Through the depths of the black deep, they pursued me. Through winters that left them fingerless and gray, they tracked me. Through the sweltering, starless nights and the storms that left their ships in ruins, they chased me.
They chased me to the end of the world.
On their land, they rule with kindness. In their cities, they write songs of my songs. In their homes, they sing them to their glass-eyed young. But at sea, they rule with savagery. In their ships, they sing of my blood. They did not hesitate to take my young. To them, her screams echoed like the songs.
They name me a beast, crying their bloodthirst. They call me a monster, holding silver hooks in their hands. They say that I am naught but an animal, born to be hunted and slaughtered for them; and yet they wear the skins of the wolves they kill and feed on the flesh of the sheep.
Mankind are the monsters, not I.
Dare not to call me the monster who lives beneath the writhing sea. Fear not the creature who lives but to flee.
Mankind are the monsters, not I!
' Care not for the beast who mourns her young when men are the ones who have taken her. Hear not the songs of sorrow she sings as she runs from the men who hunt her.
But now they have chased me to the end of the world. Their spears pierce my flesh and I taste my own blood, but I do not fight them. I do not give them the battle they wish to warp and recount for their glass-eyed young. I do not sing for them, and I do not die for them.
They will not have the Leviathan's sorrow.
They will not have the last Leviathan.
YOU ARE READING
Tales from the Dark Caves
FantasyCome 'round, night's edge draws ever near Gray twilight gathers dark and drear. The air grows brittle, howling, and cold, So heed these tales arcane and old. From beneath the mountains, where magic thrives; From burrows dark, heartless, and dry; Fro...
