The kraken are, by nature, an isolationist species. Our laws forbid interaction with humans, let alone revealing our existence to them. But there has always been a small faction, myself included, who believed in the possibility of cautious integration.
As I swim, my mind drifts to my mother again. What compelled her to mate with a human, breaking our most sacred laws? She said they were in love, but I don’t even know his name. I picture her, young and rebellious perhaps, venturing to the surface world. Did she plan to stay with my father, only to be drawn back to the ocean’s depths? Or was leaving him behind always part of her plan?
The thoughts swirl in my mind like eddies in a turbulent sea. My mother’s early death robbed me of the chance to ask her these questions and understand the choices that shaped my existence. Now, as I navigate toward a new world, I feel the weight of her decisions more than ever. Did she ever regret it? Did she foresee the challenges I would face? The answers, much like my mother, are lost to the currents of time and the vast, unforgiving ocean.
As days bleed into one another, my focus narrows down to only one thought – to follow the beacon in my mind to Lublin Harbor.
The moon’s pull, revered by all krakens for its effect on the tides, becomes my constant and only companion. In quiet moments, I breach the ocean’s surface, letting the cool night air wash over me as I observe the endless dance of waves and stars.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity of swimming, I catch sight of a distant shoreline shimmering with an otherworldly light – though perhaps that’s just my exhaustion playing tricks. As I draw closer, I feel a warmth wash over me –a sensation of welcome and protection that I hadn’t experienced since leaving my home, perhaps not even there.
The water itself feels strange – too warm for these latitudes. I’ve never encountered anything like it. The peculiar warmth seems to pulse through the waves as if the ocean itself is alive with some strange energy.
With the last of my strength, I propel myself toward the shore. The waves, once my allies, now batter my weakened body. As I near the beach, a massive swell lifts me and hurls me onto the sand. Half-submerged in the receding surf, I lay there, too exhausted to pull myself from the water’s reach. With the last of my strength, I roll onto my back and transform into my human form.
Dusk paints the sky in deep purples and oranges above me as I bask in the energy of Lublin Harbor. After all this time, I’ve made it. Despite Thalassor’s healing, the journey has consumed my last reserves of strength. My human limbs drift uselessly in the shallow water, too heavy to lift, too weak to carry me to safety.
As consciousness begins to slip through my grasp, I hear the soft crunch of footsteps in the sand. I force my eyes open, fighting to focus. A figure emerges, silhouetted against the setting sun. As she draws nearer, her features sharpen into clarity – a human female with golden curls cascading over her shoulders and a welcoming smile gracing her lips. But it’s her eyes that arrest my fading attention – deep-set and amber-flecked, radiating the same ancient power I felt from Thalassor.
“Welcome to Lublin Harbor, Levistus,” she says, her voice carrying over the sound of waves lapping against the shore. “Thalassor warned me that you were coming. I am Mokosh, guardian of this place.”
I try to dip my chin in reverence, but my body refuses to cooperate. “Goddess Mokosh,” I manage to croak, my voice hoarse from disuse, “I seek sanctuary within your borders.”
Her eyes, deep and fathomless as the sea, study me for a long moment. “Sanctuary you shall have, young kraken. But it comes with a price.”
“Anything,” I reply without hesitation. After so long adrift, I am ready to pay any cost for a place to belong.
A gentle smile plays across Mokosh’s lips. “My protection comes with certain expectations. You will tend to Lublin Harbor’s needs and keep its secrets. When the fishing boats venture out, you’ll ensure their catches are plentiful while keeping other creatures from their nets. And your presence, your faith in my divinity, will add to my power.”
I agree readily; it is a small price to pay for safety. As Mokosh’s magic envelops me, I feel strength returning to my limbs. The last of my wounds heal, and the exhaustion that had threatened to claim me ebbs away.
With newfound energy, I push myself to a sitting position, taking in my surroundings properly for the first time. The coastline curves gracefully to my left, sheltering a natural harbor in its arc. Through the evening haze, I can make out a forest of masts and rigging where ships cluster along the weathered wharves. The town itself seems to have grown outward from the water’s edge.
Humans and other beings move about their daily lives, seemingly unaware of the arrival of a kraken in their midst. Mokosh gestures towards the town, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “This is your new home, Levistus. You’ll find acceptance and purpose here.”
“Please, call me Levi,” I offer.
“And you can call me Koko.”
As the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky, I make a silent vow. I will do my best to embrace this new chapter of my life. I will learn, grow, and forge a new identity here. The kraken kingdom that rejected me for my human half doesn’t deserve my loyalty or my dreams of return. This is where I belong now.
With a nod of gratitude to Koko, I turn and dive back into the welcoming embrace of the sea. The cool water envelops me, washing away the last remnants of my old life.
As night falls and the first stars begin to twinkle in the sky, I swim out to the center of the harbor. There, floating on my back and gazing up at the moon, with the creak of boats and the distant sounds of human voices, I allow myself a moment of peace.
Tomorrow, my new life will begin in earnest. But tonight, suspended between two worlds, I am simply Levi – kraken, human, and above all, a creature of the sea.
CHAPTER 2
Rose
The warm glow of Edison bulbs illuminates the cozy interior ofTwisted Stitches, my best friend Heather’s boutique yarn shop. The scent of lavender and wool permeates the air, creating an atmosphere of comfort and creativity. I sit perched on a high stool at the counter, swirling a glass of Merlot while Heather finishes locking up.
“You’ve got to see this, Rose,” Heather calls, beckoning me toward the back of the shop. “I’ve just finished a new colorway that I think you’ll love. This dye lot turned out even better than I’d hoped.”
I slide off my stool, wine glass in hand, and follow Heather into her dyeing room. The space is a riot of color, with skeins of yarn in every hue imaginable hanging from racks and drying lines. Heather’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she holds up a skein of yarn that transitions from a rich burnt clay to a dusty rose, then deepens into a purple-tinged indigo.
“I based the colors on a New Mexico sunset! I’m calling it ‘Desert Twilight,’” Heather announces proudly. “What do you think?”
