Beyond the amber glow of Alhazred’s skull-candle was nothing but darkness, and in the light’s

reach he saw nothing more than the wet stone upon which his feet stood. A foul union of briny and ferric scents serried the air, though by now he had come to tolerate the miasma as an inexpungible fifth companion in their aquatic incursions. Still, the company of vile winds was insufficient reason for him to slacken his dagger hand nor to bask his ears in the oceanic ambiance.

To where has Josephine gone? Where are my companions?

The question echoed in his mind as did his memory of the past few minutes. A pack of the fish-men had descended upon them as they entered the grand chamber of their wicked queen, known only to the surface folk as the Siren. From the piscine maws of their shamans escaped the harsh and inhuman gurglings that passed for language among the abominations, catching the notice of some ruinous power that answered their bestial call with a stygian wind that snuffed the party’s crepitant torches. In the fleeting moments before the darkness took hold, Damian erupted into his deranged exultations before making a mad dash for the Siren herself, trailed by a pack of aquatic horrors who’d sooner fall than witness their majesty’s scales be sullied by the tools of man. Though Damian had attracted the brunt of the vile guard, a contingent had remained to harry the rest. Ever the laggard, Alhazred was far behind his beloved Josephine and the mighty Barristan, both surrounded by a mob of spear-and-sword wielding pelagics.

Once the shadows had befallen them, the ambush had quickly turned into a brawl as the men struggled to parry blows and land cuts in the dark. Still, the rhythm of steel upon steel was soon accompanied by the discordant and shrill death throes of the denizens of the deep. Death had come close to collecting his due if not for a timely leap backwards from Alhazred that turned a deep cut into a light graze, the attacker’s intentions betrayed by the splash of a misplaced webbed foot. Once steadied, he returned to his attacker with a lunge that caught the fish-man in its throat, drawing out a wet gurgle from its punctured larynx as it collapsed upon the cold earth.

He returned his mind once again to the present moment where the symphony of battle had faded into the soft patter of droplets and the soft roiling of the waves. The clamor of clashing steel had been supplanted by an undisturbed quiet, though by now Alhazred had come to learn that “quiet” and “peace” were not one in the same. It was without remonstrance that the melody of a woman’s aria, equal parts serene and wistful began to fill the air. The beautiful song reverberated throughout the cave as if it came from everywhere and yet its singer was nowhere to be seen, embraced by the stygian surroundings. Alhazred fought to steel his will against that first haunting note and the rest that would soon follow, lest he allow his mind to be usurped by dread allegiance to the pelagic queen.

Only a single thought remained to anchor his consciousness and memory now served to seal his mind from the vile contagion. He remembered her smile far too often hidden beneath her silk trappings, tenfold the value of any gemstone or artifact. The cavern’s cold disappeared as if they were once again in warm embrace by the tavern fireplace, entranced by each other's gaze as they spoke together of love until the end whether it would arrive at the bed of a sanitarium or in an ancient ruin. Josephine, her image and voice, were the embankment upon which the foul tide of the temptress’ notes crashed and broke apart.

He had lost count of the passing seconds before the dreadful music began to fade then disappear entirely. A smile split his lips, borne of the pride that came with knowing that he had resisted easily what had driven countless others into piscine madness. The world had returned to darkness and silence, though for only a moment as a faint glow emerged in the distance followed by cries for help from a voice all too familiar to Alhazred. Drawing upon his own ardor he burst into a sprint and made for the direction of the scream.

Shadows parted and gave way to the glow of a censer from which strange herbs burned, filling the air with vapors that carried with them flavors and sensations exotic and ephemeral. The light revealed a dreadful scene of a wide-eyed Josephine with her kukri raised against a towering pelagic brute bearing chitinous hide. Alhazred could not help but wonder how even in the midst of horror and panic, she still remained beautiful and serene as ever; and yet this beauty would soon fade from the world lest he act now.

The alien verses spilled forth from his mouth in a strange chant, its syllables sharp and harsh on the tongue yet they each flowed so smoothly together as would a weave of thorns. Darkness came upon them once again, this time not as a boon of the cove dwellers but as a friend to the occultist and his beloved. Lifting his skull-candle high in the air, the world itself began to tear open where the colossal crustacean stood and from these fissures in reality spilled forth the hands of the abyss in all their otherworldly glory. The shellbacked freak struggled against the tentacles, but for all its bestial strength it was little more than a rat squirming to free itself from a python’s grip. With the utterance of another foul verse, the vile appendages seemed to strengthen their hold upon the arthropodic warrior whose writhing had now ceased. An almost human scream emanated from its mandibles as cracks began to form upon its chitin-armor, which wept a blue ichor. Alhazred savored the suffering of Josephine’s assailant and allowed himself the pleasure of its tortured aria; it was only once its inhuman screech had reached its crescendo that he would grant it the mercy of death. Speaking once more in that alien tongue that commanded the tentacles to crush their captive as a man squeezes the juice from a fruit before they returned to the hideous realm of their origin. The pulverized body of the chitinous giant fell upon the cold stone in a wet thud that sent cerulean blood and shards of broken shell flying.

With the fiend dead, crushed and splayed across the cove floor, Alhazred rushed to comfort his

beloved and embraced her in his arms once more. They hugged tightly, and as they did he felt her cold and wet skin pressed upon his own. He placed his hands upon the side of her face and stared once more into those eyes he had stared into many times before, the ones that made him forget for a moment the unspeakable horrors that lurked within the fabric of reality and gave him the strength to face them time and time again.

“My beloved, are you hurt?”

“Not at all my dearest, not at all.”

And with that he pulled his mouth towards hers, losing himself once and for all in the taste of his Queen’s briny kiss.