ability to spear a fish. Starting a fire with nothing but sticks would be a much more challenging and time-consuming endeavor, but one task at a time.

The spear was ready, so Zeke stood up and walked into the water.

The mangrove trees beyond the shoreline broke the strong ocean waves, so the water by the shore was calm and clear. Zeke found a large stone to stand on, wiggled his toes like worms for fish to come and inspect, held his sharpened stick high in the air, and waited motionless. But before he could slip into a focused trance, something broke his concentration, almost startling him off the stone he stood on.

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“You can’t hunt here,” said a bizarre, high-pitched voice, with a clicking or chirping vibrato. The voice came from farther out in the deeper shallows, but Zeke couldn’t see its source. He only saw two strange-looking reeds poking out of the water. The reeds were familiar somehow, but he couldn’t place where or how he’d seen them before. Were they reeds at all? No, of course not. Reeds don’t talk. A rising sense of foreboding enveloped him. He aimed the wooden spear toward the direction of the suspicious not-reeds.

“Why can’t I hunt here?” he asked.

The not-reeds rose up out of the water, and Zeke realized what they truly were, where he had seen them before, and why he had been afraid. They were oblong, segmented eyes, like those of a giant crab, and as they rose higher, the attached body rose, too, complete with an electric-blue chitinous shell, a pair of enormous crab legs, and a pincer claw big enough to break Zeke in half. Long, squid-like tentacles dangled from below its abdomen.

A sea monster. Cthulian, Toa had called it. Bigger than the one that had attacked them earlier. It had been crouched low to hide from sight, but as it stood now, it was more than three times Zeke’s height.

Zeke screamed and fell backward with a splash, scrambling to get away.

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you,” the monster chirped. “You can’t hunt here because Nohu Mangrove is neutral ground by interspecies treaty. No one hunts here by Haven’s decree. Haven punishes anyone who breaks that law.”

Zeke was too shocked and afraid to respond; otherwise, he might have mentioned that Haven said their laws don’t apply to him, but he could only blink, slackjawed and dumb.

The cthulian continued almost shyly, “Um, our name is Tzik-Inu, but you can call us Raf. It’s great to finally meet you.” Raf extended a clawed, three-fingered hand, but Zeke had never shook anyone’s hand before, let alone that of an enormous sea monster, and was unfamiliar with the custom.

Wait. Finally?

“Hold on.” Zeke stood up and tried to collect himself. “What do you mean, finally? You’ve been waiting for me?”

“We think so, yeah. The sovereign told us to come to Haven and wait for the turning of the age. We believe that must be you.”

“Who is we? There are more of you?” Zeke asked.

“We are we. Us.” The cthulian put its hand to what resembled a chest.

Zeke looked confused.

“Oh. You don’t know what we are. We are a composite of many lives and memories, and our consciousness is shared with The Deep One, who in turn spreads our knowledge to all symbiotic cthulians.”

Zeke was even more confused.

Raf seemed to recognize the emotion, continuing. “It’s not important for you to understand now. You will in time. But to answer your second question, no. There is no other here. We are the only cthulian that calls Nohu Mangrove our den.”

“Can all cthulians speak human?” Zeke asked, still apprehensive but feeling more confident that this particular sea monster wasn’t about to eat him.

“To our knowledge, we are the only cthulian who speaks human words. We taught ourself to speak with great difficulty.”

“How did you learn?”

“One of our past selves was a human. We are rare in that way. Precious few cthulians carry human selves. Our human’s name was Rafael Avalyn. He was… an Ikon of Eden.”

In a day full of unprecedented events, this news was perhaps the most shocking.

Raf continued, “You must be an Ikon as well, yes? That is why Rowan brought you here, to hide you from Adam?”

Zeke didn’t answer. He was too dumbfounded. Besides, he didn’t know if it was safe to share that secret with anyone, let alone a giant sea monster. Instead, he asked, “How did Rafael die?”

Zeke couldn’t read the alien expression on the giant crab/squid creature’s face, but he imagined the creature was saddened and angry by the question.

“Rafael was betrayed. Stabbed in the back by someone he trusted. His soul was trapped before it could return to the Hollow. But our symbiote was recovered. Tzik-Inu rescued us and bonded with us. Now we share a mind and body. But Rafael’s human memories were powerful and angry. He threatened to overwhelm our collective, so we sought guidance from the great Sovereign of Sea and Sky, and the Sovereign sent us here, that we should await you and guide you on your journey. And along the way, we might find the vengeance Rafael desperately craves.”

Raf seemed to lower itself into something resembling a kneel.

“We dedicate ourself to you now, to your health and protection. In return, we ask that you give us leave to take our revenge when fate permits, that you heed our counsel when we offer it, and you accept our service with dignity and respect.”

In the library at home, Zeke had read stories of noble quests and oaths, so he had some sense of the gravity of the moment, and the precious gift he was being offered. He could not afford to deny himself an ally, least of all one as imposing and knowledgable as Raf. So Zeke did his best to emulate the heroes in the stories he’d read as a boy.

Zeke drew his longknife, his most precious possession, and gently tapped the flat of the blade against Raf’s enormous pincer claw.

“I accept your oath and offer mine in return,” he said. “I swear on my life and on those I love most; when the time comes, I will aid you in your revenge, I will heed your council, and I will treat you with honor.”

Raf rose and seemed to stand tall and proud. A steady chittering sound came from their chest.

“Let us help you collect edible fruit,” the cthulian said. “Then we can give you a proper tour.”