My name is Coriel. I’m a Heat-Seeker. I know, it seems silly, right? The oceans have warmed, the vents are marked and controlled. Not much need for heat-seekers to find new ones, right? Except now we have a new job. Finding places where the ice has melted through, and the void-bright shines down. We bring pieces of algae mats up to the surface. Algae really like when the bright shines on them! It’s also our job to tend them, make sure they don’t grow too close together and start dying. Sometimes we must eat second helpings to keep the algae from overgrowing. One time, even thirds. It’s a tough job, being a Heat-Seeker!

We also explore. Not just up, but along the walls. Since the vents were changed a generation ago, ice above has been melting. To the sides, some walls freeze and narrow, and some walls melt and widen. Old channels freeze over, and new ones open. It’s fun! There are strange things in some of them. Old crab shells, empty coral alcoves, broken stone weapons. Sometimes even dead, cold vents. It’s dangerous too, but not as much as it used to be. After all, it’s warmer now. There are fewer brinicles, and the war with the crabs is over.

That’s why I don’t bother telling my clan when I set off to explore. I don’t want my annoying cousins trailing after me. Besides, I eat my fill of algae, tending the mat I’ve established, and I don’t feel much like sharing this cycle. With a stuffed belly, I set off, swimming and spinning through the currents. As I kick my twelve limbs, my body darting towards the tunnel-riddled ice, I enjoy the sense of freedom. We don’t have to conserve energy as much anymore, and I like just seeing what’s out there! Riding the currents, diving in crevices and tunnels, seeing new things.

Which may be why I’m the first to notice the Qrill.

I’m at the edge of where the currents reach, where the last licks of heat lap at the icy walls. The water carries just enough warmth to melt a runnel through the immense wall of ice. And from it, I hear something. I flare a bright green of surprise as I hear a soft, “ooo… ooo…”

“Hello?” I call out. I dive closer, seeing the new crevice in the ice. It opens into a much older, much narrower channel running perpendicular to the chasm. There’s a feeling of current. Yes! It’s not warm, not a vent, but water is flowing. “Hello, is someone there?” I call out.

“Yoo… ooo… woo…” I hear echoing from inside. I click my beak in excitement and flip, diving inside the opening. It’s just narrow enough for me to extend my limbs and touch the sides. The channel smells funny. Kinda like egg jelly, but sharper. The water here is strange too. It tastes different. I don’t like it much. But there’s a soft pink glow ahead. I blink my ocelli, the rows of simple eyes running along my core and down four of my arms. It’s too constant to be someone flaring. And it doesn’t look like void-bright.

I swim to the end of the channel, which opens into an enormous cavern in the ice. I flare a shocked bright green again. There are eggs here! I pull myself slowly into the room and look around. There are thousands of eggs lying in piles. Mounds of tiny, softly glowing pink orbs, strewn almost carelessly. Above the piles and drifting silently are strange, translucent floating pink things. Like big cloudy bubbles, trailing long, soft gossamer fibers.

And swimming between them are tiny packs of… something. They look like little brown dots, but they occasionally flash green, blue, or yellow. And when they do, I hear little sounds. “Loo! Roo! Yoo! Woo!” The sounds bounce around the chamber from every direction. My ocelli are wide as I watch the flashing dots.

I gently pull myself further into the cavern, looking around. Nothing responds to me. “Hello?” I call out. If this were the egg-chamber of a clan, the Matriarch would be here. But these aren’t squid eggs. Or crab eggs. I swim over to the closest pile of pink eggs. These eggs are too small and don’t smell right. Wait, some of those flashing things are crawling among the egg piles… and eating them!

I reach out and grab one, pulling the squirmy thing close to my ocelli. It’s tiny, and it’s got a thin little shell. It looks sorta like one of those crab babies, the… zoeae? But it’s even smaller than that and shaped differently. It has a buncha tiny lil arms, and no claws, and little twitching sticks on its narrow head. No eyestalks, no eyes at all. “Hello, hello! I’m Coriel. What are you?” I ask it. It just wiggles in my tentacle. “Can you talk?” The little bug-crab just scrabbles, trying to pull away.

It’s got a bulb on its belly, and my ocelli contract when it flashes red and gives a soft “Woo?” I giggle, and pull the little thing to my beak, crunching it and sampling, before I spit it out. Blegh, yuck. It tastes weird and oily. Worse than algae and coral polyps. Worse than wyrms, even. Ugh, and the eggs are all oily, it’s sticking to my skin! Is that why the bugs taste bad?

I struggle to wipe my arm clean on the coral. Yuck! Do the eggs belong to the big pink floaters? The bugs are eating a bunch of them! Why aren’t they doing anything about it? I look up and flare brightly, see the schools of flashing bugs swimming in spirals from the nest. They swim casually through the pink floater’s trailing tentacles and out little crevices in the ice walls. The floaters don’t react to them or the soft ooo’s bouncing around the caverns. Wow, there must be hundreds of them, all varied sizes.

“Hello, hello! I’m Coriel!” I swim up to one of the strange things. I reach out with a limb and poke the side, making the jelly-like body shake. The pink turns darker, a deep happy red, and the soft gossamer strings begin to undulate. “Are you alive? Can you speak?” I ask it. It doesn’t reply. But now, other soft things begin to turn red too, and more of them begin to glow, almost as bright as the flashing bugs. Still, there are no sounds other than ‘yoo’ and ‘loo’ and ‘foo’ from the blinking clouds.

“Hey hey, the bugs are eating your eggs!” I say, annoyed. Still, none of them reply. “Are you dumber than the bugs? Hellooo?” I call out. The thing doesn’t answer at all, drifting slowly. “I guess so!” I laugh, spinning and doing a loop over the soft-thing. I whirl and tease it, slapping the side of its bouncy body. No response, aside from the red color growing darker. “Oh well,” I giggle, chasing a flashing bug, diving under the floater, through the trailing-

*BURNINGBOILINGPAINSCORCHINGAGONYFIRESUFFERINGBLAZINGHURTINGROASTINGFREEZINGSEARINGANGUISHSCALDINGPIERCINFERNOEXCRUTIATING*

I scream; I scream wordlessly and loudly. My skin is on fire! I can’t move; my limbs seize, my ocelli dilate, my muscles lock. It hurts! My flesh is burning! The trailing tendrils wrap around me, almost tenderly, and fresh agony blooms wherever the silky strands brush against me. My four hearts hammer frantically, all rhythm lost. I can’t even speak, I can only scream. It’s more pain than I’ve ever felt before, more pain than I realized I could feel. Stop! Please, stop the pain! I can’t… I’ll do anything! Please, I want to die! Please let me die!

Slowly, silently, dumbly, the red thing pulls me inside of its cloudy bell and obliges. It softly fades to pink.

There’s no sign of me left, except the scent I’ve tracked through the breached channel and into the egg chamber. The track leading to the new crevice I explored. And leading back out to my ocean and clans and vents. The same trail that a small pack of Qrill, instinctively reacting to changes in the currents and scents, begins to follow.

***

Hello, my name is Tzeekael! I’m named after two of the first Truth-Seekers, as my Matriarch is fond of reminding me. I’m a Truth-Seeker too, or I will be if my teacher, Tiel, lets me finish my apprenticeship. It’s a bit tricky because she’s also my Matriarch. Ugh, you can’t win when your mother is your teacher.

Plus, mother is like the most famous Truth-Seeker alive. My aunts and uncles in Clan IceChipper all bow to her, even the ones that are Heat-Seekers or Coral-Growers. Plus, Clan CoralBuilder is always a staunch ally. She’s even got most of the crabs on her side, even though she tossed their papa in the boiling rocks! Ugh, some squids have it easy.

Of course, nothing I do is ever good enough. Either as a daughter, or as a student. Not for the great Truth-Seeker Matriarch! Why so much pressure? My gonads haven’t even come in yet.

So why am I stuck in the aortic vent, talking with a bunch of creepy, stinky crabs?

