Day 1,818

Of all the things you'd expect to encounter when deep sea fishing, a curved obsidian wall is exactly none of them. It must have been at least seventy feet above the waves and god only knew how far down it went or why it was out there to begin with.

Unfortunately humans are curious creatures and inebriated fishermen are worse still. All it took was a slightly slurred "Dare's ya!" and they steered towards it, wondering if there was an entrance somewhere. Almost two hours later they found one.

It was like a giant had carved a neat slive straight out of the glistening stone and left them with a perfect opening. Someone mentioned treasure and the decision was unanimous - sail for the centre and if there wasn't one then they'd have one hell of a story when they got back.

The turns were sharp and the waves sharper still, as if the very sea itself was trying to slam them into the walls until they were just like the other debris that was scattered all around them. From time-to-time an old fashioned hull stuck up among the waves, cracked figureheads mournfully watching them go.

If they were a little more sober they might have seen the glistening eel-like tail snaking its way through the debris after them. It ducked down occasionally, sometimes lingered right beneath them for a few minutes and it always started to surface when they slowed down at all.

The hours flew by, whatever was posing as the sun remained in its position and the gap they entered through slowly drifted shut. They, of course, cracked open a few more beers and were otherwise none the wiser. The thought of a pile of glistening gold lured them in better than any siren could've hoped to.

At some point they woke up, worriedly realising they'd fallen asleep at some point and their poor ship had been scraping along the walls, being turned by the currents and led further into the labyrinth. The eel-like tail had gotten bolder and now stuck up proudly through the waves, following them with the ease of a predator who is firmly in its own turf.

Terrified at they were when they saw it, they couldn't turn around and sail past it. Their only choice was to carry on and hope the labyrinth had two exits. Of course, as you might have guessed by the term "labyrinth", this was not the case.

By the time the, now hungover, fishermen realised this they'd found the centre.

Or rather - it found them.