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.
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