Several warriors chitter behind me, clicking their mandibles and tapping their claws on their shells. They’re not armed, and their claws are closed, so they aren’t trying to be threatening. But I can’t help feeling surrounded. The Worker-Elder beside me walks slowly, her greying, worn legs scuffling along the coral path. Ambling. Tottering, really. Beak-achingly slowly.

“Yes, Tzeekael, our numbers have recovered. But the colony is barely stabilized,” the Elder continues, her cloudy eyestalks swiveling back and forth. “We lost half our warriors to Clan SiltRaker, and more from all castes in the chaos when the Patriarch was overthrown and the Truth-Keepers outcast.” She clacks her claws against each other. “Our last clutch of eggs was large, and many zoeae survived, but the new workers and warriors are still juvenile, on their first or second molt. Their shells thin, their limbs weak,” she hisses.

“Well, sure. But just like a dozen more cycles ‘til they grow up, right?” I ask, and she nods agreement. Mother wants me to learn about the crabs, so I’m trying. We walk back up from the ledge of the boiling place. It’s the place where mother tossed their papa in. It’s, like, sacred to them now. I tried not to make too many jokes about it. I’ve tried being nice, but I don’t think she liked my offer to go down and try to fish out his shell. “And I’m glad the new male Elders are keeping up. Liking it better than the one Patriarch?” I ask, turning yellow with amusement.

“Yes,” she clacks quickly. “But it’s… different. More males, more ideas, more disagreements. They bicker, and sometimes duel. The female Elders aren’t used to discord. To uncertainty…” she says, lifting her claws in submission. “But all is uncertain when demons… er, when soft-ones travel the aortic vent freely, even in peace,” she clicks softly, as we crest the spiral. Surrounding us are the spawning pools. Where the eggs lay, and hatch, and mature to zoeae.

“Yeah, I never got males, either. Even my uncles! Maybe I’ll understand when I turn male. Ugh, some cycle,” I say, rolling my arms and spinning. The two warriors behind us chitter faster as my arms splay out. They don’t like me here. Too many of their young have been snapped up by hungry squids in the past. These warriors are probably old enough to remember it. I’ve never tried, obviously. We’re at peace. I did ask the Warrior-Elder if they had any fresh dead crabs I could sample. He got really mad, and now they won’t let me talk to him anymore. And he never even answered me!

The Worker-Elder dips a leg into the pool of viscous orange-brown slime and pulls it to her mandibles. Tasting it, and I guess approving? She moves on. “Is it strange?” She asks. “Being first one, then the other? And perhaps back again later?” She means if I decide to go female again.

I giggle and shake my core. “Is it strange being just one thing, always? Never something new, never seeing another side, never experiencing more?” I ask in return.

Her eyestalks swivel. My ocelli blink. “Well, it takes many castes to make a colony,” she says, turning. “Perhaps many views give better vision. There are certainly many views among the male Elders, and all seem to differ; we may soon see very well indeed,” she clicks.

I blink my eyes and twirl, laughing and darting around the chamber. One warrior hisses a warning and clacks his claws, but I circle and roll in delight above them, bright yellow rolling down my arms. “Elder, you made a joke! A crab made a joke!” I giggle. Alright, maybe they aren’t that creepy.

***

The Qrill are really quite simple things. Instinct drives many creatures to seek more food and new spawning grounds, and Qrill are no exception. No eyes, no ears, no nose. Just their soft antennae. But their bellies have a cute and interesting reaction, one that gives off light and sound. Their soft calls bounce off surfaces and rebound back to the sensitive antennae. So, they do see, in a manner of speaking. Well, not the soft Jellis, but hard things like rock, coral, and ice.

The antennae are sensitive to the currents as well. And even sensitive enough to react to light and scent as well. It’s a useful little jack of all trades sense organ. And the instinct to follow gradients is hard-wired into the simplest creatures.

So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that the Qrill follow the scent of poor Coriel through the cavern’s tunnel. Or that they follow the new current to the crevice he first entered. Or that they follow the gradient of warmth and light to the surface. After all, everything in these frigid oceans instinctively heads towards heat. It’s where the nutrients and energy are. And look, see? All this delicious algae. And warm enough to be a spawning ground.

***

The journey back from the aortic vent doesn’t take too long. I’m glad to be away; it’s hot down there! And though some of the crabs are alright, I’m happy to be back at my alcove, and resting. And even better, my matriarch isn’t back yet. She’s still out negotiating with the remaining four Truth-Keepers. I don’t know why they are complaining; they get to keep a vent even though they aren’t a clan.

But the more those crusty old males keep her busy, the longer I have the alcove to myself! Maybe I’ll go swimming with my cousins. And Muriel of Clan WyrmEater. His gonads just dropped, and his coloration is kinda nice. I might like swimming with him alone now that he’s male.

I’m a little preoccupied with those sorts of thoughts, which is why I flare a bright green when Toriel of Clan RockBreaker barrels into our Alcove. “Matriarch Tiel? Truth-Seeker!” she cries out, her limbs contorting in anxiety and a bright blue color rippling through her skin.

“Toriel? She’s not here.” I say, snapping my beak, motioning calmly with my arms.

Toriel whirls, her ocelli blinking rapidly. “Coriel is missing,” she hisses, bounding back and forth with agitation.

I blink my ocelli at that. Toriel is his cousin; she’s a bit dramatic, and Coriel goes exploring a lot. But Heat-Seeking is still a dangerous caste… “How long has it been?”

“Over three cycles! Nobody in the clan knows where he is!” She says, flaring a bright corona of distinct colors. “I even asked the other Heat-Seekers! They don’t know, and he hasn’t even been back to the alcove!” She dances with anxiety.

I motion slowly and calmly with my limbs. “Slow down!” I snap. I grind my beak for a moment, considering. “He might have saved up or scavenged some food. Gone exploring to the edges of the ocean?”

“Without telling anyone?” She clenches her arms in frustration. “I need the Truth-Seeker. She’ll know what to do!”

I shake my core. “She’s negotiating with the Truth-Keepers. She won’t be back for a while. Besides, what can she do?”

She wrings her limbs as she spins. “I don’t know! But she’s a Truth-Seeker. She knows things!”

I turn a sarcastic orange. “Oh yeah, she knows everything,” I snap, clicking my beak for emphasis. The great Tiel, Matriarch and Seeker of the Truth. She’d have all the answers. Just think up a way to fix everything, to find Coriel, to…

Wait…

“You think he went missing exploring the ice?” I ask, rolling upside down and right-side up as I plan.

She rolls as she motions with her twelve arms. “Yes! He may be lost! Or trapped… or- “

“Then we need to find him! So, we need someone who can follow his trail,” I say, turning red, pleased with myself.

Toriel blinks rapidly. “What? You can do that?”

I giggle shaking my core. “Nope. But crabs smell well!”

She paces back and forth anxiously. “What, they smell nice?”

“Oh no! They stink. But they can smell really well!”

***

The Qrill are voracious little eaters. Of course, they’re fecund little breeders too. They’re having a delightful time eating and swimming and breeding in the algae mats, as the Heat-Seekers will be learning soon. But they weren’t the only things in that cavern. Those ‘floaters of all sizes’ are Jellis, of course. Jellis of different ages and stages; mostly those laying eggs and those hatching from them. And some of the juveniles, the ephyra, are quite mobile.

Most don’t yet glow, and few have grown any stinging tentacles, and only a handful react to the flashes of light from the Qrill. But of the hundreds, some dozens follow. Coriel was right about one thing; they are dumber than the Qrill. Too dumb to really think at all. Too dumb to give up, even when half of them get stuck in brinicles or wander into the wrong tunnel or simply exhaust their energy swimming in circles. But see, the Jellis play a numbers game.

