Under the cover of night, I saw a silhouette shrouded in golden aureole

Lucifer swam between coral branches and dark algae, his fingers tracing the sandy bottom strewn with shells, mollusks, and pebbles. He picked up the items, held them up to his eyes, examined each one meticulously, turning them over in his hands: his new idea couldn't use anything mediocre. Nighttime wasn't the best time to search for something that would shimmer in the light, which patterns weren't bold, revealing their gifts only in the sunlight, but inspiration didn't ask when it would best come. The moonlight didn't penetrate the shallows now; the skies were obscured by black clouds, and the sea itself was completely covered in waves, though red lights flickered on the surface every now and then. A strange jolt distracted him from searching for things, and he looked up, spinning around in search of the source, until he felt another vibration. The round balls, which had hit the water, slowed in their fall, and, by changing their angle under the weight of the water, soon began to sink to the bottom. Lucifer, alarmed by the cannonballs hitting the sea, swam to the surface to assess the situation. He settled on the protruding rocks, where the currents of water periodically reached, covering him completely, and from there he saw several ships, struggling to overcome the high waves, periodically tangled with each other, almost breaking their masts. On the surface, he could hear the roar of the wind, the sound of waves crashing against each other and the hulls of the ships, occasionally interrupted by gunfire. «Madmen, at this time» — Lucifer thought. He dove back, intending to swim away from the battlefield, but he kept glancing sideways. A strange movement underwater, an object that didn't look like part of a weapon, caught his attention. Turning in the right direction, he spotted something among the sinking shipwrecks and cannonballs... «Could it be a man?» Quickly covering the distance, weaving between the wreckage, he found himself next to the sailor. After briefly examining him, he finally swam up from behind and grabbed the man under the armpits, returning to the rocks.

***

Several merchant ships were returning from the port city, but as evening approached, clouds began to thicken, and the sailors hoped to weather the storm, which, at first glance, seemed less severe due to the light purple clouds. But pirate ships stood in their way, and their crew, determined not to miss the opportunity to seize chests of gold, began to approach. The skirmish began as the sunset, and the sea began to swell, the waves rising ever higher, almost smashing the ships together. Although not as large as the warships, the merchant ships also possessed a number of cannons; volleys were heard from both sides, cannonballs flying from all directions, but mostly landing in the sea, occasionally piercing the wooden hulls. Alastor darted around the ship, trying to maintain his balance, avoid falling overboard, and also avoid contact with the weapons, obeying the captain's barely audible orders. However, one unfortunate cannonball hit tore off a section of wood near the deck and bulwarks, and the force of the impact sent the planks, now fragments, flying right back to where he had been caught. Caught by the wind, the broken planks gained enough force to throw the man overboard, past the railing. The fragments of wood that had pierced his body burned more than fire, but the pain was instantly eclipsed by the icy water; it enveloped him completely, cutting off his air supply, and the waves, rolling in every second, prevented him from swimming back. Alastor didn't even have time to scream, though that was useless in the storm. The light on the water's surface, created by the fires ignited on the ships by cannonballs and gunpowder explosions, turned into blurry spots. His body refused to obey. Muscles convulsed, legs refused to respond — and surfacing even for a breath of air seemed impossible. His mouth instinctively opened in an attempt to grab at least a little oxygen, but instead, water seeped into his body, filling the entire space. Consciousness began to fade as quickly as the last glimmer of light on the surface vanished. He didn't fully comprehend that the jolt he felt from below was real. Another being grabbed him and led him in a different direction, away from the ships crumbling under the onslaught of cannons and waves. Alastor woke up from the feeling that he could breathe. He tried to inhale and immediately began coughing, turning onto another side and spitting out salt water. His head was still buzzing, his vision was hazy, and although he felt like he was standing on a rock, he couldn't see anything. A voice came from somewhere far away — high, melodic, enchanting... one Alastor had never heard before, from any sailor. He tried to get a better look at the one who had apparently saved him, but the same haze made everything around him blurry. Unless he was imagining it, the person's silhouette shone in the moonlight, cloaked in a golden aureole. He was clearly saying something, but the ambient noise, mixed with the ringing in his head, obscured the meaning of his words. The longer he tried to discern the silhouette before him, the blurrier it became.

***

The first sensation that resonated in Alastor's mind, bringing him back to reality, was the sensation beneath his palms. He squeezed one of them, feeling firstly the cold, and then the sand particles crumbled, leaving only a small handful of still-cool pebbles in his human hand. He tried to open his eyes, but now the dryness was preventing him, but after a while he saw the light blue morning sky. He raised his head, looking around: small rocks, a sandy shore, and not far away the sea appeared, with small waves, barely intersecting each other, lapping the sand for a short distance, not having time to foam. Not at all the picture he had seen the night before. Then he felt something else on his body besides his clothes: lowering his head, he saw black cloth wrapped around his torso, and something similar on his forearm, right where the wood fragments had struck. It wasn't cloth, though; it was too dry. Alastor touched it with his hand, and from the feel, he might have thought it was... seaweed. He could only chuckle, then rub his forehead with his fist, pushing away the pain. Something glinted from the side, causing the man to look away. He stumbled upon a medium-sized shell, a delicate peach hue, which began to shimmer in the rays of the sun as it reached the spot they were standing in. He remembered seeing the silhouette of a man, glowing like a golden aureole in the darkness of the night.