...the surface of the Swamps twinkled.
Bubbles popped as gases rose from the pulsating depths. Through the biochemical glatter on the surface a multitude of tiny creatures scurried, some insectoid, others pincer wielding, still others hopping on padded feet, so that a maze of dark trails was left entangled amongst the rushes and broken stalks. Occasionally a purple glider would drop on silent wings to snap up the unwary.
Elsewhere, cloaked gentlemen on punts pushed their weary way from an island in the centre of the Swamps to certain outposts, secret and disguised at the perimeter wall.
Free of fog, to the south, a dark and bubbling morass lay surrounded by twitching reeds.
These reeds began to thrash as if something was gnawing their roots, and the bubbles came thick and fast, spurting gel into the air and creating a symphony of squelching slaps. The gaseous eruption brought a smell of musk and cinnamon. Nearby animals fled.
From the depths a creature rose. Emerging between two flanks of gel, with liquids trickling from the hole, its streamlined head first thrashed, then calmed as it stared with yellow eyes at its surroundings. Struggling to be released from its womb, it pounded the gel until it managed to crawl on to a low line of hillocks, where, breathing heavy like a machine exhaust, it rested.
It was a man with a fish head: seven feet tall, muscled like a fighter, a baleful beast. As it lay panting its unblinking eyes gleamed with jaundiced cunning. The cloak it wore crinkled, expanded, and dried, like the wings of an insect emerging from the chrysalis, to become a voluminous garment covering polished armour, thick breeches, and boots shod with metal.
With a great inhalation the creature stood upright. Nearby lay the Swamps wall, and flickering lights from houses off Platan Street. Grunting with exertion it waded across to the wall, climbing it easily, before stamping off Swamps debris.
It strode south, for in that direction was the Archive of Selene.