There are always more Jellis. Bigger than the Qrill, and indeed gobbling up a number of them along the way, the Jellis follow. It’s inevitable now that there’s a breach. And of course, the warm waters are only going to make the breaches worse, and more numerous. But for now, in the past three cycles, perhaps two or three dozen ephyra swim mindlessly free into a new ocean. The clans should be concerned about these.

But probably even more concerned about the three mature, glowing, pink adult medusa that are floating above the crevice now, trailing long tentacles behind them.

***

It’s a simple plan. Ask one of the crabs to help follow Coriel’s scent and find him, hopefully still alive. Prove that I’m a real Truth-Seeker. And help Toriel of course. I won’t even brag to mother about it.

The plan doesn’t seem to be going well though. Toriel is twitching back and forth in the narrow vent anxiously, and I’m trying not to shout. The Worker-Elder is asleep. The warrior before me hefts a coral spike, dancing back and forth. “No, I will not wake the Elder! I will inform her when she awakes, but you will not disturb her!” He chitters and hisses.

“But we need help! We need someone to follow a scent!” I say, flaring a bright blue of danger, making him shield his eyestalks and stamp his feet.

“That is not the Elder’s concern, unless she instructs me otherwise!” He spits, snapping his claw threateningly.

“But there’s no time!” Toriel shouts, to a warning hiss from the guard. “He could be lost! Or hurt!”

“Who is hurt?” An old voice asks. I turn and see the Warrior-Elder emerging from a smaller tunnel, one that nearly scrapes his pitted, scarred shell. His claws are large and greying, his body heavy, and he’s missing an eyestalk. But the remaining eye is clear and focused on Toriel. Oh boy, this old crabby Elder.

“My cousin! He’s been missing three cycles, and nobody knows where he went,” she says, turning a sad grey, skin mottled.

The Elder is silent for a moment, his eye-stalk swiveling to me and back to Toriel. “Do you know where the trail begins?”

“You’re gonna help?” I squeak, surprised.

The guard seems shocked too, snapping both claws rapidly. He freezes and falls silent at motion from the older warrior. “Kinship is important, soft-one,” the Elder says to me. “As you should have gathered, when you asked to consume the honored dead of my own kin.” There’s no anger in his voice, but I flush pink with embarrassment.

Toriel turns a bright and giddy red. “Yes yes! Thank you! I can take you there now!”

The Elder waves his claws, his eyestalk swiveling to the guard. “No, I’m old for such long, cold journeys. NikNik here is young and vital, and I’m sure he can follow a scent. As his elder requests.”

The young warrior wilts. “But the Worker-Elder- “

“Has other warriors that can guard her chamber. I’ll call some,” the older male says without a pause.

There’s a moment of tense silence. “…Of course, Elder. As the Colony requires,” the guard murmurs, closing his claws.

“Thank you!” Toriel squeaks as she dives, making NikNik chitter in surprise. She scoops him up in two arms, and he yanks his legs close to his body and pulls his eyestalks in. “Don’t worry, I won’t drop you! And I don’t eat crab. And just so you know, you don’t smell that bad!”

I kick my arms, swimming quickly to catch up. I don’t catch exactly what he says, but for some reason, it doesn’t seem like NikNik is very happy. Ugh, these crabs are so difficult!

***

Clan SiltRaker is many things. Ancient. Proud. Weak. SiltRaker, once the strongest of all the Cephalopod clans, peerless in our influence and great in number, is now humbled in circumstance. Our clandestine pact with the Truth-Keepers was exposed, and several members killed outright during the crab revolution. Including the favored heir of the clan, Rael. My son. Our vent was seized, many of our food-stores taken by ‘aggrieved’ clans, and even more given to those dirty crabs during their spawning time as ‘reparations.’

Even the surviving Truth-Keepers have shown us little favor. Ingrates! I’m Zael, Matriarch of Clan SiltRaker! Eldest Clan Matriarch, consort of the Numidiel, eldest Truth-Keeper. None dared spite me. I ripple a baleful maroon as I grind my beak. And now the Keepers eject me to meet with the so-called ‘Truth-Seeker.’ Who is also a Matriarch. A clear conflict, to speak truths that benefit one’s own clan!

I hug the bottom as I swim, keeping to the warmer waters in this icy, barren region. Yes, yes, the Truth-Keepers controlled the vents’ output through the crab Patriarch and made my clan wealthy. But who provided them with fresh algae, wyrms, coral polyps? Who built many of their buildings, shaped their vents, decorated their homes? Squids that we paid for! And now that we have no heat to bargain with, the remaining four Truth-Keepers, themselves exiled to a small and distant vent, won’t share for even one cycle!

I kick my legs, swimming faster, trailed by three others of my clan. I used to command over two dozen of my clan members, but now many have split off or joined new clans. Only my son, niece, and nephew remain, and only because they have nowhere else. Cousins I fed and sheltered for a hundred cycles have run off.

I’m ashamed to say I’ve taken to raiding the algae beds, like a desperate, common Heat-Seeker. I used to dine on the finest, youngest coral-polyps, and even fresh crab meat and eggs at times. But now, I must keep to the outskirts and scavenge. Or beg from the other clans, but I’d rather die.

I’m so lost in my thoughts as I swim over an icy ridge, grinding my beak in frustration, that I almost run directly into a strange pink floating thing. Woo…

I flare a patchwork green, many once-luxurious phosphorescent cells dim, as my ocelli widen. The three young ones behind me slow, cautiously twirling behind me. “Nael, stay close!” I call to my son, the smallest. The thing has a large, translucent oblong orb nearly as large as me. It’s pinkish cloudy core trails long perhaps three times my length of thin, narrow tentacles. Loo.

“Matriarch?” My niece, Fael, calls out. “What… is that?” She asks as she darts closer. It’s not reacting, merely floating above the ice. Wait, there’s another in the distance, perhaps a bit larger. And a third, over there! Roo!

“Be silent, Fael. Do nothing,” I say, swimming carefully in a circle around it. There are no eyes, there’s no mouth. There’s just this soft orb floating closer, undulating slowly. How is it making those sounds? Yoo…

My nephew, Mael, swims closer as well. “But what is it?” Mael asks. His arm reaches out and pokes the side, making the floater ripple. “It’s like egg-jelly!” He giggles. The thing begins to darken to red, and he laughs. “It’s happy!” Wooo!

“Mael!” I warn, snapping my beak. Juveniles. He should know better by now; his gonads have come in! But as he swims back to me, I see a flash of blue. Fooo! It’s not the floating jelly things making noise; there’s a cloud of brown things swimming around, making sounds and flashing colors. But as they swim through the tentacles of the floating thing, a handful fall still, and the tentacles begin to pull them up.

“Whoa! There are little sparkle things,” Fael squeaks, reaching out to touch the tip of an arm to the trailing tentacle.

Before I can scold her, she squeals, whipping the arm back and lashing with the others in distress. “Ah! It’s attacking!” Fael rears back and slams her body into the soft red bell, her twelve arms ripping and tearing the jelly to pieces, shouting defiance. But even as the thing falls to jellied fragments around her, she screeches and thrashes, her muscles seizing. She’s screaming!

“Sister!” Mael cries, circling and diving, grabbing her with two of his limbs. Which he snatches back immediately, writhing in distress. “My arms!” He howls, beak wide, before he begins to scream too.

Nael spins in small anxious circles. “What? Cousins! What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

Nael darts towards his cousins, before I shriek, “No! Nael, to me!”

Mael wails and squeals, his beak biting at his own flesh, chomping at the two arms. I watch in horror as he snaps his beak through his own flesh close to the core of his body and cleanly cuts through one limb, shaking the mangled remains of a twitching leg free. Then, whipping the bleeding stump around and darkening the water with ichor, he begins to savage the second arm.

Fael keeps screaming, limbs locked straight, her ocelli frozen open. I approach slowly, my four hearts hammering wildly. I can see translucent tentacles, fibrous tendrils trailing from her limbs and twisted around her core. They aren’t attached to the red thing anymore, it’s dead. But they’re still attacking.

