I inhabit darkness.

Other beings are made for the light; I am not. The light scorches, it burns. It kills. Death lies in the light. All of our kind, my brothers, my cousins, and my sisters, my lineage across generations, wither and dry in the Brightness. Under the Grains of the Sea I crawl, praying the air will remain still, for fast air is the harbinger of death.

We try to sleep under the Grains during the Brightness, but food is often scarce. The best among us must travel far through the Grains for nourishment. They often return empty-handed. The searing air is habitable for many things: giant beasts which shake the ground as they walk and smaller monsters roam on top of the Sea, but we cannot.

In the dark, I flourish. Crawling free from the confines of the Grains, no longer enveloped, oppressed. I look up and ponder. Those of us far above, crawling across the deep, are many in number. They cannot inhabit the day, either.

We inhabit darkness.