Seek the Deep Sea Outcasts They were not made for surface things. In the kingdom beneath silence, where skulls smile sideways and watchers wear the bones of thought, they huddle. Strange forms press inward, not with fear, but the familiarity of being forgotten. Elements intertwine— limbs and memory, flame and foam, whispers of warmth in a pressure-laced deep. The smaller the group, the larger the myth. They hold nothing but each other. Snuggled in phosphorescent prayer, they light aflame— not to shine, but to vanish with intention. Into the folds of abyss they go, past the ears of whales, past the grave-chatter of sunken ships. Bubbles babble secrets too quiet to remember. They were outcasts once. Now, they are origin. Drifting beneath judgment, they find a paradise that even gods forget to name