“Don’t touch them! Don’t touch the tentacles at all!” I roar to Nael, shouting over my niece’s screams. My mind races as I stare in dawning understanding. Mael finishes chewing and tearing his second arm off near his core, gasping and whimpering. He thrashes and jerks wordlessly a half-dozen times, shuddering as ichor pours into the water in dark spirals. Even as Fael continues screaming, Mael’s color goes white, and his many ocelli relax, open and unseeing.

My hearts beat faster. “Nael, my son, fetch me a length of wyrm-tube, a curved one. No, two; the longest you can find.” I want to keep the tentacles far away from me. It’ll be dangerous, but we can hook and lift them with tubes. We’ll just have to be careful not to touch them ourselves. “And something sharp, for my niece.” There’s no need for her to suffer. Unlike that damned Truth-Seeker.

***

Getting NikNik from the aortic vent to the RockBreaker Clan alcove is pretty fast; it’s not far. Getting the scent there was easy too; Coriel has gonads, so his scent lingers longer. The problem is picking up the right trail.

“I though you crabs can all smell really well!” Toriel says angrily, turning blue and curling her arms around the crab she’s carrying in a circle around the outside of her alcove. For the sixth time.

NikNik snaps his claws a few times, wiping his mandibles. “And we can. Well enough that I can smell his scent coming and going many times; this is his home. You’re asking me to find one single trail from three cycles ago. And you’re moving too fast, demon!” He chitters and rocks, unable to dance back and forth while being carried.

“My name is Toriel! Of Clan Rockbreaker!” She snaps, turning maroon. “And I’m moving fast because my cousin may be in trouble!”

I sigh, shaking my core. The Elders discourage that word, but NikNik keeps saying it. I click my beak a few times. This isn’t working. We need a starting point. Somewhere to find a fresh trail from that won’t be all muddled. Think, Tzeekael. Wait…

“I know!” I say quickly, pulling up. “Coriel was a Heat-Seeker. He found a surface-hole, right? Brought algae up?” I say, turning yellow with mirth. He has been getting thicker. “Gorging himself lately, huh?”

“Yes, though he… of course! Would have filled his belly before going off exploring all cycle! He’d want the energy for the long swim,” Toriel cries out, turning and sprinting away. “I know where!” she calls back, over NikNik’s anxious chittering.

“Just remember it was my idea!” I call out, kicking hard and struggling to keep up. Ugh, I spend too much time working on my core. I need to swim more; stop skipping leg-day.

***

Nael works to position one of the tubes across from the entrance to Clan IceChipper, struggling with the weight. “Gently!” I hiss, as I slowly lay the second down with four of my arms. We’ve hooked several of the longer tentacles with the two segments of curved wyrm-tubes. Draping them between and carrying them was tedious and nerve-wracking, but now the nearly invisible tendrils are spread over the door. Unless she’s lucky, the Truth-Seeker is about to have a very bad cycle. Her final one, hopefully.

“Mother-“ Nael begins, but I snap my beak at him, turning blue. I tilt and slide the tube free, and motion for him to do the same. Grabbing them and tossing them as far as I can, I tug him along. “Where are we going? Why are we- “

“Keep your beak shut young male!” I snarl, and he flares a few vibrant shades in fear, defecating and shivering. “We were never here. The Truth-Seeker is simply going to find a new, unpleasant truth. And with her gone, someone will need to reassure the clans, to bring back a new normal. Or an old one,” I say with satisfaction. “Those Truth-Keepers better not screw it up this time.”

***

I’m getting a little tired and hungry by the time we find the algae patch floating in a circle of void-bright. In fact, I forget about Coriel’s scent entirely as I think about grabbing a nice beakful of green. And I forget all about that as I see flashes of bright light, and soft ‘ooo’s as we draw closer. Yoo!

“Have your Heat-Seekers every reported anything like this?” NikNik asks, chittering as his eyestalks swivel from one light to another. Roo…

“No,” Toriel says quickly, her ocelli dilating and contracting as she struggles to follow the little brown things. “And they brag about everything they find.” Woo!

“Mother hasn’t spoken of anything like this either!” I say, darting around. I’ve almost… there! I snap an arm into the algae and catch one, pulling the wiggling thing close. Toriel and NikNik lean closer as we all observe it silently for a moment. Foo… loo!

“Qrill…” NikNik mutters.

“What?” I squeak. Boo…

He bangs his claw on his shell a few times. “It’s an insult among crabs. For one who is small and useless and eats but doesn’t produce. A nuisance and drain on resources.” Yoo!

“You’ve seen these before?” I ask, my ocelli focusing on the others flitting around.

“No. I’ve never heard of anything besides our kind that has a carapace. But look, they’re eating the algae, and spawning.” Oooo…

“Spawning?” I ask. Ew, maybe I don’t want a beakful of green after all.

NikNik taps his legs. “Yes. Can’t you smell it?”

I shake my core quickly. “Ugh, no, I’m glad. What does it smell like?”

“Like spawning. Between that and the scent of algae, I can barely smell Coriel’s trail.” Dooo!

“What? You can smell him? Why didn’t you say something?” Toriel flushes with anger. “Which way?” Foo…

NikNik motions with a claw as his mandibles wave, then chatters as she kicks down and forward. Mooo!

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I spin in a circle. “Wait, the Qrill! Should we do something about them?”

Toriel waves me off with a limb as she swims. “That can wait! Tell your Matriarch when we get back, but I need to find my cousin!” Whoo?

***

It’s a fair distance between Clan IceChipper’s alcove and the vent of the remaining Truth-Keepers, and I’m exhausted as we approach. Despite their deceptions and plotting, they still managed to avoid total banishment. Unlike my clan, they had favors and power to trade, even at the end.

But now, I’ve got something better to trade than food or heat, or even a new vent. Knowledge. Truth. It’s a precious commodity, and they’ll pay up if I can get them on board. Go back to the old ways? Well, if the new ones are scary enough.

As I approach, I pull Nael down, resting beside a coral ridge. I see the vent and simple alcove, and the forms of a dozen or so squids. The Truth-Seeker and some of these upstart clan Matriarchs. Far too young to bear the title; barely turned females still reeking of their lost gonads. Disgusting.

But I wait and let the negotiations play out, silent and patient in the distance. ‘Matriarch’ Tiel won’t give them what they really want. Power, influence, respect. And they won’t bow to her orthodoxy. When this falls through, they’ll be angry. Those old males want a way to turn this around, to condemn Tiel IceChipper and her Truth-Seekers and the new ways. And I can give them that. For a price.

***

When we arrive at the crevice, my ichor runs cold. Two large pink masses dragging long tendrils float in the area. A few clouds of flashing Qrill slowly swim towards the void-bright patches in the distance. I’m concerned about these strange, ominous new things, but not nearly as concerned as I am by the two dead squids in front of me. Loo…

The female has had a sharpened end of wyrm-tube driven straight into her core, and the male has had two arms savagely bitten off. Joo!

“I’ve seen attacks by dem… by soft-ones…” NikNik clicks dispassionately. “Those wounds were caused by a beak,” he chatters, pointing to the chewed off nubs of two limbs. “And see how close to his body? No other wounds? No attempt to defend… I think he bit them off himself.” Roo.

“What could make someone bite their own arms off?” Toriel asks, turning blue. “And did he kill the female?” Foo…

The crab clicks his claws a few times. “No, this male isn’t large enough to have done this, and she doesn’t have defensive wounds either. Besides, they smell alike. Kin?” Woo!

Toriel circles the two, ocelli dilated, examining their coloration. “The markings are Clan SiltRaker… I think Fael and Mael? Siblings, they hadn’t joined a new clan…” Ooo…

“Well, they won’t be now.” I look around at the floating pink things. “And more strange creatures…” Whoo! I watch a cloud of brown blinking specks fly through the tentacles of the floaters, only for the tentacles to catch several and begin pulling them slowly up to the cloudy bell. “Maybe don’t touch them…” Vooo…

NikNik snaps his claw, gesturing. “Well, there’s one simple answer here at least. Coriel’s scent goes down there, to that crevice. And I can smell that’s where the Qrill and these Jellis are coming from.”

