Three nights into karkinokhora mating season, Hanqui’ll had almost finished her first carving, while the shallows outside the main dwelling had descended into full, true, unequivocable chaos.

  As the reef crumbled before the endless assault of karkinokhora, fish scattered from destroyed hiding spots, desperate to find another before they could be snatched away and thrown into the gaping gullets of the towering beasts that hunted them. Scattered sand clouded the water near the seabed, providing some cover for non-monstrous crabs and other grounded animals to find new hiding spots or snatch a risky scrap of food from the carnage above them.

  The thudding sound of the monster’s legs crushing the shallows and the snapping of claws in challenge to potential opponents echoed through the main dwelling, however distant. The far-off sound of wailing ketorallion as they were torn apart by karkinokhora, the thick coral-covered hides no match for their monstrous pincers.

  Hanqui’ll shuddered at the thought of such a creature dying. Even though ketorallion were larger than selakhoapetra, easily dwarfing a guneikhthus in size, they were the most gentle creatures to be found in the seas, and worthy of a much better end than at a karkinokhora’s claws.

  Hanqui’ll carving was a miniature model of one of the guards, sculpted from memory. It was lumpy, disproportionate, and only barely recognizable as what it was meant to look like.

  Hanqui’ll sighed, and began another.

  Seven nights saw the second carving finished, and the death of an elder karkinokhora. Overwhelmed by dozens of young adults, it fell not too far from the entrance of the dwelling after a long and violent battle.

  Its corpse was swarmed until only scraps of its armor remained, scattered across the sand and rock as if it had exploded. Its killers fought amongst themselves for the right to use the elder's flesh as an offering to a mate, finally ending when only two remained, splitting the bounty of both the elder and their former allies' meat between them.

  Some thought it a sign that karkinokhora were becoming more social. Others thought that it was merely a forced compromise since neither was certain that they could win. It didn't look like a forced compromise to Hanqui'll. It looked like something new, something that sent shivers through her entire body.

  Hanqui’ll’s sculpture was of a ketorallion. It was a little too bulky, and only slightly more recognizable than her first carving, but even in the state it was, it was beautiful.

  She started another.

  A dozen nights saw the water begin to warm, signaling the soon-to-come end of the mating season.

  Karkinokhora became more violent, desperate to mate before the season ended and they lost their chance. The fights that took place outside the dwelling became so brutal that at one point they evacuated into the tunnels in case the dueling monsters broke into the cavern during their combat.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Finally, the battle ended, the survivor gorging itself upon the carcass of its opponent as it dragged it off to find a female to offer it to. One of the karkinokhora’s claws, torn off during the fight, rested in front of the dwelling for only a short time before another came past and snatched it from its resting place.

  From the mouth of the cavern, Hanqui’ll watched an episkopophiura do battle with a frenzied karkinokhora to defend the section of reef it protected. The karkinokhora must have been truly desperate if it was willing to fight one of the few predators it had.

  Eventually, the noise of the karkinokhora’s shell cracking beneath the tentacles of the episkopophiura sounded, and Hanqui’ll knew it was over.

  Her carving was of a simple octopus. The main body looked right, but the tentacles weren’t the right length or width and didn’t look right.

  She kept carving.

  Sixteen nights from the beginning of the mating season, it ended. The Karkinokhora finished and left, the males leaving first while the females lay their eggs in hidden nooks away from sight. Then they too retreated to the deeper waters, until the shallows were engulfed in an eerie silence.

  Slowly, the reef’s denizens emerged, carefully eyeing their surroundings until it was clear that all Karkinokhora were gone for the season.

  The remnants of battles could be spotted almost everywhere. Not even a fin’s length of the shallows was untouched, the shattered, empty armor of fallen karkinokhora forming a grisly imitation of coral in the carcass of the actual reef. In the distance, a shape recognizable as a dead selakhoapetra the size of the dwelling entrance was left shredded across the seabed, picked clean of meat.

  The repair began. Shelters damaged by the rush were fixed or abandoned, the phosphoton plants that had been growing almost undisturbed were ripe for harvest and generous in their bounty, and the living selakhoapetra that had bravely picked off some of the karkinokhora as they came and went were bandaged of their wounds that had yet to already heal.

  Huge episkopophiura which had valiantly defended their reef territories from the karkinokhora swarms, basked in the sunlight filtering through the water, the coral beneath them remarkably healthy considering the surroundings. Few guneikhthus swam close, knowing just how deadly their tentacles could be despite their typical gentleness.

  A message was sent to the outposts to confirm that the main dwelling still existed, and any karkinokhora corpses left behind were harvested for their meat and armor. Some guneikhthus would go out and smash any karkinokhora eggs they could find, but they would never find all of them.

  Hanqui’ll finished her fourth carving. It still wasn’t great, but it was recognizable as the elder karkinokhora that had been killed outside of the dwelling on the day of the seventh night. Its body as it fell planted itself into Hanqui’ll’s mind, compelling her to carve it. The resulting sculpture was recognizable but oddly proportioned.

  She would improve. She already had since her first.

  When the second moon crested the far horizon, the reef was back to normal. Upon reaching halfway to the highest point of the sky, the karkinokhora eggs hatched, releasing the head-sized child monsters.

  Some died to predators or were killed by guneikhthus that could recognize them for what they were, while others grew slowly over the course of two more mating seasons into powerful juveniles that would follow their elders into the deep water and emerge again as adults. Some died to selakhoapetra as they entered the shallows again, others to rival adults that challenged them for food and mates.

  The cycle repeated, as it always did and always would, for years and years and years.

  Krika and Balta rematerialized outside the door that had previously been used to access the party held by Kranua.

  “Well,” Balta started. “We have some work to do.”

  Krika hummed in agreement.

  “So,” Balta continued, bouncing off of her companion’s sometimes frustrating reluctance to use verbal communication. “To the library?”

  “I would be disappointed if not.” Krika hissed.

  So to the library they went, ignoring the stupified expressions on the human servants' faces as they watched them appear from (what was to them) nowhere at all.

  Ketorallion: A meshing of the ancient greek words for "whale" and "coral." Kêtos (whale), Korállion (coral).

  Episkopophiura: A meshing of the ancient greek words for "overseer" and the scientific name for Brittle Stars, which is itself a mesh of two other ancient greek words, "serpent" and "tail." Episkopos (overseer), Ophiura (a meshing of the words óphis (serpent) and ourá (tail)).

  piskopophiura being protectors of coral is based on the real-life behavior of some types of brittle stars. During the Deepwater Horizon oil spill in 2010, a study was conducted on brittle stars that were hanging out on coral in the affected area (because some brittle stars will latch onto coral and just wrap themselves around the branches). Over the years that the study was conducted, it was found that corals with brittle stars on them recovered faster from the effects of the oil spill than corals that didn't.

  Episkopophiura are basically all of that but turned to eleven. They pick an area in a reef and dedicate themselves to keeping that spot intact, safe, and healthy. Given their size, not even karkinokhora are safe from their wrath if one puts their claimed territory in danger.