THE SUGARTIDE & THE FIRECRACKER
The electric arrow strikes true—crackling across the shell of the nearest coconut crab with a zap that explodes it. The berry-painted marauders erupt into disarray, their clacking chorus reaching a comedic crescendo as they scuttle in all directions. One, proudly flying its tiny pirate flag, does a dramatic roll into the water like it’s been mortally wounded. Flora swears it was faking.
"That’s right," she calls triumphantly, tossing one of the glowing shells toward a clear patch of lagoon sand. "Torchline says no looting during infrastructure upgrades!"
With the crabs temporarily scattered, Melita and Flora are free yeet the first of their protective shells. But a few shell-thieves linger, peeking from behind rocks and coconuts like they’re plotting revenge. Which, knowing Torchline’s wildlife, they absolutely are. "Hey, you wanna scare those ones off while I throw these over?"
HADAMA
The stingray doesn’t flee—but it pauses. Manta-Hadama, gleaming and enormous, eclipses the sunlight in a wide arc as he glides over the seabed. His cephalic lobes spread like wings of silk, trailing currents that stir the seafloor. The stingray flutters upward in challenge, puffing up slightly with territorial bravado. For a long moment, it hovers—eye to eye with Hadama—and then, slowly, it sinks back into the shifting sand, its ripple fading into silence once more.
Victory—though a quiet one.
Hadama is free to resume dropping his shells.
THE ARK
By the time the laughter fades and order is tentatively restored, the Ark nears the volcanic shallows fringing Apopo. The water here bubbles faintly—not from heat, but from gas vents riddling the ocean floor like an unseen minefield. The closer the ship gets to the intended drop zones, the more the bubbles intensify, rising in silver flurries. On the surface, it’s eerily quiet—until one of the vents erupts, sending a geyser of steam and water high into the air and startling a nearby flock of hels into a chaotic spiral.
The vents seem to flare in irregular pulses, not entirely predictable. Timing the shell drops may prove tricky, especially with the risk of sudden eruptions throwing them off-course—or worse, tossing them back up.
3/8
The electric arrow strikes true—crackling across the shell of the nearest coconut crab with a zap that explodes it. The berry-painted marauders erupt into disarray, their clacking chorus reaching a comedic crescendo as they scuttle in all directions. One, proudly flying its tiny pirate flag, does a dramatic roll into the water like it’s been mortally wounded. Flora swears it was faking.
"That’s right," she calls triumphantly, tossing one of the glowing shells toward a clear patch of lagoon sand. "Torchline says no looting during infrastructure upgrades!"
With the crabs temporarily scattered, Melita and Flora are free yeet the first of their protective shells. But a few shell-thieves linger, peeking from behind rocks and coconuts like they’re plotting revenge. Which, knowing Torchline’s wildlife, they absolutely are. "Hey, you wanna scare those ones off while I throw these over?"
HADAMA
The stingray doesn’t flee—but it pauses. Manta-Hadama, gleaming and enormous, eclipses the sunlight in a wide arc as he glides over the seabed. His cephalic lobes spread like wings of silk, trailing currents that stir the seafloor. The stingray flutters upward in challenge, puffing up slightly with territorial bravado. For a long moment, it hovers—eye to eye with Hadama—and then, slowly, it sinks back into the shifting sand, its ripple fading into silence once more.
Victory—though a quiet one.
Hadama is free to resume dropping his shells.
THE ARK
By the time the laughter fades and order is tentatively restored, the Ark nears the volcanic shallows fringing Apopo. The water here bubbles faintly—not from heat, but from gas vents riddling the ocean floor like an unseen minefield. The closer the ship gets to the intended drop zones, the more the bubbles intensify, rising in silver flurries. On the surface, it’s eerily quiet—until one of the vents erupts, sending a geyser of steam and water high into the air and startling a nearby flock of hels into a chaotic spiral.
The vents seem to flare in irregular pulses, not entirely predictable. Timing the shell drops may prove tricky, especially with the risk of sudden eruptions throwing them off-course—or worse, tossing them back up.
3/8
THE
Sugartide
