Beneath the vast surface of the ocean, darkness reigned — a depth so absolute that it seemed to have neither beginning nor end. The sea stretched infinitely, an endless realm of shadow that swallowed all who dared descend. No light from the sun reached that far below; the world beneath was a silent cathedral of pressure and silence, untouched by the warmth of the world above.
There, within that suffocating stillness, only the faint sound of rising air bubbles could be heard — slow, steady, like the last breaths of a dying storm. The deep groaned softly, echoing through the unseen trenches. Amid this soundless abyss, a heartbeat pulsed — deep and distant, like the rhythm of a sacred drum echoing through the temple halls of ancient gods.
A man moved through that darkness. His movements were calm, deliberate, and steady. Slowly, his eyes opened — eyes of gold that shimmered faintly, breaking the void with a light that refused to die. Even as the crushing weight of the deep pressed upon his body, his expression did not waver. The water trembled slightly around him; it was not merely the current — it was the vibration of something vast, something alive, something old.
The currents shifted. Sand rose from the seabed, swirling in slow circles, clouding the water in a golden haze. The dim particles drifted like spirits lost in the depths, moving to a rhythm beyond mortal comprehension. He could feel it — the tremor, the hum, the calling of an ancient being.
And then — it appeared.
From the black expanse below, faint light began to form — dim streaks of orange and red flickering through the dark like embers struggling to breathe. The glow moved closer, swelling, pulsing, until the silhouette of a colossal creature emerged. The pressure changed instantly — the sea quaked. A wave of force radiated outward, scattering clouds of sand and shaking the trench walls. The abyss itself seemed to bow to its arrival.
That light, that breath of fire beneath the waves, grew brighter until it revealed the creature's form — an immense, awe-inspiring being covered in scales that gleamed like volcanic rock still cooling from eruption. Its body was enormous, vast enough to eclipse everything around it, its presence turning the darkness into something tangible, heavy, divine.
It was no ordinary creature.
It was Thamagewal — the Sea Beast of legend.
Its hide was black as obsidian, carved with natural streaks of orange and red that glowed faintly, as though molten fire flowed within its veins. These glowing lines were alive, shifting and pulsing like the heartbeat of the ocean itself. The light did not blaze fiercely; rather, it shimmered softly, glowing with a restrained ferocity — a divine flame subdued beneath the surface.
Each scale was thick and ancient, hard as forged iron, glinting with subtle luminescence. On close look, each one bore markings — lines and ridges that resembled the sacred inscriptions of an era when gods still walked among men. Whenever it moved, the scales ground against one another with a low metallic hum, a resonant sound that carried through the water like the chime of a great bell tolling in the cathedral of the sea.
The creature's movement was slow yet unstoppable — every motion spoke of immeasurable strength. When its tail swept through the water, a current surged outward like a storm reborn. Waves burst against unseen walls, echoing deep into the trenches. Sand and rock were lifted and thrown into the flow, turning the ocean floor into a vortex of drifting shadow and light.
The man with shoulder-length white hair watched it all with a calm that concealed recognition. The moment he saw the creature, he knew. He knew what it was, what name it carried through the silence of time.
It was Thamagewal — the sacred guardian beast, once the pet of ancient Sea Gods.
Born from the fire of the earth and the spirit of the sea, it was said to embody both elements — flame and water united, destruction and life intertwined. It was not merely a monster; it was a divine creation meant to defend the sacred realm of the ocean, an enforcer of the gods' will during the primordial age.
In ages long past, when mortals still whispered prayers to the tides, Thamagewal patrolled the unseen depths. It struck without hesitation at any ship or trespasser who crossed into divine waters. The ocean itself would rise at its command; storms formed in its wake, swallowing fleets whole. Legends claimed that when it surfaced, the sky would darken, and thunder would echo even across distant shores.
Its jaws could crush vessels of steel as though they were shells. Its tail could whip the sea into towering walls of water. Entire kingdoms near the coast had vanished beneath the waves when it was enraged. To the ancients, it was both guardian and executioner — the silent wrath of the sea given form.
But time changed everything.
The gods of old fell silent, their temples shattered, and their realms faded into myth. The Sea God to whom Thamagewal once belonged vanished in the war of deities. The beast remained — faithful, unyielding — but without a master to command it, it wandered aimlessly through the endless blue, its once-purposeful rage turning into blind instinct.
Now it struck at all who entered its domain, bound not by malice, but by memory — by duty etched into its very soul. For centuries it swam through the abyss, alone, unseen, forgotten, yet feared. Those who dared sail across the forbidden waters sometimes caught glimpses of faint orange and red lights beneath the waves — and fled. Survivors spoke of an enormous shadow gliding beneath them, glowing faintly like fire breathing within darkness.
To mortals, it became a legend.
To sailors, it was a curse.
To the sea — it was still a god.
Generations passed, and humankind grew arrogant. One day, a human king — ruler of a great coastal empire — sought to prove his dominion over nature. He heard the tales and desired to capture the creature for himself. With fleets of iron ships and armies of mages, he declared a hunt for Thamagewal, determined to claim what once belonged to the divine.
The battle that followed became legend. The ocean roared as though it remembered the wrath of its ancient god. Lightning tore the sky apart, striking the waves that rose like mountains. Ships were crushed, the sea turned crimson, and for days, thunder never ceased. When it was over, the mighty Thamagewal — the flame beneath the waves — was subdued and bound.
The king, drunk with triumph, sent it as an offering to the new Sea God, that it might serve again as a sacred beast of the divine.
And so, Thamagewal — once the terror of the depths — became once more a guardian, chained not by choice, but by destiny.
