With each moment they swam ever deeper. The blue-green waters of the surface darkened, took on a purplish tinge, grew ever more impenetrable by the eye. Yet, far below, a light gleamed dimly, or lights. And it was toward those lights they made their way.
At first the fish had swam and played, delighted with their company. Butterfly fish flitted by, seahorses danced in a vertical ballet, and in the distance the sharks circled, ever accompanied by the pilot fish.
With each fathom they penetrated the fish grew ever fewer, even as did the light. The warm surface waters were no more, replaced by chill drafts from far below. And colder still the waters as their passage continued.
The source of light became more evident as they drew nigh. Red and glowing lava, flowing in an endless stream, lit the massive peak from which it flowed. The stream near the volcano's mouth glowed brightly, and lava flow around the peak retained the glow until the heat was quenched by the frigid waters.
Water and steam and bubbles swirled ever upward above the melted stone, a seething cylinder of white illuminated by the light beneath. And there, on the edge of the molten magma, Proteus worked his work.
His giant squid-shaped body was limned by the magma's red light. He coiled his tentacles around huge boulders, tore them from their rest. These he sat in place, building a massive throne, the throne of Oceanus.
The task progressed. Nevertheless, even as he worked the Gods of fire struck out against the defilement of their melted artistry. A belch of white-hot lava erupted, brushed aside the mighty throne. In hasty retreat Proteus swam quickly, tentacles drawn in to escape the edge of the crimson river. He drove across the watery waste, propelled by the force of inky jet fluids.
His passage brought him to the very spot whereat they waited. His eyes looked upon them in neither curiosity nor fear. So long as Demo and his dolphin guide did not interfere with Proteus' movement they were ignored.
Demo watched the undersea volcano, the fiery eruption with its steaming seawater, molten stones. Still, it was not the grandeur of the scene that held his attention.
In the midst of the burning mass a dark object stood, arms folded, eyes focused in deadly hatred on Demo.