The soft lapping of water echoed within the darkness of the cave as the Oceans of Teeth licked its lonesome shores, a slow and gentle rhythm, pushed by the currents that reached from far underneath the rock. A tender glow was present, lifted off the dark cerulean tide and reflected onto the shimmering walls, crossed with the writings of a frantic man in his death throes. Ancient was the stone scripture, but it had not aged a day, ripped far away from its original place and time. The River that Pierces the Worlds dragged it to the Ocean’s shores, where it nurtured the accursed thing. Far along the cave’s wall, shouldering the consuming darkness, lay the center of the writing’s attention. A name. Kietsayl’s name. The writings harbored it there, held it close, waiting for the one who would loose it from its moorings. All they had to do was read it. Just read it and it would be theirs, all their own until their death. The thought of it enraged Kietsayl. The waters of the cave pool parted and Kietsayl’s scales were a whisper across the wet bedrock as he emerged from the depths. Rivulets poured from the dark tresses that tumbled down his back, accentuating the creases of his muscular torso, which tensed at the sight of the accursed writings. There was a rumble of disdain and hatred, a growl that leaked through painfully sharp teeth. Scratches surrounded the name, his name, a cruel reminder of his only curse, but he had not been able to break it apart. Could not destroy the damned thing, not even when it was on rock before him. The only thing that could take it away was another sentient being. Wretched, cursed, terrible thing. A seething scream worked its way from his throat, vibrating the cave about him. The Oceans seemed to still, the rhythm dampened. The world about him held its breath. A hot breath of air huffed through his nostrils and Kietsayl willed his rage to be chained. As long as it remained here, in the Oceans of Teeth, the plane that crossed all planes, he could protect it. It would be safe. It was on that thought that Kietsayl wrapped the shadows about him like silk, settling against his bulk in the darkness. The pearl eyes did not close, never closed, but the vigilance of them dulled. Safe. It will be safe.