"This was thirteen years of savings! Gone. All of it, in one night!"
Third Fish Shell dropped to his knees at the mouth of the cave, staring at the wreckage scattered across the shoreline.
The tide had finally receded, but it had left almost nothing behind intact. Broken stones, torn bundles of vines, scattered tools, and ruined food supplies littered the sand. Everything the tribe had spent days collecting and carefully moving into their new homes had been swept away in a single night.
Shell’s face twisted with anguish. He looked like he wanted to cry, but the shock was too deep even for tears.
Around him, the survivors sat in silence, soaked from head to toe and staring blankly at what remained of their settlement.
"Third..."
Fish Second Reed stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"If the fish are gone, we catch more. If the vine clothes are ruined, we weave new ones. What matters is that everyone is alive."
Reed understood better than most how much Shell valued food. Losing even a single fish could bother him for hours. After thirteen years of saving and finally building a home of his own, watching everything disappear overnight was more than enough to break his composure.
Shell slowly steadied himself.
He looked at Reed, then toward the Bass family.
They sat together in stunned silence, still struggling to accept that Dan was gone.
Something bitter surfaced in Shell’s expression.
"If everyone’s really safe, then sure. That’s good."
His voice trembled.
"But Chief Dan is missing. And the one who insisted we build these houses stayed safe and dry in the cave while all of us watched our homes get destroyed."
He looked toward the cave entrance.
"Does that seem fair?"
Silence.
Everyone knew who he meant.
They also knew the truth. Fish Leader hadn’t caused the flood. The sea had turned violent without warning, and blaming him for it made no sense.
But grief rarely cared about sense.
Shell had lost everything he’d spent years working toward. The Bass family had lost Dan. The others had watched their homes disappear before their eyes.
Someone had to carry the blame.
Slowly, uncertainly, their gazes shifted toward the cave.
Fish Leader stood there in silence.
Over the years, they had noticed something strange about him. Despite remaining far stronger and more imposing than any of them, his posture seemed to grow slightly more tired with each passing season. His shoulders had begun to stoop. His movements had become slower.
Even so, the reverence surrounding him had never faded.
"Shell! Have you completely lost your mind?!"
Reed’s shock erupted into anger.
"Third! What exactly do you think you’re doing?!"
Koi’s voice cut through the clearing.
She was still supporting Naia, who remained limp with shock after watching Dan disappear beneath the waves. At Shell’s accusation, Koi tightened her grip around the young widow and glared at him.
The two voices silenced everyone.
Shell pulled Reed’s hand from his shoulder.
His entire body trembled, but he forced himself to look directly at Fish Leader.
"Fish Leader."
His voice was unsteady, yet he refused to back down.
"If you hadn’t insisted that we build these houses, if we’d stayed in the cave like before, none of this would’ve happened."
He swallowed.
"Wouldn’t it?"
Koi immediately opened her mouth to respond.
Caelum raised one hand.
That was enough.
She fell silent.
Fish Leader slowly looked across the gathered Murlocs.
Shell’s anger.
Reed’s conflicted expression.
The Bass family, still lost in their grief.
The children hiding behind their parents, watching the adults argue with frightened, uncertain eyes.
Caelum took it all in.
’They’ve grown up.’
A faint ache settled in his chest.
’They’re finally beginning to see the world through their own eyes.’
For thirteen years, they had followed his guidance without question. He had protected them, taught them, and quietly removed dangers before those dangers could become disasters.
But that had never been the goal.
A people that depended entirely on their god would never truly grow.
’It’s time.’
’Time to step back.’
For the first time, he felt genuine satisfaction at the thought.
There was pain beneath it, too.
Being blamed by people he’d watched grow from nothing wasn’t pleasant. But their anger was understandable. They had lived comfortably for too long. When hardship finally arrived, of course it hurt.
Still, he’d warned them.
The strange weather.
The unusual behavior of the fish.
The subtle changes in the sea.
There had been signs.
They simply hadn’t learned to recognize them yet.
Caelum slowly stood.
The movement alone was enough to draw every eye toward him.
His height towered over the Murlocs around him, and the atmosphere immediately changed. Anger faded beneath instinctive awe.
His gaze settled on Shell.
Shell clenched his jaw but refused to look away.
The standoff lasted several seconds.
Then Caelum smiled.
"I have a question for all of you."
His voice carried across the clearing.
"Now that this has happened, do we keep building the stone houses?"
He paused.
"Or don’t we?"
"Of course not..."
One Murloc answered almost immediately.
Then he stopped.
His eyes drifted toward the cave.
He remembered the cramped darkness.
