The mist was a thick curtain that covered the waves of the ocean, and it expanded and stretched upwards toward the heavens. Whisperings and madness, the mist chanted hollowly, threatening all those who dared to enter. It undulated over the crests and troughs of the Western Ocean, opaque and unerring.
A loud cry of a newborn child pierced the mist, and the mist rushed to meet it. Swirling around the floating basket, it peeked inside curiously. A child, with white hair, prismatic eyes that swirled with reds, greens, and blues, and pale white skin, lay curled in a white blanket. His cheeks were a soft shade of pink, and his eyes shone with tears. The mist hovered above him, unsure.
The mist was a frightening barrier, a force that kept secrets within and dispelled the eyes of outsiders. Yet, this abandoned child had somehow entered the mist in a way unknown. The mist held a wispy tendril above the boy, dangling it down playfully. The boy reached out with a hand towards the tendril, his eyes curious and bright, before giggling. The sound was a joyful one, and the mist shimmered cheerfully.
However, the mist had a duty to uphold. A duty bestowed upon it by the gods themselves. No outsiders were allowed within. Caressing the child’s face wistfully, it moved the basket along towards the outer edges of the misty barrier, eastwards. The ocean water splashed gingerly against the basket and the child cooed softly along the way, his hand held out to brush against the mist. Outside of this zone, the mist had no influence. Once the child was out of its tender clutches, he would be subject to dangers and misfortunes. The mist had no way of stopping this and wished softly that the gods look gently upon the child and bestow him with good fortune.
Reaching the end of the barrier, the mist gazed upon the child again regretfully. It lifted a tendril to flick the mucus from the child’s nose and patted his head softly. Then, with a voice so kind and wistful, a sound none had heard before, it spoke. “Atlas,” it whispered. “That is your name.”
A soft light lit up beneath the boy, between his shoulder blades, and faded just as quickly. With a soft push, the basket containing the child was swept along with the waves, eastward towards its own kind.
***
The waves became violent as the ocean’s temper grew. Dark, rolling clouds covered the sky, blotching out any sunlight. With a roar of thunder, the waves grew towards the skies with outstretched claws, threatening to graze the clouds. Lightning branched infinitely across the gloomy sky, and struck down with rage upon the waves.
The basket, small and insignificant among the waves as tall as mountains, thrashed about wildly. The child inside was screaming, unable to process what was happening. With a sudden crash of waves, the basket lifted into the air and spun, the child falling out. He felt the harsh crash against the waves with his small body, and the icy cold water filled his lungs. Slowly, the child sank beneath the storm, his prismatic eyes losing their light. Before his heartbeat stopped, however, he saw reds, blues, and greens coruscate before his eyes. Then, the clutches of death gripped the child, and all grew dark.
The child’s eyes shot open. He was still in the basket - albeit without his white blanket - the storm still thundering around him. What was happening? The boy’s brain was undeveloped, and his consciousness was minimal. He could feel the fear gripping his body at the loud sounds and cold air, but he had no understanding of anything else. He could not be afraid of the storm, of the water and its threat of drowning, or death in any of its wicked ways, as he could not comprehend these things yet.
Again, the child was tossed into the air, his screams quiet amongst the bellows of the storm. Again, the child succumbed to the cold water and fluid-filled lungs. Again, the child awoke, uncomprehending. And, curiously, each time before the child died, he saw those coruscating reds, greens, and blues.
Again, and again, and again. The child awoke, suffered, and died countless times, with hardly an inkling of comprehension. Like a corrupt nightmare, his short life and his subsequent death were caught in a constant, inescapable loop. It was like Fate coiling in on itself, repeating without end.
Then, the storm calmed. The waves began rolling serenely, the clouds making way for the sun and its welcomed warmth. The child was back in the basket, shivering, his white hair shining in the sunlight. Mentally exhausted and finally surrounded by a peaceful quiet, the boy fell asleep.
Awoken by the sound of the water's surface being broken, the child opened his multicolored eyes and gazed upon a truly horrific sight. A reddish-brown worm-like creature, with the top of its body protruding through the waves, gazed down upon him. It had one inky black eye and its mouth was a cavernous hole filled with rows and rows of dagger-like teeth.
It lunged straight at the child, its sharp teeth curling around the boy’s body. Pain. Cold, sharp, vicious pain gripped the child’s body as he slid into the maw of the sea worm. He felt his limbs being ripped to shreds, his body torn into. This time, death was a welcome embrace.
However, death had no permanent hold on him, and he awoke again, his body whole and unshredded, the memory of his dreadful death persistent, even through death. With the basket torn and ripped apart, the boy awoke surrounded by water. His arms and legs were immobile from his youth, and he was unable to swim or save himself. He saw the bottom half of the sea worm beneath the water, extended seemingly infinitely into the darkness of the ocean below. He had awoken at the same place he had died.
The seaworm noticed him again, its maw dripping with crimson. The boy’s lifeblood. It seemed confused for a moment, before lunging again at the currently drowning boy. Again, the boy was shredded by serrated teeth. Again, the boy awoke to the sight of the seaworm’s body stretching endlessly into the deep ocean, like a rope floating upwards. The sea worm, realizing it had an endless source of food, lunged again and again. Each time the pain was unbearable.
