Fathom

First posted December 2025.

Author's Note

Hey look, an Author Avengers story!

In case you've forgotten, for which I certainly couldn't blame you, Author Avengers is an initiative started by Lou to support authors on Ko-fi. Every month, we have a prompt and a theme, and at the end of the month we each support each other's work with a link round-up.

Since I finally have a brain again, I've tackled this month's Light and Darkness theme with a little fairytale for you. Hope you enjoy, and come back at the end of the month for links to everyone else's works!

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There once lived a man whose eyes were always hungry. Never satisfied by what was within his reach, he saw that other men had things which he did not and, in his insatiable greed, became bitter and envious.

He was a fisherman, who lived in a small, friendly town by the sea alongside many other fishermen. Each morning, the boats went out together, and each evening, they returned to share their bounty and celebrate their success. The bitter fisherman kept to himself, sucking his teeth and grinding his jaw. He saw every fish that another man caught as one fish he didn’t catch.

As time went by, the fisherman became angrier and angrier, muttering to himself about how unfair it was that others caught more fish, that others had more and better things than he. Of course, he spent more time complaining and moaning than he did working his nets and casting his lines, so it was no wonder his hauls grew smaller and smaller. Day in and day out, he seethed over how undeserving the other fishermen were, how devious they were to steal what was rightfully his.

Finally, one day, he caught absolutely nothing at all. The other fishermen’s nets teemed with writhing, shimmering fish by the dozens, while he pulled up his single tatty and unmended net to find not a single fish. Enraged, he sped his boat back to the rocky coast, stormed back to his whitewashed cabin, made himself a quick dinner of bread and sausages, and went to bed early.

That night, he dreamed of perfect darkness. He looked down at his hands and could not see them as he floated in the abyss. He tried to take a step, but there was no floor beneath his feet. He moved his arms as if to swim, but could not tell if he was progressing in any direction.

Suddenly, far away in the distance, a light began to shine. It hung in the blackness above him, bright as the North Star, and he followed it in earnest, flailing his hands and feet in a desperate attempt to get closer. The light grew in size as he approached, filling the fisherman’s vision with bluish-white beams emanating from a single egg-shaped centre.

When the light was so close he thought he could touch it, he hesitantly reached out. Before his fingers could make contact, a voice spoke, deep and booming.

“I know what you seek, fisherman.”

The fisherman hesitated, and pulled his hand back. He tried to look behind the light for the source of the voice, but saw nothing but darkness beyond.

“I am prepared to help you,” the voice continued. “But you must promise to obey my instructions.”

“Of course,” the fisherman hastily agreed.

“Tomorrow morning, sail your boat to the rocky cliffs along the northern coast, and find the darkest part of the water. There, cast neither nets nor lines, but jump into the sea yourself. You will see a long, blue fish. Catch it with your hands, then bring it back up to your boat. That fish alone will feed you for two weeks. But should it swim below the red rocks, do not follow it, for certain death awaits you in those depths.”

Dismayed, the fisherman asked, “How am I to catch a fish with my hands?”

“Trust me or don’t,” the voice said with an air of disinterest. “But with only a little work you could feast like a king for weeks.”

Thinking of the riches this fish would bring him, the fisherman grinned to himself, and was smiling when he awoke the next morning.

As the other fishermen sailed together towards the day’s fishing grounds, the bitter fisherman sailed alone in the opposite direction, along the northern coast to the rocky cliffs. He searched the shallows, and he searched the depths, until finally he found the darkest circle in the water, a black mark in the otherwise inviting blue. Though he balked at the idea of having to jump in the water, he reminded himself that the prize that awaited him was worth the discomfort. He took off his coat, steeled his nerves, and dove off the side of the boat into the water.

His teeth chattered in the bitterly cold water, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the murky depths. He swam one way, then the other, and saw nothing. Furious and about to give in, he turned around and found himself face-to-face with a long, blue fish. Startled, he reached out to grab it, but hadn’t had a moment to compose himself, and the fish easily darted away. He swam after it as fast as he could, but the fish was just a bit faster. He followed it down, down, down, and suddenly it dashed beneath a rocky red cliff. The voice from his dream echoed in the fisherman’s head, but the fish loitered beneath the cliff, exhausted from the chase. There would be no better time to catch it. So the fisherman, with one last push, propelled himself below the red rocks, and caught the fish.

With a gasp, he surfaced, and threw the fish onto the deck of his boat before he climbed up the side. As the fish wriggled and writhed on the deck, the fisherman heard a clattering sound. He quickly pulled himself to his feet. From the mouth of the fish had fallen a sapphire, big and bright and brilliant. Eyes glazed with wonder, he picked up the gem and laughed. It was just as the voice had said; certainly this would fetch more money than all the other fishermen’s hauls put together. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the fisherman hauled up his anchor and prepared to return to land.

After selling the sapphire to a travelling merchant, the fisherman stayed at home while the others worked. He laughed to himself as he counted his coins, feeling a thrill as he listened to the clink.

Weeks passed, and the coins dwindled. The fisherman knew he would have to go out to work once more, and his mood soured as he shuffled his feet around his cabin.

The night before he intended to finally go back out to the sea, the fisherman dreamed of the light in the darkness once more. It gleamed in the black abyss and he swam towards it, hearing the voice again just before his fingers could brush the source of the light.

“You did not keep your promise.”

Confused, the fisherman frowned. “I used neither net nor line.”

“You swam below the red rocks.”

“Oh, well, only a little.”

A rumbling noise filled the space around him. A shiver of fear ran up his spine.

