The beast did not have ears, but it turned.
Kaito returned to his boat, his burns already cooling. On the horizon, the bruise-colored sky broke into a gentle, ordinary sunset.
The beast rose fully: a hundred meters of jagged, asymmetrical terror. Its “skin” cracked and resealed constantly, weeping slag into the water, which hissed and threw up clouds of vapor. Where its limbs should have been, there were only lava-tubes that vented superheated gas, propelling it forward with a slow, inexorable purpose.
It moved toward the main shipping lane. A tanker, the Stellar Empress , was directly in its path.
“You are not Maguma ,” he said. “You are Yasurai —the peace that comes after the eruption. Sleep again, and dream of cool water.”