Silence. The sea is silence.
Darkness. Silence. Darkness.
In the depths of the ocean, only thoughts break his silence. The Leviathan knows very little. Only three actions guide him.
Swim. Sleep. Devour.
Only three words echo in his mind.
Sea. Silence. Darkness.
He doesn’t even know his name.
He swims. It's dark. The water is heavy. The water is cold. The water is endless.
Heavy. Cold. Endless.
He doesn’t know how such words enter his mind. They strike him like an arrow and cling to him for eternity.
Arrow. Eternity.
He doesn’t know how long he’s lived, doesn’t know why he is alive. He just swims. The endless sea is all he knows.
Who am I? He wonders. He wonders who he is—what he looks like. His body slithers through the ocean, looking for a purpose.
A blinking light startles him, flashing rapidly from above. He looks up, seeing a series of twisting ripples in the sky.
No. That is not the sky.
He knows what this is. He knows the word. He’s sure of it.
Sure.
It’s close. It’s not the word, but it's close. He concentrates, looking up again. He knows it. The word forms in his mind, clearer than the rest.
Surface. Surface of the water.
The lights blink again, and he begins to swim up, approaching the glow. The surface gets closer, and he feels the water getting warmer.
Chaos. The sea is chaos.
A burst of sound explodes. Ripples, crashes, blasts. It’s all too much. His body continues to rise, but at some point, he stops—unable to push any further.
Ripples. Crashes. Blasts.
So many words come to him. So many at once. He roars—not in rage, but agony. His thoughts collapse into noise, echoing across the endless sea.
Rain. Waves. Thunder.
So many words.
Land. Monster. Storm.
So many words. So much pain.
Pain. Hurt.
He realizes he isn’t talking. He speaks the words, yet his mouth does not move to match. He just roars, but his mind echoes with phrases.
He sees something in the distance. Amidst the rain and the waves, he spots something that is not the sea. It’s small, and it bears what the sea does not have.
Form. The sea is formless.
He moves closer to what he sees, and the details become clear. At the same time, words appear in his mind.
Float. Sail. Ship.
It’s a ship. He knows what it is. He gets closer, and now the ship is beneath him. He begins to hear strange sounds as thunder erupts all around him and the storm intensifies.
Strange sounds. More than one.
There is something familiar about all of this. He’s seen a ship before. He knows those strange noises. He knows who is making them.
Humans.
Human.
He knows them. He knows the word. It is as old as he is. And those strange sounds. He knows them too.
Screams. Humans scream.
Thunder echoes. Lightning strikes. The ship floats in the formless sea.
And humans scream.
They always scream, he remembers. It is the only sound they make.
He knows that screams are bad. Screams are pain. He wants to help the humans. Help them not to scream.
Help? No, that’s not the word.
There is another word for it. A word engraved in his mind. One of the three he never forgets.
Devour.
That’s how he helps them. Helps them to not scream. He always helps humans. Helps them not to scream.
More words burst into his mind.
Break. Sink. Consume.
He opens his mouth. Lightning flashes. And a word startles him.
Dive.
Silence. No more chaos.
It’s quiet. Everything is quiet. No waves. No thunder. No rain.
No screams.
He shuts his mouth. Feels a crunch, then nothing. It all gets dark as he swims deeper. The water gets cold.
Swim.
He obeys his mind. He swims through the endless sea. He has a feeling, a new one. Or is it old? He can’t remember. He hears a sound. A rumble. He then realizes it’s coming from within him. Suddenly, he knows.
Hunger. I am hungry.
He smells something in the water, something he knows would help his hunger.
Food. Fish. Swim.
He has a purpose now. To help his hunger, just like he helped the humans.
Human? I know that word.
He hears a sound.
Scream? No. Not a scream.
It’s a new sound. Low, deep, louder than a scream. Something dark appears in the distance. A creature.
A monster? No. Food.
He remembers what it is. Like him, it also swims. It also sleeps.
But it does not devour.
No. Only I devour.
Fish. Whale. Moan.
It’s a whale. The whale moans as he reaches it. It’s so small, but he knows the whale can help his hunger. He knows the whale is food.
He’s learned so many words today, but one keeps shining brighter than the rest. It’s the word he uses to help. Help the humans, the hunger, everything.
Devour.
The whale is different from the ship. It does not crunch, and he feels something soft in his mouth. Something that bends and twists between his teeth, eventually sinking into his body.
Meat.
Silence. No more moans. No more screams. The sea is silent once again. The Leviathan keeps swimming, waiting for more words to come.
“Who are you?” A voice echoes, loud and pitchy.
Leviathan turns, startled and afraid. “Who are you?” He shouts back, yet only his mind speaks while his mouth roars. He waits for a response, but instead of words, he hears a strange, new sound. Not a scream, roar, or moan.
Laughter.
The voice speaks again.
“Poor wretch,” it says, “forever caught in a cycle of oblivion.”
