Official Loot Drop Guild

Paul’s Origin Story by Aoife Wai & Rachel A. Cooper

“It's happening again.”

The subordinate looked up from his gold-rimmed spectacles.

The divine being slammed her hand onto the oak table, a crack splintering its center. “I will not accept the separation. Ready the swells.”

The airship groaned as it drifted over the dark sea.

“But Primary, it's the nature of the firefly squid. First spawns are often lost—”

“Not under my watch.” Her aura flared, pressing the air flat. “Raise the swells before I cast you overboard.”

The subordinate choked, nodding hard. He flicked the switches and inhaled sharply when her pressure eased.

Dark clouds thickened instantly. Rain hammered the waves, each drop igniting a burst of blue bioluminescence.

“Tides have changed,” he wheezed, peering again into the spectacle as the firefly squid spawn drifted below. “But, Primary… one of the eggs. It’s been touched.”

She was at his side in a blink, snatching the spectacle. Her pale iris fixed on the lone drifting egg. “Then that one must be sent away.”

She crossed the cabin in a flash, seized a hollow seaglass figurine filled with bright blue sand, and crushed it in her fist, tears falling as the magic tore free.

***

Pop!

A tiny tentacle punched through the gelatin casing, and the firefly squid wriggled his head free, gulping his first breath of salty water. His eyes blinked wide at the faint blue glow pulsing in the distance. With another wiggle, four tentacles squeezed beside his head, and the jelly folded away.

“Whoa!” Warmth swept over him as a current seized his tiny body, spinning him end over end. “It’s so amazing to be whisked away and hugged by the sea.”

He laughed as bubbles tickled his suckers. Darkness stretched above and below, a vast empty quiet.

 “Hello? Is anybody out there?”

Only the soft whoosh of the current answered. He fixed his gaze on the deepening blue light and tucked his tentacles back, propelling himself faster.

When he bobbed above the surface, his mouth dropped open. Another light, this one brighter, cut across the sky and briefly landed on him. He ducked under with a gasp.

“I almost got flambéed!” He rubbed his head. “What does that word even mean?”

A stronger current hooked him, tugging him sideways. Sand swirled around his body as he flailed, trying to steady himself. He kicked upward again until his head breached the surface. The sweeping light was farther away now. Two shapes, one tall and one small, moved near it.

“Mina!” a deep voice roared. “I know you can hear me!”

The smaller shadow leapt from the rocks to the sand. Long hair snapped behind her as the wind and rain intensified.

He sighed, spinning around. “They don’t look like me.”

Blue sprinkles of bioluminescence scattered with each movement. In a blink, the starlight vanished. A wave crashed over him, tossing him toward shore. Something snagged his tentacles. Sand filled his mouth. He coughed, kicking hard, but the tide slipped farther away.

A heavy thud vibrated through the earth. His eyes cracked open. A silhouette hovered above him. The grip on his tentacles eased. Something soft, warm and gentle, brushed his cheek.

An electric shock surged through him. His body pulsed vivid blue. Then the sensation disappeared, leaving him trembling.

A splash of water cooled his skin. He blinked up as the girl eased him into a plastic bucket.

“Human?” he whispered.

The girl gasped, but nodded.

His face scrunched. “But… I’m a squid. Not like you.”

She smiled and patted his head. The wind rushed around him as she ran, tiny feet splashing through glowing puddles. Water sloshed over the bucket’s rim as the firefly squid braced himself with all his tentacles, trying not to fall out.

His head bobbed as she ran up the slick rocks, the bright light growing larger. The tower loomed above them, framing the tall shadow in its doorway. Mina tucked the bucket under her arm and draped a soft cloth over the top. He peeked through a gap.

“Get in here, Mina! It’s raining a devil’s storm, and you’re out lollygagging like it’s sunshine and rainbows.” A burly man pulled her in for a hug. “You ‘bout made me get my boat for a search and rescue. Don’t you scare the life outta your uncle again!”

Mina only shrugged free, slipping past him through the doorframe. Water sloshed over the bucket’s rim.

“Grab a towel and clean this mess before you eat.” Her uncle shoved the door closed, fighting the wind. The thud echoed through the tower.

Mina set the bucket on the counter and hurried off to mop up the seawater.

Paul poked his head over the edge. His eyes gleamed at the clutter around him. Stacks of well-used dishes, dented pots, and, on a high shelf, a row of books with dusty, uncreased spines.