“Fisherman,” the deep voice more melodious and alluring than the fisherman expected, “I will help you again, but do not betray my trust.”

The fisherman’s shoulders relaxed. “You have my word.”

The light bobbed before him. “Sail to the same place, and jump into the sea. There you will find a small, silver fish. Catch it with your hands and take it up to your boat. This single fish will feed you for a month. But should it swim below the red rocks, do not follow it, for certain death awaits you in those depths.”

Solemnly, the fisherman agreed, and the next day, he once again sailed his boat away from the other fishermen and along the northern coast to the rocky cliffs. Once more, he jumped into the freezing water, and just as the voice had promised, he found a small, silver fish. This fish was much faster than the first, and every time he nearly had it, it slipped between his fingers. The fish swam to and fro, and the fisherman began to tire. Finally, the fish swam down, down below the red rocks and further, out of sight. In a panic, the fisherman followed. He could not lose this fish — without it, he would surely starve.

Deeper below the surface, the light could not penetrate. The water around him grew darker, and colder. Pressure pulsed against his ears, and heard a strange groaning noise. His ribs felt tight, as if they were contracting. His lungs hurt, and his heart felt like it would burst. Suddenly, in a stray beam of light from the surface, he caught the flash of the silver fish, and grabbed it tight between his hands. Fast as he could, he turned around and swam back up to his boat.

As the fish flapped on the deck, a pile of silver coins bigger than the fish itself fell from its mouth. The fisherman cried out with happiness, grasping the coins in handfuls and letting them fall to the deck with joyous clanks. This would certainly see him through for some time.

So the fisherman grew idle once more, and spent his days at home, laughing at the other fishermen out at sea, counting his ever-dwindling coins. Again, the day came that the fisherman realised with disgust that he would have to rejoin them. And that night, he dreamed of the light in the darkness.

The black void around him groaned and creaked, like the deck of an old ship, as he approached the light. Something seized his stomach — a deep, primal feeling as if something was terribly wrong. His spine felt locked and rigid, and he could not reach his hand towards the light.

Nevertheless, the voice spoke.

“Fisherman.”

He gulped, and did not respond. Sickness rose in his tight throat.

The voice continued. “Twice you have betrayed my trust. Twice you have come to me for help and disobeyed my instructions.”

“I won’t do it again,” the fisherman said. His voice was hoarse, and he felt seawater rush into his mouth as he spoke. He sputtered and spat it out.

“Hmm.”

“Please,” the fisherman pleaded.

The silence hung in the air, thick as a blanket. The fisherman could hear, ever so quietly, the sound of ragged breathing, and for the briefest moment, he thought the light glinted on something behind it.

“Take your boat,” the voice said, slowly, deliberately, “to the rocky cliffs along the northern coast, and find the darkest part of the water. Jump into the sea and you will see a large, golden fish. Catch it with your hands, then bring it back up to your boat. That fish alone will feed you for a year.”

“Only a year?” the fisherman asked. He had hoped this fish could set him up for life.

The water bubbled and boiled around the fisherman. “If you do not want it,” the voice seethed, “go back to fishing every day with your net full of holes and your knotted lines.”

“I’m sorry,” the fisherman said. “I’m sorry, I will do as you say.”

“What I say, fisherman, is should that golden fish swim below the red rocks, do not follow it. Certain death awaits you in those depths.”

The next morning, the fisherman readied his boat to sail. He took a deep breath, telling himself he really would listen this time, and would not follow the fish below the red rocks. Brightening at the thought, he realised that if he were simply fast enough, the fish would never get that far. He’d simply catch it right away, and it wouldn’t be able to escape below the rocks.

Along the northern coast to the rocky cliffs he sailed, and found once more the darkest part of the water. In he jumped, and looked around in the empty sea. Shafts of light waved to and fro, and specks of dust floated idly by. The fisherman waited and waited, growing colder and angrier by the minute. Perhaps the voice had changed its mind, fed up with his mistakes.

Then, he saw it. A golden fish the size of his head, swimming out in the open. He lunged after it, but his many weeks of idleness had not prepared him for a high-speed chase. The fish easily looped around him, seeming to laugh at him as it easily escaped his grasping hands. Then, it darted down, down below the red rocks, down into the darkest depths beyond where the fisherman could see.

Blinded with fury, the fisherman launched himself after it. Down, down, down he swam, past the last reaches of light, past the point where his ears howled with pressure. He heard a snapping sound, like a breaking bone, but did not stop. Frantically, his eyes scanned the darkness for any hint of gold, but he saw nothing. He looked in the direction he thought was up, but he was completely enveloped in black. He swam one way, then the other. He was starting to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. Holding his breath was getting harder and harder, and his lungs screamed with pain.

Suddenly, far away in the distance, a bright light began to shine.

Eagerly, the fisherman swam towards it, his breath sputtering out of him in bubbles. The light entranced him, and he felt his eyes widen as he drew near. He reached out to touch it, and then — he stopped.

For just behind the light, he could see teeth.

Long, sharp, gleaming white teeth, in ragged, uneven rows. The smiling mouth belonged to a woman — but not a woman. She was at least three times his size, if not larger, and the light was attached by a long limb to her scaly green-grey forehead. Strings of black hair floated in front of her face, and her pupil-less eyes glowed as the light reflected back onto them. Her enormous body was human-shaped up to the thick waist, where it morphed into the mottled, lumpy back end of a deep-sea fish. Her back fin lazily waved back and forth, keeping her hovering in place.

Too late, fear gripped the fisherman. The cavernous mouth of the mermaid opened wide, and death found the fisherman in the depths.