The man with white hair knew this history. He could feel it in the rhythm of the creature's presence — that echo of power and sorrow intertwined. His golden eyes reflected the faint glow that pulsed along Thamagewal's form. To others, the creature would seem a monster; to him, it was something far greater — a living relic, a being whose strength was rivaled only by its loneliness.
The heat that shimmered beneath its skin radiated outward, rippling the water with waves of dim light. The glow of its markings danced like liquid fire, painting the darkness with shifting patterns of red and orange. The ocean around them seemed alive — breathing, shimmering, endless. The sight was both terrible and beautiful, a vision that only the gods themselves might truly comprehend.
Slowly, Thamagewal swam past him. The motion alone sent shockwaves through the water, carrying the weight of ages. Its shadow engulfed the man, stretching far and wide until all that surrounded him was darkness tinged with ember-light. Small sea creatures scattered in every direction, driven by instinctive fear of the great power that passed by.
Yet to the man, there was no fear — only reverence. The creature's presence filled him with the awareness of something eternal. It was as though he stood before the very spirit of the ocean — vast, unending, merciless, yet full of sorrow. The sound it made was low and resonant, a deep vibration that could be felt more than heard, like the whisper of a forgotten god murmuring from the depths of the world.
He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the water to move gently against his skin, feeling the immense power that surrounded him. It was not hostility; it was simply being — the raw existence of something beyond good or evil. The sea's rhythm pulsed in his chest, syncing with his heartbeat until the two became one.
For a time, there was nothing else — no up or down, no sound except the deep hum of the ocean's breath. The only thing that existed was the vastness — the overwhelming majesty of the creature before him.
Slowly, the massive form of Thamagewal drifted away, fading into the abyss. The glowing patterns along its body dimmed gradually, melting back into the dark until there was nothing left but silence and the faint shimmer of disturbed sand settling once more.
And in that silence, a single truth lingered —
that the greatness of the ocean was not in its beauty, but in its power
The white-haired man remained still for a moment, his body frozen by the sheer awe of what stood before him. The glow of Thamagewal illuminated the depths, painting the world around them in a dance of crimson and amber light. The sand beneath swirled like dust in a storm, and even the smallest sea creatures fled in silent terror.
Then Thamagewal began to move — not with haste, but with purpose. The colossal tail stirred the waters with a force that could shatter reefs. The current surged forward, and the man felt it drag against his body, pulling him toward the creature. Instinct took over. He kicked his legs, fighting the flow, every muscle in his body straining against the sea's crushing grip.
He had no weapon, no divine aura to shield him — only willpower and the faint glow of his own existence. The ocean churned violently as Thamagewal drew closer. Its size dwarfed him completely; compared to that ancient being, he was but a speck of dust, a whisper in an endless world.
He turned, forcing himself upward, pushing through the thick layers of water toward the faint light above. His lungs screamed for air, the salt burning his throat. His golden eyes flickered with pain and determination as he broke through the surface with a gasp.
The sky above was dark and heavy with clouds. Lightning flashed far in the distance, and the wind howled across the open water. The waves rose and fell in enormous swells, tossing him like a fragile leaf. He looked back — the surface rippled, and a shadow passed beneath him. The ocean groaned as Thamagewal surfaced, breaking through the waves like a mountain rising from the deep. Water cascaded down its body in roaring sheets. Its breath alone sent gusts of wind that rippled across the sea.
The sight was overwhelming — a being so powerful, so vast, that the very elements seemed to bow in reverence.
The man's heartbeat quickened. Every instinct told him to flee, to survive. And so he did. He turned, kicking through the waves with desperate strength. The sound of water splitting behind him thundered like rolling storms.
He swam with everything he had. The salt stung his eyes, his limbs ached, but he didn't stop. The ocean around him roared with the sound of pursuit.
Then, through the haze of spray and wind, he saw it — land.
A faint silhouette emerged against the horizon: an island, rising from the sea like a silent sentinel. It was not large, but it was real. The closer he swam, the more details he could make out — dark sand glistening under the dim light, the shadow of jagged rocks, and beyond them, a towering volcano that reached toward the clouds. Around its base stretched a thick forest, wild and untouched, swaying in rhythm with the storm's breath.
He forced his body onward, waves crashing over him again and again. His arms felt numb, his body heavy, but the thought of the massive beast behind him drove him on. Finally, when his strength was nearly gone, his hand touched sand.
He pulled himself forward, crawling onto the beach. The wet sand clung to his clothes, and he collapsed, gasping for breath. The sound of waves echoed behind him — rhythmic, endless, powerful — but now, it carried no pursuit. He turned his head weakly toward the ocean.
Out there, in the distance, the surface glowed faintly red. Thamagewal's great form lingered for a moment, half-submerged, its burning eyes watching him. Then, with a slow, graceful motion, it sank beneath the waves once more, vanishing into the endless blue.
Silence fell. Only the crackle of distant thunder and the whisper of the sea remained.
He lay there for a long time, feeling the coarse grains of sand beneath his fingers. The island around him was alive with sound — the distant rumble of the volcano, the rustle of unseen creatures moving in the jungle, the soft hiss of wind sliding over stone.
For the first time since entering the sea, he allowed himself to breathe deeply. The air was heavy with salt and ash, but it was air nonetheless.
Above, the clouds parted slightly, and a faint shaft of light broke through — pale and fleeting, but real. It washed over the man's white hair, making it glimmer faintly, like a thread of light against the darkened world.
The island before him was wild and untamed — a place where nature's fury and beauty coexisted in perfect balance. The beach stretched far along the coast, dotted with dark stones. Beyond it rose cliffs that led toward the volcano, its slopes covered in thick green trees. Somewhere within that wild land, perhaps, lay shelter.