I should have known the pale faces would respond well to fear. I chuckled, remembering. I can still see the terror flashing across their faces, their eyes wide as I strode from the sea, a blue skinned demon with eyes of liquid fire.
I’d burned the structures they had built, my hands pulling fire from the air. I destroyed it all, and they ran from me. I felt pride then. And satisfaction. I’d wondered, is this what my father had felt when he pulled down the walls of Atlantis?
My revelry was broken by a sound, a small cracking that brought me back. It was one of the dark ones, Manteo. Manteo had lived with the pale faces and spoke their words, something I always felt puzzling.
Manteo strode through the wreckage to where one of the larger dwellings once stood. He there began to carve something into a post that stood as the last remnant of a sad civilization.
I watched him go, and slithered over to investigate. A word was scrawled there, a word of warning and memory. One word. My name.