Five families packed together with barely enough room to sleep. Children constantly underfoot. Adults unable to find a moment of privacy. Everyone living beneath the watchful presence of Fish Leader.
For the first time in their lives, they had experienced something different.
A home.
Their own space.
Their own walls.
They had only enjoyed it for a few days, but those days had been enough.
The Murloc lowered his head.
Nobody spoke.
Yet the answer had already spread through the crowd.
The cave had become too small.
The disaster hadn’t changed that.
They still wanted houses.
They still wanted their own homes.
And they would rebuild them.
The anger directed toward Fish Leader slowly began to fade.
Caelum looked at Shell.
"Shell."
The Murloc stiffened.
"What do you think?"
Shell opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He wasn’t stupid.
He knew his accusation had been unfair. He had simply allowed grief, frustration, and years of quietly building resentment to overwhelm his judgment.
Yet hearing Fish Leader call him by his surname affected him in a way he hadn’t expected.
"Shell."
Not Third Fish.
Not Fish Third.
Shell.
For some reason, the name suddenly felt heavy.
"I..."
His voice died in his throat.
Caelum walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t reprimand him.
Didn’t forgive him.
Didn’t need to.
After a moment, Caelum turned toward the rest of the tribe.
"When disaster comes, running from it isn’t the answer."
His voice hardened.
"So the houses were destroyed?"
"Build them again."
"So the fish were washed away?"
"Catch more."
"So you failed?"
"Then start again."
His words rolled across the settlement.
"We came to this land with nothing."
"You were barely a dozen Murlocs when you arrived. Now you’re sixty."
"You reached this point because you kept moving forward."
His gaze swept across them.
"I promise you, what’s coming will be harder than this."
"Much harder."
"When it comes, are you going to stand here making excuses again?"
Nobody answered.
They didn’t need to.
Heads lowered.
Hands tightened.
Grief remained.
So did fear.
But beneath both, something else began to take shape.
Resolve.
A small seed had been planted in their hearts.
It would take years to grow.
But it had been planted.
Far beneath the waves, Dan Bass stirred.
He had been unconscious for what felt like an eternity.
The first thing he saw was sunlight.
Soft golden rays filtered through the water above, illuminating the darkness in wavering columns.
He blinked several times.
Alive.
He was still alive.
Relief washed over him.
Dan immediately kicked toward the surface.
Then something caught his attention.
He looked down.
Far beneath him, a faint golden light flickered in the darkness.
It wasn’t bright.
It didn’t illuminate the surrounding water.
It simply existed there, distant and strangely calm.
Waiting.
Calling.
Dan looked toward the surface.
It was close.
He could reach it.
All he had to do was swim upward.
Then he looked down again.
The golden light pulsed.
Something inside him responded.
He didn’t understand what it was.
He only knew he needed to see it.
Dan gritted his teeth as pain spread through his battered body.
Then he turned downward.
He swam.
The deeper he went, the stronger the golden glow became.
It didn’t take long before he finally reached it.
And what he found wasn’t a light.
It was a whirlpool.
A vast spiral of water turning silently in the darkness.
Dan stared at it.
The center of the whirlpool didn’t lead deeper into the sea.
It led somewhere else.
A strange waterway seemed to stretch beyond it, connecting his world to a place he had never seen.
Dan hesitated.
’Should I go in?’
Before he could decide, the whirlpool suddenly surged.
The current seized him.
"What?!"
Dan reached out desperately, but the water dragged him forward.
The world spun.
Darkness swallowed him.
He lost all sense of direction.
Up.
Down.
Left.
Right.
None of it meant anything anymore.
He could only tumble through the raging current until, eventually, his consciousness faded again.
When he opened his eyes, sunlight struck his face.
Dan coughed violently.
Water poured from his mouth as he rolled onto his stomach.
For several moments, he could do nothing but breathe.
Then he slowly lifted his head.
He froze.
The landscape before him was nothing like Wyrmspring.
Vast stretches of land spread beyond the shoreline.
Mountains rose into the distance, their peaks disappearing into the clouds. Rivers poured down their slopes, shining beneath the sunlight like streams of silver.
The sea itself was overflowing with life.
Fish leapt freely from the water in enormous schools.
Along the nearby shore, birds sat so fat and well-fed that they barely seemed interested in hunting.
Dan stared.
His mouth hung open.
He had never seen anything like this.
Not in his dreams.
Not in his wildest imagination.
He slowly pushed himself upright.
"Where..."
His voice came out hoarse.
He looked across the unfamiliar land, completely overwhelmed.
"Where is this place?"