The boy still could not understand. He was simply unable to. The day turned to night as he was ripped apart endlessly, the ocean around him now a deep, unnatural shade of red.
However, the seaworm grew bored of its easy meal, or perhaps it was just full. With a slither, the boy watched as his torturer swam away into the dark ocean.
Still unable to swim, the boy then drowned. Again and again, until he was discovered by a new predatory sea creature.
This cycle continued without end. Either the boy would drown, despite his ever-growing attempts to swim, or he would starve, dehydrate or he would be the insignificant meal of another sea creature. Sometimes the storms would unleash their wrath upon him. However, his growth was never stunted by these events. His body continued to age as it would if he had never died, as if it had a source of healthy food and fresh water.
His attempts at swimming became better, and he was able to keep his head above the water after a few months. Unfortunately, his sense of consciousness also grew, and he was able to start truly understanding the fear and agony he felt before each death. His threat of drowning was reduced, but the danger of freezing to death skyrocketed now that he could float in the icy sea.
From drifting aimlessly, he began swimming. Still, aimlessly, he knew not where to go. Each death changed his course. When he grew tired from swimming, he would float facing upward, watching the stars at night. At 2 years of age, and thousands of deaths, he began to understand the stars and their paths. Unwittingly, he followed the Eastern star. He also learned how to sleep while afloat, although he would often die of hypothermia or a sudden attack.
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One day, when he was about 2 and a half years of age, during his stargazing, he felt something approaching. Fear built up inside him, as he waited apprehensively for his fate. No matter how many times he had died, though he was still unsure of what that meant exactly, he still felt a primal fear of the pain of death deep within him.
The moon overhead illuminated a hand that gripped his naked body. The hand was webbed, and sharp nails grew from each of the 6 fingers. It pulled him down beneath the water. He held his breath, expecting pain. But the hand was gentle, almost curious. It pulled him below the undulating waves, and he saw who the hand belonged to.
A creature he had never seen before stared back at him. Its face and torso were human, with fleshy gills on either side of its neck. Fish scales ran along its forehead and down its two arms, and from below its torso, there was a fishtail flicking back and forth. The tail was orange and pink and shone dully in the limited light from the moon that reached beneath the waves. The boy was somewhat reminded of the sky before the sunset. Its long hair was black, and its skin was a dull grey. It was bare-chested, with tattoos of shells dotting its body. Two murky pink eyes stared inquisitively at him.
Without much time to take in what he was seeing, the water spirit dove further into the ocean, dragging the boy along. He felt the tug of the water resisting the speed at which they were moving. His lungs started to burn, and the boy realized he needed to breathe desperately. The events that were happening had diverted his attention for a while, but the panicky feeling of running out of air assaulted him. He tried to move, to tug free of the water spirit’s arms, but was far too weak.
He grunted, knocking his small fists on the water spirit’s two sinewy arms that encapsulated him. The water spirit slowed, scowling at him before its eyes went wide with understanding. Suddenly, their course changed, and the boy felt the pressure that was unknowingly building in his head release before they broke the surface of the water.
The boy gasped for air, swallowing down mouthfuls of it gratefully. His breath was heavy from the panic but he slowly calmed down. The stars glinted above warmly, and he looked to the moon for comfort. The water spirit was next to him, watching him closely. Its pink eyes looked curious and full of intelligence. When the water spirit determined that the boy was okay, it pulled the boy beneath the surface again. Taking a deep breath of air, the boy allowed himself to be pulled below.
Closer to the surface now, the water spirit raced north. At frequent intervals, the water spirit would let the boy regain his breath, before dipping beneath the waves again and continuing at a breakneck speed. The water spirit’s body heat also kept the boy moderately warm. This happened throughout the night, and they seemed to finally reach their destination at sunrise.
As the sun broke the horizon and a spectacular orange seized the sky, the water spirit looked at the boy who it was holding above the waves. The boy, shivering from the cold, looked back. The water spirit then ‘spoke’ for the first time. Its voice was gravelly and strange, and the syllables of the ‘words’ consisted of hisses and clacking of teeth. The boy tilted his head questioningly. The water spirit had an amused expression on its face, then pointed with its scaled arm toward a series of islands in the distance, one of its six fingers raised.
This was new to the boy. He had seen countless monstrous creatures, all of which had eaten him. He had seen the bottomless depths of the ocean, the deep, dark, and ominous blue that followed him wherever he went. He had seen his blood and guts, and gruesome fights amongst the sea creatures. He had seen the heavens boil with rage in the form of a storm, the warmth of the sun, and the calmness of the stars and the moon.
But he had never seen land before. Perhaps these dangly legs of his without scales or fins were made with a purpose.
Taking a deep breath, he let the water spirit pull him for one last journey beneath the surface of the water, toward the islands. He was capable of holding his breath for longer now, far longer than before. Before long, the pair had reached the set of islands, arriving in front of the smallest of the three.
