In madness and rage she swam down into the deepest trenches of the darkest oceans, until at last, she found a place where light had never been known.
She had not eaten. She had not slept. She had not cared. There was only the pain of her loss.
Her precious Whale, grandson of Lamashtu herself, whose bottomless hunger her grindylows had worked so tirelessly to ease, was dead, slain by those two-legged air-breathing bastards.
They would pay. Oh, but they would all pay.
She whispered to the darkness in that abyss, calling it to the surface to avenge her beloved son. She had found what she’d sought, an evil so alien, so obscene, that merely gazing upon it could drive someone mad.
Of course, when the darkness answered the Brinebrood Queen, she was already well and truly mad.