Page 32 of Darkest Dredge

And as much as part of me liked this version of him, I missed the captain I’d come to know and love long before he ever had tentacles.

“Come on, cap’n. Let’s get you undressed.”

He tensed at my words, but before he could pull away, my fingers were prying at the gill-like slits I’d noticed beneath his jawline. It was right where the edge of the mask had sat when he’d first donned the other-wordly artifact.

The thing felt like living stone, hot and throbbing, as if it had its own pulse. I pulled hard, managing to gain purchase as the lip of the mask separated from his skin.

A quiet rumble rippled through the cave.

It was working!

The gap between his jaw and the mask grew, and the space between sputtered and choked.

Great Mariana Trench. The mask was more like a parasite than anything else, it seemed. It held onto its host for dear life.

The split opened further, the air sucking sharply under the space between the artifact. Like a wet seal popping.

Before it could snap closed, Noah shoved both sets of claws in. The writhing, alien muscles all in a spasm.

Screaming inside my mind split my ears, so loud at first I thought my eardrums had burst. Pain sparked through my skull and down my spine

I wanted to hold my hands over my ears but I could barely move.

The air was thick and gooey like molasses, clogging in my lungs and making the simple act of breathing a feat.

Through the deafening eldritch squalls, the sound of cracking stone added to the symphony of chaos.

Peering at Noah, the gaping hole in the side of his head was widening, and I could see a glimpse of human skin tone.

One of the statues—the one with the genitalia just like Noah’s—cleaved in two. Like a savage earthquake had split it asunder to reveal its strange innards. Warm, pulsating organs.

These statues weren’t statues at all.

They were living relics.

Suddenly, even through the screaming, I understood. Like the stars were aligning in my mind’s eye and clarity was all mine.

This was Cthulhu's likeness, minus his face. And inside, that’s where the eggs were supposed to go.

The mask was unnaturally stretched away from the undulating mass of Noah’s alien body. It looked like a dislocated eyeball, attached only by a taut retina—as gross as it was fascinating.

With one last tug away from his body, Noah snapped the mask loose. His body seemed to tear itself apart, green flesh unraveling and shrinking.

Leaving Noah as I remembered him. Mostly.

Immediately, everything was silent.

There was my captain, standing there in the buff with the mask held before him in his outstretched hand.

While he had returned to his old appearance for the most part, his two eyes were still aglow with that intense golden fire. The eldritch tattoos collaring his throat—which I was almost certain had protected him from being consumed entirely—were also glowing. The transformation left his body in the same muscular shape it was as a monster, minus the green. It was like the same Noah with more bulk. His heart, it was like his heartbeat and his voice were one and the same.

In his other hand, he still held the small ovoids, glistening in the dim firelight of his body.

The statue started to hiss.

Noah didn’t hesitate to stand between me and it, the eggs in one hand and the mask in his other.

As he approached the stone, the huge fissure in the rock expanded. Eager for the eggs.