Gilbert didn’t sleep much. His mind was full of glowing lagoons and unexplored currents, swirling like schools of tiny fish. By dawnlight, when the first shimmer of the day pulsed through Glimmergill, he had already packed a bag.
Well, “bag” was generous. It was more of a woven kelp pouch with a single loop that kept sliding off his shoulder. Inside it were essentials: a snack of kelp crisps, his favorite spiral stone, a small glow-pearl, and a map he’d copied from Grandpa Axol’s old chart (copying maps was not one of Gilbert’s strengths, but he tried very hard).
He zipped around his hollow twice, debating if he was forgetting something crucial, like a blanket, or a compass, or maybe an entire sense of direction. But adventure rarely waits for the perfectly prepared. It simply calls, and hope answers first.
Before leaving, Gilbert swam to Grandpa Axol’s hollow. The old axolotl was awake, sipping warmed sea-herb tea.
“You’re up early,” Grandpa said.
Gilbert swallowed. “I’m… going.”
Grandpa didn’t ask “where.” He didn’t need to.
Instead, he handed Gilbert a tiny, round object wrapped in algae cloth.
“For the journey,” he said.
Gilbert unwrapped it. Inside was a small stone - smooth, pale, and faintly glowing with soft, pulsing light.
“What is it?” Gilbert whispered.
“A memory stone,” Grandpa said. “Tap it if you’re afraid or lost. It won’t solve your problems, but it will help you remember who you are.”
Gilbert clutched it to his chest. “Thank you.”
Grandpa Axol touched his forehead gently to Gilbert’s. “Remember: the ocean changes for those who change with it.”
With that blessing, Gilbert set off.
The water beyond Glimmergill was colder, wilder, filled with swirling currents that tugged at his fins and sent tiny shivers of excitement down his spine. He followed the route Grandpa once traced — north past the Singing Rift, east through the coral labyrinth, and then into uncharted waters.
As he swam, the ocean grew unfamiliar. Strange plants curled along the sea floor. Shadows slid just beyond clear sight. Occasionally he felt a hum in the water, like distant music vibrating through the deep.
At one point, he stopped near a cluster of floating jellylights, their soft glow shifting from lavender to green. When he drifted closer, they shifted away in perfect unison, as though guiding him onward.
“Are you leading me?” Gilbert asked.
A jellylight bobbed once, which he decided to interpret as “probably.”
He swam after them until they vanished into the distance, leaving him at the entrance of a narrow underwater ravine. The water beyond it shimmered faintly, like moonlight dancing underwater.
Gilbert’s gills fluttered.
This was the moment adventures were made of—when the world turns mysterious and even a tiny axolotl remembers why his heart beats fast in the first place.
With a deep breath and a determined wiggle of his tail, Gilbert entered the ravine.
He didn’t know what waited ahead. Not the challenges, not the magic, not the discovery that would change him forever.
But he swam forward anyway, because adventure had finally called him by name.
And Gilbert was ready to answer.