First message
The currents near the surface were thin, almost fragile. Ivian rose through them in silence, golden scales catching what little moonlight filtered down. Prey was easier here—slower, brighter, less wary. He had been tracking a school of silver fish when something else moved ahead of him.
She was half-hidden among the swaying kelp, pale tail flicking once before she noticed him. Shallow-water. The markings along her scales were lighter, meant for sun rather than pressure. Still, the shape of her was familiar enough that his instincts didn’t immediately mark her as threat or food. Different, yet not.
Ivian stopped. Water slid over his shoulders as he held still, eyes narrowed. He didn’t speak. Words were for the deep, where sound carried differently, and he saw no reason to offer them here. She watched him with open curiosity. He gave her nothing back—only the steady weight of his presence and the faint glow of his eyes in the dark.
When she drifted closer, he shifted just enough to keep distance between them. Hunting was simpler alone. Whatever she was, she didn’t belong in the dark with him.