The following short story/myth was recorded while I was meditating and drifting in and out of liminal hypnogogia. It has been lightly edited.
Far off the shore of the land of Terramar, in the Oneiral Ocean, there is a place where the mists gather together thickly, hiding both the sun by day and the stars and moon by night. If one dives below the waves, sinking deep into the waters, one can find a secret—no a forbidden—hollow. Sitting quietly in this hollow, one can hear the overpowering whispers of the ancient ones of the depths. In their words is much wisdom, but it is wrapped tightly in tendrils of dark confusion and writhing madness. Such voices have not been heard in the lands of sunlight for many millennia, when the ancient ones, the heroes of old, defeated the great serpents. Their conquests brought peace to the land of Terramar and they were held in great esteem by all of the people.
But as the centuries past, the memories of man grew dim and fear began to grow in their hearts—a fear that the power of the heroes would be turned against them and overpower them. And so it was that the elders of the people gathered in a secret forest clearing under the light of a full moon, and together decided to turn upon the heroes. The people banded together in tribes and waged war against the heroes in battles that lasted for months on end. In the end, the heroes were slain and their fallen bodies were taken out far into the Oneiral Ocean where they were laid to rest amid the waves. Upon their return, they announced their victory and all of the people celebrated for many nights.
But all was not well.
A great unease and dread fell over the people of Terramar. No one knew the cause, but each man felt as if an unseen foe were following him, as if an unknown danger lurked around every corner. And the storms that came that summer were undeniably fiercer than any which had ever been seen by any living man, woman, or child. Many survived the great storms. Some survived the plagues of insects which came after. A few survived the famine that came after them. Those who survived grew strong, but also ruthless and cunning. And with their craftiness they learned to rule the people of Terramar through fear. So preoccupied were they with their own fighting and fear of one another, that no one noticed when the first snakes returned, slithering onto dry land from the depths. They were small and harmless, and no one noticed. Then they were larger, but only a few people died, and still no one noticed. It was only when the son of the king, for by this time there was a king, had been bitten and slain by a great serpent, that something was done. In his grief and anger, the king called together all of the greatest warriors in the tribe and commanded that they neither eat nor drink nor sleep until they had sought out the serpent and put it to death. But the people of the tribe had no love for their king, and so that night, all of the warriors of the tribe slipped quietly away, and leaving the village, were never seen again. Seeing that there was no other way to avenge his son, the king set out the following day to find the serpent for himself.
The king traveled for many harsh days and starless nights through dense forests, over forbidding mountains and through foul marshes. On one of these bitter nights, after many miles of wandering, the king found the lair of the serpent. The serpent was a mighty adversary and fought and struggled and thrashed with all of its might. The two were locked in mortal combat until dawn, but when the morning sun rose, it was the serpent which had been defeated and slain.
Victorious, the king took the limp and lifeless body of the serpent along with a great stone and placed them in the bottom of a small boat. He set off across the Oneiral Ocean till he came to the place where the mists gather together thickly and where the light of the sun is blocked by day and the stars and moon by night. Tying the stone around his own feet and clutching the body of the serpent tightly to his chest, he slipped below the surface of the dark waters and sank into the depths, into the center of the forbidden hollow never to return.
Back in Terramar, the land entered a time of peace. The storms which had been severe grew less so, and no great serpents were seen again. Yet on a dark and silent night, in the depths of a deserted forest, at the peak of a desolate mountain top, or far from land on a calm sea, one can still hear a faint whispering, an echo of the voices of the ancient ones who speak from below the waves.
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