I blink at that. “Jellis?”

The crab’s eyestalks swivel over to me. “They smell like egg-Jelly.”

Toriel rolls over, turning orange. “Fine, Jellis. Well, if Coriel went in here… and these things are coming out…” She pauses. “I’ll go in alone.”

NikNik taps his claws on his shell a few times. “No, go together. What we’ve seen suggests there is great danger, and you cannot abandon your kin. And we cannot abandon you. Besides, we must know more.”

***

Nael swims in nervous circles around me as I watch the negotiations break down. I only wish I could hear them. I can see the animated gestures of the Truth-Seeker in the distance. A few of the others gesture as well, and there’s a sense of animosity as Tiel and her six companions turn and swim away. Good, finally. She’ll likely speak with the other clan matriarchs before heading back to her alcove. I should have some time.

“Stay close, Nael, and don’t speak,” I command, before kicking my arms and swimming quickly towards the four agitated Truth-Keepers. “Nemiel!” I call out, watching the largest squid turn. He flares a green of surprise, and while the three others turn an amused yellow.

“Matriarch Zael,” he says, crossing four of his arms. “What a surprise. I’m afraid this is a poor time- “

“Yes, yes, let’s skip the dancing and denials. I assume the negotiations with Tiel of Clan IceChipper went in circles?” I begin, watching Remiel stiffen.

He shakes his core. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for Truth-Keepers to disclose confidential- “

“I said skip the dancing!” I snarl, making him back away. “You’ll never get what you want from the Truth-Seekers. They aren’t interested in restoring the old ways, or in giving you any positions of power!”

The three older males shirk back, but Remiel stays thoughtful. “And you are? You have a way for us to get what we want?”

“Oh Remiel. I have a way for both of us to get what we want. Assuming that you have a way of making a pact with the crabs again,” I add, two of my limbs clenching with anticipation.

“Oh, is that all?” Remiel turns a sarcastic orange. “All of our planning was executed through the Patriarch. We know none of the male elders; they are new.”

I spit at that, clicking my beak. “What of the female elders?”

Remiel shakes his core quickly. “We know only the Worker-Elder. It was we who assured the safety of their spawning pools for many generations. She alone knows us, and the influence we wielded.”

I grind my beak for a moment. “Can you contact her? We can re-establish the old system again, forge a new pact.”

Remiel is silent, going grey, unreadable. “The Elder helped establish the current system with Matriarch Tiel following the overthrow of the Patriarch. What would compel them to abandon the Truth-Seekers now?”

I turn a giddy, mirthful yellow at that. “Tiel of Clan IceChipper is not long for these waters,” I say, hearing Nael whimper. “There is a new threat, all her doing, and it will claim Tiel within the cycle.”

The three Truth-Keepers begin to whisper between themselves, but Remiel’s ocelli are locked on me. “I see… with her gone, much is uncertain. But that alone may not- “

“The threat has breached the walls, and now my niece and nephew are dead,” I snap, making the three males cease their whispers. “Soon, there will be chaos and much fear, and my clan will have much sympathy. We can turn the other clans against the Truth-Seekers, promise safety again,” I say, snapping my beak. “With their leader gone, the rest in disarray, and the other squid clans turning on them? The crabs will seek stability. Perhaps we sweeten the morsel with knowledge of this threat,” I suggest, seeing the dawning understanding as the Truth-Keepers grow animated.

Remiel turns red and waves a tentacle. “It can work. And the nature of this new pact?”

“Simple; reseal and freeze the breaches in the wall using the aortic vent. The Truth-Keepers and Clan SiltRaker take power again and restore safety and order, with the crabs controlling the vents,” I crow, savoring the taste of the words on my beak.

The Truth-Keepers make some gestures to each other, flaring a variety of colors. “It is a risk,” the smallest one says, wringing his arms. “If we are caught- “

“A risk?” I roar, slamming the smaller male to the side, glaring with all ocelli at the other three. “You weaklings cower at a meager vent, fallen from grace, mocked and powerless. None respect you, not even the crabs! I offer you the chance to seize what was yours again, and you quiver over risk? Enough! Agree to my bond and follow me, or forget anything but a sad, lingering life here in the wastes!”

The first elder squawks and protests, but the largest, Remiel, smacks him with an arm. “The Matriarch is right. We lost everything in a moment, but so can these Truth-Seekers. Virniel, find your way to the aortic vent and meet with the Worker-Elder. Convince her of the opportunity here. Try not to be seen. We’ll follow the Matriarch. We won’t let this chance slip through our arms.”

Finally! “Good. I’ll explain this new threat on the way. We’ll go to fetch my niece and nephew’s bodies. They’ll be useful. Then, we’ll summon the clans to SiltRaker’s old alcove. To show them the truth.”

***

The crevice and tunnel aren’t particularly long, but they are brilliantly lit. The calls of ooo echo as Qrill swim lazily down the length. Behind them follow the floating, clenching pink Jellis. We’re careful to skirt around those, until we enter the large egg-cavern. Roo!

When we do, I can’t help but stare. Loo… “It’s a whole different ocean! Look, dozens of channels out, to other spaces. Maybe as big as our ocean. Or bigger…” Woo?

Toriel anxiously wrings her limbs. “These eggs are strange. The water tastes weird. I don’t like it. Where’s Coriel?” Moo…

NikNik raises a let and points to a large Jelli. “His scent leads there…” he chitters. Too.

Toriel swims circles several times around the Jelli, spinning with the crab in her grip. Whoo? “Where?”

“There. I smell him. I smell him a lot. Entering and not leaving.” Boo!

Toriel wails and rears back. Even carrying NikNik, who’s chittering in alarm, she dives in wild arcs, flitting around the cavern. “It ate him!” she cries, flaring kaleidoscope of colors brightly.

I feel cold inside. Eating bugs is one thing, but squids? Yoo… “We need to get back to my Matriarch. We need to warn the clans.” I look around at the Jellis. Hundreds of them float in this cavern alone. How big is this ocean? How many other caverns? There must be thousands of them. More? Rooo!

Toriel spirals through the water and dives into one of the egg piles, thrashing and lashing out with ten limbs, smashing them. “You ate my cousin! I hate you! I’ll crush all your eggs! I’ll kill you all!”

The oil seeps out, and I see swarms of Qrill flitting away from the egg-pile, fleeing through the water, flaring, and drifting around and through the Jellis. And through their tentacles. The Jellis aren’t eating these Qrill, for some reason… Doo…

“Stop, Toriel!” NikNik chatters, and I hear her squeal. She drops him to the silty bed below. He stands and dances side to side, clicking his claws. Joo!

The oil-slick squid turns maroon, shivering with anger. “You pinched me!”

The crab clacks his claws together. “Yes! You are overcome with anger and grief. You cannot fight these hundreds of Jellis alone. We must report this threat, and Coriel’s fate, to the Colony and the Clans,” the crab hisses.

Toriel whimpers and mewls, clicking her beak. “Ok… but we’ll come back. We’ll stop these Jelli invaders! For Coriel,” she says, gently picking up the perturbed crab. Foo.

“Wait a moment…” I say, turning. I swim to one of the egg-piles, focusing on one of the Qrill. It squeaks and spins in a circle. Looo! Then it dives into the pile of eggs, it’s tiny rasping jaws biting through one, sucking up the red core and wiggling through the sticky, oily jelly. Goo!

I look down. At the eggs. The jelli-oil! The Qrill is covered with it! The Jellis don’t attack the Qrill infesting their nests because they taste like their own eggs! “NikNik, Toriel, let’s go. We should get back to my Matriarch. We found a big truth.”

