It was solemn when true night fell, the heralds rode, the call of victory proclaimed, and the citizens of Nautilus who had survived the Battle of the Beasts came out of hiding and made their way to the Great Beach.

Over time, it would become known great sacrifices had been made of the rulers of Triton to save them from the fall of the dark times.

But many felt it was Queen Ha-Lah who had to do the worst.

For even after the demons were dispatched, their venom continued to infect the ones it had touched, and they wandered, imprisoned by their own minds, mindlessly harming themselves…and others.

All the kings and all the kings’ men rounded them up and gathered them on the beach.

And the fire of the dragons kept them there.

And the people understood why the decision was made that their ash would not mingle with the sand of shore.

They understood why it was decided they’d nurture the beasts of the sea.

And thus, the people of Nautilus watched as their queen, their Ha-Lah stood beside her husband and the other rulers atop a cliff to the south, and she raised her arms.

To a great gasp from her onlookers, she then caused the tidal that swept the poor, lost souls to peace in the depths of the sea.

But Ha-Lah did not feel peace in the doing.

She turned and collapsed in her king’s arms.

It was after they were all gone, when slowly, the peoples made their way, under the blanket of night sky and stars, to the sand.

Those who lived deeper into the rocks, hearing as word swept swiftly across the land, journeyed to Nautilus and walked the empty streets, gravitating toward the gathering, joining their brethren and sistren on the beach.

Wood was brought to build fires.

And the people of Mar-el sat about them on their shore, their eyes to the sea.

No one knew who first started the hum of mourning.

But all joined in, gazing into the waters, contemplating what was lost, what was gained, their fortune that they were still living, and their vows to continue to do it and do that well.

The hum rose up the cliffs to the rulers, who stayed amongst them, watching.

It rose up farther, to the heavens.

There wasn’t a great amount of surprise when, well out to sea, the mighty beasts broke the waves.

One, two, five, three dozen, the whales rising up and crashing back into the sea, sharing the lament, the dolphins joining them, bursting from the waves and arcing back in, in a watery dance of grief.

But even with the spectacle, the humming did not stop.

As the people of the sea and the sea beasts shared their sorrow.