“I'll be good.”
“This one knows.” His hand strokes my hair. “Female already chose. Rest was just biology confirming what mind knew.”
He's right. When Reef touched me, everything in me rejected it. Not just my modified body but something deeper. I didn't just swim back to Aylth for relief.
I swam home.
AYLTH
Dawn brings blood-scent to this one's territory.
Not spilled blood. Not yet. The scent of young males preparing for violence, their bodies flooding with combat hormones. Three distinct signatures pollute the currents. They gather at the eastern boundary where the reef drops into the Crushing Deep, that trench where pressure kills anything not born to it.
This one tastes their chemicals in the water. Fear masked by rage. Humiliation disguised as righteousness. Youth believing itself invincible.
Fools.
The female sleeps on the moss, curled into herself. Even unconscious, her body calls to this one. The pheromones she releases have saturated the cave walls, making them glow brighter each day. Five days since she arrived. Five days of this one's breeding tentacles swelling with need. Five days of denial that will end soon.
Three days, this one promised her last night. Three days to rebuild trust.
The promise tastes like ash now. This one's body knows what the mind resists. Combat leads to claiming. Always has. Thebiology of this one's species ensures it. Fight, win, breed. The pattern carved into genetics over millennia.
Movement in the water. The formal call begins.
Three voices harmonizing in the deep frequencies that travel for miles. The challenge-song, old as the ocean itself. Each voice carries a name, an intent, a threat.
Reef sings loudest, his humiliation from yesterday adding desperate edge to his call.
Storm-Singer's voice rumbles lower, darker. This one remembers him. Purple-scaled fool who lost a female through the portal two seasons ago. Still raging at that failure.
Tide-Dancer's contribution is highest, almost musical. Young. Too young. Probably eight seasons mature at most. Brought along for numbers, not real threat.
This one's body responds before conscious thought. Bioluminescent patterns flare along all twelve tentacles in the acceptance-display. The water around this one heats from the chemical response. War-fury mixing with mating-need creates dangerous combination.
Female wakes at the light show. Her eyes go wide seeing this one's full display.
“What's happening?”
“Formal challenge. Three young males believe they can take what is this one's.”
She sits up, fear crossing her features. “Reef?”
“Reef, Storm-Singer, and Tide-Dancer. They think numbers create advantage.”
“Three against one isn't fair.”
This one laughs, the sound making the cave water ripple. “Fair is human concept. Ocean recognizes only strength.”
This one rises from the water, and female gasps. The breeding tentacles are visible, partially extended from their sheaths. The primary is already thick with preparation fluid. Thesecondary pulses with independent rhythm. Combat-ready body preparing for after-combat breeding.
“Stay here,” this one commands. “No matter what occurs. No matter what female hears.”
“You could die.”
“This one has held territory for forty seasons. Has killed challengers beyond counting.” This one cups her face, memorizing the warmth. “But if this one does fall, swim deep. Find the volcanic vents. Hide until portal opens.”
“Don't talk like that.”