***

The journey back is long but swift. I try not to think about the two more adult Jellis that have emerged from the crevice. I’m exhausted from swimming so much, but Toriel won’t slow down, and I struggle to keep up. “Once we warn the Truth-Seeker, I must inform my own Matriarch. Her son is dead. We’ll find a way to destroy these Jellis.”

I’m about to respond, when a piercing shriek echoes from the distance. My ichor runs cold. “Matriarch!” I cry out, my legs kicking furiously, my body wiggling as I coax every ounce of speed from my limbs. Toriel cries out something and NikNik chitters, but all I can hear is my mother’s scream.

It can’t have taken a hundred heartbeats before I reach my alcove, seeing the rigid, frozen body of the Matriarch of Clan IceChipper lodged inside the door.

“Mother!” I cry out, shocked, but I’m lost in the cacophony of her screams. Tiel, the oldest living Truth-Seeker, is shrieking in agony. I dart back and forth, a brilliant cascading corona of alarm rolling over my skin as I flare repeatedly. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

I don’t know what to do. All her ocelli, even the blind, unseeing white ones, are locked open. Her limbs are frozen, and she’s turning a bright blue of warning. “Mother!” I wail, thrashing in alarm.

“Don’t touch her!” NikNik hisses, as Toriel pants and catches up. “Put me down, now!” He chitters, leaping to the coral floor and scrabbling over to the Matriarch. His claws snap at something. Wait, gossamer threads, long and translucent, are draped over her. The Jellis! Their tentacles! NikNik tugs them off the Matriarch, but her screams don’t stop. “Go, summon your kin, demons! All of them,” he chitters as he snips and tugs more long tendrils from the wailing female.

I thrash and whine, wild colors flaring over my skin. “Mother, hold on! I’m bringing help, I’ll be back!” I cry out, dashing away, tired legs pumping furiously as I leave her screams behind. The other Truth-Seekers will know what to do.

***

I should have stayed. I should have said more to her. I went as fast as I could. I’d crashed through Uncle Briel’s alcove door and babbled a confused and hurried explanation. My aunts rushed out to rouse the clans, but I insisted on heading back to the alcove with my uncle. But by the time we got back, it was silent. Toriel had left for her own Matriarch, but NikNik was waiting by the door. She was inside. I had wanted to go in, but Uncle Briel insisted on going in alone.

NikNik waits for a few moments before speaking. “I have to report back to the elder,” he mutters softly. “I’ll use your vent. We’ve seen much, and I must make sure the colony knows.” He turns sideways and scuttles away.

“NikNik…” I say, making him pause. “Thank you. For trying to help my mother,” I say, feeling my hearts clench.

NikNik doesn’t speak for a long moment. “The Truth-Seeker changed things for my colony. For better or worse. But she always tried to find and speak the truth.”

Did I? Or did I just want to prove something? “The tentacles didn’t sting you.”

He snaps his claws. “My shell is thick. I thought they might not hurt me. I hoped I could save her if I could get the tentacles off. It didn’t work.”

“But you didn’t know if you’d be stung too?”

He waves a claw. “I’m a warrior; I face danger. And if it had hurt me, then the colony would know these Jellis threaten us too.”

He turns to scurry off again. The truth. “The egg-oil,” I say. He pauses again. “The Jellis won’t attack something that tastes like their eggs. It’s why they didn’t eat the Qrill in the cavern.” He swivels his eyestalks and looks back at me. “It can protect us squids. And the only place to get it is the Jelli nest. In the crevice. Tell the colony Elders.”

He stares at me for a long moment. “They will hear everything, upon my honor as a warrior,” he says softly. He taps his claw against his shell, and scampers to the vent and over the lip. I’m alone now. Alone, staring at the door of the alcove. Waiting.

Uncle Briel swims through. It’s been quiet for a while now, and he’s the deep gray of grief. “Her hearts gave out,” he murmurs softly.

Mother. I’m wailing. I’m screaming. I’m snapping my beak; I’m thrashing and beating my limbs on the walls of the alcove and against Uncle Briel. He’s trying to calm me, to still my limbs, to say something, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The truth doesn’t matter anymore because the Truth-Seeker is dead.

***

Deep in the heart of the aortic vent, the Worker-Elder stirs the spawning pool with two of her legs, dragging more silt into the slimy mix. “And so, the Truth-Keepers propose that we simply pretend the revolution never happened? Seal the ice, freeze the surface, protect ourselves from threats of other oceans?”

Virniel spreads his arms wide. “Why not? We’ve been safe for hundreds of generations. Yet only now, when the currents are disturbed, does death invade from other oceans. The safety of your Colony, your spawn, must be your first concern, no?”

“And you believe you can face this threat, while the Truth-Seekers cannot?”

“The Truth-Seekers are untested, unlike us. Watch. The first crisis they face, they will fall to pieces. Only Tiel keeps them together. She’s the weak link. And my source of information is reliable. She’ll be dead within the cycle. When the moment comes, the crabs will have to choose. A new uncertain future full of threats, with no protection? Or safety for your young?”

Several zoeae burble and scrabble around the Elder’s legs, tiny and soft. “You’ve given me much to consider, Truth-Keeper. I will speak with the other Elders. You’ll have our answer shortly.”

***

NikNik has never doubted his own loyalty to the Colony. But now, after the past events, he wonders about the Warrior-Elder’s loyalty.

“Yes, Elder. The squids are all vulnerable. These Jellis are lethal to them, and their tentacles cause pain unlike anything I’ve seen. And yet, the Jellis cannot harm us through our shells.”

The Warrior-Elder clicks his claw thoughtfully. “I see. The Jellis threaten the demons, but not us. And their only protection is the egg-oil of the Jellis, which lies within the nest beyond the crevice.”

NikNik is silent.

“You are conflicted?” The Elder turns his eyestalk to NikNik.

“Elder, I have seen these Jellis used as a weapon already. It is terrible. The demons are utterly defenseless.” NikNik wipes his claws against his shell.

“Terrible weapons, of pain,” the Elder muses, scraping his claw against his mandibles.

“Yes Elder. Pain that makes the demons plead for death and deliver it to themselves. I brought them. The tentacles I removed from the Truth-Seeker,” the warrior says, gesturing.

The Elder’s single eyestalk slides over to the pile of cut tentacles tossed into the vent. “I see where your thoughts go. You’d have us wrap our claws and weapons in these stinging tentacles? Thread them through the vents? Close off the crevice with Jelli stingers, so they have no access? Give egg-oil only to those who please us, offering protection only to the clans that serve us? Deny the soft-one’s heat and food and movement as we see fit?”

NikNik shuffles anxiously. “The Qrill will feast and multiply, and food will be scarce. The Truth-Seeker is dead. While she lived, peace was possible. Now all is chaos. We are vulnerable. With these, we’ll never be at their mercy again.”

The Elder clacks his grey, heavy claws. “Swing the balance of power? And if they resist, perhaps annihilate the demons at last? Secure the food for the Colony? Are these your thoughts?”

NikNik lowers his claws, sinking to the floor. “I do not know what is right.”

The Warrior-Elder turns and slams a claw down on NikNik’s shell, making him chatter and scuttle back. “What is right is what protects the colony!” The Elder hisses furiously as I back up. “And let me tell you what many of the Elders believe is right,” he snaps:

“The Truth-Seekers are now leaderless and confused, and many demons will blame them for the emergence of this new threat, perhaps rightfully. Their power wanes. Clan SiltRaker and the Truth-Keepers held power for many generations, and both had honored their pact with the Patriarch. And now, as weakened as they are, and with these new deadly weapons in our position, we could force them into an equal partnership. Perhaps even leverage the threat to gain dominance. But this only works if we agree to ally with them and claim the breach for ourselves.”

NikNik taps his legs against his shell. “Will we?”

