Of Wave Crests and Crystals Parker Ornes Deep beneath the sea, a sprawling stone ruin rested covered in ooze and waterweeds. It seemed to grow out of the surrounding rock, hardly visible in the murk. Inside the greenish walls, mazes filled with deadly traps—spiked pits, fake exploding doors, and collapsing ceilings—all leading to one vast hall at the center. Skeletons littered the passageways, some with armor still rusting on their bones. Double doors, their carvings of heroes and giants still sharp and bold from years underground, stood unopened as they had been for millennia. If one were to open them, the last thing they would see were the jaws of a vast and mythic monster that guarded the crystal hidden there. Her blunt, whale-like head rested on the ground, all three eyes focused upon the speck of foam on the wave crest she meticulously carved out of stone with the tip of her claw. Once in a while she shifted a heap of gems out of the way with her other hand. It had taken a long time for her get the fall and flow of spray exactly right, with much careful imagining, planning, and deliberating. Then she would move on to the next wave. It would have been so much easier if she could remember more clearly the last time she had even seen real sea foam. It was because she had her head to the floor that she heard the scratching. Not far from the third to last pillar on the right side of the hall, the sound was soft and slight. In the eons of stillness, the sound was like a thunder of marching moles. She watched the spot the noise came from, absolutely still, a grinning mountain of green fur and scales. She had no idea how long it had been since a thief broke in. No passage of time interrupted the silence, no sun or moon, no heat in the cold, sealed stone. Often, but not nearly often enough, a thief would seek the treasure the monster guarded in the center of the ruins. Some were hardened fighters, but others were just reckless fools with a knife and no common sense. They were a brief flicker of entertainment in a dull, silent hall. Then no robbers skulked the halls, and no brazen barbarians barged in. Maybe the death traps carefully placed throughout the ruins claimed them. Maybe they all forgot the tales of treasures buried there.
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