The Obsidian Singer's Bed

The void-currents of the Drifting Reefs swallow any sailor who cannot sing the paths. With my eyes blindfolded and a piece of flint in my fist, I can navigate the darkest star-seas by the echo of my own voice. But my song woke Arsham-shah—a primordial ocean-god whose skin is living coral and starlight. He rose from the abyss not to drown my people, but to drag me down into his glowing depths. He watches me from the black water, his touch pulling the tide beneath my skin, demanding that I sing only for him. If I refuse him, my people will never find land; if I yield, I will drown in his desire.