The handfish groped his way down the ancient lava tube, dexterous fins scratching against bare rock, and, hopefully, pulling him in the right direction. The waters of the ancient volcano were unmapped and uninhabited; tube worms and the bone-white crustaceans scuttling over mollusks would have made novel scenery, but toxic spumes kept even the bravest explorers at bay.
But the little handfish was on a mission; the tug of the package tied across his chest shifted with the microcurrents, a constant reminder. A deep rumble scared him into stillness, body pressed to the rocks. The sharp sound of coral scraping across stone burrowed between his gills.
He darted towards the source, turning down branching paths until the ground disappeared beneath him. Panic clasped him as he began to fall. The chamber was a great cylinder, darkness engulfing either end.
“What are you doing in my home?”
The handfish, now treading water with some difficulty, looked around for the speaker. There was a slight shifting of black-within-black below.
“O, great Ocean Lord,” he cried, “I’ve come to request your aid!”
The darkness shifted again, contemplative. It muttered in a guttural language long forgotten.
“M’Lord?”
Like a beam of light, a figure shot upward, sinuous as a snake, jaws like an eel, a flowing mane of grass parallel to sparkling lateral lines. The form was so great in length that it continued down into the dark. It set the handfish in its tricolor sights.
“What imbecilic solicitation do you have for me?” Pointed teeth filled the mouth, bigger than even those of the long-dead monstrous sharks that only swam in the nightmares of fingerlings.
The handfish flopped over his actions. Why would the ruler of the entire ocean want to help him? A pathetic fish that could barely swim.
“Well?” A stream of bubbles shot out from the pair of the Lord’s… blowholes? on the end of its snout. What type of creature was this? An ancient one, at least, though its scales were unmarred by barnacles or scars.
The handfish took a steadying gulp of water before barreling through his prepared speech. “There’s this cormorant that I see sometimes, not above, of course, but he dives down, and I’m not really seeing him, we haven’t talked much, why would he bother with somefish like me? He’s from the lands above and he can swim better than me! That’s why I need to really impress him. I’ve been looking for something to give him, and I wanted it to match the brilliant yellow of his face, but all I’ve found is…” He struggled to open the purse, and took out a rock, clear as a jellyfish, vaguely cylindrical with angular edges. To him, it felt huge, but it must’ve seemed worthless to the Lord of the seas.
“I, um, was going to ask if I could trade you for a yellow one, but I should stop wasting your time…”
The Lord was still, save the flowing of its mane. The more the handfish looked at it, the less he knew. There were no fluttering gills, no smooth skin, yet eyes shining with that something dolphins always had.
He could only hope it wasn’t their malevolence.
“And why is it that I should help you?” the Lord asked.
“Because you’re the ruler of all water, your power is infinite, and you, uh, probably have a big treasury and might want to trade.”
Again the Lord muttered to itself in some language too great for the handfish to know.
“I totally understand if you don’t want to,” the handfish added, “since I’m so—“
“SILENCE!” the Lord roared. Its fury was so great that the water itself grew heated. The handfish almost dropped his rock.
“You mean to tell me that you, the tiniest fish I’ve ever seen, who can barely swim, plunged into the heart of a volcano to ask a literal god for a yellow rock?”
“Y-yes, m’Lord.”
“For a cormorant.”
“He, um, is really quite nice. I think.”
The Lord shook its head, the grass ghosting the movement. “I suppose I wouldn’t make a very good ‘Lord’ if I ignore your… puerile… temerity.” It rose up, coils pressing into the walls of the chamber, and still no end in sight.
“O tiny one,” the Ocean Lord said, voice so mighty that it shook the volcano itself, “by facing untold dangers for the sake of unrequited love, your heart shall shine with bravery unlike any across my endless seas. You already possess character so great that it would win the heart of any, uh, bird.”
The handfish swelled with a pride he didn’t think possible. Before he could reflect further, the Lord sank down, meeting his gaze.
“So, this is what we’ll do: you drop the stone and then swim out of this chamber, as fast and as far as you can. Count to one hundred, and your wish shall be granted.”
The handfish attempted to swim a somersault in glee, but mostly made a fool of himself. “I am forever in your debt, my Lord.” He held the rock out, giving it one final look. It was imperfect, scratches marring its smooth surfaces. Would it really make an acceptable offering?
He dropped it and turned tail to swim back into the tubes. A great current threw him forward, tumbling tail over fin. He quickly righted himself before hot water roiled from the chamber; he dove into a stony niche and dodged the worst of it.
He counted the moments until it was safe to return. He crept up the tunnel to the mouth of the cave. The Ocean Lord was gone, but awaiting him on the tunnel’s edge was his stone, turned a brilliant shade of yellow, bright as the sun and still warm from the magic of the Lord’s blessing.
He picked it up; it still had its flaws, but held a great light within. He tucked it away and began the long swim home, unafraid of whatever the future might bring.