Light.
It wasn't coming from him, and then there was water. More seawater that wasn't burdened by the bitter bite of the metal that surrounded him. He could actually breathe it in without wincing. There was life that came with that.
Reaching with his fingers that were still pressed down against his sides, Proteus felt for the tiny gap that had suddenly appeared around the lid of his prison. The coffin they had placed him in was always upright, but his arms were pinned to his sides. If he moved his fingers just right, he could slide his claws out into the open sea.
It was the closest he'd been to freedom in so many years. His heart thundered in his chest. His bones glowed even brighter with hope and excitement.
Whoever this was, he was going to gift them whatever they wanted for solving a lock that had kept him imprisoned for this long. He would heap gold upon them. Raid every wreck that still languished at the bottom of the ocean to give them jewels, crowns, and coin.
Just a bit more, that's all he needed. Just a little more and then he would be free. He would be able to push the lid of the coffin off, and he would burst forth from this prison forever. They would never be able to put him back in here. He would make sure of that.
And then he looked to the right, at that small splinter of light, and saw the legs of a crab through it. Not entirely a crab, though. Those legs were made out of metal. They had seen better days, rusted as they were, but they were still legs.
Then antennae that were made of metal peered through the gap. There had once been screens at the end of them that likely were meant to look like eyes, but now only one still worked, and it blinked on and off rapidly.
"There you are," the voice emitted from whatever strange droid had found him. "I've been looking for centuries for this tomb. Do you know how hard it was to find without a tracker?"
"Open it."
"It's mostly rusted shut now. But considering the size of you, if you give it a good push, it should move. The silt has grown up from the bottom, or you’ve been sinking into it. You're almost level with the sea floor."
He didn't care. Coiling his tail underneath him, he slammed his body against the door. Over and over again. Every strike made the metal move just a bit more. The sea rushed in to meet him, and he had been thirsty for such a long time. The seal of his prison hadn't let him enjoy the best part of his world, and then…
Suddenly he was free.
The door burst open, and he rushed out into the ocean. It didn't matter where he was or what surrounded him. For the first time in centuries, he could swim.
Proteus flexed his tail and shot off into the darkness. It mattered little what might be out there. If there was a megalodon waiting for him, or a leviathan itself, he would battleit until the bitter end because none of it mattered. He was free. He was finally, wonderfully, breathlessly free.
His gills flared wide, and his lights illuminated even more of his skeletal form. The beast of the ocean, the terror of the waves, the firstborn son had returned, and he would make sure that the sea itself knew.
Spiraling through the water, he moved with a speed that would have shocked any who could see him. He remembered people being terrified of how quickly he could move because certainly he was too big to be able to do so. But he had more than just his own magic.
Reaching out into the sea itself, he felt her. The goddess who had given him life, the one who had gifted the ancients the power to create a being all on their own. The sea goddess welcomed him back into her embrace, and then he turned his head up into the current that flowed around him, and he roared.
The sound vibrated through the ocean around him. The water seemed to bubble, turning into steam with the centuries of rage that poured off of him and made the very sea boil with his anger. He was furious with all those who tried to trap him. Enraged that the sea had allowed it. So angry that all he wanted to do was destroy everything that stood in his way and only remake it once he was ready to do so.
They would all feel the wrath of the first son.
But the cold touch of the sea reminded him that it had been some time since any of the People of Water even remembered his existence. He was, without a doubt, a foreign creature to them now. They didn't even have stories about him. The depthstrider, who should have known who Proteus was, hadn't even guessed at what he might have found.
Time had worn away their terror of him. He had faded into myth, and then nothing at all. No one remembered who he was now, and he was going to have to change that.
Turning his glare in the direction he'd come, Proteus headed back toward the cage that had trapped him. How he knew where it was, he did not understand. He only knew that the sea guided him where he needed to turn, and he trusted it implicitly.
She, the goddess who had gifted them all life, was the only one who had never betrayed him. She had never forgotten he was in there, always sending him little gifts even while he remained rotting. Food had never fully eased his hunger, but she had ensured that he was still alive.
Breathing out, he finally found the tomb where they had kept him. It was a coffin. They'd carved his face on the outside, or something of that likeness. But it had long ago been worn away by the currents and creatures who had tracked paths across it. Even now, he could see the barnacles that had grown all over him, and how far he had indeed sunk into the silt at the bottom of the sea floor.
How deep was he? His gills were working harder than he remembered, but he also hadn't been alive in quite some time. It would make sense that his body didn't quite remember how to have this much fresh seawater to breathe.
"You look better already," a voice came again.
This time he was certain it was the small metal crab that was currently frozen on top of his tomb. The creature was made entirely out of rusted metal, and the reddish color was so prominent on its shell that he might have thought it was a real crab.
"What are you?" he asked.
Proteus swam close enough to grab the little beast by a leg and dangled it from his clawed hands. It was so small he could have crushed it in his massive grip.
