At the harbor, crowds gathered. Word had spread faster than the tide. Reporters surged forward, microphones thrust like spears, voices clashing. “What was it like inside?” “Did you see its throat?” “Were you praying?” Nathaniel shielded his eyes from the flash of cameras, overwhelmed by spectacle replacing truth.
Doctors examined him swiftly, noting dehydration, bruises, and exhaustion. Miraculously, there were no broken bones or ruptured organs. Physically intact, yet Nathaniel felt altered in ways medicine could never chart. He carried with him the echo of low vibrations still thrumming faintly in memory, as if whalesong lived in his chest.