Salah wrapped the strange glowing egg in a spare fishing net, careful not to damage it. Even through the ropes, he could feel warmth pulsing from within—like a heartbeat. It was nothing like he'd ever seen.
"It's… breathing," Tex whispered, stepping back nervously. "That thing's alive."
"I don't know what it is," Salah muttered, "but I can't leave it here."
"You can't seriously be thinking of taking it back to the village."
"I have to. Maybe it's worth something. If I can sell it—"
"Sell it?!" Tex snapped. "You don't even know what it is. What if it hatches into something… dangerous?"
Salah hesitated. Deep inside, he knew Tex might be right. But his wife—her coughing had worsened last night. She was fading. If this strange egg could give him a chance to save her, even a small one, he had no choice.
"I'll take responsibility," Salah said firmly. "Help me secure it. We'll head back now."
Tex exhaled sharply but nodded. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."
The wind shifted again at Tex's command, and they sped back toward the harbor. The skies cleared slowly, as if the sea itself was watching them leave.
Back in the village.
Salah kept the egg hidden in a cloth bundle, telling curious onlookers it was a strange artifact caught in deep waters. He placed it in the storage room behind his small house, away from prying eyes—and more importantly, away from his bedridden wife.
That night, the wind howled.
The egg pulsed brighter than ever.
Then came a crack.
A thin fracture appeared on its shell, glowing faint gold. Salah, who had been sitting nearby, jolted awake.
"No way… already?"
The egg split apart with a soft hiss.
Inside, nestled in a faintly glowing membrane, was a baby—no older than a month. His skin was unusually pale, almost translucent, and shimmered softly under the moonlight. Wisps of white hair clung to his head, and soft, ribbon-like tendrils floated gently around his body, like jellyfish filaments drifting underwater.
The air around the baby was charged—calm but strange. Salah didn't understand it, but he could feel the energy in his bones. It was... alive.
Then the baby opened his eyes.
Soft gold. Mysterious. A depth that no infant should carry.
He didn't speak. He didn't cry. He just looked at Salah with a stillness that made time pause.
Salah knelt down slowly, overwhelmed. "What are you…?"
The baby blinked, and as he did, faint bioluminescent patterns flickered across his skin—soft purples, deep blues, oceanic greens—like the silent glow of a jellyfish in the deep sea.
Suddenly, tiny sparkles of light drifted upward around the child like floating spores. Salah instinctively stepped back, but the air turned gentle, like the sea breeze at dawn.
The baby's breathing synced with the rhythm of the ocean outside.
Salah stared, hands shaking.
"I… I don't know who you are, little one," he whispered. "But somehow, I feel like the world just changed."