Darkness crawls in tentacles reaching as death’s fingers outward from my body. Inky shadows extend beyond these appendages snuffing out all light from the night sky. Only the moon refuses to hide. My lips curl at her defiance and I cast a pall in retaliation. Mist rises from below and the brilliant orb is encased. Now all shall see it…

I scan the water below and cannot see him. My thoughts command as I move forward, gliding effortlessly as is my right, over the inky sea. Even the sea creatures flee and this is good, I cannot be trusted with innocence – a truth I do not attempt to suppress.
Humankind is weak, my prey when death overtakes its ravaged human body.

Fools, to think you can run from me. Your instinct only weakens you.

Ahead, I hear voices - men’s voices. They celebrate – or mourn. Perhaps they know I seek them out. Perhaps he is with them. The waves reach up toward the blackened heavens, their currents stir beneath me as I pass overhead. I cannot help myself and scoff at the folly of Mother Nature – pure, sacred and vulnerable to my whims. My hand moves only slightly and a single rise from the water becomes lethal. Maelstrom, I believe mankind calls it. Let them have it then – a maelstrom sent from Morrigan, a gift to the weak who will offer their lives as a sacrifice for their comrades. Foolish, malleable mankind – so easily manipulated to give me all that I seek. And as they die, these brave, silly men, I will be waiting – their souls to collect as my own.

He is not there.

If that be the case, then they must all die to pay the price. He was meant to be on that vessel and he is not. I feel my anger seethe and the waters below mirror my fury. Indeed the dead belong to me – in silence, in the dark, in death. My eyes glance upward once again as the voices sound from below, urgently fighting to save their beautiful ship and pathetic lives. Tossed to and fro upon angry seas which I control as I do the night sky, I hear the futile effort of drowning men against my wrath. Now I see life ebb slowly from those who sacrifice first and I choose to laugh at the futility of human life. My voice carries over the wind, hissing, screaming - death’s greeting.

I am here. I come to collect the souls of the dead and carry them with me to hell. The moon remains defiant, a light among the darkness. My pall encircles her, a warning of my presence.

Those who are wise will heed the warning of the Midnight Omen.