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// Story: 80 Days: Under the Waves 
// by Sharp Spark 
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“Can you tell me about your faith?” I inquired. 

She smiled, though any warmth in the expression was eclipsed by the sight of a mouthful of wickedly-pointed teeth. “Of course. Our theology is simple. Unlike the obedient and submissive drylanders, we recognize no higher power enacting laws or dictating our course. The way of the sea is to swim forward and seize fate, ere it slips away.”

“I see,” I said. “But surely, you must have some sense of common ritual or worship? Something that orders and binds your society together?”

“Our people are united in the frenzy and the flow. The only rite that we require is the taste of warm blood in the water, fresh and sharp. When we seize our prey and--”

“I think I understand,” I hastily cut in. “Really. Thank you.”

“What is this stone?” I asked…
“I hadn’t expected to see such a shrine in your city,” I said...
“I must be going,” I explained...