The island was covered in evergreen trees, and the sharp, high-pitched chirps of cicadas could be heard from afar. The beach ran around the island and was a soft, yellow color. Waves of pale blue broke onto the beach softly. All was calm.
The boy felt his eyes tear up, for reasons he could not fathom, as he was pulled closer to the island. The water spirit left him in the shallow water and then gave him a light push toward the beach. The boy let the waves tumble him onto the soft sand, and for the first time in his life, he felt true happiness.
He giggled as he crawled, with leaden arms, up the wet sand into the dry sand, which was warming with the rising sun. Lying on his back, a smile blossomed on his face as he gazed up at the orange-pink sky before he felt his eyes become exceedingly heavy. The boy drifted into a welcoming, safe, and calm sleep.
When he awoke, he found that it was still morning. Or perhaps, he had slept the entirety of the day before. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he looked at the soft crashing of the pale blue waves again, and then further, searching for his water spirit companion. Sure enough, he saw a head break the surface of the water, its dark hair matted against its face. It smiled warmly at him, its teeth jagged spikes. The boy found himself smiling back.
However, another two heads popped out of the shallow waters beside the water spirit. They had black and dark blue hair, with pink, yellow, and orange eyes. They made their way closer to where the boy lay but never left the water.
The boy stood… or he tried to. He had never stood before. He realized instinctually that he should be able to use his legs to move forward, but they felt strange and unfamiliar. He fell, his legs surrendering beneath him, so he decided to crawl toward the water spirits.
Entering the cold blue water with a wince, he gripped the sand and braced himself against the small waves that broke on the beach. The water spirits made their way closer. They seemed to be communicating, their teeth gnashing and clacking, and the water spirit who had escorted him to the island was doing the most talking. Another water spirit spoke, looking at the boy aggressively, but the boy’s water spirit companion seemed to snap back. The older, stern-looking water spirit in the front held up a hand, and the supposed bickering of the water spirits ceased.
Then the leader of the water spirits spoke, but not in the water spirit language that the boy had heard before. The syllables were softer, using the cheeks and the tongue to pronounce the words, and no clacking of teeth was heard. The boy tilted his head in confusion again. He could not understand any language.
The leader seemed surprised by this. He spoke again, a different language this time. It was soft and wispy, comprising a majority of sibilance. Again, the boy tilted his head.
The leader’s frown deepened, then he tried one more time.
“Do you understand me, boy?” he asked. The language was rough, erratic, and deep.
The boy’s eyes widened in surprise, and he nodded his head. He was unsure how he could understand, but his joy at being able to converse outweighed his confusion.
The leader’s face was contemplative, with a hint of confusion and shock. He then shook his head, dispelling the thought, and spoke again. “I do not know why you know the Aberrant language, as you have the appearance of a human child. Regardless, you may understand me but you will be unable to speak the language unless taught. I will teach you.”
The boy nodded enthusiastically, happy to have the opportunity to learn, with no hint of suspicion.
However, the aggressive-looking water spirit spoke again, his scowl deep and his irritation clear as day. But the head mermaid held up his hand, silencing him. He spoke with authority and made a decision. The aggressive water spirit backed off, nodding respectfully, but his irritation never ceased.
“You may wonder who we are. We are the Keepers of the Deep, the Ocean’s children. We are what you would call a “water spirit” in other languages, but we regard ourselves rather as Keepers. We do not mingle with other races but do not think of us as timid. We are the strength of the sea and rule over most lesser sea creatures. My subordinate here thinks we should leave you, as we may put our race in danger of being hunted by greedy humans, but I do not agree. You seem lost and weary, and may become a valuable asset in the future, so I am willing to help you,” the leader Keeper spoke at length.
The boy’s mind whirled, never having heard so much information before. He understood the words, but putting them together to become a coherent set of information was trickier for his developing brain.
“We will teach you how to breathe underwater, we will offer you knowledge, skills, and food, and we will accept you as one of our own - in due time. I am Ronan, Head Keeper of the Western Kingdom. The one who escorted you is Taron, a scout, and this Keeper next to me is Marlin, a warrior. What is your name, boy?”
The boy was still attempting to understand and took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. Being only 2 and a half years old, it was understandable that he took a while. His experiences in the deep Western Ocean had caused him to mature at a much more rapid pace than any normal child, and his consciousness had almost fully developed. However, he was still a child.
Coming to an understanding of what Head Keeper Ronan was asking, he shook his head. He did not know his own name. He felt that he had one, but it was an unexplainable feeling. If he did, he could not remember it.
Scout Taron suddenly said something in the Keeper language, and Ronan frowned.
“Turn around, boy. Show us your back,” he said suddenly.
The boy turned slowly, unsure how this would help. He heard murmurs from the Keepers behind.
“The rune between your shoulder blades states your name, as is common with Aberrants,” Ronan said, thoughtful.
The boy turned back around, looking at Ronan with obvious questioning.
Ronan smiled warmly. He playfully asked, “Would you like to know your name, boy?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically. Ronan’s smile widened, his voice triumphant.
“Atlas!”