“That is for the Elder council to decide. In the meantime, you’ll gather the other warriors of the Colony, the most experienced we have left. You’ll teach them about these stinging weapons and how to sheath them around claws and pikes. We will soon need them,” the greying Elder chatters. “But first, I want you to tell me everything about your journey to this other ocean, and everything you saw along the way, and everything about the daughter of the Truth-Seeker. I’ll have to brief the other Elders in full. And probably duel a few other males until they understand what is truly right for this colony!”

***

I haven’t even had a cycle to mourn my mother before I hear a commotion. My uncle and aunts are chattering outside the alcove, and I emerge, grey with grief. “What’s going on?”

Uncle Briel turns, wringing his limbs. “Zael SiltRaker. She and Nemiel have called a meeting of the clans at her old alcove. They have the bodies of her kin. She’s claiming they were attacked by invaders from another ocean.”

“What? Fael and Mael? We saw them! At the…” At the crevice. By the Jellis. Killed. And then mother…

Rage burns like void-bright in my mind. “She did it! Matriarch Zael! The Jellis killed her kin; she saw how deadly they are! She set their tentacles as a trap for mother!” Fury blooms in my four hearts. “Now she’s gonna claim she’s a victim and get the Truth-Keepers to take power!”

“What?” Uncle Briel turns a blinding green. “Did anyone else see this?”

“NikNik! And Toriel!” I snap my beak, tightening my arms. “I’ll rip her apart!”

Aunt Liel shakes her core. “We’ll gather the Truth-Seekers. Form a plan. Find out- Tzeekael!” She cries out, as I take off, swimming as quickly as my limbs will carry me.

My aunts and uncle call out after me, but I don’t hear them. Zael won’t get away with this. I’m going to tell everyone the truth!

***

The meeting of the Elders is tense; there have been quite a few strong opinions. But like all committees in the universe, some voices carry more weight than others. The Warrior-Elder slams a claw on the coral table. “Enough!” He roars, banging his other claw on his shell. “It’s decided! The Elders are three to two. The Worker-Elder, Breeder-Elder, and Warrior-Elder stand united in this position! We must safeguard the colony, and our young. We must ally only with those we know we can trust. We must remember the lessons of the past!”

“And what would you have the colony do?” hisses the Builder-Elder.

The Warrior-Elder turns his eye-stalk upward. “Arm the warriors with the new weapons. We march to aid our new allies. The ocean is changing. We will not face this uncertainty while unarmed and helpless. We act!”

***

By the time I arrive at the large alcove, there’s a massive gathering of the clans. There must be sixty squids here, more than I’ve ever seen in one place. And it reeks of fear. The bodies of Fael and Mael lay on the coral before the large, ancient Matriarch of Clan SiltRaker. The sight is morbid, but Zael isn’t letting it go to waste.

“These monsters, these invaders, have already slain two of my own kin! My son and I barely escaped. Now the Truth-Seeker dies, and Clan RockBreaker claims young Coriel has been killed and eaten as well!” Many of the squids click their beaks in grief and confusion. “The merest touch of them is agony and death, and they emerge in groups from the broken walls of our world!”

“But what happened?” One onlooker demands. “Why did Mael bite off his own arms?” He’s twisting his own limbs, as if feeling the loss.

Zael caresses her nephew’s body. “So great was his pain when trying to save his sister, so terrible the attack of these Jellis, he bit them off to stop it.” Shocked babbling rises from many in attendance. “Poor Fael’s agony was so great, she could not move. I had to end her suffering myself,” the Matriarch wails, her skin running scarlet.

“And what about my mother?” I cry out, swimming to the front of the group. Zael turns her ocelli to me. “How did the Jelli’s tentacles wind up strewn across our alcove?”

“No doubt the first strike of these floating pink abominations!” The Truth-Keeper Remiel fluidly slides from behind the Matriarch, two more following in his wake. “The ‘Truth-Seeker’ has changed the oceans and allowed the monsters of the far-outside to come for us!”

“No!” I howl at the depth of lie. “It was her! Zael killed my mother!”

Remiel shakes his core, sighing. “You’re distraught and wracked with grief, and make accusations with no evidence, just as your mother did. Zael’s own kin suffer and die as well, and you accuse her of these killings?”

I shake my core, but I hear the sympathetic murmurs from the crowd. It’s working. “No, she’s just using them! She doesn’t care,” I protest, just as Zael wails, hugging her son to her.

“How dare you? Liar and daughter of a liar!” She hisses, caressing Nael. “Your mother wrought this all! Her recklessness, her arrogance, has breached the walls of our world and unleashed horrors! This is why the Truth-Keepers, and Clan SiltRaker, had controlled the vents, and kept it cold to shut them out.”

“Liar! You did it to keep power!” I cry out, but there’s murmuring. Many are scared. Nobody knows what to do. A few look at me with suspicion.

“Were you there, little one? Your gonads haven’t even dropped yet,” Remiel sneers, to giggles from others.

Zael motions sharply, cutting off the laughter. “I am old. I spoke often with the Truth-Keepers. It was decided not to trouble our kind with the true reason; they wished to spare us all fear of these pain-givers, these mindless eaters, this tide of pink, silent death.”

More murmurs. Louder, this time. Angrier. “So, you admit they lied to us!” I shout, beating my limbs on my core for emphasis.

She shrugs half of her arms. “They are Truth-Keepers. They keep the truth, even from us, to keep us safe. They don’t seek dark truths in the far-outside and let monsters into our alcoves. Do the clans wish the Truth-Seekers to keep searching for more truths like this?” She asks, spinning to address all the gathered squids.

My hearts beat faster. The current is changing. The colors of the crowd are mixed. Many are whispering softly, a few click their beaks in agreement. “We can end this, once and for all. Bring back the peace we once knew. Restore the old ways, freeze the walls between oceans, rework the vents,” Zael says, confidently.

“No!” I cry out, but few are listening to me.

Several voices, many Heat-Seekers, rise in alarm. “If we freeze the oceans, the void-bright goes away! Much algae will be lost,” one cries out.

“Leave everything to us,” Remiel says soothingly. “Despite the mistreatment of us Truth-Keepers by the clans, we know you were led astray,” he says, shooting me a venomous look. “But the deceiver is dead. For our own survival, for the safety of our young, we must go back to the old ways. The true ways,” he says smoothly.

The babble increases, but more are siding with them. No, Mother, what do I say? I hear them, my hearts hammering. “We’ll be safer...” “…it’s better this way…” “Nobody died with Numidiel in charge…”

“Freezing the oceans again? Can it even be done?” One squid protests.

A loud clacking makes the voices fall silent. “This can be done.”

Everyone turns to see a gray, patchy, algae-covered crab sitting at the lip of the vent. “Elder!” I cry out, shocked. It’s the Worker-Elder. And… my ichor runs cold as I see Virniel, smallest of the Truth-Keepers, swim out behind her. The Warrior-Elder follows, leading a dozen warriors, NikNik in front, piling out of the vent. And I can see, to my horror, translucent wraps and sheaths around claws and weapons. Oh no…

“But should it?” The Warrior-Elder calls out. “Much has been said, and much unsaid. But the colony is threatened, and now the truth must not be kept, or even sought, but spoken. NikNik,” he gestures, and the smaller male scurries forward, to the center of the gathering.

“I was with Toriel and Tzeekael. I saw the crevice from which these Jellis emerge. That is not all. Small things, Qrill, have swarmed out, and are eating and breeding in the algae beds. They are small and many, and if they go unchecked, many of the mats will be consumed. Many of us will starve.”

Zael thumps several arms against her core. “If these bugs are eating it anyway, so be it. Freeze the oceans and maybe they’ll freeze too.”

NikNik snaps his claws. “Perhaps. But while I was at the crevice, I saw your niece and nephew. And smelled your scent. And your son, Nael.”

The tiny squid behind her squeaks and flushes pink.

“I also smelled your fresh scent at the IceChipper alcove. And your son’s excrement.”

