In the pitch-dark air, the lightning flashed blue.
And between the two inky seas, Psyche went slowly on, against the gusts of wind.
Then she uttered a cry, as though she were calling. . . .
The hurricane took her cry for help over the endless sea of Hell. . . . And from all sides dived up the gruesome frights—leviathan monsters. They opened their jaws at Psyche, and the water streamed out. Their scaly tortuous bodies wound along over the black surface of the ocean, and on the horizon, lit up with phosphorous blue, their tails meandered. They came from the horizon, they dived up and down, and the ocean dived with them. Storm-flood, waterfall—storm-flood, waterfall. . . . They spread out their dragon wings, and caught up the boisterous wind; they shot up waterspouts like towering fountains, of a blue and yellowish hue. Their round squinting eyes stood out watchful, like green and yellow signals; they lifted their red-lobed jaws, abysses of red-slimy desires, bubbling with foamy slaver.
“Monsters of the sea of pain, where shall I find the Jewel for Emeralda?”