Strange words. So many strange words. Leviathan is confused, unable to understand the voice.
“Who are you?” He repeats, hoping for an answer.
Hope.
Before he hears a response, a figure appears in the darkness of the water. It’s large, like him, but it’s different. It has no mouth, no teeth. Its head is massive, with glowing orbs stuck to it.
Eyes.
But the most prominent difference was its arms. So many, spreading in all directions. To move, the voice squeezed and spread its arms rapidly, inching closer to Leviathan, who suddenly remembered a word.
Tentacles.
“I am known as the Kraken,” the voice responds. “It is the name the humans have given me.”
“Kraken?” Leviathan repeats. The name tastes foreign, yet familiar. Once again, his mouth only roars. “Can you hear me?”
“Of course I can,” the Kraken responds. “You speak with your mind. As do I.”
Leviathan waits, pondering what to say. “Have we… met before?” He asks.
The Kraken remains silent, its eyes as still as the sea. “I see your condition has… worsened.” He finally responds. “You have never forgotten me before. Yes, old friend, we have met many times in the past. We even fought.”
Leviathan snarls, his head shaking as two words pierce his mind.
Fight. Kill.
Dark. Very dark words. They scare him, but he doesn’t know why. All of a sudden, painful images strike him. He can no longer see the Kraken, just strange pictures swaying across his vision. They hurt, and the pain intensifies as a plethora of words begin to materialize.
Memories. Battle. Blades. Past. Fire. Life. Death. Immortality. War.
He remembers. He remembers it all. Everything. The sea and the land. The sky and the Earth. He remembers who he is. What he is meant to do.
I am Leviathan. I am the nightmare you never seek. I am the Ravager of the Sea, consumer of the weak. Beware of my wrath, beware of my shriek. For I shall consume all that which you adore. Indeed, I am no mere freak.
His eyes settle back on the Kraken. A deceitful monster.
“You lie,” Leviathan states, “We are not friends.”
The Kraken chuckles, swaying its monstrous tentacles apart to appear more menacing. Its golden eyes flicker and narrow, and Leviathan could feel the sinisterness of his gaze. “No, we are not. And we shall never be. For our battle is eternal.”
Leviathan shakes his head. “No. I shall end this now, then collapse into my eternal slumber. I shall not forget again.”
Without warning, he instantly rushes the Kraken, bluntly striking its head with his snout. The Kraken roars, utilizing its tentacles to wrap around Leviathan’s serpentine form, the creature’s suckers clamping onto the sea serpent’s rough skin. Then, it whips its tentacles outward, hurling Leviathan through the sea until he tumbles across the sandy ground of the ocean.
But Leviathan knows he’s had worse battles. He knows he’s lived through harsher days and that he is infinitely wiser than the Kraken, which now neared him for another attack.
“How foolish have you become?” It says, “The land and the sky no longer bear our kind, and we are the last of the Sea Titans. Our time is over!”
Leviathan’s only response was a roar as he lunged into the Kraken, this time his jaws as wide as they could be. The Kraken wove its arms together in an attempt to shield the attack, but it turned out to be its greatest mistake, Leviathan’s vicious teeth ripping through the monster’s arms as he chomped down with all his might.
The Kraken wailed, both verbally through its roar and mentally through its mind. Leviathan kept swimming, turning to the side as he whipped his massive tail, smacking the Kraken as he swam away.
He turns back, watching the Kraken screech at the pain of its torn arms and wounded head. “You are right, Kraken.” He says. “The time is over. For you.”
With one last dive, Leviathan clamps his jaws into the Kraken, biting down and ripping with his teeth until a dark crimson begins gushing from every part of the creature. All the while, a single word began repeating in his mind.
Devour.
Finally, Leviathan watches as the Kraken’s remains sink to the ground, its body mingling with the sand.
“Perhaps the humans will continue to speak of you,” he says, more to himself than to the Kraken. “Make a myth out of you, as they did with others of our kind.”
Swim.
The Leviathan is back to swimming the endless sea, but he’s unsure why. He remembers all the details of his long, immortal life, but something is wrong. He waits for more words to enter his mind, but none seem to come.
Instead, they fade.
No.
Everything fades, and he is helpless to stop it. Word by word, action by action. All but three.
Swim. Sleep. Devour.
Sea. Silence. Darkness.
“No!” He shouts. He roars. The storm, the ship, the whale, the Kraken. He recites it all—every memory of his immortal life.
But it’s all too much.
Life. Death. Battle. War.
“The words… must not… lose the words.” His mind begins to drift. His thoughts begin to drift, getting lost in the endless sea.
Hunger. Hope. Laughter. Memor…
Swim. Sleep. Devour.
Sea. Silence. Darkness.
Silence. The sea is silence.
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Welcome to Reedsy, Omar. The perspective and style of this story is superb. The endless cycle like the ebb and flow of the endless sea is wonderful. I like the new perspective of this myth.
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Thank you so much! I deeply appreciate the feedback.
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