It is dusk. Under purple skies, the breeze is gentle and swift, and a small silhouette soars through the air. Dark, sapphire waters ripple continuously; rhythmically. It is a vast and ambient abyss. One could gaze for an eternity.

Silence lies beneath the waves. Tranquil, like above, but different; evoked by an overwhelming sense of solitude. Although enclosed in darkness, with all senses suspended, one feels immensely free.

Within these depths, a thin, indistinct ring slowly manifests, growing clearer with its ascension. It continues upwards and does not stop. A circle of foam gathers on the surface of the rippling tide. It allows the clear, rounded bubble to gently break the surface, rising until it rests on top. It sways along the ever-moving ridges.

Inside, a nude, porcelain-grey figure rests with her legs curled to her chest. Her arms hold them in a gentle embrace. Wet, long, dark hair is neatly matted to her shoulders and back. Placed on her throne, like a lily on a leaf pad, she sleeps.

With one final exhale, she opens her eyes to reveal dark, captivating irises. The bubble pops. She floats.

From above, she unfolds her body to lie on the water. She stares at the sky.

She is Ceto.

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