Her massive cephalic fins, rolled like scrolls when she rested, now unfurled to funnel rivers of plankton-rich water into her waiting maw.
Every beat of her wings was a calculated leverage against the water.
She was a creature of negative space. Measuring over twenty feet from wingtip to wingtip, she was a midnight-blue shadow above and a ghostly, scarred white below. To the land-dwellers who occasionally plunged into her world, she looked like a bird trapped in slow motion. But she did not fly; she manipulated the weight of the world. 🌀 The Rhythm of the Deep Her life was dictated by pressure and currents.