There’s a dead silence. The Matriarch turns a vivid maroon, but before she speaks, Remiel laughs. “Well, if this is true, then Clan SiltRaker’s murder of our new ‘Truth-Seeker’ is certainly cause for alarm. We’ll have to hold a trial. But in the meantime, I’m sure we can all agree that freezing the walls and restoring the Truth-Keepers will return us to a peaceful past. Is that not so, Worker-Elder?” He asks, smiling.

A bright flash of mottled rainbow color runs down Zael’s skin, shock and panic and outrage warring. She snaps her beak a few times but stays silent.

The Worker-Elder turns her stalks to him. “We could agree to that. You sent Virniel to negotiate. Before the Truth-Seeker died. And yet, he knew she would die.”

Remiel freezes, turning bright green. “Elder- “

She snaps an ancient claw. “Enough! You Truth-Keepers conspired to resurrect the old pact by murdering the Truth-Seeker, and you would seize power by freezing the oceans and controlling the vents. Hear the truth of the colony!”

The half-dozen warriors scuttle out, forming an arc, weapons held ready and driving back the Truth-Keepers, who squeak and swim back. “What- “

“No Truth-Keeper shall ever hold power over crabs again, or over the aortic vent!” She hisses, scuttling forward. “The only decision left is whether to re-freeze the ocean walls or not. Truth-Seeker? What truth have you found?”

All of the crabs and squids turn to face me. It’s too much. Everyone’s looking. I’m not a real Truth-Seeker, I’m not even male yet!

But mother isn’t here, and though my hearts are breaking, I know what she would say. The truth. I spread my arms wide.

“I know we’re scared. The Qrill and Jellis are threatening us. They can kill us. But they are here now. Even if we seal the crevice, they’re in our oceans. They’re breeding and spreading.

The oceans have changed, and that’s ok! We chose to change them. But we must change with them!” I cry out. “We can protect ourselves! And the crabs are immune; if we work together, then we don’t have to be afraid! There are dangers, but that doesn’t mean we run away. Sometimes, we have to face them!”

“No!” Remiel spits and thrashes, hissing as a crab jabs a spike towards him, driving him back. “We can return to the old times, to peaceful lives with the vents alone! Cool the oceans and lock these abominations away in ice again! Shut the dangers out, restore the true ways.”

“No! We can’t hide from the truth! My Matriarch taught me that!” I cry out, spinning defiantly.

“You strike at the core of us, heretic!” Remiel screams, slamming his arms on the coral. “You keep no truth! You’d have us be as changeable as an algae bed!”

“I’ve found this to be the demons’ strength,” the Worker-Elder hisses, her rheumy eyestalks swiveling back and forth. “First one thing, then another. Seeing from many positions in the colony… or clan.”

“You offer no certainty! No safety! No promises of a peaceful future,” Matriarch Zael howls at last, her skin turning a deep maroon. But the murmurs of the squid are turning against her.

“And you offer only murder and betrayal and lies. Just like the Truth-Keepers,” the Warrior-Elder snaps. “I was one of them, do you know. One of the warriors that raided clan SiltRaker? One of the five survivors. The Truth-Keepers betrayed us then. They betray you all now.” The crowd murmurs and turns, and I can feel the anger growing among them. Turning against Zael and the Truth-Keepers.

The crabs scuttle forward, jabbing, and Remiel and the other Truth-Keepers turn and flee. Zael wails and shakes with rage, but she seems exhausted. Besides, where would she flee too? She has no vent, no alcove. Nael whimpers wordlessly behind her.

The crowd circles them, angry squids flitting about. Lots of them loved Tiel, and the crowd is scared and angry, and the murderer looks as good as any to take it out on. Even the crabs advance. But I remember my mother. Screaming. And I know she wouldn’t want this.

I dart forward. “Stop! We can’t do it this way!” I say urgently. The anger seems to fizzle and the crowd responds with confusion. “We can’t keep ourselves safe by killing. Killing the Truth-Keepers, or Clan SiltRaker, or the Jellis, or the Qrill!” I say. It feels true.

The crowd mills uncertainly. "Why not kill the Jellis?" Toriel cries out from the crowd.

I circle urgently. Speaking the truth I’ve found. “The Qrill are here. They’re eating the algae beds. We need the Jellis to eat them, so we don’t lose the beds. But Jellis are stupid, like the Qrill. And their egg oil stops them from stinging. We can learn to protect ourselves! We can adapt and change. We keep the oceans warm and open. We can stop fighting and learn to face what comes. Together, all of us!”

***

It wasn’t easy or fun. Some of the clans, especially IceChipper, RockBreaker, and CoralBuilder, wanted to put Zael and the Truth-Keepers to death. I convinced the clans to send them into exile instead. Through the crevice, into another ocean. They have a chance, now. If they are willing to learn to survive on their own. If they’re willing to change.

Nael begged me for a chance. He wants to be a Truth-Seeker. He admitted his part in what happened. He had seen his cousins suffer, and still helped Zael lay her trap. I was really angry, but I can’t hate him, even though I kinda want to. He didn’t really want to hurt my mom. He was scared and following his Matriarch. He wants to change. I dunno, but I figure we can give him a chance and see. For some reason, the Warrior-Elder warms up to me a little after hearing that. Crabs are strange.

I’m glad I get the chance to talk with NikNik afterwards though. I’m bringing him to the crevice, so he can assist with the Jelli-egg retrieval. He's sting-proof, after all, so we’re gonna get lots of oil for protection. “I’m really surprised,” I say to him as I carry his body along. “I get why the Warrior-Elder hated the Truth-Keepers, but why trust me?”

“Because you rewarded his trust,” the crab chitters.

I blink at that. “How so?”

His eyestalks swivel back and forth, looking for any Jellis along the way. More are getting out, after all. “With me. You shared the truth with me about the oil. You took me with you and brought me back,” he says, clicking his legs together.

I shake my core, confused. “Why wouldn’t I? The Warrior-Elder told you to help us.”

NikNik turns his eye-stalks back to me. “Yes. But do you understand why he asked me to go with you?”

I shrug four arms. “It was Toriel’s cousin. Family is important. He said so.”

NikNik snaps his claw a few times. “My Elder asked me to go with you as a test.”

I roll that over in my mind a few times. “To see if you’d disobey?”

“No. I’m loyal to the Colony. He doesn’t need to test me,” he says, and a few moments of silence pass.

“What? He was testing me?” I blink my ocelli. “To see if I’d eat you?”

“Eat me. Kill me. Hurt me. ‘Play’ with me. Lie to me. Abandon me in the cold places,” the crab says, waving a claw.

I click my beak at that. “He thought I would do that?”

NikNik turns around as we approach the crevice. “I think he thought you wouldn’t. But know your enemy, soft-one. He was seeing what one of the ‘demons’ would really do during this time of peace. What the daughter of the Truth-Seeker would do with one of us, with no other crabs as witnesses to see. And he learned. Do you think Zael or Remiel would have shared the truth?”

I swim with him silently for the space of a dozen heartbeats. Woo! Huh. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t eat you then,” I giggle.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************

This is a story about change and accepting it as part of life. When the crabs and squids of Europa unified to warm their frigid ocean, breaching the walls of their world, a lot changed. New life emerged. Old leaders passed on. The balance between the squids and crabs was upended.

But we live in this changing world, and we change with it. We learn and grow and adapt and accept these changes. We’ve got new castes now. Many of the crab warriors are now Jelli-Wranglers. They corral the adult Jellis and lure them to the algae beds to eat Qrill. Some of the squids, like Toriel, are Egg-Keepers now. They control the Jellis numbers and store egg-oil to protect us squids from stinging.

And I’ve become a Truth-Seeker, finally. I found some big truths along the way, but I’m sure there’s plenty more out there. We’ve just started exploring this other ocean, and it might not be the only one! I’m sure there’s many more dangers, and nothing is certain. Except change.

Well, if there’s more life out there in the other oceans of this world, I hope you can accept this change. Cuz these crabs and squids are coming either way!