A gust of air swept across the room, and he ducked back inside. When he peeked up again, Mina stood grinning, waving a towel. She pointed at one of the books.

He stretched a tentacle, whispering. “What are those?”

Mina climbed onto a wobbly stool, balancing as she tugged a book free. Dust spiraled into the air as she blew across the cover.

The squid coughed and flushed himself with water as she cracked it open.

Strange symbols filled the pages, yet he knew them. Every letter. Every word.

She tapped a line of text. Mina’s eyes went wide as he read aloud, “Charred clam bolognese.”

He whirled inside the bucket, ink trailing into the shape of a word. “Clam.”

Mina pressed a hand to her mouth, staring from the glowing ink to the page. She closed the book with a soft thump.

He wiggled a tentacle toward it again. “Chef Paul’s Cookbook.”

Mina tapped the word on the cover, then pointed at him.

“Hmmm… I never had a name before,” the firefly squid spun in a slow circle, ink curling around him like a ribbon. “Paul. I love it!”

Mina smiled, warmth radiating from her as she carried his bucket and the cookbook up winding stairs.

Mina propped the open cookbook beside Paul’s bucket and pointed to the recipe.

Paul cleared his throat. “Ingredients: one cup finely minced fresh clams with their juice, one and two-thirds cups puréed canned tomatoes, one chopped fresh hot pepper…”

He paused to glance at the girl. Her head rested on her hands, eyes bright with expectation. She nodded.

He continued reading, voice steady and proud. By the time he reached the last line: “Serve immediately with the breadcrumbs,” Mina had fallen asleep.

Paul smiled. His first day as a firefly squid, and he’d already made a new friend.

***

By morning, savory smells drifted from the kitchen all the way up the lighthouse. Mina twirled the linguine; the glossy red sauce clung to every strand in perfect ribbons.

“Don’t forget the breadcrumbs.” Paul pointed a tentacle toward the final ingredient.

With a light sprinkle, the dish was complete.

The floor creaked behind her. Her uncle sniffed the air. “What is this, Mina? You’ve never cooked more than butter noodles.”

She slid the bowl toward him. Paul folded his tentacles together, his tiny heart thudding as the uncle lifted the fork.

“’Tis delightful!” he declared, slurping a few more bites and licking the bowl clean. “A hearty meal to last me the day. Thank you, girl.”

He closed the door behind him as he left.

Mina leapt with joy, waving her arms so wildly that red sauce splattered across the counter.

Paul licked a stray drop, his skin flickering into a brilliant blue. “Delicious indeed!”

Days and nights turned into weeks. Together they grew stronger. Paul read while Mina cooked her way through the entire cookbook. He even gave her fresh ink, dipping her pen as she traced each recipe into her own notebook. Sometimes she wrinkled her nose, stuck on a letter, and Paul would laugh, guiding her tentacle-like with his own. “Zest,” he’d say, forming the shape in swirling ink.

Weeks became months. Mina began writing messages to her uncle. His face lit up every time. Whenever a visitor came by, he proudly announced, “The girl can read and write!”

As their year together neared its end, Mina planned a Mid-Winter Feast. Paul delighted in choosing the recipes and gathering ingredients, though a quiet ache gnawed at him. He knew his time with her was running out.

After the meal, they sat near the crackling wood fire.

“Mina, I have to return to the ocean.” Paul stared out the window.

She scribbled on a scrap of paper:

I know. Your light is dimming.

He looked up at her. “But this feast… I will always remember.”

Outside, the wind quieted to a gentle whistle. Faint blue specks of bioluminescence shimmered along the sand.

“The sea is calling me,” Paul said, gesturing to the door.

Mina clutched the glass bowl, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. She carried him into the soft rain, down the familiar rocks. Her hair clung to her face as she sank to the sand.

She shook her head.

“We’ve given each other a gift,” Paul said.

Mina set the bowl down, the tide sweeping around its base. Kneeling in the sand, she dragged her fingertip across the wet surface. Blue light sparked beneath it. Paul read aloud as the glowing words formed:

Carry on the feast.

Paul nodded. “It is our tradition.”

He slid into the rising tide, his entire body flashing brighter than ever before. As he swam with the currents, he left behind a luminous trail of ink, spelling out the final message he would ever give her:

Mina the Brave.