The current was strong.

The young dolphin squealed, disoriented without echo in the strange, viscous water. There was no air, and, although she didn’t drown, the liquid burned her lungs. She didn’t know where she was, but she knew it was no good. Pushed along, it was the best she could do to avoid the claws of the lurking predator.

So this was the secret of the half-millennium storms.

The shelled-like creature got too close, and she trailed blood when she managed to get away. It hung back, always just behind her. It herded her, the way a dolphin herded fish, she knew that much. But her family was here, somewhere, scared and trapped in the way she felt. She had to find them; she had to save them and any others trapped in this horrible place.

The current settled, and the lone dolphin found herself cornered. There was no way back, and all around her were the unseen enemy, their phantom forms lingering just within her sight. They clicked and chattered; she steeled herself for the impossible fight, but they were gone.

Silence but for a hum, and the dolphin trilled.

There was something dire and wrong, and it loomed in the darkness beyond. It moved slow, indolent and deliberate, and she felt it in the thick water. It was nothing of the seas, bloated and horrendous, and she shrieked in terror.

This was the secret of the half-millennium storms – the last life of a dying world.